Inheritance of Secrets

The novel opens with Ayukta, a contemporary South Asian American woman, struggling to share a profound family secret with her partner, Nadya. The secret is an inheritance passed down through generations of women: a tapestry embroidered with the figures of their foremothers, each of whom could access the memories and sometimes the powers of those who came before. This inheritance is both a gift and a burden, shaping the lives, choices, and traumas of each woman in the line. The story is told as a confession, a reckoning, and a love letter, as Ayukta tries to explain the weight of her ancestry and the impossibility of separating her own self from the women who live within her.

Karachi's Last Summer

We are transported to Karachi in 1946, where ten-year-old Amla lives a contented, routine life with her parents. The city is on the cusp of Partition, but Amla is mostly concerned with her best friend Fiza, her mother's stories, and the comfort of daily rituals. The tapestry hangs in their home, its meaning mysterious but magnetic. As political tensions rise, Amla's world is slowly encroached upon by uncertainty, rumors, and the threat of violence. Her mother, Chandini, prepares to travel to Delhi for a wedding, leaving Amla with a box of art supplies and the weight of unspoken family history.

Tapestry of Mothers

The tapestry is revealed as a literal and symbolic thread connecting generations. Each woman is sewn onto it when she receives the inheritance, gaining access to the memories and sometimes the agency of her foremothers. The tapestry is heavy with stories—of migration, survival, love, and loss. Amla's mother tells her that the stories are an inheritance, not a curse, and that one day Amla will be on the tapestry too. The tapestry's power is ambiguous: it can bring comfort, but also confusion and a sense of being haunted or possessed.

Partition's Shadow Falls

As Partition erupts, Amla's mother is killed in Delhi, and Amla and her father are forced to flee Karachi for Gujarat. The trauma of loss and displacement is compounded by the sense that history is repeating itself, that the choices and sacrifices of previous generations are being relived. Amla clings to the tapestry and her mother's memory, feeling both abandoned and accompanied by the women who came before her. The act of art—drawing, painting, sewing—becomes a way to process grief and to exert a small measure of control over a world in chaos.

The Gift and the Curse

As Amla grows up in Gujarat, she discovers that the tapestry's inheritance is not just memory but the ability to shape reality through art. When she paints or draws with deep longing, her creations can manifest in the world—sometimes with unintended consequences. Amla's innocent wish for her mother or her friend to stay with her can have ripple effects she cannot foresee. The tapestry's chorus of voices warns her: act with care, do not overreach, do not try to undo what cannot be undone. The gift is seductive, but dangerous.

Loss, Grief, and Becoming

Amla's adolescence is marked by the ache of loss—her mother, her home, her best friend Fiza, and eventually her father. She is raised by her aunt Meenafai, who becomes a surrogate mother. The tapestry is both a comfort and a burden, a reminder of all she has lost and all she carries. As she matures, Amla must decide how to use her inheritance: whether to try to change the world, or simply to remember. She learns that being "good" is not about being right, but about caring for others and accepting the limits of her power.

New Roots in Gujarat

In Gujarat, Amla struggles to fit in, feeling neither fully Sindhi nor Gujarati, neither child nor adult. She makes new friends, including Bahaar and Padma, and finds solace in art and in the routines of village life. The tapestry's power is always present, but Amla is cautious, remembering the pain of unintended consequences. When her friend Bahaar is assaulted by a powerful man, Amla's attempt to use her gift for justice leads to further complications, including suspicion falling on her own family. The tapestry's lesson is clear: even righteous action can have unforeseen costs.

The Power of Art

Art is both a means of survival and a source of danger. The women of the lineage have always been artists—painters, sculptors, embroiderers—using their craft to shape their worlds. But the power to create is also the power to destroy. Amla's paintings can bring things into being, but not always as she intends. The tapestry is a record of these acts, a warning and a guide. The inheritance is not just memory, but the responsibility to use one's gifts wisely, to know when to act and when to refrain.

Sisterhood and Sacrifice

The story shifts to Amla's daughters, Vibha and Arni. Vibha, the careful and dutiful elder, is chosen to receive the tapestry's inheritance. Arni, impulsive and passionate, feels overlooked and unworthy. The sisters' relationship is marked by love, jealousy, and the desire to be seen. When Vibha falls ill and dies young, Arni is left with grief and the sense that she is only the inheritor by default. The tapestry becomes a site of both connection and exclusion, a symbol of the choices mothers make and the wounds they leave behind.

The Unchosen Daughter

Arni's coming of age is shaped by her sense of being second-best, of not being chosen. She throws herself into political activism, painting murals during the Navnirman Andolan student movement in 1970s Gujarat. Her art becomes a way to claim agency and to participate in history, even as she struggles with the burden of the tapestry and the fear of making mistakes. Her relationship with her mother is fraught, but ultimately, through mutual vulnerability and forgiveness, Arni is finally sewn onto the tapestry, accepting both the gift and the responsibility.

