This was a very complex poem to read in the beginning but one aspect that I really enjoyed was that although it was a poem and it was incredibly fragmented, the words flowed and it read like a narrative or short story. Although some things are lost to me such as the stylistic effects, and deeper meaning with certain words, phrases, or syntaxes, I was able to get the crux of the poem.

Because it was as if.
When my family crossed that line.
That border, that boundary.
That nothing more could be recalled.

These lines stood out to me because they delineated the problem the author had with which he wanted to use his spell to reverse. The problem being that although he had not witnessed the tragedy that took place during the partition, it had been an enduring part of his family history, one that had impacted their lives and interactions, perhaps subconsciously, but which was been forgotten. The imagery that follows these lines in which the author uses evocative lines to reveal just how tragic the event had been which makes it so bad that he did not previously realize the extent of the tragedy. The escape of his family into another nation had created a line, a partition between him, the future generation, and the rawness of the event that his family had suffered. Given this, the spell to reverse the line would be to repeat it to pass on the memory of trauma to the future generation through stories or other mediums.

“Yes, and what about this numbness, which I conceal from others? Is it a trait? Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?”

This is it. This is the line that solidified the meaning of the text for me. When reading Kapil’s poem, I was a bit confused as to what it was about. There were mentions of her relatives and her mother, mentions of trauma and generations, however it wasn’t until these specific lines when the purpose- the meaning- of the poem hit me: generational trauma. Generational trauma is a horrible thing, something that no one should have to experience or bear such burden. The poets mention how her mother “was still traumatized by these experiences,” and how she viewed the world had impacted her (poet), casting a “spell” on her. When one experiences trauma, it has a strong impact on the person– it reshapes their whole world. It causes them great pain, and that pain can be projected onto those around them; it even passes down generations. My parents and their parents have lived through war. First it was WWII, my maternal grandfather lost his hand to a discarded defective grenade in the nearby mountains in Dinosh, Podgorica, Montenegro. Germans had abandoned them there. Then there was the civil war and the collapse of Yugoslavia. My mother was forced to learn to load and fire a rifle when she was 10, my uncle when he was 5. My great aunt was held in a concentration camp the Serbians built, and left it broken and physically disabled. They all bear trauma caused by a collapsed socialist country, one that no longer exists and yet has caused great trauma. They tell us these stories, they project their pain onto us in the form of lessons: what to “avoid,” what is “bad,” and who is “bad.” They despise Serbians; they despise socialists, comparing them to communists; they despise politics, blaming them for the pain and suffering millions have endured. Kapil touches on this, mentioning how “my mother wept, telling this story to my son in a Mexican restaurant on Eisenhower Avenue. It was my mistake. He was writing a paper on colonization. I said: “Ask your grandmother. She’s sitting right in front of you. She
lived…” Through these things.” Whether directly or indirectly done, trauma is passed down from one generation to another. In this case, it’s the grandmother telling her grandson what she experienced for the sake of his paper. In other cases, like my own, it’s so we can hopefully avoid what previous generations have experienced. It sparks a fear in us, it shapes our world the way it reshaped theirs, it causes us to form prejudice of any degree. This can continue, whether intentional or not– consciously done or not– we may end up repeating this molding, this reshaping of worlds: trauma passed down from generation to generation.

“Because what will others inherit from me?”

As expressed by Bhanu Kapil, generational trauma is not about you. You are a conduit for your ancestors trying to enforce certain rules or values.

“If even one drop is spilled.
You will be punished so severely you will not be able to leave
your home for many days”

Your punishment will be given by both your family members and yourself. You have been conditioned to hold the trauma close and pass it on. It can be disguised as culture or tradition. You might not ever notice it or notice that others don’t have it. However, when confronted with the question of what will others inherit from me, you pause. Because you have been put in the unique position of deciding if you are going to pass it on.

When Kapils son asked her about colonization, she says to ask his grandmother and pauses. She was flooded with traumatic imagery of her mothers experiences. It was this imagery that lead to her casting her spell. The spell is not about forgetting what had happened. It’s about acknowledging and forgiving. We all want to remember our family’s histories. But we don’t have to live in fear or pretend that these wars are still going on. Kapil wants her son to know without experiencing the pain.

