Having a cruel and revolutionary mother

BarcelonaOn the day of his mother's funeral, Writer Arundhati Roy was devastated. Not surprising, until she explains that she was also bewildered and somewhat embarrassed to find herself in that state. Her brother, LKC, told her, "I don't understand your reaction. You're the person I treated the worst." Roy writes, "Perhaps he was right, but it seems to me that the one who got the credit was him." She explains all this in the first chapter of'My refuge and my storm (Ara Llibres, translated by Imma Falcó), a kind of memoir that she recommends reading like a novel, as there is a constant mix of fiction and reality, filtered through memories.

It's a fascinating book, which takes you through the author's life, starting, above all, with the figure of her mother, because she marked her deeply. Roy says that she has made her appear in different versions in her works, but that "I have never written the real her." Nothing I explain in this article about "the real her" will prepare you for reading this book, which, by the way, I enthusiastically recommend. The title already gives clues, My shelter and my storm, and there's a line from the book that illustrates the story very well: "I quickly learned that the safest place can also be the most dangerous." From a young age, the Indian author longed for her mother to love her, but it wasn't easy: she describes a cruel mother who hit and humiliated her and her brother, to whom she once said, "You're ugly and stupid. If I were you, I'd kill myself." Roy describes a traumatic relationship, but at the same time highlights her mother. Separated, resilient, and very strong, she managed to change an inheritance law that gave no rights to daughters. She also founded a modest school that ended up becoming a benchmark and was particularly revolutionary. Throughout the book, the author portrays the reality of Indian society, which is sexist and patriarchal. Her mother, in addition to educating boys in equality, helped many girls: "She gave them mental strength, she gave them wings, she made them free." Curiously, she explains that it also helped her to be free, but in a different way: the students received her light, and her dark side was for the children, who had to call her "Mrs. Roy," like the others, so as not to make any distinctions. Even today, her mother is Mrs. Roy, but the writer is grateful for the darkness and considers it a gift. "It also turned out to be a path to freedom."

At eighteen, she left home. "If I left my mother, it wasn't so that I wouldn't love her, but so that I could continue loving her." The writer explains her life from then on, her reunions with Mrs. Roy, but also her personal and professional experiences. She talks a lot about writing, and fans ofThe God of small things They will greatly enjoy what it explains. Identity is also very important in this lucid, unsentimental book, both moving and surprisingly funny at times. Roy has found the perfect tone and distance to say goodbye to her mother. "Perhaps, more than a daughter mourning her mother's death, I mourn her as a writer who has lost her most fascinating subject," she asserts.