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A review by mlautchi
Sugarbread by Balli Kaur Jaswal
5.0
It was Singapore and it was July. The early morning sun glowed orange and rose between high buildings; stream of light poured through the still branches of trees and heat rose from the pavement. 3
But Ma liked to say that gambling was as useless and praying when you were in trouble. 12
Ma ushered me out of the lanes, out of the drowning sounds, the yellowish lighting, the raw smell of blood. Outside, the dampness of market air was replaced by the familiar yellowish heat. People rushed around in the bright morning and melted into white air. We stepped out onto an even pavement and flowery bushes and rumbling buses slowing down to make stops. THis was Singapore again - or at least, Singapore as i knew it. 13
He said that he had nothing against God, but that he didn’t think it was necessary to sit and drink tea in His home every week either. 20
Daddy.. Had a habit of asking questions and not really listening to the answers. 28
I took another sip. A pointy fennel seed had somehow escaped through the strainer and bobbed to the surface of the tea. I pressed it between my lips. The flavour seeed into my mouth and I knew it was no mistake that it had entered my tea. It tasted like something old but still alive. A memory. 76
And I realised that she had once been young. Her eyes, which seemed like heavy window shades, had been a source of light many years ago. Those creases in her face used to only show when she laughed. 76
“Everything overlaps in this city,” Ma said. “Do you see that? Everything merges together.” I did it see it. Concrete pavements over grass, flats over hawker centres, Malay food over Indian food over Chinese food over McDonald’s. Leaves pointing towards the sky in every possible shade of green--jade; emerald; a deep sea green; a sickly yellowish-green. Beneath them, spotted branches rose in crooked lines across the sky. Behind them, buildings. Underneath those, the MRT snaked across the city. A city; an island; a state; a country. Everything overlapping. 101-2
A girl who is gorwing up but wants to put the whole world on hold, stop the buildings from rising, stop the night from swallowing the evening sun, stop everything until her family is normal again. 122
She got older in the way the sky rapidly darkened in the evenings- every time I looked at her, she seemed to have withered a bit more. 127
I began to notice that the Sikh prayers were similar to the Christian hymns we’d learnt at school. The Gods were different and the people were different, but we were saying the main thing. 149
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. All of the questions that were forming in my mind quickly divided into corners were Ma would not find them. 168
This is why Jini runs. Because there are things she will not and cannot accept. Running makes her fee she can escape her mother’s instructions, her thoughts about her father, the growing itching feeling she has all over her body from the inexplicable rashes. 170
She continues to run until she is tired again… As she unlatched the house gate, she feels light, as if she has stomped out every bit of misery that her heart has collected. 171
The sky is ash coloured. Raindrops tap her face, gently at first, then they begin to hit harder, like small bullets. 181
These are the only remedies they possess at home. The other remedy, a less expensive one, is faith. 184
Who we are is all we have. 189
Another group of children huddle around a small bush that sprouts tiny red flowers in the shape of stars. The stems of these flowers have a tiny drop of nectar on their ends and the children are roughly picking them off. 190
“You’re a sweet girl, Jini. You care about people almost too much.” 227
She was too occupied with telling stories of how SIngapore had transformed from a swamp to a bustling metropolis. Her eyes blazed with excitement, as if she could see the country transforming right before her. 246
Rotan sapu - hard bristle broom
Everyone wants to prove they are right all along, even [especially] if the whole world says they’re not. I thought of how Farizah insisted on her beliefs, even if they were a bit strange. I thought of the hope in Ma’s eyes as she relived her story for me. I thought of how badly I wanted to show the neighbourhood boys that I could be just like them and nearly drowned trying to save that ball to prove I was brave and useful to their team. 255-6
“You’re all the same,” I said angrily, and at first I really was furious. But as my words echoed quickly back to me, I heard the truth in what I had said. They were all the same. All of the prayers, all of the teachings - the Gods only looked different, but their intentions were the same. They were always watching and they did some strange things, and sometimes it was hard to believe they truly existed because they never seemed to appear when you needed them. 257
This was how it must have started; this was the only way Ma knew to speak to the world. When she said anything else, nobody listened. Her stories and her feelings and her intentions had to be conveyed through spices and recipes, sauces, oils and meats. 263
The coconut was sweet and cool, perfect for such a hot day. 268
For some reason, I expected it to have changed while we were gone. Singapore was like that - it seemed as if every time I blinked, new housing estates had been built, more shopping centres had been opened, and some streets had become so different that they were difficult to recognize. But the market stayed exactly the same, as if it had been frozen under a magic spell. 268
