Trigger Warning: Domestic abuse, Suicide, Depression, Loneliness
Boy, Unloved written by Damodar Mauzo, Translated by Jerry Pinto
Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Coming of age
Rating: 4/5
One Line Review: Emotional depth meets vivid imagery, crafting a hypnotizing tale of loneliness and longing.
“What does it mean: life having no meaning?”
‘Boy, Unloved’ the English translation of Damodar Mauzo’s Konkani masterpiece, Jeev Divum Kai Chya Marum, is a haunting portrayal of a young boy’s journey through darkness and light set against the backdrop of a sleepy Goan village.
The story revolves around Vipin Parob, a child whose life is overshadowed by the oppressive presence of his overbearingly cruel father and neglectful mother. The locked doors and closed windows of his house symbolise not just physical confinement but also emotional isolation as he navigates a world devoid of love and warmth. A sentiment that is succinctly summed up by the author in this one line: how was one’s childhood taken away?
Jerry Pinto’s prose is sharp, hard-hitting, and deeply resonant. The narrative unfolds with a lyrical grace, drawing readers into Vipin’s solitary world through striking symbolism. Through Vipin’s introspective voice, the author paints a stark picture of the emotional scars left by abuse and neglect. The darkness that envelops Vipin’s existence is palpable, echoing the silent cries of a child yearning for love and acceptance.
“When I woke up the next morning, my room was in darkness. I wanted to stay like that, to leave the doors and windows closed and float in the darkness… There was no reason to get up. The urge to lie still and simply experience this darkness was seductive.”
I have battled with depression and emerged victorious, relying solely on my own strength. This book brought me to tears, as I can intimately empathise with the hardships that Vipin endures. The confusion, indecision, silence, and darkness that encapsulate those of us who have never known a reality outside of our oppressive or abusive home environment are debilitating. And for most of us, it takes a lifetime to unlearn the ingrained negative behavioural patterns to lift ourselves out of our depression and make something of our lives.
What resonates most deeply in ‘Boy, Unloved,’ is the unflinching description of the human psyche. As Vipin grapples with the ghosts of his past, we are confronted with the raw vulnerability of a wounded soul seeking solace amidst despair. The author’s exploration of Vipin’s inner turmoil is both harrowing and profoundly moving.
The first ray of sunshine arrives in Vipin’s life with books. Throughout my life, books have been my lifeline, and his words, “And then one day, books made their way to me,” struck a chord deep within me.
The novel takes a positive turn as Vipin finds reluctant companionship with two girls, Chitra and Fatima. Through their friendship, he discovers the possibility of laughter and joy, offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness of his existence. Chitra sees the hidden depths within him, while Fatima brings chaos and spontaneity into his life, filling each day with unexpected adventures and pushing him to embrace the unpredictable nature of human connection.
Martin Sir is another character who plays a significant role in Vipin’s life and underlines the importance of people who light the path for the lost souls through their innate kindness and compassion.
One of the novel’s strengths lies in its portrayal of relationships, particularly the bond between Vipin and his parents. The author navigates the complexities of familial dynamics with nuance and sensitivity, highlighting the undeniable impact of parental neglect on a child’s emotional well-being.
Another aspect which the novel explores with finesse is its treatment of grief. Having no inkling of what it feels like to be loved, Vipin doesn’t know what he is supposed to feel when loss comes calling and raises a pertinent question-
“If my father were to die tomorrow, who is to decide whether I should grieve, how much should I grieve and in what fashion? Am I to make that decision or the society?”
There is an abundance of ‘shoulds and should nots’ in our society about the ‘right way of grieving’. The truth is, grief is extremely subjective and there is no correct or incorrect way to mourn, and any attempts to impose rules on the grieving process are simply illusions.
Although the author’s exploration of trauma and resilience is stirring, the novel’s pacing occasionally falters, with certain sections feeling sluggish. Furthermore, the decision to leave the ending open may not resonate with some readers who may crave for a clearer resolution to Vipin’s arduous journey.
Despite this, ‘Boy, Unloved’ serves as a remarkable reminder of the unyielding strength of storytelling in bringing to light the deepest recesses of the human experience.
Pinto’s translation also effectively captures the nuances of Goan culture and regional identity, enriching the narrative with vibrant imagery and authentic dialogue. From the tantalising aromas of Goan cuisine to the rhythms of coastal life, the novel paints a vivid portrait of a community grappling with its own demons amidst the tranquil beauty of its surroundings.
I would recommend ‘Boy, Unloved’ to readers who wish to explore the nuances of the human psyche to understand the myriad aspects of life that are forever changed because of a lack of love in early childhood. It is a grim book, so I would recommend going in with caution.
Overall, Boy, Unloved skilfully combines Damodar Mauzo’s evocative writing with Jerry Pinto’s exceptional translation, resulting in a mesmerising narrative that will stay with readers even after finishing the book.
This book has been published by Speaking Tiger. You can follow them on YKA here.