Memoirs are a tricky business. They rely on memory, and memories can be deceptive, biased, or lopsided.
Arundhati Roy’s memoir, Mother Mary comes to me, however, feels remarkably free of such distortions. It reads as though it has been taking shape throughout her writing journey, perhaps even before it began, replayed endlessly in her mind until it finally found expression on the page.
The result is an intimate and deeply moving account of a girl growing up with a difficult mother, feeling profoundly unloved and unappreciated. Through Roy’s eyes, the reader experiences her years of turbulence, rage, longing, and heartbreak.
This memoir is cathartic in the truest sense, an unflinching exposure of old wounds and scars, not for shock value but as an act of reckoning and closure. It feels like a final attempt to confront the ghosts that have haunted her since childhood.
What emerges most powerfully is the complexity of the mother-daughter bond. Roy appears to be a reluctant admirer of her mother’s tenacity and audacity in challenging moribund social traditions whom she calls ‘gangster’!
Mary Roy, Arundhati’s mother was an Indian educator and women’s rights activist known for winning a Supreme Court lawsuit in 1986 against the inheritance law prevalent within the Syrian Malabar community of Kerala.
Yet admiration for her mother sits uneasily alongside a deep- rooted resentment for years of repression, humiliation, rejection and pain.
Roy is unsparing in her honesty. She catalogues countless reasons to dislike her mother, even hate her at times, but she cannot escape a deeper truth: she loved her mother and desperately sought her love in return. She craved affection, clung to fleeting gestures of approval, and continued to yearn for emotional validation despite repeated disappointments.
"She was my shelter and my storm", Roy's acceptance of this dichotomy encapsulates beautifully her relationship with her mother.
Perhaps that is what makes the memoir so poignant. Roy seems almost exasperated by the fact that, despite all the accumulated grievances and hurts, she still loves her mother.
This contradiction lies at the heart of the book and gives it much of its emotional force. These are complex filial bonds, rendered with honesty rather than sentimentality.
The book also offers deep, fascinating insights into Roy herself. She has led a chequered life, marked by fame, controversy, success, and struggle. She has been a rebel, a crusader ( was actively involved in protests against large dams on Narmada River) and a non-conformist her entire life and proudly wears her unconventional life choices and proven intellect ( booker prize for her celebrated book, The god of small things and umpteen other such) with aplomb!
She's vocal about her support for marginalized voices, tribals and lower caste communities. Her disdain for authoritarian regimes and policies is palpable in her memoir.
There is a reason life stories often become a writer’s finest work. Imagination, however rich, can seldom compete with the power and honesty of lived experiences.
As a reader, I found the memoir utterly compelling. It is laced with self-deprecating humour, sharp observation, emotional candour and a sense of fearlessness which leaves one in awe!
