Yezad – her love, her prince and her other half, is also a mortal man. The house creaks under the weight of the family – too little to hold them all acknowledged only at night, along with the day’s other frustrations. With her young family, she lives in a flat bustling with sound – the cooker’s high whistle, reminding her that her mutton stew is ready and sometimes her husband’s raised voice – ushering their sons in for a bath. As Nariman Vakeel’s own daughter and third child, she also inherited his sharp intuition – sensing trouble, before it even starts to brew. Professor Vakeel can only sigh – too afraid to do anything else.Īt first glance, it looks like Roxanna Chenoy has sidestepped this decay. Jal, her quieter, gentler brother would agree – generously, to quell her tears. I can almost hear Coomy Contractor snap back – I am just one woman, in this big house! How much can I do? I imagine the sofa upholstery would have a thin sheet of dust – fallen with careless disarray. It’s the home their mother lived and died in – they have nowhere else to go, and no one else to be with. The Contractors, his stepchildren – who took neither his last name nor his feeble attempts to make amends, live with him in a seven-bedroom apartment that has more doors shut than open. His family is strewn across dilapidated buildings in a city that is on the brink of plastic surgery. Nariman Vakeel is a widower and a reluctant father to two of his three children. Unsurprisingly, Family Matters is a story about two families, tied together by an ageing Parsi professor battling Parkinson’s and the demons of his lost love. Looking into Matters of the Family and the Heart If that is not possible, please use the links on the page and support us.
We encourage you to buy books from a local bookstore. I scarcely understood it, but the aftertaste lingered – enough to remind me to pick it up again the next year – when I was fifteen. I was fourteen when I first read Rohinton Mistry’s, Family Matters. But standing in front of the Indian Fiction section, surrounded by tall, ochre walls of nameless books – the photograph was everything I wanted to be doing on a disarmingly normal day when I was older, and hopefully, much wiser. Years later, I found that it had been clicked by the multi-faceted Sooni Taraporevala, borrowed from her book Parsis, a Photographic Journey.
It was Family Matters’ cover that first caught my eye.
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