Flavours Of Women Of Colour: Bulbul Sharma, Deesha Philyaw

Over a decade ago, I started actively seeking out reading experiences that were different from what I had had till then. White, male and British/American authors had dominated my bookshelves. What a treasure trove I stumbled onto when I discovered that women tell stories that I like much better. It’s only partly that I see myself in them more than I do in male-authored stories. But women also frame the world differently from the way men do.

I never get tired of shouting about the first science fiction story in English being authored by a woman – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Now I think, that book could only have been written by a woman, especially in its time. It took brodom to turn science fiction into its gizmos-gadgets-robots-rockets form. But it all started with a reflection of what it meant to create, pondering the ethics of a creator’s power, ruminating on the devastation of separating creation from creator. Frankenstein was not about the nuts & bolts at all.

Similarly I find even the most well-crafted tales by men falling short in ideas and female depiction. Our stories after all, are seeded in our minds with our unique biases and myopia.

At the same time, I find myself even delighting in the ‘flaws’ of women’s writing. Because these are designated flaws in the thinking of men. And each of them owe their roots to how women experience life.

It’s why the story of a female sociopath feels comforting. She’s female first and then a sociopath. Her unapologetic story feels curiously liberating. After all, I live in a culture where laughing at toxic masculinity brings on backlash.

I don’t remember when I picked up this book but like the best of them all, it came to me at just the right time. I needed something relatable where I felt seen but which was also mildly comforting in a realistic way. This book is exactly that.

Set in the dank kitchen of a funeral household in small town India, the tales are told by women and of women as they navigate the complexitities of social rules. Food is their trap. It is also their currency and their weaponry – against each other and against men.

Their stories accompany chopping, cleaning, stirring and serving as they traverse myths, superstitions, memories and fantasies. They speak about hard-won prizes of power, of facing down oppressive in-laws, brutish husbands and snarky sisters.

They are widows, dutiful wives, long-suffering spouses, cherished cooks, feared senior members of household, ambitious brides and more. There is an eye-tearing mama of womanhood politics that, just like Indian spices, settles into flavourful, appetising stories.

This was a perfect meal.

A truly gorgeous collection of stories, funny and poignant in equal measure and every single one a treasure. Usually a collection of short stories is a mixed bag but in this one, every single one hits.

We hear the yearning of lesbians who hang on to the attentions of a best friend who still wants a fairy tale Prince Charming. We watch the silent erosion of identity of a long suffering daughter through her mother’s affairs, unfair treatment of her against her brothers and then having to care for her as she loses her mind.

But there are sudden redemptions in the less-than-sainted revenge fantasies, the messy but earnest step sisterly bonds. We also meet the unapologetic sexuality of a woman who knows her God and sees no reason to explain anything to you other than how she wants to be loved. Each tale is a masterpiece.

If this convinced you to read more women-authored stories, there’s a curated list at the bottom of this post.