“One night, I left England, unable to move from image to narrative in ways that were recognized as writing, at that time, by others. But now. Here I am! So far from home! Unable to write. What I came here to write” (Kapil lines 79-86)

A common therapy practice is to write out your thoughts and feelings. Sometimes memories and trauma can form complex and illogical webs, manifesting themselves in unexpected scenarios. While making your morning coffee, you might suddenly feel a surge of emotion without any apparent cause. Finding ways to express oneself is one of the first steps to recognizing pain and recovering from it. In Kapil’s case, however, it was impossible. For whatever reason, her form of writing wasn’t recognized as “proper”, and was consequently either ignored or too difficult to understand (perhaps there’s some deeper context related to minor literature, etc). 

I find Kapil’s “spell” pretty interesting. For those unable to communicate their pain (whether due to fear of social ostracization or the inability to do so), her solution is to seek alternate forms of connection; to connect with the past, present, and future by experiencing the same things as those who are on the same boat (lines 104-114). Isn’t it ironic how magical spells typically require verbal or written incantations, but Kapil’s spell doesn’t require any form of linguistic expression? Even the literal definition of “spell” denotes the usage of letters or characters to form a word. Kapil doesn’t care. She proves that anyone willing to put forth the effort can become a wizard.

-chris chang

In 1947: Spell to Reverse A line, Bhanu Kapil sought to deal with the traumas of the partition by putting them into a poem. I find it interesting how he structured the poem in a way where each stanza only contains a few words and phrases. This fragmented structure of the poem can represent at large how survivors may recall memories of the partition in a small fragmented manner. The experience has left a traumatic mark on people’s minds across generations. As Kapil said,

” Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to
another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?
But if the glass is broken.
If even one drop is spilled.
You will be punished so severely you will not be able to leave
your home for many days.
Years.
Yes.”

I think this section really spoke to me. Upon reading it, I immediately think about how many families would pass on all the burdens that came from their trauma and challenges.

Kapil writes to release herself from suppressed generational trauma… to free herself from this long line of pain. She incorporates the stories of her family members who experienced Partition and its effects. This personalizes the poem and creates vivid imagiries of the events in the reader’s mind. The quotes make the poem more intimate–they evoke a myriad of emotions. 

Kapil’s mother states that, “I saw women, tied to the trees, their stomachs cut out” when she peeped “through a hole in the cart’s soft wall.” When reading this line, I felt disgusted, appalled, and uneasy. I can clearly imagine this atrocious site and it makes my stomach churn. Also, this gruesome sight Kapil’s mother beheld led to her developing severe trauma that couldn’t be contained within one generation. It spread from generations to generations like wildfire. This is the same trauma that Kapil confronts in her writing and leads her to these questions: did such trauma eventually engrave itself into a part of the identity of Kapil’s family? Is it a line that can be reversed with a spell? 

“Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?

But if the glass is broken.

If even one drop is spilled.

You will be punished so severely you will not be able to leave your home for many days.”

The excerpt above had a big emotional impact on me because I have experience with the concept of generational trauma and understand how it is passed down. Kapil uses the metaphor of a glass of water for the trauma itself. Through this usage, she made the abstract concept of trauma a more tangible thing, therefore, making it more relatable. In fact, she cites an idea that is familiar to me about how we are told this trauma is never to be undermined even if I, as the latest generation of my family, have never been affected by it directly. Like she observed in her own life, my parents and grandparents have had a certain sort of reverence for the terrible experiences that have plagued them while growing up in the transitionary and post-transitionary periods in the Indian subcontinent. Although I completely empathize with their pain, being born into a different lifestyle and time has kept me somewhat isolated from their trauma. This sometimes leads to misinterpretations and inter-family conflicts when I “spill the water” on accident. However, the most intriguing part of the excerpt to me is this contradicting idea of wanting to be trapped in this cycle of torment, even if it is unconsciously. Perhaps letting this trauma weigh me down at all times isn’t the only way to respect my heritage. I find it more powerful to be at a place where I can overcome my past and do things that people in my family have only dreamt about for ages, like a peace offering for all their trials and tribulations. Kapil’s use of the water metaphor also opened me up to the idea of the glass eventually becoming empty after many cycles of spillage. Will these future generations still be a part of my family history? Or is generational trauma the only way to validate our identities?

