Title: Suitcases, Sandcastles, and Little Anvik

Author: Dr. Aparna Ajith 

Genre: Fiction 

*Suitcases, Sandcastles, and Little Anvik* is one of those quietly affecting books that stays with you long after the last page, not because of grand plot twists, but because of the emotional honesty threaded through everyday moments. Reading it feels like sitting beside someone who is unpacking their life, piece by piece, with care and courage, inviting you to look inside without rushing you.

At its heart, the book is about motherhood, migration, and the way love reshapes identity. The recurring image of suitcases instantly sets the tone. They are not just objects used for travel, but symbols of constant movement, uprootedness, and hope. Each journey carries expectations, fears, and the weight of starting over. The writing captures this beautifully, especially in moments where the narrator reflects on how leaving one place never truly means arriving whole in another.

The sandcastles are perhaps my favourite metaphor in the book. They represent childhood, fragility, and impermanence. As Anvik grows, these sandcastles become reminders that some things are meant to be built knowing they will eventually be washed away. One particularly poignant scene shows Anvik playing by the sea while the adults quietly grapple with decisions that will alter his future. The innocence of that moment contrasts sharply with the emotional turmoil beneath it, making it deeply moving.

Little Anvik himself is the emotional centre of the story. Through him, we see how children absorb far more than adults assume. There is a scene later in the book where Anvik questions why home feels different in each place they live. This moment is a soft spoiler, but it is crucial because it marks the point where the child begins to articulate the silent tension that has been hovering throughout the narrative. It is heartbreaking and grounding at the same time.

The book does not shy away from difficult truths. The strain on relationships, the loneliness of starting over, and the quiet guilt of parents who wonder if they are doing enough are all laid bare. Yet it never feels heavy handed. Instead, there is tenderness in how these themes unfold, often through small details like bedtime routines, lost toys, or the careful packing of yet another suitcase.

What makes this book special is its restraint. The author trusts the reader to feel the weight of what is unsaid. The ending, while not neatly resolved, feels honest. There is no dramatic closure, only acceptance and growth. The final image of Anvik by the shore, older and more aware, ties back beautifully to the sandcastles of his early years and leaves you reflecting on how much we all carry forward from our childhoods.

Overall, *Suitcases, Sandcastles, and Little Anvik* is a gentle, reflective read that explores belonging and love in a deeply personal way. It is ideal for readers who appreciate emotional nuance and stories that mirror real life, messy, tender, and quietly brave.

Rating: 4/5

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