In "Mudritha", Jissa Jose gifts the literary world a narrative that begins with the echo of absence and soon floods into a complex, stunning exploration of presence specifically, the nuanced, often unseen presence of women in society. What might seem like a missing-person mystery at the surface quietly unfurls into a deeply layered, unsettlingly beautiful meditation on identity, autonomy, and womanhood.
The story begins deceptively simply, Aniruddhan, a 30-year-old man, walks into a police station to report the disappearance of a woman named Mudritha. But the twist? He has never met her. Their only contact had been through email and phone conversations while organizing a women-only trip to Odisha. The case seems poised to dissolve into bureaucratic obscurity until Vanitha, the policewoman in charge, pursues the investigation in secret.
As Vanitha delves deeper, the book subtly shifts gears from procedural mystery to psychological excavation, from thriller to social commentary. Each woman on the tour emerges as a repository of suppressed longings, ruptured dreams, and fierce silences. Mudritha’s absence becomes a catalyst to explore not just one woman’s fate but the invisible weight carried by many.
Mudritha’s vanishing is not only an event; it is a metaphor. Through her absence, the book confronts a deeply patriarchal assumption that women exist only to be found, accounted for, and named by others. “Who was missing her?” Aniruddhan wonders. This inversion of the missing woman not as a victim, but as a seeker of space anchors the book’s subversive pulse. It presents disappearance not as loss, but as reclamation.
One of the book’s most powerful strands lies in its portrayal of how women internalize societal roles to the point of invisibility. She doesn’t scream this injustice, she whispers it through fractured confessions, gentle observations, and moments of unbearable restraint. The pain of being endlessly available, desirable, sacrificial without being seen pulses quietly but insistently.
✍️ Strengths :
🔸The author’s rare ability to combine deep psychological insight with breezy readability. The story never collapses under the weight of its themes.
🔸The women are not archetypes. They are breathing, bruised, and brimming with contradiction.
🔸Rich references to Kerala’s contemporary and mythic landscape ground the novel in a unique, local reality while speaking universally.
✒️ Areas for improvement :
▪️Some readers expecting a conventional thriller may find the plot's meandering rhythm disorienting.
▪️The book’s emotional intensity, especially for readers with high empathy, can be overwhelming. There are moments where one might have to pause, breathe, and reflect.
In conclusion, it is not a book you consume it’s a book that consumes you. It asks difficult questions but does not prescribe answers. It gives voice to silences, space to pain, and dignity to desire. At its core, it’s a celebration of women who choose themselves, even if the world insists they belong to others.
Her voice is quietly radical, and "Mudritha" is her literary rebellion, one that deserves to be read, remembered, and revered.