It is rare for me to give a book 5 stars. This one probably should have only 4.5 or so. But then, I read the translated version. The narration moves back and forth between the present and the past. It also changes the POVs from one character to another.
But none of it mattered. The topic the book deals with is something that matters to me (a lot). Reading news that’s different from what’s presented, seeing the artful turn of phrases, and delving deeper into topics that are labeled communal has become a part of life. The patterns are easy to trace once you know what to look for.
This book is a mirror- a reflection of what has been happening for decades. The tone when dealing with the progressive Prof Shastri is spot on. The indignant righteousness he exhibits when he knows he is wrong and his mastery in manipulating people and situations to suit his ideas show what we see every day on social media. The sarcasm (of the writer) is easy to miss if one is not aware of the pattern. It’s that subtle.
Lakshmi alias Razia starts to question her decisions 28 years after she has lived with them. The nudge comes in the form of Hampi ruins. It is further fueled by devastating news. She is torn, undecided, and begins questioning her role, her actions, and if she was even who the world credited her as. Was she really a progressive woman if she had to convert from her religion to another to marry her love?
When she stumbles upon vast resources (books) to look at things from another perspective, to get material for the Hampi project, nothing prepares her for the brutal truth that shakes her to the core. All the theories spun by the progressive historians are the opposite of what has happened. The more she reads, the more questions fill her mind.
This doesn’t help her relationship with her husband or her son. What else can be expected, though? Lakshmi strides forward, digging deeper and deeper. Thirty thousand temples lay destroyed. If the progressive minds worked hard to create alternate history, the ‘communal’ historians risked their lives to make sure that history didn't get erased.
Why is it that asking about a temple ruin is labeled communal when the act of demolition is not? It’s supposed to work both ways, isn’t it?
Why is the need to distort and whitewash history is strong? What’s wrong with accepting that yes, the Mughals have destroyed temples? What’s wrong with acknowledging the violence inflicted when the survivors are still haunted by the horrors of the past? Why can’t we give them a chance to declare that the actions of their ancestors will not be repeated?
Why does a mere questioning for equal rights turn a person communal? Why does a feminist and a modern-day woman not ask the same questions to every religion? What does it reflect? Why are the ones who question this hypocrisy lectured about women's oppression and rights? Is women's oppression really confined to one religion? The answers are uncomfortable. No one wants to talk about them.
Aavarana dares to do it. Lakshmi’s transition from a progressive converted woman to a woman with a wider perspective of life is not easy. It’s hard. It’s brutal. It’s filled with anguish, self-loathing, helplessness, and rage. Her realization that no amount of truth is going to convince those with an agenda pushes her into depression.
Amir, Lakshmi’s husband, is struck between conflicting emotions. The control of his religious teachings takes him further away from his wife. Does it give him a happy life? We can guess the answer. He is still a man who has always loved his wife- his strong, intelligent, and no-nonsense wife.
But the gap between them has widened too far. He’s done something he shouldn’t have done. Oh, he knows it’s not a crime. But…
All characters in the book are flawed; humans in their real form who are in no way perfect. But how many of them realize the truth?
The more one reads the book, the more it hurts. Not because the truth is uncomfortable. Some of us are used to it. But because the reality is even worse. There are way too many Prof. Shastri’s out there. The helplessness that fills and explodes in Lakshmi can be found in so many of us. It’s like a knife twisting the guts and taunting us for not being able to heal.
Does she win at the end? No. It is never that easy.
Does she lose? No. She cannot afford to lose. She cannot risk giving up. The truth has to be told. We deserve no less.
The fight is on. It isn’t for Supremacy or control. This fight is for survival. It is for real equality; not the twisted version of it. It is for justice.

P.S: If you truly want to know more, make a note of the bibliography at the end of the book. It's a treasure trove of history. And this history is not pretty.

P.P.S: If you intend to read the book, do your eyes a favor and pick the Kindle version. The paperback by Rupa Publications has been printed specifically designed to harm readers’ eyes. That font, ugh!