The Parcel | 
pick* major trigger warnings*
The Parcel 📦. I guess you have to call a sex-trafficked child this, to entirely strip them of their humanity.
A very uncomfortable but worthwhile read set in Bombay, about the life of Madhu, a ‘hijra‘ “eunuch, people of the third sex”. Madhu lives in a brothel & is given the job of preparing a child to work there.
Irani deftly paints a picture of the circumstances that could lead to such a horrific outcome. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
#currentlyreading Making a start on this novel which was put in my hand by a friend a couple of years ago. She praised it highly and I am finally picking it up. I am bracing myself for a tough but hopefully beautifully written tale. 🙏
My essentials for getting through Covid! 😷🤧💪
pickMadhu, hijra (eunuch), rejected by her family grows old in a Mumbai brothel but is given the familiar job of taming The parcel being the name she uses for the latest of many 10 yr old girls smuggled to the city for appalling prostitution. A v hard rd as the description of abuse of many kinds is dreadful, cruel + v sad particularly as the story is unfortunately based on reality. Essential rdg but i put it down having finished with a heavy heart.
1. The Big Sick (highly recommend!)
2. Food + some sort of activity. That's vague, I know. On our first date, my husband and I went for dinner and then spent a long time browsing my favourite music store. It was great. Concerts and sports events are also 👍👍
3. 16 and 21
4. DNF-ed because I couldn't handle the subject matter at the time. The writing was very good, so I'll be checking out more by the author!
5. 💖
#FriYAYintro @jesshowbooks
@JennAndrew Your parcel is on its way by second class post I sent it on the 18th so you should have it soon.
So sorry about the late sending I hope you and your girls like everything in it x
#litsyswap #keychainswap @JennAndrew @JenlovesJT47 📚😃💝
pickUnderneath the book jacket of ‘The Parcel‘ is a beautifully embossed/cut cover; and in between the covers is an intense, violent, graphic and noble story of a Hijra (third-class citizen/trans) in the harsh and lurid world of the red-light district in modern day Bombay. Irani hammers a story out of survival, identity, and the search for love and redemption.
I‘m still listening to ‘The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle‘ (by Haruki Murakami) but I decided to start this print book today. It‘s been sitting in my stax for a year now!
I just read the prologue and it already looks to be rather intense: A hijra poised in the moonlight, knife in hand...
Just a quick update on parcels!
I hope to send my #muglove match sometime this week, however it's quite a busy week for me but: TO MY MATCH, DO NOT WORRY IT WILL ARRIVE IN TIME FOR FEB 1ST!
@miralunasbooknook @kezzlou85 @jhod I haven't forgotten about the #clearmyshelvesgiveaway but again, I've got busy weeks ahead but they will be sent sometime soon!
Re #feedareader I'm planning on sending the first March/April time.
#favoritebookcoverof2017 Wasn't sure how to interpret this prompt because I'm a backlist reader who rarely reads novels in the year they come out. And all the books I've enjoyed this year have fairly average covers 😁 So I'm picking a book published this year that's on my TBR. I'm overthinking this because I feel like I've misplaced my mind over the last week and have no idea what's going on with anything 😓 #allthebooksof2017
This is definitely one of the most amazing & heartbreaking novels I've read all year! The story of Madhu, a transgender or hijra individual living in Bombay's notorious red light district.
pickThis book was a really beautifully written tough read about Madhu - a Hijra and former sex worker living in Bombay's red light district. The book finds Madhu preparing a ten year girl to become a sex slave (trigger warnings on top of trigger warnings), questioning some of the ways her community operates, reflecting on her own journey of gender transition and seeking a kind of salvation. A difficult, interesting and engaging book! #transbooks
Reading this intense book in bed in the treehouse.
Starting this book about a Hijra woman in India. #transbooks
So excited to see that #Kobo is featuring deals from diverse authors for the month of June. #diversebooks #ebookdeals
bailedThis "bail" is NOT a negative review. This is me recognizing that this is not for me at this moment in time. This book is beautifully written. Madhu, the central character, is compassionately realized, compelling, likeable (even when doing some unlikable things), and intriguing. But it is breaking my heart too much to continue right now. Trigger warning: this book contains an honest portrayal of the reality of child sex trafficking.
