Burnt Shadows – Kamila Shamsie

In past wars only homes burnt, but this time Don’t be surprised if even loneliness ignites. In past wars only bodies burnt, but this time Don’t be surprised if even shadows ignite.

– Sahir Ludhianvi, Parchaiyaan

Kamila Shamsie has done it again.

Left me speechless. Left me in a mental state where I juggle between sorrow, pain, loss, pity and a lot more.

The intricate way in which she has woven this story together is beyond words. While I was thinking that Home Fire was the best of her works, Burnt Shadows came along and proved me wrong.

Burnt shadows is something else. It is unlike anything I’ve read so far. It unlike anything anyone has written so far. In my opinion, at least.

The way she hitched the nuclear tragedy of Japan to those of different yet similar outcomes in Afghanistan, USA, and eventually in India and Pakistan is undoubtedly a work of genius.

The story begins with Hiroko, a Japanese, engaged to Konrad, a German, in Nagasaki of 1945, but then the bomb that killed Konrad and thousands of other and changed it all, which led to her moving to Delhi of 1947, engulfed by the partition and its effects and Hiroko falling in love and marrying Sajjad, a servant of Harry Burton and Ilse Wiess, Konrad’s sister.

The story then moves to the Pakistan of the 80s, giving us a glimpse into the Afghan war against the Soviet in the background and Raza, Hiroko and Sajjad's son, his participation in it and the arrival of Ilse and James’s son, Harry, a member of the CIA to Pakistan and finally the story moves to USA after the 9/11 tragedy with Harry Burton’s daughter Kim playing a central role.

As always her portrayal of the characters is splendid. You can actually imagine being those people when you read her words.

Hiroko, Sajjad, Raza, Harry, Ilse, Abdullah and many others. Burnt Shadows would make you want to imagine the world from each of their perspectives. It would make you want to know what happens to them next, and more importantly, what happened before that made them who they are.

Personally, I do not I like stories clustered with too many characters with each of them having their own little stories, but this book was an exception. I loved every single bit of it.

This was my third read by Kamila and it has only made me long for more. And more and more.

Only Kamila can present the tragedies of the world to you in a book in ways that make your skin crawl and at the same time be hungry for more. She paints the victims for what the world fails to see them as – survivors. There are moments in the book when I came across situations in which all I could do was agree with both the parties, when I failed to understand what was right and what was wrong, and then another paragraph or sentence would come from her and I’d see the light. I’d know what it was all about. I’d know how right was the wrong and how wrong was the right.

Her stories leave me with scars.

Scars I would never want to get rid of. Scars I would always be thankful for.