REVIEW

Sumitra Singam’s Mother Karma is a gorgeously woven novella-in-flash that daringly asks how strong love really is—and whether a family can heal itself despite the trials of illness and long-fractured relationships.

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Singam’s mastery of the flash form is on full display. Brilliant extended metaphors. Stunning use of refrain. And hermit crab flash galore! A school assignment. Doctor’s notes. A visa application. Through the course of thirty flash fictions, we meet young Mythili, desperate for attention and affection, and her mother Radha, who parents with a stiff upper lip. After Mythili’s father deserts the family, Radha must work outside the home for long stretches, another abandonment to Mythili’s eyes. Mother and daughter grow further and further apart. Flash forward many years: Mythili has built a family that is worlds apart from the one she was raised in. Her husband, Raghav, is a kind, caring man, and her son Rishi, an astute eight-year-old whom she dotes on. Yet the universe will not leave well enough alone. When Mythili is diagnosed with leukemia and forced to reside in hospital, she must leave little Rishi in her mother’s care. Now, Rishi is a lonely child pining for his mother. A cosmic irony.

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And the cosmos lies very much at the heart of this novella. Older Radha is eager for reconciliation. Where once she allowed her own child to suffer, she is now ever-present for her grandson, buoying him with stories from the Ramayana. The epic quickly becomes a lifeline for him. The stories, a shared language for the whole family to process traumas, past and present. Some of the dearest scenes in the novella take place during story hour. Radha recounts myths with humor and aplomb, and Rishi drinks them in, intuiting personal lessons with impressive speed. Their growing bond becomes as much a part of the narrative as Lord Rama himself.

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At a pivotal time, Rishi is tasked with a school assignment: “write a story from your culture.” He tells of the time Rama came unexpectedly upon his queen Sita and their two sons, whom he’d never met (long story short, he’d banished her when she was pregnant). Rama attempts an inartful apology, but Sita will have none of it, ultimately deciding to return to the belly of her mother, the Earth. Rishi, though, doesn’t see a woman driven to the brink by her husband’s hubris. He sees two boys left alone, motherless. When prompted to explain how the story helps him, Rishi writes: It doesn’t. And yet, we can see it does. Rishi would be utterly unmoored without the love of his grandmother and her faith. She teaches him with such grace how our foundational narratives allow us space to grieve and find strength to move forward. And in this way, Singam gives us room to consider how families are as complex as the universe. How trauma can be handed down through generations, yes, but it can also be resolved and new paths forged. Such is the push-pull of the universe, the story of love itself, Singam suggests. There is just the sound of life—pain and joy, joy and pain. So deep in us, this sound, we can hear it.

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Book Details

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Mother Karma can be purchased here.

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Published by Jake, this book comprises 61 pages of prose. The volume measures 5.5" x 8.25" and features stunning cover art by Mallika Narayanan.

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