In popular imagination, college campuses are this really rocking hub of incessant excitement, youthful vigour, perennial action, interesting characters and extra-curricular academics. While for those who are yet to or who never make it to a college, this imaginative picture persists until personal experience strikes, for those who do get to go to a college, this rosy picture gets all botched, butchered and bungled once the nervous initial weeks come to an abrupt end.
The aforementioned campus picture of endless excitement is produced and directed in popular imagination by various channels of mass media such as television, cinema, newspapers, radio etc. These channels, with certain rare few exceptions, accumulate the congenial from the campus buzz and propagate a thrilling image of campus life. This resultant image, needless to say, is prejudiced, incomplete and incomprehensive. The campus reality for the majority is actually a lot different.
The public demolition of such images should make for great art. In India, since movies, television and newspapers have largely refused to undertake this enterprise, the ever-dependable literature seems to have come to the fore to rescue. This deconstructionist exercise was weakly initiated by Five Point Someone, Chetan Bhagat’s 2004 debut novel that apparently still features on the best-seller popular fiction section of all bookstores.
Since the incredible success of Five Point Someone, a number of writers have trodden in Bhagat's footsteps, such that an entire sub-genre of campus novels has come into existence overtime under the wide gambit of Indian Popular Fiction. Now that it has been quite some time since the emergence of this genre, it is pertinent to analyze where this deconstructionist exercise has been ushered and where it is headed. This paper, In addition to doing this, would also examine some other aspects of the genre.
The Writers
Almost all Indian campus novels till date have been authored by young 20-something writers, many of whom did not have an “arts background”. Many of these novelists were also first-time novel writers—their campus novel was their debut work. And, some of these authors have only written their debut work up till now and nor do they seem to have any plans or intentions of coming up with more manuscripts.
So, this sub-genre has largely been dominated by amateur reader-turn-writers. They perhaps wrote to bask in some months of fame or to try their luck at a different profession. They may also have written for personal satisfaction or simply because they had the content and means to write a book. Whatever may be the reason behind their decision to develop a novel about their college life, the fact is that their young personality has intensively shaped up the genre in a distinct fashion. Not only are there recurrent themes (ragging, peer pressure, teenage angst, pre-marital sex, hostel politics, friendship woes, nagging parents etc.) to be found in their works, their characters and plot-lines also traverse similar tracks, as has been discussed later.
As mentioned above, most campus novel writers were first-timers who penned in their work their personal college-life experiences. This claim is also supported by the fact that most of the novels in the genre are first-person narratives. These novels apparently then are partly fictional, partly autobiographical. But do they represent and describe a genuine college experience? The answer to this question cannot be generalized—it needs be answered separately for every individual book and even for every reader as the “genuine college experience” has to differ for each individual.
The amateurishness of the campus- novel authors is conspicuously reflected in the writing style of their books that only use simple, short and straightforward sentences coupled with a juvenile vocabulary. Campus slangs and expletives are used in bulk and most characters are given hip nicknames. The focus is not really on character depth or circumstantial symbolism, but on the expression of the inner turmoil of the protagonist. The tone is often comic and irreverent and tends to border on exaggeration at times.
One peculiar common quality that needs to be especially noted among the group of writers of campus novels is that the majority of them are male. Amitabh Bagchi, Tushar Raheja, Animesh Verma, Abhijit Bhaduri, Harshdeep Jolly—all of these are male writers from prestigious Indian colleges. Unsurprisingly, their novels have all had a male protagonist. Thus, the genre has till now been overwhelmingly dominated by men—women’s experience of Indian colleges is therefore almost non-existent. In popular terminology, there have only been lad-lits in the genre, chick-lits are inexplicably absent.
The word “prestigious” is to be especially noted in the above paragraph, because almost all writers who have so far written in the genre have been alumni of only prestigious Indian universities. While a large number of writers have come from the IITs (Bhagat, Raheja, Bagchi, Verma), others have come from IIMs, DU or MU. Thus, even the campus experience of small lesser-known colleges or even popular colleges of small cities has been unavailable to the readers of this genre.
The teachers are also yet to write novels set in campuses. After all, teachers are as much a part of the campuses as students. Their perspective of the life in colleges is likely to make for thrilling and engaging reading. But, so far, there have been no attempts by the teachers to express their side of the campus story.
The dominance of male student writers belonging to only eminent colleges has begun to make this genre stale and repetitious. The sales of campus novels have begun to plummet and new novels tend to fuzz out unknown without much buzz. The readers are now looking for something fresh and novel which the genre has not been supplying of late. There is now a prominent dearth of good writing that has begun to threaten the existence of the genre. If this continues, then the genre is likely to become severely endangered, if not extinct, in the near future.
