Some novels announce themselves with dramatic twists. Others leave their mark through quiet, deeply human moments. Arathi Menon’s Da belongs firmly to the latter. Tender, emotionally resonant and profoundly moving, the novel tells a father-son story that lingers long after the final page.
Set in an Indian metropolis in 2013, Da follows thirteen-year-old Ved, an inquisitive and affectionate boy whose world revolves around his adoptive father, Da. Their life together is filled with the ordinary rituals that define a family—sharing meals, navigating school, preparing for a first dance, talking about friendships and first love. Yet beneath this warmth lies a secret that shapes every aspect of their lives. Da is gay, living in a time when Section 377 criminalised homosexuality, forcing countless people to hide their identities out of fear of legal consequences and social persecution.
What makes Da particularly affecting is that it never allows the politics to overshadow the people. Instead, Arathi Menon focuses on the intimacy of everyday life, showing how love persists despite secrecy, prejudice and constant uncertainty. Through Ved’s innocent yet perceptive voice, the novel captures the confusion of growing up alongside the fierce devotion of a parent trying to protect his child while carrying the burden of a truth that society refuses to accept.
The emotional core of the novel lies in the relationship between Ved and Da. Their bond is built not on grand declarations but on countless acts of care—a perfectly cooked meal, reassuring conversations, gentle guidance through adolescence, and the unwavering desire to shield one another from harm. Menon beautifully illustrates how families are defined not by convention but by love, trust and shared resilience.
The backdrop of 2013 India adds another powerful layer to the story. Section 377 and the fear it generated are not merely historical references; they create an atmosphere of constant vulnerability. Beyond the law itself, the threat of social ostracism and vigilante violence looms over the lives of queer individuals, making even ordinary happiness feel fragile. Yet Da never becomes bleak. Instead, it celebrates the quiet courage required to build a life and a family in a world determined to deny both.
Arathi Menon’s storytelling is understated yet remarkably evocative. Every scene feels intimate, every conversation authentic, allowing readers to become emotionally invested in Ved’s journey. The novel balances tenderness with tension, creating a narrative that is both deeply personal and socially relevant without ever feeling didactic.
Readers who appreciated the emotional complexity of Burnt Sugar by Avni Doshi or the coming-of-age sensitivity of Funny Boy by Shyam Selvadurai will find much to admire here. Like those novels, Da explores identity, belonging and family with honesty and compassion, while offering a distinctly contemporary Indian perspective.
At just under 200 pages, Da is a deceptively slim novel that carries immense emotional weight. It is a story about chosen family, the courage to love openly in a world that demands silence, and the enduring bond between a father and a son. Gentle, heartbreaking and ultimately hopeful, Arathi Menon’s novel is one that deserves to be read, discussed and remembered.
