We That Are Young by Preti Taneja
Genre: Literary Fiction
Rating: 4.5 stars
“We that believe we are better than all others. We that are the youngest, the fastest, the democracy, the economy, the future technology of the world, the global Super Power coming soon to a cinema near you. we, hum panch, that are the five cousins of the five great rivers, everybody our brother-sister-lover, we that are divine: the echo of the ancient heroes of the old times, we that fight, we that love, we that are hungry, so, so hungry, we that are young!”
Preti Taneja’s debut novel, We That Are Young, is a bold and unflinching adaptation of Shakespeare’s tragedy, King Lear, that takes the readers on a rollercoaster of emotions just like the original. Delhi of 2012 makes for a perfect backdrop for this reworking. Taneja’s novel is unabashedly political and yet a pacy page-turner.
Devraj Bapuji, older than India and the founder of the Company, is the patriarch at the centre of the story. The last Maharaja of Napurthala, Bapuji, finds a way to maintain his royalty in post-colonial India by setting up the conglomerate Company, the multiple tentacles of which spread across every industry in the country, from traditional handicrafts to luxury hotels, coffee chains and automobiles. Like the original, when he decides to divide his ‘kingdom’ between his three daughters: Gargi, the eldest and the most ambitious; Radha, the frivolous wild-child and Sita, Cambridge-educated and the most beloved, it doesn’t take long for their lives to fall apart.
We That Are Young is told from the point of view of the younger generation, Bapuji’s three daughters and their childhood friends, the sons of Bapuji’s right-hand man, Ranjit, Jeet and the illegitimate Jivan, each one hoping to get the bigger slice of the pie. This is interjected by chapters of Bapuji’s wild ramblings that inversely become clearer as he continues to lose his sanity, almost like his intentions become easier to understand as they increase in morbidity.
The story starts with Jivan returning to India after the death of his mother, hoping to make a place for himself in the billionaire family he still holds connections to. Except for a few scenes right at the beginning of the novel, the story is set entirely in India. Leaving the ‘West’ and a white girlfriend behind, Jivan and the readers find themselves smack in the middle of 2012 Delhi. But he returns to find the home of his childhood changed beyond recognition. Skyscrapers mar the skyline, metro lines crisscross the city, and the rich are higher than the law. Stunned by the changes, it takes Jivan two days of hazy and jet-lagged wandering to realise the real extent of the Devraj family’s powers. “It’s not about land; it’s about money,” he repeats constantly.
The novel makes a strong feminist statement through the characters of the three daughters. Tired of the burden of constant expectations, eldest, responsible, ambitious, childless and cold-hearted, Gargi finally grabs the reins of her own life, cuts off her hair and becomes ‘the bitch’ in the eyes of the men around her. She steers the Company into uncharted waters after her father’s withdrawal, but this results in the company crumbling from its foundations. Radha, the middle child, uses her sexuality as a weapon and is also a victim of it herself. She is suppressed by a constant stream of alcohol and coke to make her pliable in the hands of the men around her. The only time she breaks out of that is on the night of the gruesome blinding, the descriptions of which take the original text and makes it even more hard-hitting. Sita is the most pampered daughter. Sent to Cambridge for a good education, she comes back with a spine of her own much to the chagrin of her father. Fiercely protective of her ecofeminism and averse to the idea of being married off like her elder sisters, she prefers to run away from home even if it means giving up her claim to a part in the Company.
Jeet is the closeted son of Ranjit, who grew up in the shadow of his father and godfather, Bapuji. In the course of the novel, he goes from being a spoilt fugitive with the world in the palms of his hands to a Naph sadhu living in the depths of the slums described in a manner similar to Dante’s circles of hell. He comes back to his life more sinister than before. We That Are Young has a cast of smaller characters, including Ranjit, with his special bond to Radha; Nanu, the shrewd Maharani of Napurthala; Surendra, Gargi’s husband with his letters to the editor and Bubu, Radha’s coke-head husband. Each character is fleshed out, and they bring their own touches of black comedy to the already sinister story.
Taneja’s writing is pleasingly sprinkled with unitalicised and untranslated Hindi. While that may make it difficult for those unaccustomed to the language, it adds a touch of realism to an otherwise completely surreal narrative. One thing that the author does really well in the novel is that she takes the original text and goes beyond just tongue-in-cheek references to the content. It is truly a great adaptation in that sense. Another touch I really enjoyed was the obsession of the characters with the film Slumdog Millionaire, which was more popular with Western audiences than in India. But the irony of privileged, billionaire characters loving the film was not lost on me.
The novel touches on varying aspects of Indian politics to the point that no sentence or phrase is without its connotations. From the anti-corruption protests that transformed Bapuji’s Ambani into Anna Hazare to commentary on capitalism, communalism, feminism, labour laws, climate change and the saffron wave, the novel was successful in making me uncomfortable and yet beg for more. What made it even more important for me was the discussion on Kashmir. With nods to the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits through the character of Bapuji’s deceased wife, Article 370 through the construction of the Company hotel in Srinagar and multiple references to India’s unresolved issues regarding Partition.
We That Are Young is the kind of exploration of India I expect from Indian authors. It took me longer than usual to finish it, but in the end, I can only say I thoroughly enjoyed the Shakespearean themes and poetic writing that flows from fable to reality seamlessly.