A book that reminds us of resilience, tenderness, and the strength we often forget we carry.

Every time I pick up a book by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, I know I’m in for something deeply rewarding. Few Indian writers can capture the emotional landscape of the subcontinent with such quiet elegance—her prose is simple, lyrical, and achingly human.

Her novel Independence is no different. It grips you from the first page, drawing you into the throes of Partition—a moment in history that cleaved a nation and countless families. Through this turbulent backdrop, Divakaruni follows the intertwined journeys of three sisters—Priya, Deepa, and Jamini—each carrying her own longing, courage, and heartbreak.

Priya dreams of becoming a doctor and refuses to bow to societal expectations. Deepa follows her heart into a love that pushes against the boundaries of the time. Jamini, steady and selfless, tries to keep their fractured world intact. Through their choices and sacrifices, the novel paints not just a historical moment, but the intimate anatomy of a family caught in forces far larger than themselves.

Melancholy hums beneath the story—reminding us that history is never just speeches, dates, and declarations. It’s the fear of footsteps in the dark. The grief of doors that stop opening. The unspoken bravery of holding on when everything is slipping away.

Independence isn’t merely a novel—it feels like an embrace. A reminder that even amid devastation, the flame of love, hope, and resilience refuses to go out. You close the book with your heart warmed, your spirit uplifted, and your eyes stinging with memory and longing.

Reading it feels like sitting with an old friend over hot cups of chai, listening to a story that settles into your bones and lingers long after the last sip.

It is a tale of sisterhood, of separation, and above all—the quiet triumph of the human spirit.

— Navdha Chaturvedi