A young woman’s quest for meaning and purpose takes a catastrophic turn when she is injured in a motorcycle taxi accident in Uganda and slips into a coma. It is not clear whether she will live – and if so, in what state. A tornado has ripped through her brain. Miraculously, Tarini Mohan opens her eyes three months later in a Delhi hospital, with many impairments – but with her long-term memory intact. Her parents have their daughter back.
As she begins to grasp the extent of her physical and cognitive difficulties, twenty-four-year-old Tarini is in turmoil. She “This wasn’t who I’d been, wasn’t who I was inside, or who I wanted to be. I didn’t want to live curled up on my parents, or anyone else’s lap.” This book is her wise, warm, honest, and funny account of how she regains control of her life. The beauty of this book is that Tarini never lets you pity her. She just draws you into her world as she learns to live her life on new terms; whether it is getting through the daily grind of therapies or handling relationships that have become infinitely more tangled, especially the one with her long-term partner, Nikhil.
What shines through is that even after a “lifequake”, Tarini remains much the outgoing, spirited, tenacious, and determined to wrest joy and meaning from life. “For the gregarious,” Tarini writes, reflecting on her difficulties with speech, “a brief moment of repetition is a small price to pay for being heard.”
“Life is beautiful, I reminded myself,” writes Tarini Mohan in her powerful debut memoir, Lifequake: A Story of Hope and Humanity published by Juggernaut Books in 2025. The lyrical prose and suspenseful opening story about a Wellesley graduate working at Morgan Stanley who decides to upend her life and devote her boundless energy and intellect to be of service to small holder farmers in Africa reads like a novel. As she jauntily writes, this 20-something young Indian woman left the safety and fat-wallet comforts of New York City off to work with BRAC Uganda and see if she could be of service to its massive operations serving the country’s poor women and their families improve their lives. She also left behind her handsome boyfriend, Nikhil. Full of intriguing characters, Tarini captures the fun-filled life of a young expatriate in a bustling capital in Africa.
As Tarini chronicles in her beautifully written book, we had just met in Kampala after seeing her in action working with our team in Uganda. That night everything changed for her. She pulls no punches from the outset, plunging the reader into the heart of the life-altering motorcycle taxi accident in Kampala in 2010. While riding on the back of this “boda-boda” with another friend, she recounts how an SUV plowed into them and dashed away.
Tarini writes about the hours after, and months to follow with fascinating detail and raw vulnerability. Her exploration of having a road accident in a developing country with only four neurosurgeons was horrifying and memorable. Midway through the book, she moves back to the US. With disarming honesty, her vulnerable stories and personal reflections provide a stark contrast for living with a disability in the developing world compared to the West. She grapples with physical limitations and the insidious “internalized ableism” that whispers “unwanted truths.” The book beautifully illustrates her path toward self-acceptance, drawing inspiration from other, notably Trisha Meili’s “I Am the Central Park Jogger.” Like Meili, Tarini discovers that “healing is the process of moving toward wholeness.”
In the subsequent chapters, Tarini weaves her intricate and sometimes hilarious tale of physical and emotional recovery as well as her new journey of discovery after the ‘life quake.’ Poignant, purposeful, and artfully written, Tarini Mohan is a remarkable human being with a devious wit, wide emotional pallet and incredible ‘village’ of family and friends. She paints a picture of life that will linger with me for all my days.
“Lifequake” is a vital read for anyone navigating unforeseen adversity, grappling with identity, or seeking to understand the lived experience of someone with a disability. She shows how disability is “simply another way to be human.” This is not a depressing or dark story. Rather she crafts an inspiring narrative that compels readers to rethink their own definitions of strength, beauty, and what truly constitutes a life well-lived. This memoir is a resounding affirmation that, even after the most devastating ‘lifequake,’ a future filled with hope and humanity is not only possible but accessible to us all. As she remembers, “life is beautiful,” so must we all.
