Sameer Gudhate presents the Book Review of The Mother I Never Knew by Sudha Murty

Have you ever paused mid-read and wondered — what would I do in their place? That was me, more than once, while reading The Mother I Never Knew by Sudha Murty. Known for her simple storytelling and deep cultural insight, Sudha Murty doesn’t just tell stories — she passes on lived wisdom. Her stories have this uncanny way of making you look inward while your eyes are still on the page.

Having read her before, I picked this one expecting warmth, realism, and a peek into complex family dynamics. What I didn’t expect was to close the book and sit still, a little dazed, thinking about Devaki and Yashoda — about the mother who gives birth and the mother who raises. And suddenly, that question wasn’t so mythological anymore.

This book is actually two novellas — each telling the story of a man in search of a mother he never knew existed. In the first, we meet Venkatesh, a bank manager with a seemingly perfect but emotionally hollow family. A job transfer leads him to a startling discovery: he has a lookalike in Hubli, and what begins as curiosity soon unravels into a heartbreaking past involving his father, a stepmother he never knew, and a legacy of silence.

In the second story, Mukesh, a successful London-based professional, is blindsided by a revelation after his father’s death — he was adopted. His journey to find his biological mother takes him across India, and what he uncovers along the way is far more complicated than he ever imagined.

Sudha Murty’s prose is like your grandmother telling you a story over tea — uncomplicated, honest, and rich with emotion. She doesn’t rely on ornate words or literary acrobatics. Instead, she builds her narrative slowly, gently, making you feel like you’re living through the moment with her characters. And that’s her magic — she simplifies complexity without trivializing it.

Venkatesh and Mukesh are deeply human. They aren’t heroic or larger-than-life; they’re just men trying to make sense of the unexpected. Their emotional struggles are raw and relatable. Shanta, Gauri, Neeraja — all supporting characters are believable. And what really stood out was how Murty captured the generational gap — how children from the same household can grow up to be polar opposites in values and emotions.

Both novellas are fast-paced and structured with just enough suspense to keep you hooked. The first story felt tighter and more grounded, while the second took on a more melodramatic, almost filmy tone. Personally, I found myself more invested in Venkatesh’s journey — it felt intimate and emotionally layered.

At its heart, this book is about identity, belonging, and emotional debt. It asks tough questions — what defines a parent? Blood or love? Can a past, once buried, be rightfully reclaimed? It also gently exposes societal stigmas — single mothers, adoption, patriarchal control over women’s lives — without turning preachy.

There were several moments that tugged at me. Venkatesh’s pain when his son turns against him or Mukesh’s confusion upon meeting multiple mother figures — it made me think of how fragile our idea of ‘family’ really is. I’ll admit, I teared up at the mother’s quiet fear of being forgotten. That hit hard.

Murty’s greatest strength is her empathy. You can feel that she cares about her characters — and about her readers. Her ability to balance cultural context with emotional resonance makes her stories universally appealing.

That said, the second story did feel a bit over-the-top. Some scenes bordered on dramatic excess, and the climax dragged. Also, Murty tends to describe her women with the “slim, fair, long hair” cliché — something I wish Indian authors would retire. Character depth could have been more nuanced too.

What stayed with me most was the realization that parenting is more than biology. As someone raised by a mother who made countless sacrifices to raise me, the emotional weight of these stories felt personal. It reminded me how we sometimes forget to acknowledge the invisible labour of love that shapes us.

The Mother I Never Knew isn’t Murty’s best, but it’s sincere, relatable, and thought-provoking. If you’re a Sudha Murty fan or looking for a short, reflective read on identity, family, and emotional bonds, this book is worth picking up. Just don’t expect literary fireworks — expect quiet truths that linger.

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