Book Review: ‘Sakthi’ by Misha Hussain

The very first sentence of Misha Hussain’s ‘Sakthi’ (https://a.co/d/1ONyIcD) pulls you in with the first of many ironies depicted in this powerful novel. Sakthi, the protagonist, is a teenage Bengali Muslim girl living in England, who tells you that she was smiling through her mother’s funeral, because she was happy for another woman being freed from the shackles of life and men. Employing Sakthi’s first-person voice, Hussain tells a story of domestic abuse perpetrated by her father on her and her mother; it lays bare how suffocating the misogynistic and ultra-conservative version of Islam embraced in South-Asia is and how ill-equipped the Muslim diaspora is in terms of existing alongside an English society afflicted by Islamophobia. 

Most of Sakthi’s story is told as a backstory, as she goes back to her journal in which she has penned down her memories about events leading to her mother’s death. These include Sakthi and her mother being abused by the father who believes in a rigid version of Islam whereby women need to be put on a tight leash. Twice the father takes the family to their hometown in Bangladesh, first to have Sakthi engaged at the age of fourteen and then to get her married. Between these two visits, she is sent to an Islamic academy not so much as to learn but more as a punishment for her rebellious streaks. In the academy, Sakthi witnesses more ironies: the emphasis on citing Islamic calendar instead of the Gregorian, as if the latter is forbidden in Islam; irreverent and cursing girls, who were supposed to have been disciplined by a strict regimen; incidents of imams touching girls being reported. But here in the academy, Sakthi learns to channel her anger towards understanding the Quran and realizes her potential as the girls’ leader who can challenge the status quo.

For me the novel’s outstanding feature is its voice which the reader can discern belongs to a rebel teen not only suppressed by her oppressive father but also weighed down by the onus of staying conformant because she knew that her transgressions would lead to punishment not only for her but also for her mother. Exacerbating her miseries is the Islamophobic locality around her house which simmers with clashes between whites and Muslims. In Hussain’s characteristic understated manner, sentences like “…for all the protection the veil gives against the unwanted leering of men, it isn’t soundproof…” convey what Sakthi has to undergo.

Sakthi’s situation is only mildly helped by the enigmatic Mrs. Finch who informally tutors her in English language and literature but who cannot hide her condescending attitude towards non-whites who she blames for the corruption of the English life. I have always been fascinated, both in real life as well as in fiction, by friendships that transcend multiple generations. Mrs. Finch’s relationship with Sakthi is in a similar vein and is one of my favorite parts of the novel. The good-natured British old woman who cannot seem to get past her racial biases proves to be the teenage girl’s best friend too.  Arguably, this relationship can be seen as author’s subconscious admission of white supremacy over the browns. But I guess the relationship is also perhaps the author’s hint towards what the racist British and the cloistered Muslim community need to do to strike a harmonious relationship.

Hussain’s prose, characterized by a sardonic humor and understated poignancy, makes for a pleasurable and thoughtful read. It is enriched with the idiosyncrasies of the Bengali diction and the British accents. The author is especially adept at describing the richness of the Bengali cuisine, which, along with references to Bengali poets, make the novel also a celebration of the Bengali culture. Some of his metaphors are startling, amusing and yet profound. “…the morning adhan still jangles every cell in my body like God’s playing glissando on my DNA, especially the ones that code for lie-ins…” aptly depicts the tug-of-war going on in Sakthi’s personality. “I could almost hear Mrs. Kazi’s blood bubbling, like those prehistoric swamps you see in the movies” is such an apt description of one seething from inside.  

There are some sections of the story that could have been more moving, in my opinion. For instance, the episode where Sakthi stands up to question the imam and the girls call him a pig feels hurried and did not evoke enough emotional response. Some characters such as Ms. Qureshi could have been sketched with finer details. I would also have enjoyed a more nuanced characterization of Sakthi’s father, who comes across as a flat character. Reading ‘Sakthi’, I was reminded of ‘Maps for Lost Lovers’, a novel by Nadeem Aslam (https://www.amazon.com/Maps-Lost-Lovers-Nadeem-Aslam/dp/1400076978). Although on a similar theme, ‘Sakthi’ is more relevant to its time and aptly represents the voice of a rebellious teen Muslim girl growing up in England.  Moreover, a great contribution of this novel is its exegetical discussions of some Quran verses, which though debatable and which may not sit well with some sections of Muslim populace, is a need of the current turbulent times. ‘Sakthi’ is very pertinent to our time and is both a coming-of-age story as well as a commentary on how calamitous misinterpretation of Islam, both by Muslims and non-Muslims, can be.