In the last decade or so, “diasporic literature” from South Asia has become a genre in itself.

Literary luminaries like Jhumpa Lahiri and Rohinton Mistry have ensured that narratives written about immigrants to the West find appeal not just with migrant families grappling with cultural chasms in their new homelands, but also among the general readers at large.

So much so, any new writings in the genre are immediately measured by those that have preceded it.

Now, Hirsh Sawhney attempts to take that narrative further through his debut novel, South Haven. 

Set in an imaginary town of South Haven in New England, the novel traces how the Aroras—an immigrant Indian American family—deal with love and loss in a foreign land.

In the book, Siddharth Arora “lives an ordinary life, but his childhood comes to a grinding halt when his mother dies in a car accident.” When the mother—the person who roots the family back to their traditions—dies, the family falls apart.

The older son, Arjun, leaves home for college; Siddharth gravitates towards a “group of adolescent bullies, drinking and smoking instead of drawing and swimming.”

While Mohan Lal, the father, slowly slinks into depression, and finds solace in the “hateful Hindu fundamentalism of his homeland and cheers on Indian fanatics who murder innocent Muslims.”

Eventually, a single mother, Faber, enters Mohal Lal’s life and the intrusion does not sink in well with Siddharth who is still grieving the loss of his mother.

“He couldn’t believe the man had already forgotten about his dead wife. Dead, dead—when you’re dead, you’re dead. Siddharth’s brain burned with these words. He could feel a big, heavy sob building in his body. Dead was dead. You weren’t reincarnated, and you didn’t go to heaven. Arjun had pretty much said the same thing. Siddharth imagined the flames licking at his mother’s body. They had cremated her and left him with nothing—not even a strand of hair or a gravestone where he could say hello.”  

Here the author is able to strike a chord with the readers, and Siddharth’s anger rings true with all those who have had to painfully move on with life, despite a calamitous tragedy.

But beyond just marking a step into a new phase of life, Faber, whose family too lived through the divisions in Europe, lays bare Mohan Lal’s bigoted leanings.

An unraveling further compounded when Arjun returns home with a Pakistani lover. 

At its core, South Haven is a story of love, loss and nostalgia in a family torn by inter-generational differences.

Not all is well in paradise, not even in a family that seemingly has attained the American dream and enjoys the freedoms and liberties that the new land has afforded them.

Told from the point of view of Siddharth, who is 10 when the accident happens, the book is not just a coming-of-age tale of an uprooted teenager, but also a critical exploration of how Indian families continue to silently grapple with their own regressive biases despite living in the supposed “land of the free”.

All in all, despite falling short of the diaspora novels that have preceded it, South Haven remains a captivating read told from a unique perspective, even if its primary motifs have been tackled previously. 

And with the phenomenon of South Asian families seeking greener pastures in the West, the book no doubt will be relatable and enjoyed for years to come. 

- Thakur is a New Delhi based journalist and writer, he can be reached at [email protected]