A new generation of Indian writers using humour to tackle tricky subjects

As books from Diksha Basu, Balli Kaur Jaswal and Sandhya Menon begin to gain international attention, Ben East looks at the development of a new breed of Indian ‘chick-lit’ novels that combine comedy and satire with real heart and soul.

Diksha Basu, the author of The Windfall. Photo by Mikey McCleary

Mr Jha has gathered his East Delhi housing complex neighbours to tell them some important news.

They think he will announce that a bride has been found for his son in the United States. Just as he is about to nervously explain the family is moving to Gurgaon, one of the richest, poshest areas of Delhi, his wife rushes off, screaming that the chicken is burning. Meanwhile, their 40-something friend reveals she is taking pre-natal supplements to make her hair look good and that someone has stolen her yoga pants.

Welcome to the frantic, enjoyable world of Diksha Basu's debut novel, The Windfall. It is fair to say the author is at the vanguard of a new wave of Indian-diaspora writers less concerned with serious literary prizes than entertaining their audiences.

That is not to say she does not tackle some hefty ideas. Her characters are insecure and fearful for their futures. Aspiration leads to alienation. It is just that this is achieved through the prism of satire.

It is no surprise that Paramount has optioned this comedy of manners for a television series, with Shonali Bose (Margarita With a Straw) attached to write and direct a potential pilot.

It might seem like we have been here before. Ten years ago, the Washington Post was reporting on the rise of Indian chick-lit, purring over novels such as Rajashree's Bollywood-set Trust Me and Advaita Kala's Almost Single.

But there is something more interesting now happening in books from the Indian diaspora. Humour is not being used as a means by which to write bawdy comedies, but as a way to approach otherwise tricky subjects.

Balli Kaur Jaswal would no doubt agree. The Singaporean author had her first global hit this month with Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows. If the title seems provocative, the content is unlikely to trouble too much; in fact, it's really a novel about women finding themselves and each other in a patriarchal, cross-cultural world. They do so by revealing their frustrations and fantasies in often hilarious set pieces.

Jaswal remarked in a recent interview that she grew up thinking that reading for entertainment was to be frowned upon – storybooks are only read to improve English. She certainly puts that idea to bed with her third novel, which manages to be both warm and insightful. After attracting the interest of five other British publishers, and allowing Jaswal to become a full-time writer, it has also been optioned by filmmaker Ridley Scott’s production company, Scott Free Productions, and the UK’s Film4.

Both Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows and The Windfall are tightly plotted, well-crafted books revealing a writing craft that raises them above much chick-lit. You can point to Basu's master of fine arts in creative writing at Columbia University, or Jaswal's fellowship for writing at the highly regarded UEA University of East Anglia in England, but the books are undeniably a result of expansive lives, too. Basu divides her time between New York and Mumbai, while Jaswal has lived in Singapore and Australia. Perhaps distance focuses the mind on Indian characters.

All of which brings us to Colorado-based Sandhya Menon, the New York Times bestselling author from India you have probably never heard of. That is because her debut novel, published last month, When Dimple Met Rishi – a tale of tradition rubbing up against modernity – is loosely categorised as being in the young-adult genre: 18-year-old Californian Dimple Shah plans to go to Stanford to live her own life as a coder, only to find her parents have arranged for her to bump into Rishi and encourage a marriage.

Menon said she was really keen to portray arranged marriage as it is more commonly found in middle-class India, and there’s a really fascinating exploration in all of her characters of how “Indian” they are. She’s been refreshingly unapologetic about framing those issues in a story with a happy ending.

“Our stories are usually about us being terrorists or rapists or about us overcoming the odds to rise above the slums and become doctors,” she told Bustle.com.

“Teenagers need to see themselves falling in love, making mistakes, dabbling in art and being happy.”

The success of When Dimple Met Rishi means another young-adult book is on the cards, but the deft way in which Menon deals with these issues means it is likely she will write specifically for adults in the future – even so, there is already a lot in her work for older readers to enjoy.

So while none of these books have the sheer literary or political ambition of an Arundhati Roy – although she's not adverse to a lighter moment herself – they have a lot in common with Kevin Kwan's groundbreaking 2013 novel Crazy Rich Asians.

Not in an outrageous, almost cartoonish depiction of Asian people, but in the way they play with and successfully destroy stereotypes.

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