This candid portrayal of a fraught mother-daughter relationship is unflinching in its details of bad mothering and childhood neglect, as narrated by the daughter. There is acerbic black comedy amidst the bitterness, and vivid sensual descriptions as potent and spicy as a hot curry, but some readers may be disturbed by the voyeuristic descriptions of female bodily functions.
I wish India allowed for assisted suicide like the Netherlands. Not just for the dignity of the patient, but for everyone involved. I should be sad instead of angry. Sometimes I cry when no one else is around - I am grieving, but it’s too early to burn the body.
