The “Why” of O Yasmeen…
I wrote O Yasmeen... to bypass the forensic history of 1947, for example, who killed whom, where the border lies—and replace it with love, loss and spiritual cartography. The novel opens in Chand’s Tea House, a metaphysical space that wasn’t "built" but “arrived” between a cobbler’s stall and a heap of broken radios. Here, the visitors are not merely characters but archetypes of moral injury, and the book itself becomes a testament to the dignity of the unfinished.
In most trauma literature, the goal is “recovery”. They attempt to put the pieces back together. O Yasmeen... argues the opposite. My protagonist, Bose, fails precisely because he tries to “repair” the past, to find Aslam, to recover Yasmeen, to suture a wound that history intended to stay open. The book posits that some betrayals, like the Partition, are absolute. To try to “fix” them is to lie about their gravity.
This narrative establishes a moral boundary: we do not own the pain of others. We cannot narrate it away, fix it, or redeem it; we can only witness it. This book is a prayer for those who have no country, a post-testimonial liturgy for the millions who lost their homes and identities and were told to “move on” by new nations. This book exists to say: your grief is valid, even if and especially if—it has no resolution.
I thank everyone who took time out of their busy lives to attend the book launch and graced us with their esteemed presence.
