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In this poignant and breathtaking debut, one man searches for meaning in the wake of incomparable tragedy...
Karom Seth should have been in the Twin Towers on the morning of 9/11, and on the Indian shores in 2004, when the tsunami swept his entire family into the ocean. Whether it’s a curse or a blessing, Karom can’t be sure, but his absence from these disasters has left him with crushing guilt—and a belief that fate has singled him out for invincibility.
Karom’s affliction consumes everyone around him, from his best friend, Lloyd, to his girlfriend, Gita, who hopes that a trip to India will help him find peace. It is in Delhi that he meets Gita’s grandmother, Kamini—a quirky but wise woman with secrets of her own. At first Karom dismisses Kamini, but little does he realize that she will ultimately lead him to the clarity he’s been looking for.
Spanning the globe from New York to India, Where Earth Meets Water is a stunning portrait of a quest for human understanding, and a wise exploration of grief, survival and love in all its forms.
Praise for Where Earth Meets Water and
Pia Padukone
“Smart and insightful. A worthy addition to the burgeoning field of new Indian literature.”
—Gary Shteyngart, author of Absurdistan and Little Failure: A Memoir
“Padukone offers a gripping tale of one man’s haunting sorrows, the wounds that bind a people, and the redemptive power of love. An unforgettable debut by a very promising young writer.”
—Patricia Engel, author of It’s Not Love, It’s Just Paris and Vida
“Pia Padukone adeptly captures the aspirations and heartbreak of her engaging characters—how tragedy marks them, love drives them and need makes them ruthless.”
—Manil Suri, author of The City of Devi
Where Earth
Meets Water
Pia Padukone
For both my grandmothers, who have loved me intensely:
my Anamma, Vrinda Padukone, with her quietly creative inspiration
&
my Ajji, Nalini Nadkarni, whose fierce loyalty
and passion for the written word always fueled me forward.
Contents
A Conversation with Pia Padukone
COULD HAVE
It could have happened.
It had to happen.
It happened earlier. Later.
Nearer. Farther off.
It happened, but not to you.
You were saved because you were the first.
You were saved because you were the last.
Alone. With others.
On the right. The left.
Because it was raining. Because of the shade.
Because the day was sunny.
You were in luck—there was a forest.
You were in luck—there were no trees.
You were in luck—a rake, a hook, a beam, a brake,
A jamb, a turn, a quarter-inch, an instant…
So you’re here? Still dizzy from
another dodge, close shave, reprieve?
One hole in the net and you slipped through?
I couldn’t be more shocked or
speechless.
Listen,
how your heart pounds inside me.
—Wisława Szymborska
Karom
From the first morning that Karom awakes in Gita’s grandmother’s house, he can tell that their time in Delhi is going to be different from the rest of their trip. They arrive late at night from Agra, and as they drag their suitcases up to the second floor, Gita caresses the nameplate outside Ammama’s apartment lightly, leaving a small wake in the dust with her fingers. “Huh,” she says. “That’s new.” Kamini Pai, it reads. Before Karom has a chance to ask what she means, they are tumbling into the small flat, sandy from road silt and Indian rail travel, blinking under the fat fluorescent tube lights like a pair of bears emerging from a long winter’s hibernation. After formal introductions and sleepy smiles, they fall into bed, Karom in the living room, Gita in her grandmother’s room, surrendering to sleep miles away from any nettlesome insect buzzing or monotonous calls to prayer that echo through the compound. The night passes swiftly, gathering snatches of reality and