What if the world betrays you? Chooses you to prove the almost impossible statistics of probability? Preying upon you, putting you in the bracket of 'life-threatening injury's, slotting you as a figure, a number and not as a person. That's what happened to Tarini Mohan at the young, ambitious age of 24. She had recently left the States and moved to Kampala, capital of Yuganda, to discover what new surprises life had for her? The life, it turned out, had a rude shock in store.
But this memoir isn't about the debilitating effect of that almost-fatal injury; it's about fighting with life, fighting with your body, fighting with statistics and coming up on top. It's about trying to deal with panic attacks and living with chronic pain. It's about finding and chasing new joys, not sitting in a room and letting the darkest corner of the minds take over.
Since Mohan was in coma for three months, a chunk of the book is what she has gleaned from the conversations with friends and family. The book will make you laugh at many places but what will it never make you do is pity the person. As Mira Nair in her glowing byline, says, 'This is not a pity party'. Ramchandra Guha tol waxes eloquent about Mohan's writing acumen.
What I liked most was the author's interactions with her long-term partner, Nikhil. One moment comes to mind when Mohan is rattled by a text of Nihil where he writes that he misses their fun life.
In this memoir, Mohan used sophisticated yet approachable language to give us an insight into her life after a tragic accident that changed everything. It allowed a glimpse into the lived experiences of a disabled person, further expanding people’s understanding of the intricacies of recovery, physiotherapy, and the strange workings of the human brain. However, more importantly, she lets us in on her complex landscape of feelings, coming to terms with her altered reality while also finding acceptance and love in all moments of life.
The author beautifully weaves the chapters together in fluent prose, shifting between past, present and her life reflections that demonstrate depth and wisdom. I loved the raw honesty and vulnerability of her words, paired with her analytical and logical approach. The book reads as much more than a memoir — it is filled with eloquent passages, which I felt compelled to highlight with my marker, that touch on identity, loss, recovery, love, friendship, purpose and ambition.
She has portrayed a remarkable resilience throughout the book, whether tackling her rehabilitation journey, searching for her redefined identity, or achieving significant personal and professional milestones. I was deeply touched by the unconditional love of her family and closest friends. This is a story of deep introspection and human connection, and the role both play in encouraging Mohan to truly embrace her new normal and see beauty in life’s most unexpected situations.
This was a moving, heartbreaking, and uplifting read all in one. I highly recommend it. The parts that touched me the most were the moments with her family, especially her parents. She really captures their fierce love and determination (traits that are mirrored in Tarini!) in many heartwarming episodes throughout the book. Those were also the parts where I felt the writing and her voice were the strongest. I loved how she ended it with the sweetest quote from her dad as they hunker down for the pandemic. I would have loved a little more depth on the philosophical points she brings up, especially the thoughts on identity and self. I found those passages fascinating. After reading this book, I have no doubt that Tarini has at least 2 or 3 more books in her - I can't wait to read them!!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Lifequake is not a book about miracles. It is about what came after. It is not just the body that requires mending after catastrophe; it is one’s sense of agency, the scaffolding of identity, and the sedimented expectations of selfhood that fracture when life veers off script. Mohan writes not of a return to an imagined ‘normalcy’ but of the painstaking reconstitution of personhood in the wake of rupture.
She writes with remarkable lucidity about the estrangement of living in a body that no longer responds the way it once did, of the disjuncture between intention and execution. Merleau-Ponty famously argued that consciousness is not some disembodied essence floating free of materiality but rather is rooted in the flesh, in the sensuous, lived experience of the body in the world. To lose control over it is to suffer a disruption in the fundamental way one exists with the world and oneself. Her prose moves fluidly between past and present, often returning in nonlinear fragments to episodes of her pre-accident life even as she describes her post-accident reality, allowing the reader to inhabit her dual consciousness.
Some books entertain. Some inform and a rare few, like "Lifequake", shake you to your core, not with drama, but with truth. Tarini Mohan’s memoir is one such seismic reading experience, confronting the brutal unpredictability of life and then chronicling, with remarkable lucidity, the slow, stubborn, deeply human act of rebuilding the self from the debris.
