The problem with IIT-ians writing these
days is that there are too many of them, and mostly they are men. If they
wanted to write novels why didn’t they do BA literature and an MFA? No. They
would rather go to IIT where all the smart people can be found doing smart
things, and then they will see what they want to do. In the meantime, they want
to try writing a novel. So, they write a kind of DUDELIT – of and by dudes –
akin to CHICKLIT, the genre about girls facing growing up pangs. There’s
heartbreak in between terms, there are those mischievous episodes, laboratory
shenanigans, wild parties where alcohol is consumed, and dread of coming exams,
which all of them pass. They drift to their management jobs, family businesses
or go to IIM (Indian Institute of Management) to learn management. Then they will
be called the “Double Aiis”. Basically, they are very confused about their
career choices.
Do Dudelit writers know that the government
is subsidising Rupees two to three hundred thousand for their education every
year? What has the Indian government gained by making Chetan Bhagat a
mechanical engineer when he went on to become a banker and then a writer of
pulp novels? Yes, he pays taxes, but didn’t he deprive a poor deserving
candidate of a seat in the prestigious IIT, who would have gone on to pay taxes
and invented better railway coaches, or, better toilets?
The United States has a system by which
meritorious students get scholarships and grants for studying in prestigious
institutions. Therefore they realise the benefits of hard work and progress in
life using the lessons they have learnt using these scholarships. They do not
abandon their engineering degrees, but work in them for years as dedicated
engineers. Here our government – not universities – provides the subsidies, the
hostel accommodation, purportedly to create excellent engineers, but ends up
getting an individual who writes pulp novels.
So what does it all say to those beholden
readers who approach the dude’s Dudelit book with a reverent look, and a
feeling of trepidation? “Look we are cool. Dude, we made it. And, believe us,
it’s no big deal. Most of all, we had fun.” An IIT-ian enters his career with
an advantage. Irrespective of whether he has done mechanical, civil, or,
chemical engineering, he is directly recruited into a management position
without having to go through the grind. Yes, life is unfair. From my personal
experience, I rotted in middle management jobs all my life where I did all the
work and had to report to such IIM managers who didn’t know an “artwork” from a
“work of art.” And when it came to promotions and increments I wasn’t given any
and they became vice-presidents overnight.
There have been many novels in this genre
including ones by India’s most successful indigenous Dudelit writer, Chetan
Bhagat. In the US literature about the growing up pains of girls is called
Chicklit, Dudelit is something similar. There is growing up pains, problems
with teachers, problems with girlfriends, a bit of allusion to books and famous
writers, a lot of technical stuff which a lay reader won’t understand, the
heavenly tea at the nearby kiosk, and, ultimately, heartbreak.
Dudelit and its sister Chicklit have done
much damage to Indian literature. They have rather successfully closed the
doors for a few emerging literary writers, translators, occupying their space
with titles such as “Half Girlfriend,” and “An Indian Girl.” Love and
heartbreak occupies a major chunk of the narrative, though a sanitised kind of
love. Now you can find novels with titles such as “Why I will always love you,”
“Endlessly in Love,” and “I can’t but love you.” In other words, it’s the deliberate
pandering to a low taste by publishers and their agents who deal in pure tripe.
Sometimes, the dumbing down is deliberate, a lowly attempt to titillate the
reader to browse through the book and then buy, as it is priced cheaply. These
novels are empty of any intellectual content because they are written in a
hurry and are badly edited. The authors of these books regularly appear on
television shows and in literary festivals and even endorse corporate entities.
Eager news channels give them that opportunity.
Reading these novels one would almost think
India is a land of well-heeled middle-class people who address each other as
“dude,” and “guy.” [Some also address each other as “laudey” meaning, phallus.]
There would be no mention of the raging problems which can be seen in IITs like
suicide and casteism. Their worlds are sequestered and the huge gorilla in the
living room of poverty and environmental changes are never mentioned. Reading
them you will believe love is the panacea to all ills of society. Publishers
are making the mistake that Indian film industry made years ago, i.e., give the
audience what they want and forget about the art of film-making and scripting.
It’s painful to see the slow decline of
what authors such as Khushwant Singh, Anita Desai, Kiran Nagarkar, Shashi
Deshpande, Amitav Ghosh, Arundhati Roy, Anita Nair, Amit Chaudhari, CP
Surendran, et al have tried to build up, i.e., a tentative fledgling identity
for Indian writing in English. I am not including Salman Rushdie, or, Vikram
Seth because they are expatriate writers and their points of view are unique and
extraneous. It was a small beginning which should have led to something bigger
and better. One almost thought that there would be a lot of translations of
prolific regional language writers and poets. But this dream remains a dream.
Today, regional writers would consider themselves lucky to be published by
Sahitya Akademi, if at all. Even those authors published by the Akademi have
not been successful in establishing a readership because of Chicklit and
Dudelit novels.