Revolution and Resistance

The novel explores the intersection of personal and political history, showing how women's lives are shaped by—and shape—revolutions. From Partition to the Emergency, from student protests to the rise of Hindu nationalism, the women of the family are both witnesses and actors. Their art, their choices, and their solidarity with each other become forms of resistance. The tapestry is a record not just of suffering, but of survival and defiance.

The Weight of Memory

The inheritance is not just a gift of power, but a burden of memory. Each woman carries the traumas, regrets, and hopes of those who came before. The tapestry is heavy with grief, but also with love. The act of remembering—of telling the story, of sharing the secret—is itself an act of healing. The novel asks: how do we live with the pain we inherit? How do we honor our ancestors without being trapped by their wounds?

Love Across Lifetimes

A parallel thread runs through the story: the lifelong love between Amla and her childhood friend Fiza. Separated by Partition, religion, and circumstance, their love endures through letters, memory, and longing. In old age, they are finally reunited in New York, living together as chosen family. Their relationship is a testament to the persistence of love across time, borders, and lifetimes. It is also a secret, protected and cherished, a source of strength for the generations that follow.

The Tapestry's Next Thread

The narrative returns to the present, as Ayukta grapples with whether to pass the tapestry's inheritance to a future child. She reflects on the lessons of her foremothers: the necessity of choice, the impossibility of control, the beauty and pain of memory. The tapestry is both a burden and a blessing, a way to keep the dead alive and to give the living a sense of belonging. The decision to continue the lineage is fraught, but also hopeful.

America, Exile, and Home

The family's journey continues in America, where Arni (Ayukta's mother) builds a new life in New York and then Minnesota. The tapestry travels with her, a link to a lost homeland and a source of identity in exile. The challenges of assimilation, racism, and generational change are explored, as is the enduring power of art and memory. The question of home—what it is, where it is, who it belongs to—remains central.

The Final Confession

The novel's frame narrative comes full circle, as Ayukta finishes telling Nadya the story of her inheritance. The act of confession is both a plea for understanding and an offering of love. Ayukta is vulnerable, afraid of being rejected, but also relieved to finally share the weight she has carried. The story is not just about the past, but about the possibility of a future together.

Choosing the Future

The final chapters are a meditation on choice: whether to have a child, whether to pass on the tapestry, whether to accept the inheritance or to let it end. Ayukta and Nadya must decide together what kind of family they want to build, what stories they want to carry forward. The tapestry is no longer just a record of the past, but a canvas for the future. The act of creation—art, love, family—is reimagined as an act of hope.

Sculpting a New Legacy

The novel ends with Ayukta in her studio, sculpting the faces of her ancestors and loved ones. She chooses to make art that is true but does not change the world—only honors it. The ghosts of her mothers are with her, but she is also herself, present and alive. The inheritance is not a curse, but a source of strength. The final gesture is one of love: Ayukta and Nadya, together, choosing their future, carrying the tapestry's legacy into a new generation.

Characters

Ayukta

Ayukta is the present-day narrator, a South Asian American artist who carries the family's secret inheritance. She is deeply introspective, torn between the desire to honor her lineage and the fear of burdening a future child. Her relationship with Nadya is central—she wants to be fully known and loved, but is afraid of rejection. Ayukta's psychological journey is one of integration: learning to live with the many voices and memories within her, to distinguish her own desires from those of her ancestors, and to choose her own path. She is both haunted and empowered by the tapestry, and her ultimate act is one of vulnerability and hope.

Amla

Amla is the pivotal ancestor whose childhood in Karachi is shattered by Partition. Sensitive, creative, and deeply attached to her mother and best friend Fiza, Amla is forced to grow up quickly after her mother's death and the family's flight to Gujarat. She inherits the tapestry and its powers, struggling with the responsibility and the temptation to use her art to change reality. Amla's life is marked by loss, resilience, and the search for belonging. Her love for Fiza is a throughline, as is her complicated relationship with her own daughters. She embodies the tension between memory and agency, tradition and change.

Fiza

Fiza is Amla's Muslim childhood friend in Karachi, whose life is irrevocably altered by Partition. Their bond is deep, intimate, and ultimately romantic, though constrained by history and circumstance. Fiza represents the possibility of love that transcends borders, religion, and time. Her presence in Amla's life is both a source of joy and of longing. In old age, she and Amla are reunited in New York, embodying the theme of chosen family and the endurance of love. Fiza is also a symbol of what is lost in migration—the home that can never be fully reclaimed.

Chandini (Ba)

Chandini is Amla's mother, the original keeper of the tapestry in the story's timeline. She is a source of wisdom, comfort, and stories, but also of secrets and unspoken pain. Her death in Partition is the foundational trauma for Amla and the generations that follow. Chandini's lessons—about inheritance, goodness, and the limits of knowledge—echo through the novel. She is both a presence and an absence, a figure who shapes her descendants even in death.

