By Girish Shukla
Goodbyes are often seen as a defeat. A relationship that ends, a country left behind, or a chapter closed can feel like something went wrong. But if you’ve ever lingered too long in the ache of departure, Jhumpa Lahiri’s writing offers something different. Her stories gently suggest that goodbyes, though painful, are also windows into deeper truths. They are not just endings; they are opportunities to discover what we value, what we fear, and who we truly are. Also Read: When You Want to Run From Yourself, Let Franz Kafka Walk That Maze With You The Beauty in Belonging and Its Absence Born in London to Bengali parents and raised in the United States, Lahiri’s own life has been shaped by separation and cultural duality. This shows in nearly all her books, from ‘Interpreter of Maladies’ to ‘The Namesake’, and later ‘Whereabouts.’ Her characters often live between places, between people, and between versions of themselves. It is in this in-between space that Lahiri’s writing thrives. In her world, the ache of not belonging somewhere is never presented as a character flaw. Rather, it is part of the human experience. She reminds us that longing and loss are tied to growth, and that absence can often be more instructive than presence. Letting Go of the Idea of a Perfect Ending In ‘The Namesake’, Gogol’s journey is a masterclass in the power of quiet revelations. He doesn’t storm out of relationships or burn bridges. His goodbyes are often soft, even anticlimactic, but they leave lasting marks. A failed relationship, the loss of a parent, and the distancing from a culture he never fully understood — these moments don’t offer closure, but they offer clarity. Lahiri doesn’t tie up her stories with neat bows. That’s the point. We are not always meant to move on quickly or perfectly. Sometimes we are only meant to sit with the pain, let it shape us, and emerge changed. Her work encourages readers to stop expecting tidy resolutions and instead embrace what the goodbye leaves behind. The Language of Silence Lahiri’s prose is often described as quiet, but its emotional weight is unmistakable. There is power in what her characters leave unsaid. They may not always cry or shout, but their pain echoes in their stillness. In Unaccustomed Earth, a daughter watches her father withdraw into his grief. In Whereabouts, an unnamed narrator walks through a city she cannot leave, living a life of quiet disconnection. In these stories, the silences speak louder than any declaration. They remind us that goodbyes are not always loud or final. Sometimes, people fade out of our lives without a word. Sometimes, we drift away from places and dreams before we realise we are no longer holding on. What Separation Teaches Us Separation, in Lahiri’s work, is rarely a clean break. It is a slow unravelling that teaches characters to pay attention. To their needs. To their wounds. To their desires. The end of a marriage or a friendship is not shown as a collapse, but as a mirror held up to the self. This is especially clear in ‘Whereabouts’, where the protagonist’s loneliness is not depicted as tragic, but as reflective. Her solitude allows her to notice what often goes unseen — the weather, the shape of a street, the fleeting presence of a stranger. Lahiri teaches us that separation sharpens our senses. It forces us to listen more closely, feel more deeply, and reckon with our inner lives. You Are Not Alone in Feeling Alone Perhaps one of the most comforting aspects of Lahiri’s work is how universally she portrays separation. Whether it is a child leaving home, a couple parting ways, or an immigrant drifting from their homeland, her stories resonate with anyone who has felt unmoored. Reading Lahiri is like sitting with someone who understands your silences. You begin to see that your sadness isn’t a flaw — it’s an invitation to explore your emotional landscape. Her characters rarely solve their problems, but they learn to live alongside them, and in that, there is strength. Every Goodbye Is Also a Beginning While Lahiri doesn’t offer easy hope, she does offer truth. And sometimes, the truth is enough. Her stories show that every goodbye carries with it a seed of something new — a new way of seeing, a new way of being, even a new way of loving. You might close one door, but you start noticing the ones that were always slightly open. Separation, as Lahiri reminds us, is not the end of your story. It’s part of your becoming. Also Read: When Love Turns to Ash, Let Toni Morrison Hand You What Still Glows in the Dark If you’ve been wrestling with your own goodbyes to people, places, or former versions of yourself, Lahiri’s words are a balm. Her writing will not rush you toward closure. It will sit with you in the confusion and slowly show you that there is something beautiful in the unravelling. Because in every goodbye, something is revealed. And if you listen closely, you might hear what it’s been trying to tell you all along.