Growing with them

Tags

harrypotter, parenting, reading

When one’s children are young, one ends up pandering to their interests. One does a lot of things – playing with toys, trips to the park, playdates – that they enjoy and that you take varying degrees of pleasure in because of the pleasure they get out of it, but it may not really be your thing. Disneyland yes; trips to the doggie patch to accost unsuspecting dog owners for permission to pet their pet, maybe; visits to the indoor playroom not so much.

As they turn five, however, one gets to share genuine interests. For example, Harry Potter. I had started reading the books to Nene – Mimi couldn’t focus as much without the pictures – and I allowed them to watch the first movie. Even Chamber of Secrets we decided was too scary because of the basilisk parts. But recently, I found them watching clips on YouTube and they kept pushing me to watch the movies, and I let them on the condition that they fastforward any part they find too scary.

The result is that we can have endless conversations about Harry Potter mythology. I am a Potterhead so this comes easy. I explain parts to them that they don’t understand, but I also use it to reinforce values that I think are important. For example, “Did you notice what Lupin’s friends did when they realised he was a werewolf? They didn’t abandon him.” When I read the Harry Potter series, it struck me that the books encompassed my personal morality in a way that no religious text had. It encompassed the Christian ethic but in some ways surpassed it by complicating it, or at least updating it. It provided a backstory for evil, for example. And I find indeed the books helping me parent as I thought they might; I hope this continues.

I am also reading Haroun and the Sea of Stories to Nathan, another book with a number of powerful messages – about the value of storytelling, about intellectual fascism. Mimi went through a phase where she was obsessed with “the real” and non-fiction because “fiction isn’t real” even though she actually enjoys fiction more than non-fiction. The tyranny of scienticism came home to roost a little to early in the distinction between fiction and non-fiction at school. I tried to explain to her that fiction is important too, but she wasn’t buying it. Maybe she needs a dose of Haroun too.

Nene is one of those who genuinely enjoys non-fiction. One of his bedtime reading choices was a book about minerals, which had us going through the entire periodic table. I find myself learning things I never knew, and being refascinated by science (well, I was  independently on a quantum physics binge which this ties into so it worked out well). And the periodic table is rather pretty. But I’m glad we’re back to

Nene is also into Monopoly and we have regular sessions on weekends. He is more into it when he wins though. And he and I learnt to play chess at the same time, and parry with each other. Though I end up beating him, and so he’s not that into it.

Mimi is into craft, which I don’t mind, but I’m not crazy about. I would like it better if we could colour together – now that she can finally stay in the lines – but her preferred colouring mode is both of us doing the same picture, which is not mine.

In sports, Nene is now into Formula 1, and watches the races with his dad. Both the kids were into gymnastics and ice-skating and watch these with me. In real life, Nene is a sporty kid, who basically masters sporting stuff easily. Mimi not so much, though I have noticed recently that she likes to dance.

There are those that say we should cherish every moment with our kids. I’m not a believer in that. I did not cherish the exhaustion of parenting a newborn, breastfeeding, waking up every two hours at night, changing diapers. I loved my kids and I did what it took, but I did not enjoy every minute and I’m not going to pretend I did. But as the kids grew into toddlers and especially now, the quality of my enjoyment of time with them has changed, sometimes we hang out as peers.

 

 

The Zoya Factor

Tags

anuja chauhan, chick lit

It’s been ages since I mooted the idea of doing a series of chick lit hall of fame posts. Ironically or not, my PhD on the subject kept getting in the way.

In between, I sat down to write a post on The Zoya Factor, and felt that I needed to reread the novel to write it, but didn’t feel like rereading it. Finally, I’ve decided I’m not going to push myself to reread it and risk never writing this post, but to, as usual, just put down my scattered thoughts on the book, and hope that readers will chip in with their thoughts.

As this series progresses, maybe I will fall into some sort of ideal style; till then, it’s going to be experimentation rather than a clear-cut review.

