Review: Judy Balan’s Two Fates.

When I started reading Two Fates, I expected a spectacularly funny novel given that it was to be a parody of Chetan Bhagat’s Two States. But after a promising prologue, Two Fates just falls flat.

In a story which goes nowhere, one becomes the spectator of Rishab and Deepika’s lives. They are a couple who are married and unhappy, or so we are asked to believe. With no real problems in life whatsoever, Rishab and Deepika decide that they do not want to be together anymore. But as fate would have it, the path to obtaining a divorce proves to be difficult. Their families have now bonded and how! They will not let this divorce happen as, in their eyes, the couple are the ‘ideal couple’, made-for-each-other, a role model of sorts for the younger cousins in the family.

Although this makes for a great story, it turns out that it quite isn’t. The author tries a little too hard to imitate you-know-who and when you finally reach the end of the book, you cannot help but feel Chetan Bhagat is a hell lot of a better writer. Yes, Tambrahms are characterised by their strict financial sensibilites but one would have to be joking if they said that Pattu maami wears jeans, drinks beer and generally behaves like a monkey which has consumed ginger.

I am inclined to agree that the first question typical Indian parents will ask newly-weds is “When is the good news?” But sending the couple on second honeymoons and excessive use of metaphors, I think not. And to say the relatives were caricatures is a mere understatement.

What could have been a great novel just goes down and down because of the poor characterisation and lack of substance.So, I think I can safely say that when I put this book down, it was with a sense of relief.

Before starting on this book, I was advised to read it as a book on it it’s own and not as a parody. But that is a difficult thing to do, given that the author has credited Chetan Bhagat in her Acknowledgments. When read as a parody, the book tries hard to imitate CB’s style. Yes, a few funny lines here and there but the general atmosphere is depressing. As a stand alone book, I would advise you to avoid it.

A rating of 4/10 for this book and better luck next time to the author.

Teen Truths: The Bad Boy’s Guide To The Good Indian Girl

Book: The Bad Boy’s Guide To The Good Indian Girl

Authors: Annie Zaidi, Smriti Ravindra (nee Jaiswal)

Publisher: Zubaan

Price on Flipkart: Rs. 207

Rating: 4/5

What made me pick up this book:

Sometime ago, I nicked an anthology of poems called  ‘The Almost Drizzles Of May’, by three women – Annie Zaidi, Smriti Jaiswal, and Prateebha Tuladhar, from one of my bibliophically inclined friends. The book was just like the title promised it would be – elegant, whimsical, simple and haunting.  [Yes, you should buy this book too] And like any normal person with an internet connection would do, I googled the authors and discovered Annie’s bayangara awesome blog, which lead to the other books she’d authored.

There. [You’ve been spared of the rendition of how I ordered it on flipkart and what bookmark I got, etc]

You should try this book out if:

1.You’re a Pre-teen girl, YoungAdult woman, Lady, or basically any female Homo sapiens of any age who has once been a teenager.

2. You live(d) in India.

3. You live/ have lived in a small town.

4. You have felt the need to do not-so-nice things (aka Forbidden By Amma) from time to time and wished there were more people like you.

5. You love a well-edited collection of stories offering you a glimpse of how girls actually live in India, as opposed to what’s shown in Bolly/Kolly/Tolly/Mollywood movies.

This book is not for you if:

1. You’re the mother of a teenage daughter. No. Stay away, and keep your BP under control.

2. You are a male-chauvinist, Girls-Should-Follow-Good-Indian-Culture type of gandu. My dear sir, your services are required in the Shri Ram Sene.

So, you say this book is good?

Yes, very. It’s witty, authentic, subversive and shocking at times, but I love this book mostly because..it’s so True!

Starting from the pithy introduction as to what constitutes a ‘Good Indian Girl’, it takes you on a highly irreverant ride on the life and adventures of GIGs. And contrary to what we seek to make people believe, we do have a good, wicked dose of those. There is sadness as well – when the GIG make-up is not applied carefully enough, or when you just didn’t know you had things to conceal. Not all of them have a happy, oh what the heck, even acceptable endings. But then, that’s what we GIGs are best at – taking things in stride.