Meenafai

Meenafai is Amla's aunt, who becomes her guardian after her parents' deaths. Practical, loving, and resilient, she provides stability and care in a world turned upside down. Meenafai is a bridge between generations, helping to transmit the family's values and stories. She is also a survivor, having endured her own losses and made her own compromises. Her relationship with Amla is one of mutual dependence and deep affection.

Vibha

Vibha is Amla's first daughter, chosen to receive the tapestry's inheritance. She is cautious, dutiful, and eager to please, but also burdened by the weight of expectation. Vibha's life is cut short by illness, and her death is a source of guilt and grief for her mother and sister. Her final act—painting her sister Arni into a happy future—reveals both the power and the danger of the inheritance. Vibha represents the cost of being "good," the limits of caution, and the pain of being unable to save those we love.

Arni

Arni is the overlooked, impulsive, and passionate younger daughter. She yearns for recognition and belonging, feeling always second-best. Her journey is one of self-discovery, as she moves from resentment to agency, from exclusion to acceptance. Through political activism and art, Arni finds her voice and her place in the lineage. Her eventual inheritance of the tapestry is both a healing and a challenge, as she must learn to use her gifts wisely and to forgive her mother and herself.

Suresh (Baba)

Suresh is Amla's husband and the father of Vibha, Arni, and Anurag. He is a product of his time—patriarchal, proud, and often emotionally distant. His inability to adapt to change, his anger, and his violence are sources of pain for his family. Yet he is also a survivor, shaped by his own traumas and losses. Suresh represents the limits of tradition, the dangers of unchecked power, and the necessity of breaking cycles.

Anurag

Anurag is Amla's son, Arni's brother, and Vibha's twin in some ways. He is passionate about justice and political change, participating in student movements and writing poetry. Yet he is also privileged, able to retreat from activism when it becomes dangerous. His relationship with Arni is complex—supportive, competitive, and sometimes dismissive. Anurag embodies the possibilities and limitations of male allies in a matrilineal story.

Nadya

Nadya is Ayukta's partner, the recipient of the story and the person with whom Ayukta must decide whether to continue the lineage. She is loving, patient, and open-minded, but also has her own fears and desires. Nadya's willingness to listen, to accept the inheritance, and to choose a future together is the novel's final act of hope. She represents the possibility of new beginnings, chosen family, and love that transcends history.

Plot Devices

Matrilineal Tapestry

The tapestry is the central plot device, embodying the transmission of memory, power, and trauma from mother to daughter. It is both a magical object and a metaphor for the ways women carry and transmit history. Being sewn onto the tapestry grants access to ancestral memory and, at times, the ability to shape reality through art. The tapestry's rules—who is chosen, when, and why—structure the narrative and drive the characters' choices.

Intergenerational Narrative

The novel is structured as a series of nested narratives, moving fluidly between past and present, between Ayukta's confession to Nadya and the lives of her ancestors. Each generation's story echoes and refracts the others, creating a sense of recurrence and evolution. The use of first-person narration, direct address, and epistolary fragments deepens the sense of intimacy and immediacy.

Art as Agency

Art—painting, embroidery, sculpture—is both a means of survival and a source of power. The act of creation is fraught with risk: to make art is to risk changing the world, for better or worse. The novel explores the ethics of creation, the temptation to use power for personal or political ends, and the necessity of restraint and care.

Foreshadowing and Recurrence

The novel is rich in foreshadowing, with dreams, stories, and art prefiguring later events. The refrain "all of this has happened before" underscores the cyclical nature of trauma and the possibility of breaking or transforming cycles. The tapestry itself is a device for recurrence, as each woman relives and reinterprets the choices of her foremothers.

Confession and Testimony

The frame narrative—Ayukta's confession to Nadya—serves as both a plot device and a thematic anchor. The act of telling the story is itself an act of love, vulnerability, and hope. The novel suggests that healing comes not from erasing the past, but from sharing it, understanding it, and choosing how to carry it forward.

Analysis

A Thousand Times Before is a sweeping, multi-generational meditation on inheritance, memory, and the power of women's stories. Through the device of the tapestry, Asha Thanki explores how trauma, love, and agency are transmitted across time—not as a simple chain, but as a living, evolving web. The novel interrogates the ethics of power: the temptation to use one's gifts to change the world, the dangers of unintended consequences, and the necessity of humility and care. It is also a queer love story, a Partition novel, and a reflection on diaspora, belonging, and the search for home. The lessons are clear: we are shaped by those who came before, but we are not doomed to repeat their mistakes; art and memory can be sources of both pain and healing; and the act of choosing—whom to love, what to remember, whether to continue the lineage—is the ultimate form of agency. In the end, the novel offers hope: that by telling our stories, by honoring our ancestors without being trapped by them, we can create new legacies and new homes.

Last updated: June 23, 2025