Author Paromita Bhattacharya hits the high notes in her newest novel by laying bare the splintered remnants of a dysfunctional marriage and how in her desperation to find love and attention, a successful, middle-aged mother, a CEO of a hospital, falls prey to a fraudulent convict who almost leads to her ruination. The Nigerian offender Oluwa uses the age-old persistence of a wily old fox and employs his sexual prowess to keep draining the opulent but gauche Niyaz of cash. Oluwa, as Bhattacharyya so convincingly reveals to the reader, represents the racketeering that continues in Indian prisons and outside. Bhattacharyya is a psychotherapist who has collected material from many real-life case studies and prison documents and police files to present a story that many successful and wealthy women who are about to be conned can relate to.
She states lucidly in her crafted preface: “At its core, Scars Beneath the Silence, reflects the universal search for belonging. It examines how relationships, no matter how perfect they appear, can fracture under the weight of absence, neglect, or unmet needs. It is also a reminder that betrayal often begins with longing – the yearning to be seen, to be understood and to be loved.”
What made Bhattacharyya write this second novel, culled from documented true-life experiences? “By bringing her struggles to light, I wanted to raise awareness about the silent battles many individuals face, especially women who are often unheard or misunderstood. Ultimately, this story is about healing—about discovering strength within vulnerability, and about reminding readers that every scar holds the power to transform, to liberate, and to rise beyond words,” she says.
In her honest account about how a smart, successful and highly intelligent woman is also human, she has cleverly revealed the enormous injustice women are made to face by husbands and their own families who expect them to be goddesses despite the human beings that they are. “From a young age, I witnessed how deeply betrayal can scar a family. The man worked tirelessly in the merchant navy, often away for long stretches, while his wife stayed at home caring for their two children. During one of his long voyages, she began an affair with a neighbour and eventually became pregnant. When her husband happened to be in town, she claimed the child was his, and he accepted her explanation without question. However, as the child grew, it became clear that something was wrong. The physical differences were undeniable, and a paternity test confirmed the truth he had feared: he was not the father. The revelation shattered their marriage.“
How did Bhattacharyya corral the real life documentation and still manufacture a persuasively argued piece of fiction? “Since my work in India and abroad involved counselling people from diverse backgrounds, I frequently visited correctional homes as part of my professional duties. It was there that I first met the main protagonist. Through his reference, I later connected with the woman involved, names changed to maintain confidentiality, during my stay in Bangladesh. My understanding of their situation developed through multiple interactions, counselling sessions, reviewing charge sheets, and speaking with attorneys and policemen. This research made it clear that the events between them were not just the story of protagonists in my story — Oluwa and Niyaz — but a universal pattern repeated across nations; a story of men and married women, of relationships strained by circumstance, trust, and human vulnerability, transcending all boundaries.
The way the foreigner Ulowa wooed Niyaz was unusually brazen and bold. The weakness was Niyaz’s need for love and caring that an absent husband was unable to provide her. The in-depth analysis of the woman’s mind is so well articulated and convincing that many readers, both men and women, will hopefully rethink their marriages and understand their own lapses in their relationships. The tug of war that went through the woman protagonist’s mind and the sense of need for Oluwa, even when she realised his betrayal and disloyalty, is pinchingly real.
The author’s description of lowly prison life is disturbing and shocking. By visiting the prisons, speaking to characters like Oluwa and jailers and correctional facility officers, the rawness of prisons is made palpable. For instance, the following description about the sex and drug trafficking Oluwa carried on regardless in the prison: “Oluwa kissed her and then picked her up on his lap, thrusting his penis into her uniform. As Tamasha melted in his arms, he said: I will give 25 per cent of the money I earn to your jail gang. I can even make it 50 per cent if you want. The rest I shall send home, as you know, I have my wife and children back in Nigeria. The jailer was so addicted to the wild sex that Oluwa gave her that she accepted all his terms. Only when some higher official visited, Oluwa would be treated as any other prisoner, and during inspection, his phone would be hidden somewhere. Tamasha and her constables were literally hand-in-glove with the prisoner gang led by Oluwa.”
However, where the art of storytelling surpasses the slew of fiction coming out currently, in Bhattacharyya’s case, is the attention to detail. The total disregard of a mother with young infants, as in Niyaz’s action to be engrossed in her cell phone for 24 hours, even disregarding the bones on the hilsa fish she serves on her youngest child’s plate, presents Niyaz’s total lack of commitment to her children. Oluwa becomes an obsession with Niyaz, and this slow and clever appropriation of an otherwise committed and duty-bound character is appropriately presented by the author.
Dr Julie Banerjee Mehta is author of Dance of Life about resurrection of Cambodian culture after the genocide and co-author of the bestselling biography of Cambodian prime minister, Strongman: The Extraordinary Life of Hun Sen, with historian Dr Harish Mehta. She has a PhD in English and South Asian Studies from the University of Toronto, where she taught World Literature and Postcolonial Literature. She currently teaches Masters English at Loreto College, and curates and anchors the monthly Literary Circle of the Rising Asia Foundation, of which she is Founder Trustee. She is a Literary Columnist for t2, The Telegraph.