The memoir’s emotional gravity stems from the author's confrontation with selfhood in flux. At twenty-four, her world is disrupted not just externally by a near-fatal brain injury but internally by the collapse of the linear life she had imagined, globe-trotting, independent, and intellectually driven. Her journey of reclaiming identity, distinct from what society, doctors, or even family might hope for is deeply philosophical without ever becoming preachy.
The author’s portrayal of adult dependence on parents is perhaps the most unflinching and emotionally gutting theme. There is no pretence. She shows the push-pull of guilt, shame, love, and resentment without offering easy resolutions. It’s raw. Often, one can almost feel the tightness in her throat as she types. Her relationship with her partner, Nikhil, is equally honest, awkward, beautiful, fractured, and deeply real. She doesn’t edit out the mess. She allows readers to sit with it.
The book captures the emotional toll of chronic pain, invisible impairments, panic attacks, and misrecognition by others. She calls out the soft cruelty of well-meaning sympathy, the patronizing admiration for her "strength", and the deeply lonely moments when her trauma makes her unreadable to people she once shared laughter and beds with.
“For the gregarious, a brief moment of repetition is a small price to pay for being heard.”
✍️ Strengths :
✔ There is no filter in her writing. No forced optimism. No "this made me stronger" moralising. Just the honest recounting of what it means to wake up in a different body, with the same mind, and then be expected to be grateful for that dissonance.
✔ She finds humour even in hardship, wry, self-deprecating, never performative. Her prose balances emotional weight with moments of surprising levity, offering the reader space to breathe. This tonal control is rare and immensely humane.
✔ The decision to include flashbacks of her vibrant life in New York and Uganda alongside her post-injury experiences deepens the contrast and enhances the sense of loss but also shows the continuity of self. The "before" is never framed as "better" just "different".
✔ There is no romanticisation of brain injury.o "my trauma made me better" arc. She asserts the dignity of her now while mourning what she lost. That tension of acceptance without surrender is the emotional soul of the memoir.
✒️ Areas for Improvement :
▪️One cannot ignore the role of privilege in the author's recovery access to medical care, international networks, and a supportive family. To her credit, she touches upon this. But it remains at the surface. A more candid dive into how class, caste, and geography shaped her recovery would have added richer socio-political texture.
▪️Her time in Uganda, the setting of the accident, is more functional in the narrative than emotional. The book could have engaged more deeply with her experiences there, both personally and culturally. As it stands, Uganda is the backdrop to the fall, not a part of the story’s emotional map.
In conclusion, it is not just a memoir, it’s a becoming. A becoming of self, redefined not by trauma alone but by how one continues to choose life in the shadow of what’s lost. She gives us something rare: not inspiration, not despair, but truth and in today’s world of curated recovery narratives, that truth is a radical offering. This is a book for anyone navigating the dark forests of uncertainty, chronic pain, identity rupture, or even everyday emotional fatigue.
When I first picked up Lifequake: A Story of Hope and Humanity by Tarini Mohan, I expected an inspiring memoir—but what I encountered was so much more: a raw, unflinching account of survival that refuses to let you look away. From the very first pages, Mohan’s lucid prose had me leaning in, eager to witness how she would navigate the chasm between who she was before the accident and who she would become afterward.
The Accident and the Awakening Reading about Tarini’s motorcycle-taxi accident in Uganda felt like standing on the edge of a cliff—terrifying yet impossible to ignore. At 24, she plunged into a coma that lasted three months, and when she awoke in Delhi, the world as she knew it had shifted beneath her feet. I was struck by how Mohan balances clinical detail with emotional candor: she describes every fracture and scan, but never loses sight of the person behind the injuries. In her own words, the body that once carried her dreams now felt foreign—an alien landscape she had to learn all over again.