But Ma liked to say that gambling was as useless and praying when you were in trouble. 12
Ma ushered me out of the lanes, out of the drowning sounds, the yellowish lighting, the raw smell of blood. Outside, the dampness of market air was replaced by the familiar yellowish heat. People rushed around in the bright morning and melted into white air. We stepped out onto an even pavement and flowery bushes and rumbling buses slowing down to make stops. THis was Singapore again - or at least, Singapore as i knew it. 13
He said that he had nothing against God, but that he didn’t think it was necessary to sit and drink tea in His home every week either. 20
Daddy.. Had a habit of asking questions and not really listening to the answers. 28
I took another sip. A pointy fennel seed had somehow escaped through the strainer and bobbed to the surface of the tea. I pressed it between my lips. The flavour seeed into my mouth and I knew it was no mistake that it had entered my tea. It tasted like something old but still alive. A memory. 76
And I realised that she had once been young. Her eyes, which seemed like heavy window shades, had been a source of light many years ago. Those creases in her face used to only show when she laughed. 76
“Everything overlaps in this city,” Ma said. “Do you see that? Everything merges together.” I did it see it. Concrete pavements over grass, flats over hawker centres, Malay food over Indian food over Chinese food over McDonald’s. Leaves pointing towards the sky in every possible shade of green--jade; emerald; a deep sea green; a sickly yellowish-green. Beneath them, spotted branches rose in crooked lines across the sky. Behind them, buildings. Underneath those, the MRT snaked across the city. A city; an island; a state; a country. Everything overlapping. 101-2
A girl who is gorwing up but wants to put the whole world on hold, stop the buildings from rising, stop the night from swallowing the evening sun, stop everything until her family is normal again. 122
She got older in the way the sky rapidly darkened in the evenings- every time I looked at her, she seemed to have withered a bit more. 127
I began to notice that the Sikh prayers were similar to the Christian hymns we’d learnt at school. The Gods were different and the people were different, but we were saying the main thing. 149
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. All of the questions that were forming in my mind quickly divided into corners were Ma would not find them. 168
This is why Jini runs. Because there are things she will not and cannot accept. Running makes her fee she can escape her mother’s instructions, her thoughts about her father, the growing itching feeling she has all over her body from the inexplicable rashes. 170
She continues to run until she is tired again… As she unlatched the house gate, she feels light, as if she has stomped out every bit of misery that her heart has collected. 171
The sky is ash coloured. Raindrops tap her face, gently at first, then they begin to hit harder, like small bullets. 181
These are the only remedies they possess at home. The other remedy, a less expensive one, is faith. 184
Who we are is all we have. 189
Another group of children huddle around a small bush that sprouts tiny red flowers in the shape of stars. The stems of these flowers have a tiny drop of nectar on their ends and the children are roughly picking them off. 190
“You’re a sweet girl, Jini. You care about people almost too much.” 227
She was too occupied with telling stories of how SIngapore had transformed from a swamp to a bustling metropolis. Her eyes blazed with excitement, as if she could see the country transforming right before her. 246
Rotan sapu - hard bristle broom
Everyone wants to prove they are right all along, even [especially] if the whole world says they’re not. I thought of how Farizah insisted on her beliefs, even if they were a bit strange. I thought of the hope in Ma’s eyes as she relived her story for me. I thought of how badly I wanted to show the neighbourhood boys that I could be just like them and nearly drowned trying to save that ball to prove I was brave and useful to their team. 255-6
“You’re all the same,” I said angrily, and at first I really was furious. But as my words echoed quickly back to me, I heard the truth in what I had said. They were all the same. All of the prayers, all of the teachings - the Gods only looked different, but their intentions were the same. They were always watching and they did some strange things, and sometimes it was hard to believe they truly existed because they never seemed to appear when you needed them. 257
This was how it must have started; this was the only way Ma knew to speak to the world. When she said anything else, nobody listened. Her stories and her feelings and her intentions had to be conveyed through spices and recipes, sauces, oils and meats. 263
The coconut was sweet and cool, perfect for such a hot day. 268
For some reason, I expected it to have changed while we were gone. Singapore was like that - it seemed as if every time I blinked, new housing estates had been built, more shopping centres had been opened, and some streets had become so different that they were difficult to recognize. But the market stayed exactly the same, as if it had been frozen under a magic spell. 268