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60 pages 2 hours read

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

Sister of My Heart

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1999

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Symbols & Motifs

Food

Food is a multifaceted symbol throughout the novel that often represents the nature and quality of the characters’ relationships with one another. In the early chapters, food is a status symbol, a demonstration of wealth and opulence. The novel gives long descriptions of the preparations for the feasts in honor of the girls’ graduations, their first meeting with the Sanyal family, and their weddings. Similarly, at Ramesh’s house, a “daunting feast” is prepared in response to the arrival of Aunt Tarini, Mrs. Sanyal’s sister-in-law and fierce rival. However, as the novel progresses, food takes on a more complex figurative quality, paralleling the deconstruction of what being a family entails.

Food is most nourishing and healing when offered with love, which the novel frames as food offered freely, that is, free of restraints and free of implied requirements. When Sudha returns to the mothers’ house after leaving Ramesh, their straitened finances are apparent in the simple meal they serve: “a frugal meal of rice and dal and sautéed spinach” (266). Sudha is nonetheless comforted by the meal because it is an expression of the mothers’ love for her: “I didn’t know how starved I’d been for food served with love” (266). In contrast, the dysfunctional dynamics of Sunil’s family are dramatized at the dinner table. Sunil’s narcissistic father uses his elaborate dietary requests to dominate and constrain his wife and son; he demands that each dish serve a specific physiological function, denying the intimate, sensual pleasure of food and the creative agency of his wife. When he discovers his wife has secretly prepared a rich dish for her son, he hurls the dish at her. Sunil metaphorically redresses the wrongs of his father by bringing Anju a rich meal later the same evening, which she consumes voraciously. They make love before and after the meal:

I take big starving bites of the crisp, fried bread and spicy potatoes. I tell him it’s the best tasting meal I have ever had. He catches my hand and licks my fingers one by one and I shiver (185).

The contrast between this voluptuous, loving act of feeding and the repression and humiliation of the earlier scene symbolically distinguishes the marriage of Sunil and Anju from that of Sunil’s parents.

In addition, after Anju moves to the United States, the cultural specificity of food becomes increasingly apparent and, on some levels, emblematic of the diasporic experience. Anju’s first experiences of Chinese cuisine become emblematic of the new world that Sudha enjoys vicariously through her cousin’s letters: “I try out the delicious, exotic syllables—chow fun, mu shu, braised tofu—delighted that she is experiencing so many brave new things. In my reply I address her as Anju, mistress of chopsticks” (201). Over time, though, Anju’s relationship with food becomes problematic. Her homesickness and sense of displacement as she enters her empty flat are associated with the feeling of hunger and, at the same time, a reluctance to cook. Her dislike of cooking becomes emblematic of her rejection of stereotypically feminine roles. In pregnancy, she associates dietary requirements with other patriarchal constraints, neglecting her own health and that of her unborn child, leaving herself with terrible feelings of guilt after her pregnancy loss.

Clothes, Tailoring, and Embroidery

Clothes and fabrics, as well as the processes of creating and altering them, attain various figurative associations over the course of the text. As a motif, clothes, tailoring, and embroidery interact with the theme of The Power of Storytelling, often evoking the capacity of the storyteller to rewrite their fate. Weaving, embroidery, and fabric have a long history as metaphors for storytelling and for the complex web of life itself. This association can be traced back to Homer’s Penelope and to One Thousand and One Nights, and it is also recurrent in ancient Hindu texts, such as the Vedas and the Upanishads. In the novel, to dress oneself and to alter fabrics relates to the author’s exploration of how women in particular can claim autonomy in shaping their own identities and lives.

For both Anju and Sudha, the freedom to choose and design one’s clothes and fabrics represents early on a broader freedom to decide one’s fate. As young girls, Sudha and Anju are obliged to wear traditional saris to maintain their reputation; they envy the outfits worn by their peers, which they see as symbolic of their “greater sexual and intellectual liberty” (67). When Sudha’s mother orders a bridal bedspread for her 13th birthday embroidered with the motto “Patti Param Guru, the husband is the supreme lord” (63), Sudha covers the tails of the peacocks that dance along the borders.

As young women, the characters maintain this perception of clothes and of the ability to alter fabrics as representative of self. When Anju moves to the United States, she is delighted to assume a westernized and stereotypically masculine garb, dressing in jeans and hiking boots and cutting her hair short. For Sudha, in turn, sewing becomes emblematic of her attempts to command her destiny and tell her own story. She seeks work as a dressmaker and seamstress, and she imagines her first forays into design as an attempt to trace new patterns for her own life, rubbing put the prophetic words of Bidhata Purush.

Red and Blue

The colors red and blue are a motif that often weaves Hindu tradition throughout the novel’s exploration of the women’s efforts at self-determination. In Hindu tradition, the color red indicates both sensuality and purity. During weddings, brides wear red, put red coloring in their hair, and place a red dot or kumkum on their foreheads. Red is the color of Shakti, the divine consort of Shiva who embodies feminine energy. Blue, in comparison, is symbolic of the peacefulness of nature—of water and the sky. It is associated with transcendence and inclusion. It is the skin color of the god Krishna and of his three extensions: Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva.

The color red, associated with both blood and the ruby, evokes the pain and passion that go along with rebirthing oneself or redefining one’s own identity. When Anju and Sudha see the ruby in Book 1, Chapter 18, they are both disturbed by the stone. Sudha stares at the stone “as if there are invisible letters on its fiery surface that only she can read” (153), calling to mind the writings of the Bidhata Purush. In a trance-like state, Anju then predicts that none of the family will have a right to it “until the house of the Chatterjees is reduced to a heap of dusty rubble” (153). In this moment, the “house” referred to represents, at least in part, the existing social structures and norms that undermine the women’s efforts at determining their fates. The stone’s red color, in turn, carries implications of fiery energy and purification. These rich associations are complicated as the color red relates to blood: menstrual blood, the blood of Anju’s pregnancy loss, and blood as a metaphor for biological relation. Only once Sudha has escaped the patriarchal mentality that held her back, forging her own path, is she able to see the ruby’s potential: Around the neck of her innocent daughter, as they fly away from their homeland, the stone loses its sinister energy and becomes “merely beautiful,” its inner light a “crimson sparkle.”

The color blue, present in the novel’s repeated reference to the blue skin of Hindu deities, suggests not only transcendence and infinity but also, in the novel, a detachment from and incompatibility with life. When Sudha decides to spare Anju the burden of telling her about Pishi’s revelations, Sudha remarks that her “throat had turned as blue as Lord Shiva’s” from the strain of keeping the secret (70). Sudha later has a prophetic dream in which she sees baby Prem “blue as Krishna and floating like a snowflake in the snowy light” (294). In response to the dream, she is inspired to design a blue quilt representing transcendence: “Concentric circles of lotus buds, the spiral of death and rebirth, and, in the center, a single opened flower to symbolize freedom from this earth-bound life” (295). This association of divine blueness with death foreshadows Sunil’s description of the deceased baby Prem as being “blue […] like a […] baby Krishna” (304).

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