Relearning to Live Perhaps the most powerful sections for me were those chronicling the painstaking process of rehabilitation. Simple acts—lifting a cup of water, brushing her hair—took on the weight of epic feats. I could almost feel my own heartbeat quicken as Mohan wrestled with doubt, frustration, and the creeping fear that she might never be herself again. Yet it’s here, amid grueling physiotherapy sessions and faltering speech therapy, that her fierce determination shines brightest. She writes not with self-pity but with a hard-won humility: each small victory, like a tremulous first step or a coherent sentence, becomes a triumph for both body and spirit.
Confronting Ableism and Finding Community Beyond the personal struggle, Lifequake offers a searing critique of the ableism woven into our institutions. Mohan recalls everything from a misplaced wheelchair ramp to offhand comments that reduced her to her disability. Reading her reflections made me keenly aware of the barriers—both seen and unseen—that society erects around people with impairments. Yet she also introduces us to the allies and caregivers who refuse to look away: her family’s unwavering support, the therapists who celebrated incremental gains, and even the accommodations at Yale School of Management that allowed her to pursue an MBA. Their belief in her potential became another pillar in her rebuilding process.
Voice and Style What sets Mohan’s memoir apart is her ability to marry stark honesty with lyrical grace. She never shies away from the darkest moments—pain, anger, fear—but she also finds poetry in the mundane: the sun filtering through hospital curtains, the taste of fresh fruit after weeks without appetite. Her narrative cadence ebbs and flows, mirroring the unpredictability of recovery itself. As a reader, I was swept along by her rhythm: at times breathless with suspense, at others pausing to let the enormity of her reflections settle.
Conclusion: A Testament to Resilience By the final chapter, I felt I’d been invited into a sacred space: one where the definition of “normal” is stretched and remade. Lifequake isn’t just Tarini Mohan’s story—it’s a testament to the human capacity for renewal. I closed the book with a mix of melancholy and exhilaration, deeply grateful for the glimpse into a life rebuilt from fractured pieces. If you’re seeking a memoir that refuses platitudes and instead offers unvarnished truth wrapped in profound hope, this is the one for you. I wholeheartedly recommend it—and for me, it earns a solid 4.5 out of 5.
The book is a meditation on the fragile geometry of friendship, family, and love.
Tarini's story traverses between memory and forgetting, the lightness of connection and the weight of accident. It begins with her life in India, one filled with dreams (not revolutions) of love, family, and the simple pleasures of becoming and being. Her life unfolds like a feather caught in the breeze—crossing borders, forging intimate alliances with friends and mentors in the United States and Uganda. Her friendships do not scream; they whisper. They appear accidental, but perhaps nothing truly is.
And then tragedy strikes. Sudden, absurd, and uninvited. This is where Tarini's story mutates into something else. In the aftermath, it is not only the institutions or systems that rise to save her, but people. Strangers who step forward without demand. Friends who span continents. It is as if the randomness of suffering had summoned an equally random grace. A journey of responsible privilege and unfathomable tragedy becomes a story of grappling with what it means to be present and finding roots in places she wants to go to.
There are no sentimental lessons on life here. Instead, a quiet, persistent suggestion that perhaps the true meaning of life lies not in grand philosophies or in love’s metaphysics, but in the mundane kindness of others. The book does not shout its gyaan. It does not even teach. It simply exists, asking you to remember that the geometry of friendship is never symmetrical, yet it is often the only map we have to navigate the life, irrespective of where we come from; or where we go.
You'll never leave your home without a helmet after reading this book. It's a story of hope you'll love gifting to people you care about :)
In "LIFEQUAKE: A Story of Hope and Humanity," Tarini Mohan takes readers on a profound journey through her life-altering experience following a devastating motorcycle🏍️ accident in Uganda🇺🇬. At just twenty-three, Tarini is an eager professional working with the Bangladesh Rural Advancement Committee (BRAC), full of hope and ambition. However, her world is turned upside down on October 8, 2010, when she slips into a coma after a traumatic brain🧠 injury, leaving her future uncertain.
For months, her family and loved ones feared😨 the worst, and even as she began to recover in a Delhi hospital🏥, Tarini faced a daunting reality: her brain injury had left her with significant physical and cognitive impairments. In this poignant memoir, Tarini confronts the upheaval in her life with remarkable honesty and humour. Her reflections on the stark difference between her past self and her current reality resonate deeply.
