Gajarah was such a unique and powerful read. It weaves together grief, memory, migration, and identity in a way that feels both intimate and expansive. The language is poetic without being too heavy, and I loved how it moved between the past and present, between countries and emotions, without ever feeling disjointed.

There’s a quiet strength in the way Somia Sadiq explores loss—especially the kind of loss that doesn’t always have closure. The cultural elements felt beautifully rooted, and even though the story is deeply personal, it touches on themes so many people can relate to.

It’s a reflective and emotional book that stays with you. If you enjoy writing that’s lyrical, honest, and full of heart, Gajarah is definitely one to pick up.

Emahn is a Pakistani girl who is a victim of sexual assault by a stranger when she is 8 years old. That is not the end of her suffering, which covers many years of life in both Pakistan and Canada. She experiences both the love and joy of a large close-knit family, and later the sadness of an arranged marriage with a horrible man. It's written so beautifully and I felt like I was in the same room with these characters. I was entranced. How could such exquisite, lyrical prose be telling this story of so much heartache? This one got me right to my soul as it showed the strength of a woman who has endured so much sorrow, and managed to not just survive, but to flourish. Excellent.

Thanks to Girl Friday Productions and NetGalley for an ARC to read and review.

Somia Sadiq’s debut novel, Gajarah (flower bracelet), is a free-flowing narration of our protagonist, Emahn, that will make you smile, laugh, think, and eventually choke you too—an experience that I had while reading and turning those pages.

Emahn—meaning trust, hope, confidence, belief, inner strength—truly resonates with who she is through her actions and the way she carries herself amidst a tough and disturbing phase during her childhood.

Born and brought up in Sharjah, Emahn and her family, comprising Mama Jaan (Kashmiri) and Baba Jaani (Punjab), and later her twin little brothers, visit Lahore, their ancestral city, every summer to spend time with family and cousins.

Her favourite person is Naano Jaan, her maternal grandmother. The woman is the pillar of the entire family and runs it with matriarchal toughness, which is an inspiration for Emahn.

Those Lahore episodes with cousins, uncles, aunts, and local people helped Emahn to be close and connected to her roots and belief system while having her individuality intact during her formative years.

At eight, a thunderbolt strikes one night when she returns from buying milk for her little brothers from Agha Uncle’s shop, and a beast attacks her; this will eventually transform the rest of her life.

Being a god-fearing family with supportive parents, slowly and steadily, Emahn gets back to her normalcy and does good through her academics when talk of nikah (marriage) reaches her ears on her 15th birthday.

Soon, she is with her new stranger husband in an unknown foreign land across the Atlantic Ocean in Canada.

How she copes with her losses and her childhood trauma to build a resilient version of herself forms the rest of this debut novel by Ms Sadiq.

The novel also addresses the topic of forgiveness. The author deftly threads those paths with clarity and conviction in her stance.

Somia’s prose, beginning with a chapter name in Punjabi, and ending with a poem, is such a unique way to capture the emotion and feelings of the protagonist.

The introduction of Moonga Rani and the stories that follow and connect the current life of Emahn is appreciable, and I loved it.

Being a non-linear narrative, this innovative inclusion of magical-mythical parables of raja and rani adds a cosmic and dreamy vibe to the story that one can similarly experience in the works of Elif Shafak and Haruki Murakami.

Overall, this is a wonderful and promising start to the author’s literary career.

I highly recommend it for readers who love desi literature and women’s fiction rooted in those local sensibilities that ask some really tough yet relevant questions, which may hurt our parents, family, relatives, and society at large, that still need to be answered.

Gajarah, the author's first book, is a significant and inspiring one, on many levels. Emahn tells her story of a loving and supportive family both from Kashmir and the Punjab. Her relationship with her grandmother in particular is strong and touching.

A seminal and brutal experience Emahn had when she is eight-years-old is the rape of an older man in an elevator. This stays with her throughout her life, and she struggles with moving forward from this, but does eventually triumph over the horror of what happened to her. When she is 15, a marriage is arranged for her, and a few years later she is forced to move with her abusive husband to Canada. A second marriage is not really an improvement, and Emahn also loses a baby. The grief and sorrow she faces in her life is critical, and equally crucial is her adamantine ability to deal with challenges and tragedy.

The words and phrases of Urdu as well as accompanying descriptive folk tales, cross-cultural descriptions, family lore, and Emahn's resilience add depth and meaning to her life. As Emahn grows older and defines her goals as a strong and influential woman who aspires to help other women, the soul of the book and its plot influence the reader in multiple positive ways.

The language of the book is critical to its remarkable effect on the reader. Prose and poetry are skillfully woven in order to describe and give feeling to the trajectory of Emahn's life and how she is able to use her experiences to teach us about culture, women's challenges, and the ways in which happiness can be integrated into one's life in spite of loss and abuse.

Thanks to Net Galley and Girl Friday for the opportunity to read this remarkable book. I highly recommend it.

Lyrical and moving. A true eye-opener of a novel.
Poetry, prose and mythical tales string this novel together, much like a gajarah. The myriad of cultural references and traditions, not to mention the language, was a real treat, a way to share not just the burden of a white and western dominant world, but also to share a beautiful culture with those ignorant, those who want to learn, who need to, who want to feel a deeper connection to the people we share our planet with, to understand the struggles our neighbours face.

Childhood innocence, memories, perceptions are mixed in with a meticulous emotional awareness, an assessment on the conditions of human nature, on grief and forgiveness, on love and hate, on all that makes us human. It is simply stunning. To see such beauty in the world while acknowledging all the faults, to be surrounded and consumed by them, yet still prevail in spreading love and understanding; it’s a true testament to what we as humans should aspire towards. Despite all the darkness this novel reveals and deals with, the brightness of colour shines through.

Do I think this should be required reading? Yes. There is so much to be learned and understood from this novel, the hard work has really paid off!

Thank you to NetGalley and publishers Girl Friday for the ARC. Thank you to Somia Sadiq; it was an honour to read this and consume every message it told.

My email:- 1hannah.wilkins@gmail.com

I would love to hear more from this author!