A good book. Pregame on TV. It's a good day.
#currentlyreading #playball
#currentlyreading
Definitely picked this one up because of the cover/spine. So beautiful. Just started, but already falling in love with the voice.
#bookandabeer (Litsy cut off the beer, but it's beautiful too)
I saw this on @Litsy , courtesy of @Lindy , and knew it was going on my next international book order! How fitting that today's parcel, was 'The Parcel'! It's a novel about a eunuch in Bombay, caught up in the sex trade, and tasked with a job that gives her pause. The vibe that I get is that this is an intense & immersive Lit-Fic novel. We shall see!
pickMadhu is a third gender, neither man nor woman, living with other hijras. Once a high-earning prostitute, now a beggar, she is a nuanced, absolutely fascinating character. Set in a seedy Mumbai red light district under pressure from real estate development, where misery is ordinary and hope is dangerous. Poverty. Sex work. Human trafficking. Humour leavens the bleak reality. Compassionate and compelling. #queerbooks
I like the bougainvillea. It is my favourite because it is wild and it grows on its own and doesn't need pity from anyone. It is so full, so red and pink and purple, it could be a movie star.
I like the bougainvillea. It is my favourite because it is wild and it grows on its own and doesn't need pity from anyone. It is so full, so red and pink and purple, it could be a movie star.
Madhu scoffed when the parcel told her about the "big station." It reminded her of the same stupid awe with which Madhu's father called it a "World Heritage Site." Her father had been so impressed with the British that he was still buckling under the weight of the architecture they had left behind.
Her next stop was a toddy shop. She paid the man, removed the marigold that adorned the mouth of the bottle, and gulped the white ferment down. Breakfast done, [...]
Madhu took the stairs and was greeted by sour-faced Sona. Gurumai always teased Sona that she must have been a wrinkle in her past life, specifically a wrinkle on someone's arse, which is why she always made that stinky face.
The Almighty, caught in the throes of some divine nasha, occasionally did the job only half right by giving a boy child a penis the size of a seed, or, in a moment of misplaced generosity, bestowing both a penis and vagina. Who knows what he smoked up there; if that formula could somehow be obtained, Kamathipura's opium dens would rise from the ashes again.
The parcel was crouched into a ball in the cage, more in a collapsed state of exhaustion than sleep. Madhu felt disoriented as she studied the parcel. She would have to tread carefully with this one. Sometimes the parcels lost their minds sooner than expected. Sometimes they never came back. Some clients were okay with sleeping with a drugged doll; others were not.
I'm about 1/3 into this heartbreaking novel about a 10-year-old girl sold into sex slavery, and the hijra who is responsible for preparing her for the horrors that lie ahead. 💔💔💔
When Madhu had been in school, when she'd worn a boy's uniform, she had learned about a triangle somewhere far away, and how people got sucked through it into another world. The red-light district was exactly like that.
Only the goddess Bahuchara Mata, striding a rooster through the heavens, heard their cries. A sword in one hand and a trident in the other, she was the Divine Mother to the nation's hijras, and they went in droves to her temple in Gujarat to seek her blessing, alongside men who wanted a cure for impotence, and women who longed for a male child.
The only thing she was capable of lifting was her middle finger. She showed it to passengers in cabs every single day.
Only in her mind.
She had to respect the passengers. They were allowed to abuse her, but she could not abuse back. That was a hijra rule.
My parents named their boy Madhu. A name so gloriously unisex, I slipped in and out of its skin until I was fourteen. But then, in one fine stroke, that thing between my legs was relieved of its duties.
I'm home from my travels and picked up these holds today. The nice folks at the library extended the pick-up date after I sent them a message letting them know I was away until just after the expiry date. 😊 I ❤️ my library.
Here's something I just found funny today. My "For Later" shelf at the library shows that I have 1234 books marked to read. ? (I've completed a much higher number of books from the library but I'm not very consistent in keeping that updated.)
