The God of Small Things is not a book about a pair of twins, mauled by time and society, reuniting and challenging taboos 24 years apart. It is a ballad about love, and loving wrong people, loving the right ones in the wrong place and time, not loving enough. It is a book about love that failed and won in unimaginable ways.
It is an experience of marred human relationships, relationships kept and broken by violence, relationships which blossomed in secrets, relationships broken by love and love broken by relationships.
The God of Small Things is an assemblage of unspoken truths, truths that broke families, truths that killed an innocent man, truths that should have come out and truths that shouldn’t.
It is an unalloyed retelling of life in my country, a country that gulp lives in the name of castes, a country which detest the west yet obsessed with it, a country devoid of love yet full of it and a country with a zillion rich gods but none of the small things.
The God of Small Things is about the journey of a river, a river which witnessed forbidden love, a river which saw most innocent of betrayals, a river which swallowed a child and river which turned a family’s life upside down.
It is a story about us, your family and mine, your society and mine, your religion and mine. Again, The God of Small Things is not a book about Estha and Rahel, and their tabooed yet sacred love, it is a book about you and me, and all our Gods of small things.