“I have the strange feeling that if I could make this journey.

I could reverse.

The effects of a long-held suffering in my family system that

makes its face known in the arguments of elders over property or

ownership, but also domestic violence towards women and girls

in its many forms.

Who was responsible for the suffering of your mother?’

When reading the poem I found it very intriguing that Bhanu Kapil breaks each line into one sentence as a complete thought throughout the entirety of the poem– expect here. Her breaking the cycle at this particular moment emphasizes the tragedy that the partition had on her family and the urgency/need for her to “fix” it–just for her family and specifically for her mother. While her lines are broken up by periods in order to make you as the reader take a moment and think about the idea presented, I interpreted this changing of narrative to make a longer sentence as a way of her standing her ground and showing us a true example of affected it has had on her family. In addition, I think that the longer sentence holds sentimental value because it not only shows the effect that the partition of India and Pakistan but also the visible hindrance of one so-called legacy and inheritance and the psychological trauma it holds within families. Because 2 million people had to migrate to their respected region and leave many things behind it’s understandable for them now to have arguments over property and ownership. They have once been stripped away from what was once theirs, the human need to fight for is still lingering within the family system. For Kapil to express this in a longer more cohesive line brings so much emphasis to the family trauma but awareness and significants that I thought was nicely put.

“I want to make this spell open to others.
And not limit it.
To the loss, grief and hope that has marked my own life.
I want to open this spell or offer it.
To anyone who needs it […]
That you don’t need a visa or cash or a ticket.
To cast this spell.”

This passage from Bhanu Kapil’s poem really stuck out and resonated with me as the poet conveys a slightly hopeful tone towards the audience. Despite all these horrible atrocities that arose from the partition of India such as the killings, and death, which was then passed on to future generations via memories/recollections, the poet explains that there is always an “escape”. Not to run away from these issues, but an “escape” as a means to relax, to find somewhere that one will not be haunted by such activities. Whether it is through your dreams or just going to a café and drinking some chai, one must always know that sometimes they should take a break or take their mind off such heavy thoughts.

Bhanu Kapil writes about how families will often implicitly assume that family trauma is automatically passed down to future generations that themselves have not experienced the trauma. She writes:

“Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to another, placed in the hands of each person in turn? But if the glass is broken. If even one drop is spilled. You will be punished so severely you will not be able to leave your home for many days. Years. Yes.”

But why does this need to be the case? Surely, the ancestors who experienced their trials and tribulations would do anything for their children to not have to experience any more grief on their behalf. This is a feeling that I am certainly used to feeling, having grown up with my great-grandmother constantly reminding our family about the prejudices she faced living as a Jew in Austria leading up to the 2nd World War. However, Kapil ultimately gives permission to these descendants to rid themselves of this forced guilt:

“To anyone whose family system or nervous system. Has been marked by a war. That preceded their life span. And it goes without saying. That you don’t have to go there…”

The way that the poem “1947: Spell to Reverse A Line” by Bhanu Kapil was written was unusual for me because nearly each short line ends with a period. This way of writing prevented me from rushing through the text and allowed me to examine each line more attentively. While reading the poem, a segment that lingered with me was:

“I lived in a family of people who survived a massacre or witnessed its aftermath.

They spent seven nights on a railway platform ‘with dead bodies all around.’

My mother wept, telling this story” (3-4). 

Through these lines, Kapil shows her own perspective, how although it was her mother who went through unimaginable experiences during the 1947 British India partition, she also lives with the same trauma. Seeing her mother shed tears while telling the story might be one way in which this trauma is passed on. Additionally, these lines show the perspective of families who, after generations, have been burdened with generational trauma, whether it is from war in their homelands, displacement, or other tragic events. A perspective that those of us fortunate enough to be born free from traumatic memories/images do not get to see. One where many children have to witness the constant suffering expressed by their parents or grandparents.

Kapil’s poem assisted me in understanding the lifelong trauma that certain events evoke on families, even lasting for multiple generations. Throughout the poem, each line is very deliberate and carries weight to it to convey the exact emotions she wishes to elicit upon readers. Despite these clear and blunt statements, they are all fragmented and appear in pieces- mirroring the train of thought of many who possess trauma experience. These fragments consistently end with periods or question marks, as shown when Kapil recalls memories of her mother’s trauma, 

“My mother wept, telling this story. 

