Book Excerpt: Nimna Vijay's 'To My Dearest Self' Is A Love Letter To Self-Discovery

In 'To My Dearest Self', bestselling Malayalam author Nimna Vijay takes readers along on a heartfelt journey of love, loss, and healing. The story follows Aditi, a Malayali woman who moves to Bengaluru in search of a better job and a fresh start.

However, when love and family expectations upend her world, she must do what she’s always avoided: stand up for herself. With the support of her closest friends and through intimate letters to a mysterious Mahadev, Aditi begins to look inward, confronting the fears she’s long suppressed.

A national bestseller in Malayalam, Nimna Vijay’s acclaimed novel Ettavum Priyapetta Ennodu finds new life in Haritha C.K.’s graceful English translation. To My Dearest Self is a stirring story of love, loss, and the courageous act of choosing oneself in a world that asks for everything.

Here is an excerpt of the novel

After work on Friday, she went to Aunty’s house to address her constant complaints that it had been too long since they had last seen each other. Shalu was fast asleep after her exams. Without waking her, Aditi took the hot uzhunnu vada and tea Aunty had made and went to the balcony.

‘Ammu, I am considering filing for a divorce. I met a lawyer and discussed everything. They’ve agreed to handle all the legal matters. It’s a bit expensive, but I have some gold I can sell. Also, there’s a teaching vacancy in my hometown. I can join after three months. Shalu is okay with everything—I discussed it with her. So, I’ll be here for only three more months. Once I reach my hometown, I’ll send the divorce notice. If I do it while staying here, Uncle will create a huge ruckus,’ Aunty said, while plucking the dried leaves from the curry leaf plant. 

‘Are you serious, Aunty? What did your family say about it?’ 

They see it as a loss of face misplaced honour. A daughter once married shouldn’t return to her parents’ house. My elder brother is also worried that he might have to take responsibility for me in the future. So, I’m not going back there. I’ve found a house for rent, and I’ll be moving there. I know I have to start over from scratch—with no love, no respect, and no money. But what’s the point of wasting my life just because I fear change? At least, before I breathe my last, I would have lived for myself, with peace of mind, right?’ 

‘Whatever your decision, I’ll stand by you. Never think you’re alone,’ Aditi said, holding Aunty close.

Aunty didn’t say anything at first—she simply held Aditi tighter, as if drawing strength from her. For a long moment, neither moved. The silence between them was no longer heavy; it was steadying. 

After some time, Aditi gathered her things and stepped out into the night. The streets were quiet, the occasional bark of a stray dog or the distant hum of a scooter the only sounds that accompanied her thoughts. 

While walking back to her hostel, Aditi felt certain that this was the best decision Aunty had ever made for herself. If society treated the end of a relationship as normally as its beginning, many wouldn’t have to run away from their marriages and seek love elsewhere. People like Devika wouldn’t have to suffer in silence, fearing they’d be branded as betrayers. 

Every relationship begins with a reason—and ends with one too. Though it is painful to see someone we love walk away, true love is to accept their choice. When will we understand that endings aren’t betrayals, but part of the journey? People often see the end of a relationship as something completely wrong, almost like a crime. 

We owe compassion to those who choose to walk away from love—not questions or judgment, but the same quiet blessing we offered when their journey began. Every ending opens the door to a new beginning, unfolding a new chapter of life for both people. 

Parting, too, can carry its own kind of beauty. Yet so many remain shackled to unhappiness, not out of love, but 
out of fear—afraid to abandon the fragile shelter they’ve built from years of endurance. Strangely, the hardest person to trust is often ourselves. But if we could learn that trust, truly lean on.

That night, Aditi lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling of her hostel room. Aunty’s words kept echoing in her mind—calm, firm, and full of quiet courage. For the first time, she had seen her take a stand for herself, not for duty or family. It stirred something deep within Aditi—an understanding that love without dignity wasn’t love at all. 

By morning, the clarity of the night gave way to the blur of routine. She got ready without much thought, packed her bag, and let the rhythm of office life pull her along. 

‘Aditi, you left your phone on the desk. It’s been ringing for a while,’ Geethu Chechi, who had joined Aadi and Aditi for a tea break at the café, pointed out. 

‘Oh, I forgot to take it. Maybe it’s about some meeting,’ she said, gulping down her now-cold tea and rushing back to her desk. 

There were more than twenty missed calls from Kannan. 

‘Why the hell is he calling me like this?’ She quickly dialled back. 

‘Chechi, things are a mess here. Amma found out about me and Nihal. I don’t know what to do—I’m scared.’ His voice was shaky, exhausted from crying.

‘What? How did she find out?’ Aditi was startled. 

Extracted from 'To My Dearest Self' by Nimna Vijay; translated by Haritha CK; published by Harper Collins India.