WRITING ON LOSS

Siddharth Dhanvan t Shanghvi AUTHOR

Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi’s latest book is a stirring memoir that tackles the loss of parents and a beloved pet over a decade. The T+L India & South Asia A-List member speaks to SUSHMITA SRIVASTAV about the act of remembrance, writing as an antidote to loneliness, and what the pandemic brought to his book.

Loss tells the tale of your personal losses in great detail. How difficult was it to relive them?

Of course Loss was difficult to write, but the act of looking back and recognising how these lives had shaped mine filled me with gratitude and a thrill for knowing them at all. I love the line by Jonathan Safran Foer, “I hope you never have to think about anything as much as I think about you.” And that is what Loss is: a great and fond remembrance without regret.

Did the pandemic affect the narrative?

Loss was to come out in spring when the pandemic broke and publication was deferred to November. In the solitude of the lockdown, my publishers allowed me to edit this book all over again. The sense of general safety had gone away in the pandemic, and the sense of fatality and diminished time that defined our last few months informed the rewrite, imparting a pared-down quality to this book.

You’ve made your nonfictional debut with this book. How different was the experience?

I don’t distinguish between the two mediums because the job of a book is to hold a mirror to your life, to give insight or consolation, and perhaps the rarest quality of all: it should leave you feeling less lonely. Both fiction and non-fiction can do this.

The book takes us from the deserts of Jaisalmer to the thickets of Matheran to the beaches of Goa and the chaos of Mumbai. What role do these destinations play in your narrative?

With colour tones that one draws from specific regions or a certain journey that changes your relationship with a past sorrow, travel layers writing. All that is foreign jolts the senses out of inertia. Travel is a kind of psychological foraging, a gathering of small, stray things to make a meal for the mind. During the pandemic I remember thinking, “I am going to get on a plane and go somewhere, anywhere.” But I could not, and I did not. An immersion into yourself is another kind of travel—you’re already at your destination, and hopefully you like it there.

Tell us about Bruschetta. How different is the loss of a pet? Have you adopted any dogs since?

Bruschetta had a fine sense of humour, and she could really sulk; she was such fun, an antidote to life’s seriousness. I miss her very much. I now live with Kora and

Lila in Goa, who came from the wonderful animal shelter W.A.G (Welfare for Animals in Goa; wagoa.com). Lila and Kora are constant reminders that you will lose your loved ones, and no one will replace them, but the heart is brave and hardy and it will learn to seek again.