The Readers
In later Indian literary history, campus novels are going to find a special mention as they have raised an entire new breed of novel readers from a huge population of traditional non-readers. Chetan Bhagat’s Five Point Someone has to be applauded in this context for introducing to people who had never read anything beyond their school books to the unparalleled joy of reading.
Several factors were responsible for this major readership evolution: a) as mentioned above, the writing in these books was lucid, contemporaneous and, most importantly, sans any use of heavy words, b) the books talked about issues that the youth could relate and identify to and c) the price of these books was kept low enough to appeal to youngsters living on tight budgets and always-seeming-less pocket money.
Campus novels have also been guilty reads for traditional literature readers. Suddenly, there were novels that did not demand intensive brainstorming, that could be taken into the Metro and read among all the noise and the rush and that were entertaining and even hilarious at times. But these were also novels that had to be bought, read and necessarily chucked out by this section of readers. They were not the kind of paperbacks that could be added to one’s personal book-collections as adornments.
An important aspect of the readership of campus novels is that these novels have been created almost exclusively for Indian readers: their use of local slangs, desi themes and Indian campus settings are unlikely to be enjoyed much by international readers. Some of these books are not even released outside India. This is in stark to the literature produced by veteran Indian writers such as Amitav Ghosh, Kiran Desai and V. S. Naipaul that often is read more outside than inside India.
The Publishers
Bhagat’s Five Point Someone was published by Rupa Publications in 2004. The book brought both fame and money to the publishing house and apparently played a major role in helping Rupa emerge as a leading publishing house. One major factor, as mentioned above, behind the tremendous success of the book was its low affordable cost of Rs. 95. Most campus novels since then have been priced around the same denomination and this has so far ensured their decent sales.
Publishers say that even though they are aware that these novels do not constitute what is called high-literature, they are sometimes forced to publish them since they register enormous sales and, in this manner, pay for the publication of real literary stuff that does not get sold as much. Therefore, though these novels may not be worthwhile of entering into the Literature lists of English literature scholars, they are now essential for the steady growth of these lists.
Some leading publishing houses have now begun to complain about the quality of the huge quantity of manuscripts that they have been receiving for some time now. An editor at Rupa goes as far as to say that it seems that almost every student with decent writing skills has a manuscript to submit these days. Most of these manuscripts, she says, don’t even manage to hold your interest even till the end of the first chapter. They almost constitute what in publishing vocabulary is known as slushpile.
All these manuscripts that constitute the slushpile have begun to find to the Internet after having been rejected by all possible publishers. Their authors either publish then on their blogs or go for the option of online publishing through online publishing ventures such as Serene Woods. The manuscripts, in this manner, become more or less non-profit enterprises and receive nominal readership.
The Plot and the Characters
The male protagonists in this genre are almost always these low-key diffident youngsters who conform neither to the conventional male stereotype nor to the image of the campus stud as popularized by Indian movies set in campuses. He is generally not the good-looking and the good-natured heartthrob of the campus for whom the female readers tend to easily fall for. Instead, he is more of a guy-next-room whom you may not even notice if you did not belong to his class or course.
This protagonist usually has a couple of true close friends who deeply influence his story along with his love—interest who is often a smart pretty girl whom the protagonist finds superior to him in some way or the other. The protagonist manages to surprisingly woo this girl but her parents are usually difficult catches. This love story becomes either the central or the sub-plot of the plot and is mostly concluded positively towards the end.
The plot in this manner is more or less predictable. It ends at a happy note when all the problems come to a satisfactory conclusion. But its course is not as predictable—there are often both funny and unusual incidents that fill the middle pages. However, new themes and issues are rarely explored through these incidents. Thus, both the territory and the destination of these novels are familiar, and although their route is newish rarely radical.
Conclusion
Let’s get back to the deconstructionist exercise mentioned in the introduction of this paper. It seems to have come to a standstill courtesy authors with similar resume who seem to be somehow apprehensive of experimentation. However, the enterprise has not reached a dead-end as yet—it just needs to be directed in diverse directions for its consistent growth because the genre still has a lot of unexplored potential that is likely to bear interesting and successful results only if it is probed properly
Monday, April 25, 2011
My Son's Story
Sanjay was born an atheist, it seems. His involvement and participation in all religious family functions have always been hesitant and uneasy. This is not to say that he does not enjoy festivals and festivities. It’s just that he seems to find it difficult to understand religious customs and rituals. I don’t know if he has any complaints with God or Hinduism or whether something tumultuous is going within his mind. But there is one thing I am sure of: something is certainly wrong with my son.
Actually, not only religion and customs, Sanjay has complaints to make about almost everything, and I fail to grasp the reason behind these perpetual complaints of his. We all in fact can not quite understand what is wrong with him. This, I reckon, is primarily because he is too reticent and taciturn. Any coherent communication with him seems impossible. He seems reluctant to talk to anybody in fact.
