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When public accusations of sexual misconduct break out, media coverage often centres on two primary nodes: the brave survivors stepping forward, and the fall of the accused person. Rarely do narratives slow down to examine the murky, collateral space occupied by the family left in the wake of such revelations.
In The Sea Has the Answers, journalist-author Shuma Raha sets out to explore this exact terrain.
The novel opens with Urmimala Das, a woman whose upper-crust, comfortable life in Kolkata collapses overnight when her high-profile advertising executive husband, Shankar, is outed during a #MeToo wave. Retreating to Kinjalka, her ancestral home by the Bay of Bengal, Urmi attempts to process the dissolution of her marriage, her own blindness to her husband's behaviour, and her fractured sense of self.
On paper, Raha’s premise offers a vital lens into structural patriarchy, institutional protection of powerful men, and the lingering social ripples of #MeToo. The book tries to juggle ambitious themes ranging from religious fundamentalism and local land-grabbing to an interfaith relationship. However, the narrative occasionally leans into dramatic turns, slightly shifting the focus away from an otherwise nuanced psychological study.
Where the novel briefly demands critical attention, and perhaps delivers its most chilling moments, is in its depiction of the perpetrator’s psyche. Rather than framing Shankar purely as a cartoonish villain, Raha exposes the terrifyingly banal internal logic of an entitled, powerful man.
Shankar does not view himself as a predator; he is insulated by years of corporate clout, male camaraderie, and systemic privilege. His inner thoughts reveal a staggering absence of guilt, viewing workplace harassment as ‘harmless flirtation’, consensual dynamics, or inevitable perks of his position. His frustration is aimed not at his actions, but at the women who dare to name them. Further, he also expects his wife to offer unwavering loyalty and maintain the domestic facade.
This portrait of male hubris is genuinely unsettling because it mirrors the real-world responses of outed figures across media and corporate landscapes. It lays bare the massive disconnect in comprehension: for the accused, the accusations are an inconvenience, an unfair assault on their hard-earned status; for the women involved, both the survivors who carried the trauma and the women in his personal life forced to reckon with his cruelty, the truth is entirely unfathomable.
Far from remaining a grim study of betrayal, the novel opens up into a portrait of female autonomy. Urmi’s path to healing is rendered with genuine warmth as she embraces new relationships, explores her long-suppressed desires, and builds a life anchored in her own choices.
While these storylines offer a fuller picture of her new environment, this expansive approach occasionally veers readers away from the sharp, quiet confrontation with power and complicity established early on.
Ultimately, The Sea Has the Answers succeeds in sparking important conversations about power, silence, and recovery.
Views expressed are the author’s own.