The Zoya Factor is not the first Indian chick lit novel, but it is my favourite. If I had to recommend only one Indian chick lit novel, this would be it. So I will begin with it.

***

Synopsis: Zoya, “a mid-level advertising executive”, discovers she has special powers to influence the fortune of the Indian cricket team. As she is co-opted into the world of cricket, she finds herself both attracted to the team’s captain and on a collision course with the team’s captain.

In its general plot – twenty-something single woman and her adventures in romance as well as her career travails – the novel ticks all the chick lit boxes. But Chauhan adds something more – Zoya’s supernatural powers – which should make for really weird reading, except that it works. Chauhan thus places her novel in the magical realism tradition of literary greats such as Salman Rushdie, and dare I say she pulls it off.

As part of India’s anti-colonial struggle, Indian women came to be nationalistically identified with the mother goddess (Bharat Mata). Zoya, as Goddess of Cricket, the modern sport in which the honour of the nation can be preserved, continues this legacy. Zoya’s experience of the double-edged nature of being an Indian goddess is a tongue-in-cheek examination of what the average Indian woman faces as a result of being put on a pedestal. What Zoya achieves in the novel is the ability to find a way to live with her powers while refusing to allow them to be chauvinistically co-opted by various parties for their own interest.

Chauhan makes Zoya, the Goddess, seem less absurd and more believable, by crafting the milieu in which she operates – 21st century middle-class India – with finesse. Apart from her skillful handling of plot, this is why readers love Chauhan – her humorous and close attention to life as we (the urban middle-class English-educated but bilingual global desi type) know it. Thus, she has entire passages mimicking the speech of various types – the small-town cricketer, the sleazy agent, the creepy baba, the oily-haired kid reciting a speech, the Malayalee maid – and even as one can’t help giggling, the whole thing is done with affection and not condescension. This is English as Indians speak it, infused with other languages and with its own unique diction (“What to do, control nahin hota”). Chauhan made her name for exactly this kind of writing and capturing the zeitgeist that such language evokes in the slogans that made her famous in the advertising industry and it is a delight to see the novelistic version of “Yeh dil maange more” (in fact, this is what one feels at the end of most of her books).

Unlike many Indian chick lit novels in which non-middle-class and upper-class types – maids, drivers, the roadside chaiwalla – are basically background props, if they exist at all, Chauhan brings these people to the fore so that one of the most memorable characters in the novel is Zoya’s maid Eppa.

The niggling problem with this is while these portraits are affectionately drawn and intimately recognizable, there is an underlying paternalistic validation of the status quo. Eppa is loved and seems to be fine with where she is, so one doesn’t have to think too hard about what it might have taken for her to basically leave her hometown and her family (and the chance to build a family of her own – does Eppa have children?) to traipse across the country with Zoya’s (Mammy in Gone with the Wind, anyone?).

While Western chick lit has been accused of using the chick lit protagonist’s career as a backdrop of romantic maneuvering, Indian chick lit fleshes out the career trajectory in more detail. So in The Zoya Factor, one gets a pretty authentic look at the world of advertising in India at the highest level – the cola wars – which Chauhan is more than familiar with, having played a role in crafting some of those iconic campaigns. Zoya is passionate about her job, and while she sometimes feels like a minion, especially around the famous cricketers, she is no bumbling Bridget Jones.

And there’s the romance. I do not believe that Indian fiction in English offered Indian women anyone that quite so completely dreamy as Nikhil Khoda. I mean, the captain of the cricket team – come on. Immediately, one starts to wonder – who is this paragon of erotic imaginings modeled on? (Dhoni? Rahul Dravid?). Khoda, like everything else in her novel, takes the tall, dark and handsome stereotype and gives it indigenous flavour. He has all the characteristics of the classic Harlequin hero – rich, older, more experienced (sexually but also in life), generally more competent,  who makes her feel like an impetuous child. This dynamic harks back famously to the redoubtable Mr Darcy of Pride and Prejudice fame but also the heroes of Georgette Heyer’s fiction. To this, Chauhan adds the quintessential Indian twist of making Khoda the supremely classy captain of the cricket team, arguably one of the most admired and powerful men in the country. Obviously, he is gorgeous to boot, but he’s also a man of integrity who tries to protect Zoya even when he is totally skeptical about her powers.

