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Some of Chetan Bhagat’s books have been the talk of the town much before they have been released. With his last two books — Half Girlfriend and One Indian Girl — the titles in themselves sent readers and critics into a tizzy. With One Indian Girl , Bhagat claimed to have tackled feminism, which is a topic that today arguably divides opinion like none other, especially among the ‘millenials’. Bhagat’s assertion resulted in massive publicity for the book even before its release, with many taking to social media to either laud him for it, or to pan his claim.
I have read all of Chetan Bhagat’s books. I’m not your avid bibliophile in the ultimate sense of the term, but my reading isn’t confined just to Bhagat’s work either. I’ve found certain aspects of some of his books appealing, though. As an engineering student, I related to Five Point Someone , and having lived in both Chennai and later in Delhi, Two States did justice to the cities and their relatable aspects. Hence, I picked up One Indian Girl with no preset notions.
The book read like any other book of his. A fast narrative, jumping from one timeline and location to another, and simple dialogue. Like his previous work, this one wasn’t very big on language either — something that Bhagat himself admitted. The ‘feminist’ angle, though — that is where the debate begins.
A lot of people — critics and everyday readers alike — panned the book left, right, and centre. From some publications doing the ‘nastiest’ reviews, to others telling you why you should not read the book, most of my circles, especially women, had pulled up their sleeves and raised their brickbats, ready to batter anybody who uttered the word ‘feminism’ and One Indian Girl in the same sentence, as ironic as that sounds.
Was this the only perspective around? To answer this question, I spent a good week after finishing the book going through Twitter — Bhagat’s feed and searches for tweets about the book — and I found a myriad tweets praising the book. Many of these tweets came from women and they talked about how they could relate to the book and how they liked that Bhagat had brought their everyday struggles to the fore.
Armed with both roses and rotten tomatoes, I read the book again, this time with a critic’s eye, and found that there were some bits that were indeed relatable and valid. For example, the protagonist Radhika’s mother keeps taunting her about her dark complexion, high income, and how these aspects, among others, are impediments to her finding a suitable groom. Radhika responds by questioning the exclusiveness of these concerns for a woman. Radhika regularly sends money home to her parents and has spent for her wedding entirely by herself. She even outstrips her husband-to-be in terms of earnings.
Bhagat’s books seem to address issues that a lot of people face and, with his pacey storytelling, transform them into situations of triumph.
As was evident from the numerous women voicing their appreciation for Bhagat on social media, and even having spoken to some women myself about these aspects, we have to acknowledge that such seemingly ‘simple’ issues are a reality in India even today. Bhagat also addresses other ‘simple’ concerns, such as Radhika wondering if she looks attractive enough and is responsive during sexual intercourse. Radhika also asks her man to make her ‘finish’, thus highlighting the female orgasm, a topic that is seeing some discussion currently.
Of course, the entire book is not filled with such examples. There were some instances that I didn’t like, for example, the ones where Radhika thinks about whether being forward could amount to being called a ‘slut’. Surely, I thought Radhika’s character, having studied at the country’s premier institutes, which offer good exposure in terms of male-female interaction, would have lost such notions long before she landed on the shores of the western society.
Then again, it is a book. You like some parts of it, you dislike some others. This is where I beg to differ from a lot of people who panned the book in its entirety. I was especially left baffled after watching an interview of Bhagat on an online portal, where the interviewer seemed to have mistaken the interview for a debate, and proceeds to ask Bhagat why the book was written the way it is, and why she disagrees with it. A bemused Bhagat responded by saying that it was his character, and he pictured the book in a certain way — which, going by the millions of copies sold, appealed to a lot of people.
This brings me to my next argument — India needs authors like Chetan Bhagat, who, for all their compromises on literary prowess and the use of beautiful-sounding language, write on things that people can relate to. There are critics who label this a fluke, but then again, seven books, all bestsellers, and some of them becoming Bollywood blockbusters, can hardly be dismissed as flukes. Bhagat’s books seem to address issues that a lot of people face and, with his pacey storytelling, transform them into situations of triumph. If Five Point Someone celebrated the virtue of following your dreams despite being stuck pursuing the wrong degree, Two States championed a triumph of love over preconceived notions and cultural differences.
In a similar fashion, One Indian Girl , in its own sometimes-flawed-sometimes-apt narrative, celebrates the young Indian woman, fighting everyday battles that may seem simple to the more empowered, but which are still a grim societal reality, here in India.
There is also the fact that Bhagat has got millions of people reading. Yes, it isn’t the best literature available, something that Bhagat has conceded. But for many, his books are a start. It is something akin to a news-summarising platform getting people to read news again, or an online portal explaining something complex with listicles and memes; we need Chetan Bhagat the same way we need them.