To my son.

 In a Mexican restaurant on Eisenhower Avenue. 

It was my mistake.” 

Each period concludes a line and offers a piece to the entire memory puzzle- speaker to subject to location, and finally, to Kapil herself. Yet, what I find interesting is how she discusses the specific event that began this chain of trauma, and how it breaks her consistent fragmented mold. She states, 

“That the memories of the train pulling in, its floor ankle high 

with blood and every person on the train.

 Slaughtered.” 

When once again referencing trauma, she uses a simile,

 “Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to 

another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?”

These two statements referring to trauma are very descriptive and aren’t fragmented, revealing how victims of trauma seem to relive their horrifying ordeals over and over, with crystal clear memory. This, coupled with Kapil’s usage of fragmented statements showcase the difficulty victims of trauma have returning to everyday life, as they are constantly reliving memories and feeling broken otherwise. On a smaller note, I believe the simile she utilizes to describe inherited trauma is extremely accurate- children will always view the outside world through their parents’ lens.

“I saw women, tied to the trees, their stomachs cut out.” (Kapil, 2)

This quote in Kapil’s poem really stood out to me because it genuinely disgusted me. This is a very horrifying line that I hate to imagine. While reading this line, it was simply one of those lines that just disturb you as you read. During my first read of the poem my head began to wonder, it really left me picturing these scenarios occurring in thousands of different ways. I just feel like this line is very relatable in a way, not directly but the concept of it. Women are constantly in danger during their day to day lives. So many women get followed, kidnapped, raped, hit, etc. every night while walking to their car, home, to work. This specific line just reminds me of all the women who have been in danger before, they may not have been tied to the trees or have their stomachs cut out, but it’s still terrible to see. Unfortunately, somewhere in the world this is most likely happening and that is very sickening to think about.

“When I was a child, I lived with a mother who was still traumatized.

By these Experiences.

Did her way of seeing the world.

Or recollecting it.

Cast a spell on my own brain?”

These words by Bhanu Kapil are so powerful as her thoughts are fragmented throughout the poem like a spell. Her story is told in a melodic way; each thought IS broken with a period so that the information truly sinks into the readers mind. The phrase, “Did her way of seeing the world.” stands alone on a line so it is truly thought about. This specific line alludes to the trauma her mother faced, and how it has shaped her own thinking and writing. She also mentions, “When my family crossed that line. That border, that boundary. That nothing more could be recalled. Indeed, when I sit down to write, I also feel exhausted I blank out. As I do when someone tells me they love me.” These excerpts are connected; The spell that was cast on her own brain is what causes her to feel exhausted when she writes, and she is numb to love like most of those who have experienced such horrible things. Her mind suffers. It is a perfect analogy of her inherited trauma. She didn’t experience the partition, but she was raised with a family who did, and it shaped her thoughts and childhood. Her behavior in her daily life is shaped by a trauma she experienced ‘second hand’. She writes this spell with the intention of reversing the suffering of her family and all of those who have had a similar experience, and to motivate others and herself to reverse the emotional exhaustion that was built up as a child.

-Hannah Khanshali

“Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?” These words stood out to me the most when reading “1947: Spell to Reverse A Line” by Bhanu Kapil. In her writing, Kapil discusses her family’s relationship to the 1947 Partition and how the events that had unfolded in her family’s past resulted in the development of trauma in family members who were trying to emigrate from their home country. A point that Kapil emphasizes is that trauma isn’t a static force. Trauma moved alongside her family affecting people who lived through the Partition and unfortunately those who weren’t alive during the event. A key example of this can be seen at the beginning of page 4 when Kapil discusses a memory of herself telling her son to ask his grandmother about the effects of colonization. This resulted in her mother breaking down in tears. In saying that, she accidentally had her mother relive haunting memories of the past, which resulted in Kapil reliving negative experiences she faced while growing up with a mother who suffered severe trauma. This experience could result in the development of trauma in her son because he ponders whether it’s his fault all this unfolded due to a question he could have kept to himself, reinforcing Kapils idea that trauma lives in a perpetuating loop.

“Who was responsible for the suffering of your mother?

I remember writing that question in my notebook when I got to

the U.S.

Because I wanted to write.

Because what will others inherit from me?”

