Book Title: Super: A Novel
Author: Lindsay Pereira
Publisher: Fourth Estate India
Number of Pages: 215
ISBN: 1788406249
Date Published: Mar. 11, 2026
Price: INR 496
Book Excerpt
Pages 3-5
Sukhpreet Gill’s last day began with the kind of sunshine he had finally grown accustomed to. It was not the harsh, robust light that had blanketed the years of his childhood; that could sharply delineate green fields stretching into the distance. This was more like a radiance that made the leaves glow as if they were lit up by something behind them.
He breathed in deeply and rubbed his eyes, then coughed. The air was not as fresh as he would have wanted it to be, given the room’s single window overlooking a parking lot. He liked beginning the day with breathing exercises, a habit acquired from his father who would spend his waking moments filling his lungs and exhaling vigorously. He wished he could have been around long enough for Sukhpreet to ask why, but his father had gone by the time he turned seven, and all he remembered of him was a crumpled body carried home by neighbours, the memory punctuated by his mother’s unfettered howls of grief.
The condominium he shared with three other young men was quiet. It was a two-bedroom place in a less crowded part of Brampton, avoiding the crush of international students in the more popular areas. It had been chosen by him and his cousin in the hope that they could both save towards renting a place of their own in a few years. College in Jalandhar had taught him how to live with roommates, and his currentlot were often up and away before he was, or asleep after a night shift, making it easier for him to use the kitchen and bathroom. These were small blessings, but he knew they were blessings, nonetheless.
Sitting up, he closed his eyes and recited the Japji Sahib, another ritual that came from his parents, and from their parents before them. There is only one god, he whispered, and truth is his name. His lips moved soundlessly through the rest of the prayer. When he was done, he shuffled his feet, feeling for a pair of rubber slippers cast on the floor the night before.
It was 6 a.m., and he should have been up a half hour ago, but it was also Thursday, and he expected few visitors at the superintendent’s office. There could be complaints, but they would be on paper, deposited through a letterbox attached to the door. Tenants only dropped by in person on weekends, when they had the luxury of loitering for a while, protected from the demands of commuting to work or transporting children to school. Thursdays were always uneventful, and he relished the day, thankful for the solitude that would cocoon him as he went about his chores. The stairways had to be mopped, he remembered, and there was a dryer that needed to be checked before he could file an official complaint with the manufacturer.
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He walked to the bathroom and splashed his face with warm water. It still delighted him, switching from ice cold to piping hot with a turn of the faucet. It always made him think of his mother, and how different her life could have been if they had had such easy access to water while growing up. He remembered her staggering home with two clay pots,the water drawn from their village well, one on each hip. She would walk in as slowly as possible to prevent spillage, then place one pot on the kerosene-powered stove and another on their mud floor. The water would take thirty minutes to boil, after which it would be poured into a plastic bucket with some cold water. They would use the bucket in turns, washing their faces before sitting down to breakfast. It felt like a lifetime ago, although it couldn’t have been more than a decade since he had last done it.
Sighing, he turned off the faucet. He didn’t like beginning the day with thoughts of his mother, because it made him melancholy. It made him think of Punjab, and what he had left behind. He was here, in Brampton, with a job that had taken over a year to find. To think of home now was an act of cowardice. Shaking his head, as if to dislodge an unwelcome thought, he wiped his face and walked out towards the kitchen. Placing a steel tumbler of water on the stovetop, he waited for it to boil, while trying to imagine the look on Ma’s face when she could finally visit him.
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Excerpted with permission from Super by Lindsay Pereira and Fourth Estate India.
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