So, the romantic conclusion of the novel is pretty foregone, though as per usual there are misunderstandings and kahaanis mein twists to be overcome (a little too much, IMO). At some point, one wants to give Zoya a little shake and say: “get over yourself.” This man is leading a team in the World Cup, FFS. Her insecurity is blamed on having being apparently “used” by a guy or two in the past, but it gets a bit much after the third “does he love me or love my powers” whingeing. Ouff. Still, this is the stuff of romance novels, so.

The larger tension in the novel is really how it will resolve itself by allowing Zoya to have her cake and eat it. Does she propel the team to victory, and in so doing, diminish Nikhil’s achievements as captain? Does the team win at all (remember, this is a romance novel and the romance need not be restricted to the couple alone)? If the team wins without Zoya, what happens to her? If the team doesn’t win, what a let down. The fact is that if the team lost, it would be a bigger meh than Nikhil and Zoya not getting together and that tells you something about the strength of the national fantasy that Chauhan is tapping into.

Chauhan resolves it all fairly satisfactorily, though I did feel that Zoya’s strength lay in her being passive, in standing back, which is a tad in the region of feminine cliche. Nevertheless, if one doesn’t think too deeply (which obviously is not my thang), it works.

So what did you think, dear reader? Is The Zoya Factor your favourite Chauhan novel? Is Nikhil your favourite Chauhan hero? Did you think Zoya’s ‘yes-I-mean-no’ went on a bit too long? Was it a happy ending? Do tell.

 

 

 

 

 

I watched the royal wedding

Tags

#royalwedding #harrywedsmegha

And I’m only slightly ashamed.

Here’s how it happened.

We were out at dinner and Mimi started shifting around (more than usual, that kid is a fidget) and I asked her if needed to use the toilet and she said yes.

While in what looked like an interminable queue, I checked Facebook and someone had posted a link to watch the wedding so I clicked on it, and it turned out it was right at the part when Harry and William were walking in, which meant I had skipped the waiting and people on the streets waving flags part. The next thing I knew I found myself grinning broadly as Harry gazed down upon Meghan in church (in between calls of “are you done”?) and I realised I’m not that cynical about weddings after all.

I ended up watching pretty much the whole damn thing using my data service if you please, which I have a strict rule against. V made fun of me and then gave up. I showed Mimi the couple while she was ranting about wanting ice cream now! and asked if the bride was pretty and she said “yes!” And went back to ranting.

scattered thoughts:

1. Meghan’s dress was beautiful, her train even more (though the commonwealth flowers were unnecessary).

2. Harry is really into Meghan.

3. The queen’s lime green dress was a bit OTT. Not to mention the purple flowers.

4. Ginormous hats seem to be Camilla’s thing.

5. Kate seemed to be in a bad mood. Maybe she doesn’t like Camilla or maybe she was pissed that Will didn’t change thr diapers last night.

6. I really thought Meghan’s mum should have walked her down the aisle or she could have walked herself but maybe she wanted A Man or her mum didn’t want the spotlight and Charles seemed to do a good job.

7. The camera constantly focused on her mum who looked lovely.

8. Harry and Meghan were happily chatting while the hymns were going on. Haw!

9. That guy with the cello went on too long. As did the pastor – I tuned out during the sermon.

10. In a sign of our times, I found myself scared that there would be a terrorist attack as they drove down in the open carriage. I heaved a sigh of relief when they made it into the castle.

11. In between MinCat informed me that the chief minister resigned in Karnataka. High drama all around.

Did you watch?

PS: I am aware the whole thing is ridiculous