The book has a set of recurring characters who narrate their tales, followed by a short take on GIGness by the authors. The characters from each story know and interact with the ones in others, and at the end of the book, a portrait of the escapades of a bunch of teenage girls emerges.

Growing up as a girl- a GIG  is, to quote the authors, ‘about as exciting as being a janitor in a pigsty on a full-time basis. It stinks. GIGdom is tolerable for approximately three days a month.’ So, the need for secrecy in GIGs, you see, arises purely out of the need to preserve ourselves against dying of unrequited wishes and/or boredom. Their secrets – well, you’d never have guessed that the other girl too had a drawer full of dirty secrets like you. But she does, and how!

At quite a few instances, it felt like reading my own experiences on print, replete with all the thrill and anguish. It was heartening. Feminist, and subtly so. I’m not given to cliches like these, but I think I’ll risk it for this particular book – this is one book that’s gonna stay with me for the rest of my life.

I won’t talk about the stories individually as I can’t afford a 10,000 word post here. For more erudite and polysyllabled reviews of the books, please go over here.

Please buy this book.  And if you’re a teenage girl, preferably without your mom’s knowledge.

p.s: The only thing I don’t get about this book is the ‘Bad boys’ part in the title. The other title – The Good Indian Girl’s Guide To Living, Loving and Having fun is infinitely more appropriate.

The Journey of a Common Man: A House for Mr. Biswas

The second post on our blog–A review of the book A House for Mr.Biswas by @Raaga_Suresh.

A House for Mr. Biswas by V.S.Naipaul has been lying on my book shelf gathering
multiple coats of dust for quite some time. I am a book lover, which translates to ‘a
person whose bookshelf is full of books he intends to read in the near future, the
near future being a fairly elastic term.’ The near future of A House for Mr. Biswas
arrived when my friend Kavirajan remarked that Naipaul’s writing was very similar to
Ashokamitran’s. After dusting it thoroughly I started reading. Slowly Naipaul dragged
me into the world of Mr. Biswas.

The story starts with the demise of Mr. Biswas and in the flashback mode, recollects
the life of Mr. Biswas, the protagonist of this novel. We are taken on a journey from his
childhood to his demise. The narrative is linear. It starts from Mr. Biswas’ childhood and
traces his life from the point that he loses his identity in the cesspool of a large united
family to his need to build his own house, which in turn becomes a metaphor for his
search for individuality. It talks about his growing in Trinidad as part of a poor Hindu
family, his father’s demise, his marriage into a large and respected family, his inability
to mix in, his sense of loss of identity, his dreams for his son and his subsequent quest to
build a house.

As with all great novels, this novel can be read at multiple levels. At one level, it is a
meditation on family. The interaction of the individual with the family structure — in this
case, a large joint family — is paradoxical. On one hand, for most of his life, Mr. Biswas
survives because the joint family structure supports him – giving him a job and supporting
his wife and kids. On the other hand, this dependency suffocates him and he becomes a
rebel, even if it means being a rebel for rebel’s sake. Naipaul’s very tellingly depicts the
politics within any family; the way each family member maneuvers himself/herself to be in the
good books of the matriarch. The pettiness, the jealousy, and the self-centric behavior of
various stakeholders is very realistically brought out.

On another level, the novel is about the common man. Mr. Biswas has very limited
talent and using this limited talent he has to search for his identity in this world, which
celebrates only the talented or the rich. The mere feeling that the world won’t miss you
when you are gone and will continue as if nothing happened is enough to drive people to
do something through which the world remembers them. We all need our own piece of
immortality, if merely in the hearts of the loved ones. So whenever something good or
important happens, Mr. Biswas wants others to note it – like the arrival of the car for him.
It is as if all of us are are the protagonists in our own dramas, and we have an intended
audience. We need to play this out in front of this audience to establish our importance in
the limited world of ours.

At a different level, the novel is about the father-son interaction. As with most patriarchal
societies, Mr. Biswas doesn’t worry too much about his daughter. His hopes don’t rest
on her but on his son. Many fathers want to give their sons what they never got, pushing
their sons to perform and shine, to grow beyond them so that they could feel proud in the
reflected light; Mr. Biswas is no different. This is something a lot of modern fathers and
children would relate to. Mr. Biswas gives everything to his son, while his daughter’s
interests take a lower priority. Yet, their relationship is one of unease. The son seems
to understand his father’s lack of talent and probably doesn’t like it when some of his
father’s attempts fail pathetically.

