Lonely in the Crowd

American sociologist Dr Sherry Turkle, an MIT professor who specialises in studying the impact of social media on communications and relationships, said, in an oft-quoted TED Talk: “… we are designing technology that gives us the illusion of companionship without the demands of friendship. We turn to technology to keep us connected in ways we can easily control.”

This, mind you, was back in 2012. Today, it’s obvious that social media has taken over our lives and our relationships so completely that we are devoted to our virtual networks, to the extent of ignoring real-life ones. Our lives are dictated by the demands of these platforms, our very existence revolving around them: disappear from Facebook for a few days, and you have friends pinging you to ask where you went.

Which is what happens to Maya, the protagonist of Amrita Tripathi’s The Other Sister. Maya, who was once known as Mia, goes missing in action (‘MIA’, such an ironically apt term) and goes off the radar, having signed off from social media with the excuse that she needs time out. None of her friends know where she is. Loyal Farhan, who loves Maya but cannot bring himself to tell her; Megha, less inhibited and apt, at times, to become impatient. Even the outsider Karthik, who intrudes on comment threads and immediately raises Farhan’s and Megha’s hackles.

And what of Maya? Maya’s story emerges bit by tangled bit, partly from her own thoughts (hers is the main voice in this narrative), partly from her conversations with Dr Reena Gupta, to whom she’s going for therapy. Later, other perspectives come in, other minds and thoughts, even if the voice remains third person.

This is initially a confusing story, told in disjointed fragments that only slowly start to fall into place. A dysfunctional family, a missing mother (the exquisitely beautiful Usha, widely referred to as the ‘Pahaari’). Neeti, a stepmother/foster mother who offered Maya no kindness. A stepbrother, Gautam Bhaiya, who is one of the few people Maya can really depend upon. A father who died, leaving Maya bereft.

Most importantly, the ‘other sister’, the one whose existence most would deny: Akira, the personality who emerges when Maya is stressed, when Maya cannot see a way out. Akira, strong-willed, brash, even abrasive—everything Maya is not—comes out, guns blazing, to rescue Maya.

Interwoven with Maya’s life and of those around her is a web of spiritualism (or pseudo-spiritualism). People turn to ashrams and rishis to find relief, to seek solutions for the problems that plague them.

The theme of mental illness plays through it all: Maya’s plight, stemming in the long-ago dysfunctional relationships of her parents, exacerbated by the circumstances she later finds herself in, and never really addressed. Yes, Maya goes for therapy; but even her closest friends do not really understand her, or her problem. Ultimately, this is Maya’s struggle, a lonely battle.

Tripathi excels in showing how mental illness can manifest itself, and the reaction of society to it. In a world where (thanks to social media) every little detail of life is on display, many of us who have never faced mental health issues feel helpless, awkward, frustrated when faced with a friend or relative going through problems such as Maya’s. In how Farhan behaves, or Megha; in how people try to brush Maya’s problems away—Tripathi holds up a mirror to how we too behave, how we feel.

The story of The Other Sister is one most young urban people are likely to be able to identify with. The characters are sharply etched, and Maya/Akira are believable: vulnerable, real. If there is a somewhat irritating angle, it is in the surreal ‘Cab of Death’ fancy of Karthik, and the slightly rambling aspect of the story revolving around Karthik and the godmen whose realm he inhabits. Barring that, though, this is an absorbing book, and worth a read.

 

 

Amrita TripathibooksIndian societyIndian youthrelationshipThe Other SisterWeb Exclusive