If you want to understand how to become better allies to people with disabilities, then join us at Embracing All Abilities: Including People with Disabilities at Work.
Mostly Normal is a book of innocence, longing, filial love, angst and acceptance, encapsulating a gamut of human emotions within its lightweight edifice. The book touches the human heart and will stay with you.
Some books enthral you till the last page, and then there are those that you stop reading after turning a few pages. Some books are a one-time read, while you carry some books with you long after you have read them. Then, once in a while, a book hits you so close to home that you find it difficult to slot into any category.
I will put Priyadeep Kaur’s Mostly Normal (BookSoul Reads, 2022) in this last bracket.
At a little less than hundred pages, Mostly Normal is a testimony of the power of words to inspire, irrespective of their length.
A memoir written in one-sided epistolary format, Mostly Normal is structured as a chronological collection of letters from 2000-2019 that the author writes to her brother, Safal.
Safal is a neurologically challenged, differently abled child. He cannot speak, and no one can tell how much and what all he understands. He communicates in what would be called a socially inappropriate manner (hitting his sister whenever he wants to express something). The author, who yearned for a sibling before Safal was even conceived, cannot share the kind of relationship she envisaged with her brother. Nothing captures the poignant pain more beautifully than her own words from the book:
“I have a sibling, yet I am the only child. I have a brother, yet I don’t know how it feels to have a brother. I care for you, I love you yet I cannot do anything to help you. But above all, I love you.”
These words resonate deeply with me for reasons I choose not to share here. I could feel what the author must have felt while penning her thoughts.
Providing a glimpse of the author’s early childhood to her late teens, the book sheds light on diverse human traits ranging from yearning, innocence, deceit, shock, disbelief, dreams, challenges, struggles, hopes, aspirations, and finally acceptance. It conveys that differently-abled individuals need not be objects of pity; they have challenges and struggles just like any normal person, though the nature of their challenges might be different. It also showcases the perspective of the ‘normal’ sibling—being a caregiver of a special needs person is emotionally exhausting, and not everyone can manage that day in and day out. One small mistake and the caregivers tend to blame themselves, as the author also does two-three times in the book. The reader understands from the book that self-care and self-compassion are much needed in facing challenges.
Not many people have the courage to bare a vulnerable part of their lives to the world, and for this alone, the author has my admiration. I can feel every single line of this book. Some of the unedited letters are so innocent and raw that I cried at places, while the ones written during her childhood in broken English made me smile. The confusion and turmoil that a teenager goes through are brought out well through some of the letters.
However, the book did feel incomplete to me as a reader. At a point in time, the author decides to stop writing these letters to her brother —who could not read them — and tell all to him directly. While I respect the author’s personal choice, for the purposes of the book, it would have been better for her to leave a note to the readers to inform them what Safal has been up to from 2019-2022. That would have made for a more satisfying closure.
Further, the typos, misspelt words and punctuation errors in some of the letters mar the reading experience. While the author’s notes to her brother were personal, once she published them in a book, they became public knowledge, and a tighter grammatical check was much required.
Nevertheless, the book is one of the most sensitive takes on human emotions. Kudos to the writer and her brother. The struggles a family of a special-needs child undergoes are not easy to comprehend, and Mostly Normal does a stellar job of bringing these challenges to the forefront in a deeply personal manner. It reminds us that instead of complaining, we should be grateful and blessed to have a life. In the author’s words, “Disability does not teach anyone patience and courage, life does. And life is for all of us.” For those looking for a quick yet inspiring read, this book won’t disappoint.
If you’d like to pick up Mostly Normal written by Priyadeep Kaur, use our affiliate links at Amazon India, and at Amazon US.
Women’s Web gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!
Image source: galbiati from Getty Images Free for Canva Pro and book cover Amazon.
Smita Das Jain is a writer by passion who writes every day. Samples of her writing are visible in the surroundings around her — her home office, her sunny terrace garden, her husband’s car and read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Some time ago, Imtiaz Ali and Hansal Mehta respectively spoke of biopics of Madhubala and Meena Kumari. But do these biopics do justice to these women?
I recently came across a Reddit thread that discussed the fact that filmmaker Imtiaz Ali had announced making a biopic of Madhubala, and I wanted to explore this a little.
Of late, biopics based on the lives of beautiful but fatefully tragic women such as Lady Diana and Marilyn Monroe have created waves. Closer at home, we hear about the possibilities of biopics being made on the lives of Meena Kumari and Madhubala as well. These were hugely famous, stunningly beautiful women who were the heartthrobs of millions; who died tragically young.
I am glad that the Orange Flower Awards seek self-nomination. High achieving women often suffer from self-doubt, and this is a good way to remind us that we are good enough.
A few days ago, I saw an Instagram post announcing the Orange Flower Awards which recognise the power of women’s voices. I read about it with curiosity, but didn’t give it a second thought.
I received an e mail from Women’s Web seeking self-nominations for the Orange Flower Awards, and I ignored it. Yes, I write occasionally, but I didn’t think my work was good enough for me to nominate myself in any of the categories.
A past winner especially tagged me and asked me to look at nominating myself, and I told her that I was not ready yet. “That is up to you”, she said, “but I think you should nominate yourself.”
Please enter your email address