'One Day, One Morning' Review: Questioning Our Notion Of ‘Home Sweet Home’ 

Anuradha Vijayakrishnan’s novella, One Day, One Morning, opens with a tragedy. In a remote village in Kerala, a man dies. His death is so sudden and violent that it jolts the sleepy village awake. For the days to come, the only thing the villagers talk about is his death. It’s a story that will soon become the ‘property’ of the village, a part of its folklore.  

Like the villagers, the reader is also shocked by the death of this man. The reader wonders how cruel fate can be, taking away a man who has two young children and a fragile wife. Then the narrator taps on the reader’s shoulder and tells them, ‘Hey, don’t be hung up on this death. It isn’t the real tragedy. Look closer, and you’ll see.’ From that point, the reader is in on a secret, a part of the story as much as its characters. This makes the novella an engaging read. One Day, One Morning is published by Red River Story, the fiction imprint of Red River. It’s a part of a limited-edition novella series edited by Sucharita Dutta-Asane. 

The novella revolves around two pairs of sisters. The first pair of sisters have just lost their father in a tragic death. The second pair of sisters live close to the first and attend the same school. But they aren’t friends and not even in the same league. However, on the fateful day of the tragedy, they happen to go on a little adventure. During this exciting outing, one pair of sisters shares a secret with the other. It’s a pivotal moment in the story when a shared experience is formed. They start seeing each other in a new light, as does the reader.  

One Day, One Morning is narrated from the perspective of two girls, the elder in each pair. Their voices are vastly different. One is boisterous, playful and carefree. Her narrative has a spring in its step, just like a girl playing hopscotch. Even though she recounts a tragic episode, her observations, silly escapades, and innocence will delight the reader. The second narrator is restrained, tenacious and mature for her age. Her matter-of-fact narration is both captivating and heartbreaking. These alternating narratives help the story balance its sombre atmosphere with occasional bursts of laughter and lightness. 

The dual narrative also serves another crucial purpose. One narrator gives the reader the ‘outward’ perspective of the tragedy and its aftermath, and the other gives us an ‘inside’ view of what happened before and after the tragedy. These contrasting voices make the novella an engaging read and give the reader a 360-degree view of the events in this story. The reader starts to understand things that most of the adult characters in the story overlook, making the reader a part of the secret.  

The novella also follows an interesting storytelling method, weaving past and present seamlessly into the narrative. It’s much like how we experience and recollect incidents, how the details change with every retelling.  

The novella is an excellent example of how contemporary writers blend literary and popular fiction genres. Like many popular fiction books, the novella is fast-paced and thrilling. At the same time, like literary fiction, the novella has well-etched characters, visual settings and delightful lyricism. It highlights society’s hypocrisy and challenges our preconceived notions. 

While it happens in a remote village, the story has a universal appeal. It’s a story that can happen anywhere: in metros, towns or villages. It’s a story that mocks our notion of ‘home sweet home.’ In India, family is a sacred institution, and the home is its temple. Come what may, we don’t want this notion to crumble. So, we sweep a lot of things under the rug. But from time to time, skeletons peep from under the rug, and we hear cries from behind closed doors. But we often brush it off, saying, ‘It’s their family matter. It’s rude to interfere.’ We would rather stand vigil from the safety of our verandahs.  

“We could hear steel vessels bouncing off the floor and the girls, probably wailing, though that didn’t seem likely…. All the lights in their home were on this time, though all the curtains were tightly closed… Our neighbours slowly went back to stand vigil in their verandahs.” 

The novella also questions the double standards of a modern society – a society in which men are easily labelled as ‘nice, good and hardworking’ whereas women are never enough. It shows how society loves the colourful details of tragic events but seldom takes steps to recognize and rehabilitate the victims. The clever choice of narrators also comes in handy to expose these unsavoury truths. Just like the child who shouted, ‘The king is naked,’ the two girls blurt out what they observe without worrying about the consequences or passing it through the lens of social conditioning.  

Anuradha, who is also a poet, uses poetic devices like lyrical prose, symbolism and an abstract narrative. Like in poems, many things are left unsaid, inviting the readers to fill in the blanks. Especially in the second half of the novella, the reader gets a more prominent role in the story. The narrative simply shows how the girls’ lives change after the tragedy but doesn’t offer any opinion on whether it’s better or worse than their earlier lives. It’s up to the reader to decide. The flimsy memory of children is used as a clever device to create suspense in the story. The girls ‘remember’ many things that are crucial to solving the mystery behind the tragic death. But then, they don’t quite remember it, prompting the reader to wonder what really happened and make guesses.  

The novella has an open ending that shows a subtle shift in power, but it’s not a definitive, happily-ever-after ending. While a lot of readers enjoy the freedom to fill in the blanks, it might not be everyone’s cup of tea. The book’s zig-zag pattern that weaves past and present might also be challenging for readers who are comfortable reading linear narratives.  

One Day, One Morning is a powerful narrative that forces the reader to walk with these girls, look at the world with childlike curiosity, and feel fear and anxiety. This empathy makes the reader root for these girls, which makes the reading a deep, personal experience. In just around a hundred pages, One Day, One Morning tells a profound story that’s the reality of many homes and women. One Day, One Morning is sharp and succinct yet vivid and visceral. The novella is a good choice for a quick yet meaningful weekend read.