The Ominous Residue of Death

“I felt separate from them in every way but at the same time could not deny the things that bound us together.” – Unaccustomed Earth, Pg. 272

This is a story about a cohesively dysfunctional family where everyone is a stranger to each other. Where each person exists in emotional isolation despite living in close physical proximity. This is a story about family members forcing other family members to take on responsibilities that don’t belong to them.

Allow me to introduce you to a father and son named Dada and Kaushik from the brilliant novel Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri. Kaushik’s mother dies from a relentless battle with cancer. But when father and son start grieving disparately, the tides push them into opposite directions. It’s hard not to ask, does tragedy drive families apart?   

Grieving Through Action vs. Inaction

Often, death has the power to give birth to a new family unit. As Dada (the father) starts taking immediate steps to move forward, Kaushik (the son) finds himself preserving all physical pieces of his mother. The silent discomfort becomes the only thread weaving father and son together as one side is attempting to heal through action and the other is pursuing inaction.

Dada immediately gets to work. He sells her Audi, puts her photographs inside a tightly sealed shoebox, and donates her handbags, cosmetics and perfume. He even brings a bride from India to compensate for the void of companionship that is now inherent in his life as a widow.

Meanwhile, his son Kaushik finds himself watering all his mother’s plants, attempting desperately to keep her spirit alive. He walks around the house staring fondly at her special clock as he grapples with the movement of time. He even ends up driving her Audi, the one that his father so eagerly wished to be rid of.  

Grieving Through Silence vs. Dialogue

While Dada (father) copes through silence, Kaushik (son) exhibits a dire need for dialogue … something that is never granted to him by his father. Dada is trying to individuate from the tragedy by building a new life and leaving what cannot be rectified behind. Kaushik sits and waits for what feels like an eternity to talk to his father and to bridge the gap. That gap is never bridged. The moment never comes…  

I drank what I poured, then poured another.

“Easy,” my father said…

“It’s not easy or me.” Pg 266

 Kaushik undresses his soul. He pours his pain in a glass. Yet despite a son’s display for the need to connect with his father…no dialogue is forged. An open door with no one to walk through. One man’s need to communicate is confronted by another man’s need for silence. Is there a ‘Kaushik and Dadu’ relationship in our own lives?

Self-Reflection on Sorrow Island

These dimensional characters incite us to ask…

• Do different coping mechanisms drive a permanent wedge between families?

• What happens when we are fighting for a future that doesn’t belong to us?

• And is silence an actual language?

• Can a relationship heal, develop and evolve in the quiet corners of a room? Through empty glares and blank stares?

• Can we heal collectively when we need something the other person can’t give us?  

Despite sharing the same pain and loss, the grievers in this story, much like in real life, never intersect on their journey to redefining the new circumstances of their lives. And perhaps, that is one of the mysteries of death … that it destabilizes our core and forces us to rearrange the wobbly pieces of our lives.