Mother-daughter relationships, or mother-child relationships to be more comprehensive, are mostly hailed as sacred. A mother’s love for her child is touted as the ‘purest form of love’. So, what happens when you encounter a mother-daughter duo which doesn’t conform to this traditional role-play? How do you come to terms with a mother who competes with her only child, a daughter who takes pleasure in her “mother’s misery”? Avni Doshi in her debut novel, Girl in White Cotton, charts the course of one such relationship, between the characters Tara and Antara, and lays bare a complex system of childhood trauma, incest, and compliance to societal norms that is at the very heart of their shared dynamics.
The novel concerns Antara, who seems to be named as a foil to her mother, Tara (Un-tara), who is an artist married to an NRI working in Pune, named Dilip. The two share their marital bed and responsibilities, but there’s nothing electric about their chemistry. Tara, now ageing, is slowly forgetting things. Somedays she forgets the recipes she had memorized when she was younger and on other days, she fails to recognize Antara. But mostly, she is stubborn in her reluctance to admit that gradually her mind is “leaking.”
The novel begins with a sentence that leaves you slightly discomfited, with Antara proclaiming that any pain her mother suffers seems to her to be universe’s way of balancing out all the grief she has experienced because of her mother’s (mis)conduct towards her. As the plot progresses, you prepare yourself for revelations that will explain this dysfunctionality, this almost shocking sadism. The reasons unfold slowly, even quietly, as if, Doshi is trying to compensate for all the harrowing events by breaking the news gently.
You are taken into the interior of Tara and Antara’s lives but the journey is devoid of sudden jolts. Doshi’s writing only adds to this smooth travel by being sparse and precise without being sharply so. Girl in White Cotton is not cliched, yet, there’s no moment in the novel that has a jarring quality to it. Perhaps, my only problem with the novel was the closure that I was seeking but never got. However, I recognize that it is a very individual requirement, and that penning such finality can sometimes render a book too melodramatic for its own good.