“Not all prisons have bars, and not all love is a prison.”
Freedom is a notion that has defined the history of our world. India’s independence movement was a crusade for the country’s freedom, an idea championed by society and seen as a unifier beyond any other identity. The clarion call of “Purna Swaraj”, complete self-rule, evoked the sense that India’s fight for independence would mean not just the end of British colonialism but of all the institutions that are built on the foundation of exploitation. Despite the fervour and passion of it all, freedom is a tempered channel, and the right to self-determination is classified as a luxury. Not every shackle falls, not every prison door breaks, because even in the call for freedom, some lives are deemed to be better off confined. Freedom will not change their lives, no revolution has sought their strength. Liberation comes at great costs, but it is deemed a worthy sacrifice. But is it really freedom for all?
China Room by Sunjeev Sahota begins as the story of Mehar, who has been recently married into a rural family in Punjab. Mehar’s husband and his two brothers were all married in a single ceremony, and along with her two sisters-in-law, she tried to identify which of the three brothers is her spouse. The days of the new brides are occupied by strenuous labour, performing the work duties of farmhands, cooks, and cleaners all rolled into one. Their nights are spent in the china room- a small outhouse where they rest under the display of their mother-in-law’s wedding porcelain. Their lives are governed by the looming expectation of having children- sons, to be exact and the fear of being cast aside if they fail to produce children. The ironic backdrop to Mehar’s stifling life is the burgeoning freedom movement of 1920s India. While the youth of India calls for freedom and liberation, women like Mehar continue to be captives of rigid sexism and regressive traditions.
The second main storyline of this book takes place in the year 1999, to a young man who returns to his ancestral farm from England to finally recover from his drug addiction. He lives in the china room, once the abode of his great-grandmother Mehar and is plagued by his trauma, withdrawal symptoms, the experiences of racism, and violence he has faced as an immigrant. At first, the story of this young man was not as intriguing as that of Mehar, but just as they share blood, the stories of these characters are marked by the desire to be free- from expectations, judgements, and pain. It is marked by the desolation of those who have been left behind by the furore of revolutions, whose yearning for freedom has gone unseen.
Reading this book felt like a jolting time-traveling voyage. Sahota’s writing is captivating without being archaic, accompanied by rich characterisation. There is a quality to this book that we can’t completely define- both time periods are a moment of transition in the country, and Sahota perfectly captures the waves of change that build around the central characters. The movement against British colonialism permeating the way of life in Indian villages, the shift to modernity in Indian society at the turn of the millennium evoke a sense of uncertainty that adds to the very real atmosphere of the book. The author has drawn from experiences of his own family to add to the book, which explains why even the minutiae of the characters’ lives are fleshed out so carefully.
This is one of the rare books where we wished it was a longer story. Sahota leaves many questions unanswered and as we turned the last page of this book, we were overwhelmed by a sense of despair. We don’t believe, however, that there’s any need for loose ends to be tied up, and while the initial desire for more is very real, the wistful and thought-provoking nature of the story is what makes it a great read. China Room is a short, poignant read and addresses several social issues and historical moments through the eyes of people who are otherwise left behind. We’re rooting for this book to make it to the Booker Prize shortlist!