Cracks in the Wall reveals multi-faceted struggles—mental, societal, familial—individuals confront as they navigate fears, traumas and desires in the course of their lives and gives readers a window into the tumult that such a process entails, with useful but often difficult revelations. Be it a working woman in an abusive marriage who finally finds the courage to seek intervention, a mother who has to choose between the government and rebels to keep her child safe, while another comes to terms with lost motherhood, or a love stifled under the weight of ambition, these stories mirror deep-rooted fractures, both at a personal and social level, owing to gender inequality, taboo around addiction, mental abuse, conflicts between classes as well as between the urban and rural. Faith plays a role both incrementally and startlingly—the spiritual quest seeded randomly or through a slow process of transformation—as do dreams, to deepen understanding of the human psyche. Each story peels what may seem apparent, letting us in on a world within the world, and invites us to take a closer look.
About the Author: Neera Kashyap has worked in newspaper and developmental journalism, specializing in social and health communications. Her early literary writings were dedicated to stories for children (prize-winning anthologies by Children’s Book Trust) and a book for young adults (Daring to Dream, 2004). Later, her poetry, short fiction, essays and book reviews appeared in various Indian and international literary journals and anthologies of both poetry and short fiction. Cracks in the Wall, her debut collection of short stories for adults, is drawn from a decade of writing. She lives with her family in Delhi, and seasonally in a cottage near Ranikhet, where Nature speaks in many voices.
Some books make you feel like you live in the story for a while; that’s how Cracks in the Wall made me feel. After Heart Lamp, this book made me sob here and there because I was deeply immersed.
Each story was deeply rooted, and it took me a while to process the feelings of the characters. Some short stories hold special places; likewise, I’m sharing one such story where, in the “Supplication,” a woman goes to a mosque to pray, and she has heard from the neighbors that she heals them when she prays. It was heartwarming, and I was at a loss for words. There were moments my blood boiled too.
Mostly women are the ones who suffer on behalf of their partners, life happening. We women tend to suppress many things. At a point we feel enough; let me break down too. I took my time to finish this beauty. It was deep enough.
Definitely I will recommend it to you if you want to read short stories that resonate with human emotions, connections and suffering.
Cracks in the Wall is a collection of short stories that is less about cracks but more about walls racked with faultlines. Even more, it's about bricks holding the entire structure together, one breath at a time.
These stories celebrate the tenderness of a human heart, its obsession with hope and an insistence on getting better. Sometimes a few words speak volumes; of a fertility goddess in stone she writes: "The one in her hand would probably have been her favourite son. The pomegranate? Seeds of fertility, what else? I touched it first, then her undamaged breast. Her face was serene, despite the damage. She seemed to see from behind her closed eyelids. There were two goddesses on either side of her shoulders holding flywhisks. I looked at her five children again, they framed her face and crown in fluid continuity."
Can two dissimilar pieces of a puzzle join and make each other whole? What price does a woman pay for loneliness? Can a mother struggling with mental illness be called cruel? What price does one pay for repressed grief? How crucial is it to not only believe in good things and harbour good intentions but to actually empower them and manifest them in reality? Can a goddess too be called a child killer or is she herself the bearer of the weight of millions of mothers' grief? These are some of the curiosities that flashed through my mind as I read this short story collection.
Kashyap celebrates these cracks as much as she celebrates the tiny bricks keeping the entire wall together. She celebrates the possibility of love, the impermanence of grief, the grit of resilience and the persistence of hope. She celebrates everything that makes us human even as we ourselves wage a war against ourselves. The author portrays the weakness of her characters, bringing out with poignancy their grief and brokenness: "She slept in my bed that night, not as the attractive sexual partner I had imagined, but as a broken child, blabbering. 'The wave crashed louder than explosions in a quarry...nuclear blast shock wave...rushing, roaring...hundred miles per hour...froth foaming from its lips... salt seeping into the farmland. Smelling like the beach... ettles floating, mugs, beds, chairs, computers...walls leaning, wooden slats still hanging like wet bones, her ceiling in her bed...cattle floated eyes open...dogs...big sections of houses, logs, trees...dead, all dead?"
Kashyap, in the story that kickstarts the collection, writes tenderly about loneliness: "As a widow, I had grown used to travelling by myself, but the scratchy discomfort of being alone never left me. I would be alert to signals of friendship so I could join people for a conversation, even a meal, but these did not come readily-indifference being the norm in those who already belonged to one another. I had been aware of him being alone from the start. But he was at ease and not aware of me. He probably had a wife and children somewhere, so felt the comfort of belonging. I had two old, ill and anxious parents." She also talks about love and it's impossibility and yet a hope flickers in her heart: "Reaching my room, I fell on the bed, drained. To feel the ecstasy of erotic love that was not ones own. To relive divine love as though Chaitanya Mahaprabhu was a part of them or they of him. Was this possible? Would it fill an unceasing void? I stared at the dust on the corn on my toe. I had brought nothing festive to wear-just plain saris from Gariahat with woven borders, unstarched, coarse, old. I dragged myself to the washroom but stood at the window to watch a full moon rise, yellowish against a darkening sky. Did the divine couple also sport here in groves and tanks as they did in Vrindavan? Was the magic recreated here or was it just the wish fulfilment of bygone kings?"
In a story about mental illness, the grandmother, in one breath, pronounces her diagnosis to her fourteen year old granddaughter that her mother has been possessed by an evil spirit, and to be brave.
