‘Some silences begin long before we remember choosing them’
Some words come when she feels safe.
The rest belong to Sh.
Your Book Reviews help to keep stories alive and supports independent writing.
Your Book Reviews help to keep stories alive and supports independent writing.
MEET RANMI
Kagupadu, Andhra Pradesh, 2000. Thirteen-year-old Ranmi Marella stopped talking years ago. Or almost stopped. Words come when she feels safe; other times, she writes them down. She has always believed her silence is a choice. The problem is that she cannot remember choosing it.
Then her family moves to Hyderabad: a louder city, a class of 63 students, and people who rarely behave as logically as science says they should. Ranmi takes her questions to Sh - the notebook she names after a secret, and the one reader who never asks her to explain herself.
Over the next two years, she finds a library, makes a few friends, and meets people who begin to notice her. Then an ordinary moment makes her freeze. She doesn't know why. Only that something about it feels familiar.
And the questions Ranmi has always asked about the world begin to turn towards herself.
I have always been interested in questions.
The ones the child within us wishes to ask, the ones the adult version stops them from asking. And particularly the ones we learn, somewhere along the way, not to say aloud.
Dear Sh grew from that space. Ranmi Maralla (the Protagonist) doesn't lack a voice. If anything, she has too much happening inside her: observations, facts, contradictions, humour, questions, and an endless attempt to make people behave as logically as the world in her books.
This book is her diary of two years of her teen life.
And I hope, somewhere inside, you will find the answer to questions of your own.
A NOTE FROM AUTHOR
STAY WITH THE STORY
Be the first to hear about the cover reveal, excerpts, events, launch updates and everything happening around Dear Sh.
The Thinking Room is a space for observations, everyday contradictions, and the questions that often begin with something small I noticed.
Sometimes reflective. Sometimes curious. Sometimes simply thinking aloud.
Read along on Substack, or find shorter reflections on Instagram.
Subscribe