How much do we know about our mothers? How were they as people, before they became a parent? How much of our own personality is dependent on their approach to things? These questions linger around the lines of Anita Desai's new work Rosarita, her first novel in a decade. This is a work which sees the world as a porous dimension of interconnectedness. It balances simplicity with philosophical inquiry with an acute eye for detail.  

Bonita is told of Rosarita

Desai starts with a flourish, wasting no time in any stylistic push and pull. We meet young Indian student named Bonita, or should I say we are her, as the author chooses to employ a second person narrative here, which means the unusual circumstances that will take shape over the next 90 pages will position us, the readers, into direct conversation with the syntax of the narrative. Bonita is interrupted by an eager, middle-aged woman who claims to recognize her because she looks exactly like her mother, whom she addresses as Rosarita. No, Bonita responds in sobering firmness, as her mother did not paint. Neither did she come to Mexico to study painting. As for her, she is studying languages. Bonita calls this woman The Stranger, but returns for more.

This sudden rendezvous becomes a knot in Bonita's memories of her mother. Desai gives strategic glimpses from her childhood, a telling reminder of the patriarchal and authoritarian household in which she saw her mother survive. "Now your eyes open to a possibility never considered before- that Father had once been young and able to consider romance and seen it in Mother being 'different', unlike what he was accustomed to, and been intrigued by that at some passing moment in his life, leading him to do something out of character, something rash," is how Desai touches upon a time shadowed in memories and sounds.

Enigmatic and provocative

What Bonita does with thus surge of determination to know about her mother forms the slippery edge of this magnificent work. Desai writes with a razor-sharp precision, stripping off any excesses from her sentences. Her swings in time and action are captivating, often taking speculative turns with a delicate pop of attention.

Bonita's interrogation provides Desai the groundwork to run through the cross-section of personal and political histories of India and Mexico, of marriage and tradition, and of the very act of defiance. Desai often returns to objective truth and dares the reader to follow. The Stranger becomes The Trickster, and more unexpected characters emerge, as Bonita responds with gradual abandon.

Rosarita is an enigmatic work, at once rich in its philosophical inquiry of identity and mortal experience. It is perhaps the most daring and experimental Desai has ever been, tracing the journey of women across generations in one full sweep. The anticipation builds and flows, and gives way for a stunningly realized image by the end. I was reminded of Krzysztof Kieślowski’s The Double Life of Véronique, which revolved around two young women who are interlinked in mysterious ways. The world is a small place, and our experiences, contain multitudes. Rosarita is a small, compact gem, once again reminding us of the exhilarating powers of Desai as a writer.

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