'Sushma has been possessed by a spirit. If only I could take her to the village. We would call a jagariya to get rid of this...this evil thing. We don't know when these spirits can come, take possession. Sometimes after 10, 20, 40 years. You be careful, Meenu. Just pray to Goddess Gaura Devi. She will protect you. She knew what it was to suffer, to be poor and hungry. Will you be alright, Meenu? Will you be brave? Talk to me often, theek?"
In the same story, the author explores the cracks that are fracturing a mother daughter relationship.
She captures the sadness in these lines: "Sometimes I thought about my own sadness and wondered if it was what they called depression. Some mornings Ma never woke up on time to make my school tiffin. Even though I would tell myself it was her medication, I would feel a terrible sadness as I buttered bread to take with me to school. The 'sad girl' remarks would ring in my ears.".
Reading a novel, most of the times, is like witnessing a life from start to finish. You are right with the characters for their highs, lows and mundane spells. It's a long term commitment. Like you are a family to them. Or perhaps a long lost friend privy to their darkest secrets and profound joys. A short story, however, is a different ballgame. You are a guest. On an invitation. You are witnessing a major change in someone's life in a short span. Or hope, even despair. Its high lies in the fact that it starts and finishes quickly. Now that can be a plus or a minus. For me it's always a plus.
Go on. Get this collection this festive season and celebrate the resilience of the human spirit.
This collection of short fiction by Neera Kashyap is a moving exploration of the efforts of ordinary people to cope with the pain of existence. It touches the heart as it highlights their inner lives as they struggle to somehow turn suffering into redemption.’ Twenty-six stories , often, but not always centering on women protagonists, explore contemporary lives in India. Both urban and rural landscapes are captured. The author presents vignettes of people such as the grieving widow in ‘Narratives that Live’, the mother of the drug addict in ‘Tending Tender Things’, the doctor fighting quacks as he deals with ignorant patients in ‘Doctors and Doctors, the manic depressive in ‘An offering’, the Hindu cancer patient praying at a Sufi shrine in ‘Supplication’ .. Kashyap has a wide canvas and how human her people are. Healing is a recurrent theme, as in “The Presence” In which a scientist is researching a temple where a long dead saint’s continued presence has healed mental patients. The protagonist acknowledges that there is an inexplicable improvement in the condition of patients and one is in fact completely cured. The suffering of women is presented with both accuracy and compassion, as in the moving title story. The rural and uneducated woman is perhaps a shade better off than the urban middle- class protagonist; both are abused and exploited, but shame has kept the educated woman silent. Not that all stories are without hope. In the finely modulated ‘Memory Shafts’ a successful but limited historian at last allows herself to recognize that her choices have crippled the lives of those who needed her most in a world where “families are as conflicted as history”. Learning from the megalomania and the tragic futility of Asoka’s end, Roma makes one small, belated, but significant effort to prioritize human needs. It matters because she is shifting from researching and constructing or reconstructing history to learning from history and living by its lessons. Kashyap has an abiding interest in spiritual themes and this recurrent motif adds depth to her stories, as in ‘Healing the Improbable’ and ‘Supplication.’ An intimate relationship with poetry brings beauty and haunting power to these stories. A poem from Sylvia Plath as well as one composed by the protagonist allows the author to probe themes of madness, injustice and isolation in ‘An Offering .‘ Life inflicts wounds; it is in the effort to understand and heal that these stories explore our shared humanity. Neera Kashyap is a skilled writer of poetry and short fiction and has been published in leading journals in India and abroad. One expects to hear more of this fine author.
My reading interests usually gravitate toward non-fiction, but when a well-wisher recommended Cracks in the Wall, I ordered it immediately. I’ve also known the author since 1997, which made me all the more eager to read it. The book is a collection of 26 short stories set across varied locations, time periods, and social contexts. Each story highlights a distinct societal challenge faced by women from diverse socio-economic backgrounds. Though the narratives are fictional, I often felt as if the author were personally present in each one, observing life’s subtleties with remarkable clarity.
Several stories made me pause and look inward, though some lingered longer than others. In “When Experience is Key,” I found myself relating to Jennifer’s quiet moments of self-realization. Just when I feel I’m inching closer to perfection, something unexpected and unsettling appears, shattering that illusion—much like Jennifer’s own experience.
In “Warnings in the Night,” the line about the monkeys from Delhi—“Dilli ke bandar hain… as clever and cunning as Dilliwalas. We will never outsmart them. Why have they sent them here?”—stayed with me long after I finished reading. The story made me revisit my own long-held, almost subconscious desire to own a house in the hills. After reflecting on it, I’ve decided against the idea. I’d much rather enjoy the hills as a visitor, staying in local hotels or homestays, than own a house there.
Tell me, is this a miracle or a daydream that I am still stupefied by? How else can one explain an anthology in which every short story is a hit? I travelled around with this book in hand and its stories on my lips for the past two months, and honestly, what a journey it has been!
This book features 26 short stories written by Neera Kashyap, and every single one of them enlightens you and leaves you flabbergasted. I have far too many favourites to choose from, and it’s incredibly difficult to narrow them down to even a top ten. The stories are written on women, physical and mental health, spiritual wellbeing, menstrual hygiene, medical practice and malpractice, with a touch of mysticism and fantasy.
I promise you, every story in this book will move you and leave you staring at the wall for hours. There are also a few that are so ironic you will be unsure whether to laugh, grieve, or sigh. I haven't read a collection I loved this deeply in the past few months. The last time I found something similar in English was when I read Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq. Very similar in spirit, beautifully compiled, well-written, tense and tender stories, yet underrated.
Please do give this book a read. It truly deserves your attention and a word of praise.