The last part of this segment stands out because it points to a question of legacy. From the poem, we know that the narrator’s family (assumably Kapil’s) experienced the 1947 Partition of India and Pakistan. Their stories of what they went through has traveled down the line of generations to Kapil, of which she writes about now. The title suggests that Kapil wishes to have had the Partition Line reversed that had caused the lives of around 2 million people to die as it created a new boundary and spark wide scale violence. The legacy of this Line has made it’s way to Kapil, who, if she has heard about it from her mother’s account, hadn’t experienced it herself. But with this story, she writes about the effects the Line had on the lives of her family to not just people in her own family who can possibly read it, but to others outside the family–her wider audience as a writer–as something about it’s legacy she too passes on. The poem can correlate to a saying that (along these lines) says that if we know what has happened previously in history, we are less likely to do them again–being that we can see the outcome of that part of history. And so, just like how the effects of slavery and racism is learned about in America, Kapli passes on how the effects of the Partition Line affected her and her family. And with this, she voices a part of history that she may feel a duty in relaying to future generations to not have it recur once again, and that her audience feels the emotional weight of what it had on numerous lives including her own family.

I really liked how the author wrote this as a poem as each line ending with a period adding a deeper meaning to the passage. It made me slow down the reading in my head and it truly helped me take in each and every line piece by piece, which I believe was the effect that the author may have wanted to go for, especially since a spell consists of carefully making an intense effect with each line spoken. The line that stood out the most to me was, “Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?” (page 3). I really appreciated this line as it sums up this entire poem about the author revealing the trauma that her mother went through during the partition and how deeply it impacted her, thus explaining how generational trauma works. I also like how she uses the concept of mysticism as her form of escape (“this is a spell to stop the loop, to regain one’s wholeness- pg 2), as it helps for her to believe that she can find peace through this “spell” to undo the trauma. My interpretation is that the author realizes that those of us that have had this similar experience can come to accept that this generational trauma may have made us stronger, but we can also stop the trauma from being passed on by finding closure and acceptance within ourselves (which is seen through this theme of mysticism).

“Then this is a spell to reverse the line, the hole, the night itself.”

This quote particularly stood out to me because of the connotations that helped me define what the author was referring to when she said line, hole and night. Line means boundary, hole means a piece is missing, and when I think of the night, I think of scary. These connotations drew me to the conclusion of what the author’s life was life. The author alludes to this feeling of being unlovable because she fears love since she saw how the love for a religion hurt her people. She did not want to be loved because from what she saw, love made people do crazy things. The nights were scary because she feared for the safety of her family and what the future held for them. The line that the author is referring to the boundary that separates a child from an adult which is maturity. The author was forced to grow up at such a young age because this trauma made her strong.

“My Spell is this

…

In a nearby café, order a freezing cold coffee.

Or chai.

And drink it, as slowly as you possibly can, savoring each sip.

In a place nobody spoke or wanted to speak about.

Because it no longer existed.”

The quote near the end of the passage of “1947: SPELL TO REVERSE A LINE” by Bhanu Kapil gave me the chills. The words, as part of her so-called “spell,” to dampen her trauma involved interacting with an area that “no longer existed” and “where a house once was,” creeps me out because it shows a life of a group of people before a disaster hit while also showing evidence of their removal from their homes. As a descendant of refugees escaping unspeakable trauma, I cannot imagine doing this “spell.” At the same time, she can drink beverages “as slowly as you possibly can” in the area where her ancestors were displaced. By doing this process and looking at her family’s past and how others destroyed where her family lived, she is accomplishing the feat of making peace with the generational trauma of genocide. Her making peace with her trauma begins the long road to recovery from it, something very few people can do, even multiple generations after the fact.

-Zachary Rosman

The author writes this poem speaking of what I understood to be a war that has traumatized their family as well as themselves. The poem is a bit unclear to me. The writer speaks of a spell, a spell that helps people who encountered this trauma deal with it. They state, “That you don’t need a visa or cash or a ticket. To cast this spell. You can travel. To these places. In your dreams. In your extreme way of making art.”  I do not fully understand whether the writer means the spell can be used to forget about the trauma, or leave it behind and continue on with life in a way you see fit.