Despite her impairments, Tarini's determination to regain control is inspiring. Through her vivid storytelling, she guides readers through her grueling therapy sessions while navigating complex relationships, particularly with her long-term partner, Nikhil. Her eventual farewell to this relationship due to her health challenges is a heart-wrenching💔moment that underscores the emotional toll of her journey.
Tarini Mohan’s memoir is a testament to hope and humanity, reminding us that even in the face of adversity, joy and meaning can still be wrested from life’s challenges. This beautifully written account will inspire anyone navigating their own struggles, making "LIFEQUAKE" an essential read💖🌞
As you grow up, you begin to realise that life is fragile—a sheer moment that can change without warning. Tarini Mohan’s Lifequake captures this truth with striking honesty. At 24, she had everything ahead of her—a bright Wellesley graduate working in New York, full of purpose and dreams. When she left it all to serve farmers in Uganda, she was choosing meaning over comfort. But one random road accident turned her world upside down. In a split second, a vibrant, independent woman was plunged into a coma, waking months later to a body and brain that no longer felt like her own.
This memoir is not about tragedy, but transformation. Tarini reflects on her journey of recovery—not just physical healing, but emotional rebuilding. She writes about the frustration of not being able to move, the loneliness of feeling like a stranger in your own body, and the slow, often painful path to rediscovering herself. But through every struggle, there is a deep, steady strength. Her words come from a place of wisdom beyond her years—calm, clear, and quietly powerful. She doesn’t ask for sympathy; she shows what it means to fight, to adapt, and to find joy in new ways of living.
Lifequake makes you pause and think about what really matters. It reminds you that life is unpredictable, but also incredibly resilient. Tarini’s writing is simple yet profound—never dramatic, but always heartfelt. Her story encourages us to live with more awareness, more gratitude, and more courage. It’s a deeply human book about holding on, showing up, and finding beauty even in brokenness.
Lifequake is a powerful and deeply personal memoir that offers an honest, vulnerable window into life before, during, and after a traumatic brain injury. The author shares a remarkable journey—one shaped by global experiences and meaningful connections—before life takes an unexpected and life-altering turn.
The narrative moves from the energetic rhythms of a vibrant 20s lifestyle in New York to the raw and often disorienting realities of navigating a changed body and mind. This contrast is striking and immersive. At its core, Lifequake explores universal themes of resilience, friendship, identity, and community, reminding us that while adversity is a shared human experience, its impact is shaped by deeply individual circumstances.
What stood out most to me was the author’s willingness to share the intimate effects of trauma on their closest relationships. The book thoughtfully challenges assumptions around pity, idolisation, and the social dynamics that can inadvertently isolate rather than empower. I found these insights particularly valuable.
One area where I would have welcomed further reflection is on the role of privilege—how it shaped access to care, support networks, and recovery options.
Overall, I highly recommend Lifequake to anyone seeking a deeper understanding of life after trauma, and how we might foster a more empathetic, inclusive world.
I’m deeply moved from having felt like I was in Tarini’s presence while reading the book. Every chapter felt like I was having coffee with her while she told me her story.
It stirred a cocktail of emotions. It forced me for the first time to truly reflect on what the past 15 years have been like for Tarini. I felt very much part of the ignorant majority who know so little about life with a disability. A much needed wake up call and one I’m very thankful for. Her descriptions of the day in and day out of living with an injury that is all-encompassing and so difficult to understand will stay with me always.
The book had this wonderful pull towards my own self reflection as her story unfolds on the pages. Tarini’s incessant thirst for knowledge, her appetite for life, her devotion to improving the lives of others, her deep love for family and friends are all characteristics that seep far beyond these chapters. I hope this is only her first book!
