Some stories turn on sudden, instinctive decisions, moments when emotion overwhelms reason, often with a tinge of humour. In Cutting Free, a weary Sukhpal Singh demands a divorce, only to hesitate at the consequence of his decision after witnessing a courtroom trial that mirrors his own predicament, when “the two troubled children, deprived of their father’s love… came into his mind.” In The Lesson, Rahul Gupta, a high-powered CFO, discovers the value of family only after hitting rock bottom. These moments of reckoning, when life forces a character to pause and reflect, recur throughout the collection.
Mathew knows his characters intimately. His prose is rich with detail and nuance, capturing the textures of their lives in the gestures, hesitations, and contradictions that make them human. In Pieces of Silver, a poor protagonist deposits his only hundred-rupee note at church, not out of will but out of the unspoken pressure of the priest’s gaze: “This priest, who never took notice of me usually, was now smiling at me, who possesses no health, beauty, pride, work, or income…” Elsewhere, Sukhpal Singh notices the rotis his colleague’s wife has made, a fleeting reminder of the life he might lose after divorce; Rahul Gupta discovers that his plan of hanging himself won’t work because the Oberoi hotel rooms don’t have ceiling fans.
Such small, piercing details are where Mathew’s prose particularly shines. It surprises you with its ordinariness, yet it lingers long, like an aftertaste.