“Did her way of seeing the world.
Or recollecting it.
Cast a spell on my own brain?
The way that everything I wrote returned.
To the image of a woman’s body.
Poked, upright or inverted.”

This excerpt from the reading stood out to me most due to Kapil’s mastery of interlacing the past, present, and future of trauma. For one, Kapil points to gendering of Intergenerational trauma through motherhood, the mother-daughter relationship, and violence against women. Kapil looks at her mother’s lived experiences, how those experiences have tinted her mother’s existence and parenting, and how Kapil is now burdened with an image of violence that she hadn’t even witnessed firsthand. Interestingly, this even affects Kapil’s own parenting to her son. I also love the theme of mysticism and magic, with Kapil having subconsciously “cast a spell on her own brain” to be trapped in a loop of trauma in her artistry. She doesn’t blame her mother for putting herself in a loop, just herself. It makes it even more powerful when she decides to cast a new universal spell to break out of restrictions. This mysticism is a tool of empowerment. I just love the progression of past to present in just this little excerpt, and in the rest of the reading as well.

–Jane Ekhtman.

“Attack… fire… escape… railway station… night… Sakina. He rose abruptly and began searching through the milling crowd in the refugee camp.”

These two lines above express some of the memories, concerns, and motives of Sirajuddin after he regains consciousness. He is bombarded with traumatic images of the recent events that have separated him from his family. Yet, he has trouble recalling the vital details of the past few hours. This prevents him from completing the puzzle in his mind and finding his daughter. In the first line Manto, the writer, describes the main events using only seven words. There was an attack, fire spread, Sirajuddin escaped, he arrived at a railway station, and something happened to his daughter that night. The ellipses in between each word represent the foggy memories of Sirajuddin and the uncertainty he experiences. His wife is not mentioned in this brief muddled memory recall. He is fully aware that she’s dead. Manto explains that, “Sakina’s mother was dead. That much was certain. She had died in front of his eyes.” Also, Sirajuddin recalls “the dead body of his wife, her stomach ripped open” and that “she had died in front of his eyes.” Sakina’s mother could’ve been the person murdered in “Sorry” and Sirajuddin could be the man who ripped her stomach apart.

After reading your blog post, I was able to see the poem and its meaning in a whole new light. Not once, against the teachings of former teachers,  did I think of looking into the regional background and time period of when and where the poem was written. I had assumed it was located somewhere in the Middle East, but not of the year when it was written. You spoke of men attacking other men, checking men for circumcision to confirm their religion (Muslim or Hindu), and even enacting violence upon one another. One thing I thought that truly tied your point together and strengthened it was how you related to it (in a way). You brought up your own origins, as well as mentioning how your grandfather spoke of such things he’s experienced in his youth. It makes the message of the poem all the more real, and all the more horrifying. It’s like a stamp on a letter, confirming–solidifying–everything. 

I’m quite glad this poem is short, especially since my attention span has been rather short. When I first read “Sorry,” I was certain it was about assault. To be specific, SA. Another thing I was certain of was that it was a man assaulting another man. Of course, following what the past several years of school has taught me, I read the poem again. This time, I began to question my certainty. Was it a man who was being assaulted, or was it a woman ? I took notice towards the name of the author and chose to search him up. At first, I believed Manto might have been a woman, in which perhaps the story was a telling or projection of personal experience ? Upon searching him up, I found out he was a man, which in a way supported my certainty towards my original claims. I am still under the impression the poem is some form of self-projection, a telling of his experience. Going back to my claim, one thing that truly made me believe this was the last line of the poem. The apology itself was insincere- painfully so too. SA towards men, whether by another man or woman, is always overlooked or downplayed. The attacker downplays their actions and excuses them. Calling such a thing a “mistake” is a way to downplay it, and Manto makes sure it is known even if it is conveyed in few words. This poem doesn’t seem to be just self-projection, but also a. lesson: a way of saying “this is not a mistake,  despite what the attacker is saying. It is done with complete awareness and full intent–there is no mistake.

Hey Sajeda, I think you describe perfectly my exact thoughts at the end of the story. I agree with you that readers had to almost read the lines to grasp what had happened and it leaves an impact on the reader. I knew it would have been more horrifying and shocking for me if I had to figure it out rather than the narrator explicitly telling me. I also your comment on the Dupatta was interesting and something I never think about.