In her role as devoted wife, the Hindu goddess Parvati is the divine embodiment of viraha, the agony of separation from one's beloved, a form of love that is also intense suffering. These contradictory emotions reflect the overlapping dissolutions of love, family, and mental health explored by Sarah Pinto in this visceral ethnography. Daughters of Parvati centers on the lives of women in different settings of psychiatric care in northern India, particularly the contrasting environments of a private mental health clinic and a wing of a government hospital. Through an anthropological consideration of modern medicine in a nonwestern setting, Pinto challenges the dominant framework for addressing crises such as long-term involuntary commitment, poor treatment in homes, scarcity of licensed practitioners, heavy use of pharmaceuticals, and the ways psychiatry may reproduce constraining social conditions. Inflected by the author's own experience of separation and single motherhood during her fieldwork, Daughters of Parvati urges us to think about the ways women bear the consequences of the vulnerabilities of love and family in their minds, bodies, and social worlds.

"A formidable achievement. . . . Mitter spans almost the entire spectrum of the 'woman's question' providing both information and insight into the complex patterns that determine the image, self-image, and status of women in contemporary India." -- Manini Chatterjee, The Hindu (India). -- Book cover.

In The Occupied Clinic, Saiba Varma explores the psychological, ontological, and political entanglements between medicine and violence in Indian-controlled Kashmir—the world's most densely militarized place. Into a long history of occupations, insurgencies, suppressions, natural disasters, and a crisis of public health infrastructure come interventions in human distress, especially those of doctors and humanitarians, who struggle against an epidemic: more than sixty percent of the civilian population suffers from depression, anxiety, PTSD, or acute stress. Drawing on encounters between medical providers and patients in an array of settings, Varma reveals how colonization is embodied and how overlapping state practices of care and violence create disorienting worlds for doctors and patients alike. Varma shows how occupation creates worlds of disrupted meaning in which clinical life is connected to political disorder, subverting biomedical neutrality, ethics, and processes of care in profound ways. By highlighting the imbrications between humanitarianism and militarism and between care and violence, Varma theorizes care not as a redemptive practice, but as a fraught sphere of action that is never quite what it seems.

Joanna Liddle and Rama Joshi explore the connection in India between gender and caste, and gender and class. They ask whether the subordination of women has diminished as India moves from a caste to a class structure, and what effect colonization had on the status of women in India. Focusing on educated, professional women, the authors look at the particular experiences of 120 women they interviewed, and also interpret the larger patterns of social relations that emerge from the interviews. These sensitive stories are told with an eloquence that is often moving and inspiring. For thousands of years Indian women have had a cultural tradition of resisting male domination. At the same time, the control of female sexuality has always been central to social hierarchies in India. Women are constrained in both class and caste hierarchies, to help distinguish the men at the top of the hierarchy from men at the bottom, where women are less constrained. In class society the seclusion of women allowed men to have sexual control over women and to retain the property that was transferred in marriage. In contemporary India, professional women have had success entering the professions as the social groups to which they belong move increasingly to class rather than caste structures. But men continue to control the type of education they receive and the type of employment open to them, and to participate in the sexual harassment of women in the workplace. The concept that women are inferior to men--a concept that is not part of the Indian cultural heritage--is growing. In a sense, working professional women strengthen male control. The class structure is no more egalitarian than the caste structure, as oppression simply takes other forms.

Amritlal Nagar, Considered The Doyen Among Hindi Novelists Today, Wrote Bhookh (Hunger) Way Back In 1946, Provoked By The War Time Famine In Pre-Partition Bengal. Since Then, It Has Been Hailed By Readers And Critics Alike As A Modern Classic Of Hindi Literature. The Novel Is Centred Round Panchu Gopal Mukherjee, The Headmaster Of A Village School, Which He Himself Had Built And Maintained. It Is Through The Eyes, Feelings, Thoughts And Memories Of Mukherjee That The Horrors Of The Great Famine Are Delineated. The Village Is Getting Slowly Deserted With The Living Skeletons Slowly Migrating In All Directions And Slowly Dying On The Roadside. Hunger Is Ravishing The Land With Predatory Birds And Animals Gorging On Dead Bodies. Yet The Local Zamindar And The Leading Trader Are Least Affected. In Fact, They Are Thriving, Helping The War Effort And Co-Operating With Local Authorities. Mukherjee Himself Is Reduced To Penury, Wondering Whether To Sell Off The Few Ornaments Left In The House Or The Furniture Of His Beloved School. He Sees All Round Unbearable Sights His Brother Misbehaving With His Own Wife, The Carpenter S Widow Selling Her Body, The Zamindar Revelling In Drinks, A Food Riot Being Quenched By The Police, The Trader Arranging A Feast For Brahmins To Wipe Out His Sins And The Hungry Fighting With Dogs And Scraping The Food From The Discarded Banana Leaves. The Novel, Yet, Ends With Hope, When Mukherjee Picks Up A Newly Delivered Child, Whose Mother Has Fallen Dead And The Life Force Had Ejected The Child Out Of The Womb. He Wrenches The Umbilical Cord And Takes The Child Home, Where His Family Members Are Dead Or Dispersed. Only His Starving Wide-Eyed Wife Mangala Is There Intrigued But Happy By The New Arrival.

The Daughters of Madurai is both a page-turning mystery and a heartrending story of the fraught family dynamics and desperate choices that face a young mother in India. Spanning 1990s South India and present-day Australia, the novel follows Janani, a mother who will do anything to save her unborn daughter, and Nila, a young woman who embarks on a life-changing journey of self-discovery. Madurai, 1992. A young mother in a poor family, Janani is told she is useless if she can’t produce a son—or worse, if she bears daughters. They let her keep her first baby girl, but the rest are taken away as soon as they are born, and murdered. But Janani can’t forget the daughters she was never allowed to love . . . Sydney, 2019. Nila has a secret; one she’s been keeping from her parents for too long. Before she can say anything, her grandfather in India falls ill, so she agrees to join her parents on a trip to Madurai. Nila knows little about where her family came from or who they left behind. What she’s about to learn will change her forever. While The Daughters of Madurai explores the harrowing issue of female infanticide, it’s also a universal story about the bond between mothers and daughters, the strength of women, the power of love in overcoming all obstacles—and the secrets we must keep to protect the ones we hold dear. Fans of historical and contemporary fiction novels about India such asAlka Joshi’s The Henna Artist from the Jaipur Trilogy and Thrity Umrigar’s The Space Between Us, as well as Kristin Hannah’s books exploring sisterhood and mother-daughter relationships will enjoy Variyar’s poignant debut. This extraordinary work of fiction tells a story that deserves to be read and discussed for years to come.