Even though I knew the broad contours of Tarini's story, I devoured this book in one go, eagerly turning the pages to find out what happens next. Such is the beauty and power of her writing. While it is a memoir in structure, it is also a poignant exploration of what makes identity, a savage look at how personal independence is a corner stone of a joyous life and a surprisingly well researched note on how the brain works. More than anything else, it is a treatise on friendships- on the families we have and we choose, and how human connections eventually mark a life lived. Tarini's ferocious perseverance and her phenomenal achievements are all hers - and one can't do much more than stand back and applaud, and hope that we too display such grace and tenacity under pressure.
Somehow, Tarini has been able to touch upon most human experiences through her very extreme experiences. So many moments resonated - from self-doubt, to recognizing blessings of support yet feeling complicated about it, from the feelings of loved ones moving on, to wanting to define myself, and the never ending journey of seeking to be seen for our core identities - ALL OF IT! I have no idea how Tarini managed to so perfectly express universal human experiences, through a challenging and extraordinarily unique turn of events.
In so much of it - i could see myself. and constantly reminds me - this journey of life requires more sharing and understanding of these inner journeys.
Lifequake by Tarini feels raw, honest, and very real. The book dives into those moments when life suddenly shifts and you’re forced to rethink everything. The writing is simple but powerful, and a lot of the emotions really hit home. It’s the kind of book that quietly stays with you and makes you reflect on your own journey. Highly recommend!
Loved this book! Incredible story of perseverance and strength in the face of the most unfathomable challenge following a motorcycle accident and a traumatic brain injury. The lessons Tarini teaches us all are life changing and so very precious.
A spectacular tale of grit and resilience. The story of Tarini’s journey is at once sobering and uplifting. While she gets knocked down, it’s how she gets back up that makes this such a compelling read!
A plus vulnerability which 1. Gave a window into Tarini's mindset on life 2. Gave a window into her journey dealing with a life changing accident 3. Was an extremely relatable account of self doubt, discovery, relationship and self assurance building in bschool
This is a beautifully written and very deep book. Tarini's journey is inspiring to say the least and it's very touching to see how her family responded to such a life changing event.
Lifequake is a memoir of Tarini Mohan. How her life takes a turn because of one tragic incident. Having met with an accident that left her in coma for months.
When Tarini wakes up from a coma. It's like she's a child again, needing her parents assistance in everything. Tarini strives hard to find herself again. It doesn't happen in a day, it's a process.
She has written it so well, that i could connect with everyone of the emotions she went through.
This book made me realise how grateful for what and where I am now. Nothing should be taken for granted. And that everything can change in a day but also everything can't change in a day.
So take it one day at a time. We never know what the future holds.
I couldn't put this memoir down. It’s the story of a young woman recovering from a severe traumatic brain injury — but it’s also about love in all its forms: the love of family, friends, coworkers, and community.
What I loved most is how honest and layered it is. The author doesn’t sugarcoat anything — she shares the raw confusion, frustration, and loss, but also the humor and absurdity that come with surviving something so extreme. There were chapters that made me cry uncontrollably and others that made me laugh out loud.
The book also touches on the bigger picture — how recovery isn’t just about willpower, but about access, luck, and privilege. It quietly points out the inequalities in our healthcare system and society, while still celebrating the small miracles of support and care - and yes, willpower - that helped her pull through.
Throughout this book I was heartbroken, hopeful, and in awe of the fragility and strength of being human. I felt grateful to have been let in on this journey with her.
I can’t rate this book. It’s a human’s journey after surviving a hit and run— I’m a victim myself of RTA and while my injuries are not severe and not considered disabled, I still need to depend on others for few special activities. While I have physical scars from the accident, Tarini suffered invisible scars through her brain injury.
Tarini is a gifted writer and she writes eloquently what is it to live as a disabled person. I liked her determination and how she was never morose with thoughts like ‘why me?’ or ‘why is this happening to me?’
Her story is a survivor’s story of a long recovery and self discovery.
Time and again, I believe we read certain books at the right time. This is one of those reads where I savored each chapter. I have been reading this book whilst being hospitalized and depending on caretakers for the most basic needs and I can only empathise with Tarini. In her, I see myself and my dear sister.