A daughter’s letters to her father, and a raw journey through eldercare and self-discovery

By Shailaja Rao

“The time has come for me to resurrect myself. I have to fathom who I am. Who is Mohua?”

Author, podcaster, TEDx speaker, and former journalist Mohua Chinappa pours her heart out in her latest book, Thorns in My Quilt (Rupa Publications, INR 395), sharing deeply personal thoughts and feelings typically reserved for private diaries or one’s mind’s inner sanctum. The book represents an audacious choice to stand exposed in our forever judgemental and often unforgiving world.

The memoir arrived in my life with uncanny timing. As someone who shouldered the responsibility of being both caretaker and decision-maker for my father during his last few years until his passing in 2020, and now for my mother in her eighties, I found myself reflecting on these pages. Mohua’s candid writing serves as a mirror to my own experience, offering the comforting reminder that others walk similar paths in the complex journey of caring for ageing parents.

In poignant letters to her deceased Baba (father), Mohua guides the reader through intimate glimpses of her life – from childhood memories in Shillong to her experiences of love, marriage, divorce, motherhood and caregiving.

These often-confrontational correspondences are vessels for her raw emotions, flowing with angst, love and confessions. She finds moments of self-empowerment throughout her writing, penning notes of courage as she tries to reclaim her sense of agency.

Mohua confronts the past while grappling with the present – questioning Baba, questioning life itself. “Do you remember when you said you would not give me a penny; that I didn’t deserve anything?” She concludes her September 2022 letter with a haunting image: “I often felt like a plastic flower in a vase, which had no fragrance. And the petals did not shrivel, but stayed in their place, lifeless and over time, discarded.”

Lending courage to herself, Mohua writes to Baba on 4 June 2023: “I refuse to stay frightened forever. This didn’t sit well with you and Ma. But I just had to do what I felt was right. And I’m ready to face what life brings to me. This time, on my own terms.”

Mohua’s assertion reminded me of the day when I – a meek young woman, thought incapable of making the right decisions – somehow found the courage to break off a year-long engagement arranged by my parents. I would later end another six-month engagement, also of their choosing. Eventually, defying both parental wishes and societal norms, I married a man of Muslim background, on my terms.

For most women in India, such acts of defiance remain unthinkable. The price of challenging tradition – of ruffling feathers and charting their path – often proves too steep, leaving them bound by the choices others make for them.

Throughout her emotional narrative, Mohua also skilfully interweaves critical issues facing South Asian women – from entrenched patriarchal systems to societal stereotypes and cultural biases. She challenges the status quo by examining the state, politics, and social norms that shape women’s experiences.

“Just how threatened can the world feel by an empowered woman? Education is banned for women in Afghanistan,” Mohua writes, describing how the Taliban constantly condemns the Western way of life. “They don’t want their culture to be influenced by the haram of the West. So, in that ideology and condemnation, women become the torchbearers of societal morality.”

Mohua goes on to ‘tell’ her Baba that she regrets not having many people with whom she can freely discuss political changes in India and across the world. The reader feels the author’s longing for such conversations with her father, imagining how he would have parsed current political events.

In another letter, Mohua ties in the personal with the state. “Don’t you think a woman should be insured as a housewife, as someone who manages a home with no security? The government must have a system in place for stay-at-home mothers. The penalty she pays with her life must be compensated.”

In essence, the memoir explores complex family dynamics while chronicling a journey toward self-healing – ultimately charting a path to understanding and closure. Those caring for ageing parents will deeply resonate with Mohua’s intimate narrative, while others will gain profound insights into the emotionally demanding world of caregiving.

Shailaja Rao is the board president of Tasveer and associate director of Tasveer Film Festival, the only Oscar®-qualifying South Asian film festival in the world, headquartered in Seattle, WA. Her focus areas are socio-cultural dynamics, women, gender and human rights. She strongly believes in the power of storytelling for social impact, and enjoys watching documentaries and independent films.