LOVE AND LOSS IN LAHORE

In her debut novel, The House of

Clay and Water, Faiqa Mansab offers a tale of three Lahoris and their take on love, sex and happiness. On the face of it, the book relies on several clichés: Nida is a poor little rich girl stuck in a miserable marriage, Sasha is a ‘harlot’ who offers sex in exchange for designer labels and then there’s the shunned, philosophising hijra (hermaphrodite) Bhanggi. However, Mansab does a good job of layering her characters and giving them distinctive voices, giving the novel a depth that helps set it apart.

At the heart of the story is the characters’ quest for love; even Sasha’s, despite the fact that she appears to remain in denial of that fact. ‘What is love and how does one define it?,’ Mansab seems to ask, never patronising the reader into believing that they will find the answer at the end of the book. Quite to the contrary, the reader realises early on that there is no possible

traditionally happy ending to this story. There is a certain inherent hopelessness to the story instead. Nida, who has loved and lost, is completely devoid of optimism, while Bhanggi desperately clings to the hope of someday finding love; but is a hijra allowed to love, or even capable of loving, as we understand it? Could a hijra ever hope of a woman returning his love? This is a tale of forbidden love, yes, but it isn’t as hackneyed as it sounds. Mansab uses the characters as mouthpieces to comment on society. Interestingly, though religious and cultural parochialism are what have brought Nida to where she is, instead of damning Islam, she points out laws that are lenient on women. Sasha’s story questions the very idea of liberty and its relationship with love and lust. “Why should freedom translate into adultery for women? ... Why couldn’t a woman just be, regardless of body and role?” Nida asks in the book.