inthelittlethings

[inthelittlethings]

Reading the In-Betweens: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri For days I had been looking for an easy read, something to reconnect me with reading. I came across Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri, and let’s just say, it was an interesting read. Short. Beautifully written. Each word added to the visual imagery. It made you feel. There were moments I was enraged, other times sympathetic. That’s the beauty of Lahiri. She knows how to get you invested.

When I first read the description, I imagined a simple story: Mr. and Mrs. Das on a tour in India with their adorable children, and Mr. Kapasi, as the interpreter, quietly observing. I thought he’d be interpreting their interactions, their mannerisms, the words left unsaid, the diverted glances. All those little things that aren’t really little, the ones that foreshadow how love dies a slow death. But it’s Lahiri. Predictability isn’t her style. The secrets Mrs. Das held, the final collapse symbolised by the puffed rice, Mr. Kapasi’s longing - it all came as a surprise. No complaints, though.

As I kept reading, the story started to pull me deeper. This wasn’t just a surface-level tale about a failing marriage or a curious interpreter. It was layered and messy. And it got me reflecting.

I cannot describe how frustrated I was while reading Mr. Kapasi’s thoughts. It felt icky. Uncomfortable. But the sad truth is that it’s very much real. He’s just a human. Inherently flawed, deprived, lonely. I love Lahiri for that. She didn’t hand us a hero. Just flawed beings, and left us to judge or understand them.

Then there was Mrs. Das. My heart went out to her, and to mothers like her, left post-childbirth to fend for themselves, emotionally and physically. Poor she. She didn’t deserve it. If only she had someone, maybe she wouldn’t have lost the abundant love she once had. It was a tragedy. Love can give and take everything at once.

And then I found myself wrestling with something I didn’t expect. For someone with staunch beliefs about cheating, this story challenged me. It made me ask questions I hadn’t considered. Should it be acceptable to look for passion outside of a relationship when all that’s left is intimacy and commitment? Can we really judge someone for wanting to feel alive again?

That said, one part left me confused. When Mrs. Das confesses to Mr. Kapasi about the affair she had with her husband’s friend, the language was ambiguous. It’s unclear whether she gave consent or whether the act was coerced. And that ambiguity matters. If it wasn’t consensual, then how is it her fault? Or her child’s? And if it was, does that change anything about how we see her? Lahiri doesn’t give us the answer. She leaves us to sit with the discomfort, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the children, especially Tina. Can there ever be children with no one to pamper them? Can childhood survive in the midst of indifference?

[inthelittlethings]

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

~ “Late Fragment” by Raymond Carver