There is a telling scene wherein the father tells his son that hard work always triumphs.
The son retorts, “So, what about you?” This encapsulates the essence of the relationship.
It takes people a long time to realize that while they may perform before a grand audience
and garner the applause, it may so happen that the ones closest to them are not clapping
and are in fact very critical of the drama.

At another level, the novel is also about the immigrant Hindus and their relationship with
the people of different races and religions.

Naipaul’s style is very precise. As a master craftsman, he ensures that he doesn’t move
the pawns and gives us the impression of things unfolding naturally. Yet, he keeps a
very tight hold on the novel. You can clearly make out how ruthlessly the novel has been
edited: not a single word out of place, descriptions kept under tight control. After just
a few lines, the complete state of mind of characters is revealed. Other than the sparse
prose, what catches your eye is Naipaul’s attention to details – nothing escapes his eye:
be it animate or inanimate. What’s more impressive is the way Naipaul tells a very
emotional story without ever turning sentimental. No scene turns melodramatic, though
the potential exists. No emotion is allowed to go beyond a point. A wry humor pervades
the whole story. Beyond doubt, Naipaul is a great craftsman.

(I will also now explain the Ashokamitran reference I made at the beginning of this
post. Ashokamitran, for those who don’t read Tamil novels, is a very famous Tamil
novelist. I could understand why my friend Kavirajan felt Naipaul and Ashokamitran had
similarities. They both have the same eye for detail, compassion for the common man,
lack of emotional , wry humor. In my opinion, Ashokamitran deserves lot more laurels
that he had got till now.)

All in all, “A House for Mr.Biswas” is a novel you must read, for this novel is about the
journey of a common man. It tells the story of a man with limited talents and his search
for individuality. You will find that it tells your story.

PS: Thanks to @SharSrinivasan for beta’ing the post!

For the love of Blyton!

George Quentin, a short-tempered, athletic, headstrong and loyal kid. Oh and George is short for Georgina.

George and her cousins embarked on many adventures. She had a dog too which accompanied them. Popularly, they were known as the Famous Five. The Famous Five series by Enid Blyton was one of the many books that defined my childhood.

As I was discussing with a friend recently, Blyton’s works are what made me imagine England the way I imagined it. It was a land where people ate plenty of buns, tarts, scones, pies, raw tomatoes and fresh fruit. The children always had lovely picnics and plenty of freedom to roam the countryside. And even when the kids turned Sherlock Holmes and investigated crime scenes, they always looked up to some form of authority to deal with things beyond their age. The elders were always respected and the children always let them guide them.

The children’s playrooms were filled with dolls, teddy bears and goblins which came alive at night. The naughtiest girl in school was punished when she was wrong. She was made class monitor for her strength of character. Darrell Rivers was a role model of sorts. She was hard working, fun loving and athletic. She depicted how not everyone was a born genius but some hard work has to be put in. She showed how a short temper could bring misery and ruin.

Dorm life was the only life that seemed worth living. At least Malory Towers and St.Clare’s made me feel as much. The whole scenario of an all girls institution was something I was able to relate to. Talented students, a good sense of humour, that one kid who always whined and complained, the shy kid who was always pushed around, lessons on morality and bravery, that best friend forever, petty fights. All these were recurring scenes in her school related series. The warring French tutors also provided some comic relief.

Looking back, her characters were idealized and were relevant only during the time they were published. There were hints of racial and sexist attitudes. But at the age of 9, neither did I understand it nor did it matter to me.

All of us at some point of time have read an Enid Blyton work and, let’s face it, have at some point of time thought raw tomatoes were actually a good idea for a snack. Blyton has been a significant part of my childhood and all her characters have in some way left an impression on me. Though I have moved on to different authors and more complicated genres, I never think I’m too old to read about five kids and a dog snooping around for adventures or 11 year old girls playing tennis and trying to pull pranks over their teachers.