Whenever we sit together, we start narrating stories of Sanjay’s irreverence and wickedness to each other. There is always something new to add to the conversations and some new story to tell every time, courtesy Sanjay’s prolificacy in creating new scandals. Sometimes we even talk about his differences and eccentricities while he is within earshot. But eliciting any kind of response from him is difficult. He becomes so engrossed in what he is doing that it hardly matters to him what any body says or does at that time.
I often sit and ponder if there is perhaps more sense in Sanjay’s actions and words than ours. We adults are often accused of failing to understand our children. I do not want to commit that mistake. So, I have really tried to understand my son, and have even attempted wholeheartedly to see the world from his perspective. But his thoughts and ideas sometimes seem of such an altogether different league that I start doubting my own intellectual capabilities. I am becoming too old and disconnected it seems. And this feeling is unpleasant to say the least.
When I come to think about it, I realize that Sanjay was perhaps born different from people like you and me. What else can be the reason behind a disposition as unusual as his? After all, an ordinarily normal person does not challenge society as profusely as he does. You know, within the four walls of our home, his behavior is still tolerable. But, outside, in social gatherings and public places, he becomes too much of an embarrassment: doesn’t care how he is dressed, doesn’t think twice before saying anything, is not fond of meeting new people, is not careful while eating, likes music that everybody hates, walks strangely, tends to sleep anywhere and everywhere, seems lost all the time, the list goes on. He is happy as long as he is left to do what he likes. But life and society at large do not function this way, do they?
With boys and girls of his own age, Sanjay behaves better. It is as though he can identify people who have similar hobbies and ideas as his, and with these people, he can spend multiple hours at a stretch without even thinking once about us. With us, in contrast, he is all disoriented. No, I know the thing about generation gap, but there needs to be a reason for its existence, right? I mean I have not done anything to Sanjay as yet that might explain why he tends to remain aloof and detached from me. And, anyway, are not children supposed to be naturally very close to their parents, whatever the circumstances might be? Are not children naturally inclined to share a special and eternal bond of love and trust with the people who beget them? But that is not the case with Sanjay. And this makes me terribly tense.
Therefore, I have decided to become cruel now. Just sitting and pondering about stuff is not going to be of much help, I have concluded. No, I am not going to allow my son to grow up to become a social misfit. It’s all too hunky dory to say that one should let a person be how he or she is without caring about the society, but, the truth at the end of the day is that social acceptance and assimilation are of paramount importance. Therefore, I have decided to start sending my son to this new play school in the city from the next session onwards and thereafter to the best public school in town. I hope he is able to improve himself there under the guidance and rulers of his teachers. I hope he becomes like you and me over time.
Actually, not only religion and customs, Sanjay has complaints to make about almost everything, and I fail to grasp the reason behind these perpetual complaints of his. We all in fact can not quite understand what is wrong with him. This, I reckon, is primarily because he is too reticent and taciturn. Any coherent communication with him seems impossible. He seems reluctant to talk to anybody in fact.
Whenever we sit together, we start narrating stories of Sanjay’s irreverence and wickedness to each other. There is always something new to add to the conversations and some new story to tell every time, courtesy Sanjay’s prolificacy in creating new scandals. Sometimes we even talk about his differences and eccentricities while he is within earshot. But eliciting any kind of response from him is difficult. He becomes so engrossed in what he is doing that it hardly matters to him what any body says or does at that time.
I often sit and ponder if there is perhaps more sense in Sanjay’s actions and words than ours. We adults are often accused of failing to understand our children. I do not want to commit that mistake. So, I have really tried to understand my son, and have even attempted wholeheartedly to see the world from his perspective. But his thoughts and ideas sometimes seem of such an altogether different league that I start doubting my own intellectual capabilities. I am becoming too old and disconnected it seems. And this feeling is unpleasant to say the least.
When I come to think about it, I realize that Sanjay was perhaps born different from people like you and me. What else can be the reason behind a disposition as unusual as his? After all, an ordinarily normal person does not challenge society as profusely as he does. You know, within the four walls of our home, his behavior is still tolerable. But, outside, in social gatherings and public places, he becomes too much of an embarrassment: doesn’t care how he is dressed, doesn’t think twice before saying anything, is not fond of meeting new people, is not careful while eating, likes music that everybody hates, walks strangely, tends to sleep anywhere and everywhere, seems lost all the time, the list goes on. He is happy as long as he is left to do what he likes. But life and society at large do not function this way, do they?
With boys and girls of his own age, Sanjay behaves better. It is as though he can identify people who have similar hobbies and ideas as his, and with these people, he can spend multiple hours at a stretch without even thinking once about us. With us, in contrast, he is all disoriented. No, I know the thing about generation gap, but there needs to be a reason for its existence, right? I mean I have not done anything to Sanjay as yet that might explain why he tends to remain aloof and detached from me. And, anyway, are not children supposed to be naturally very close to their parents, whatever the circumstances might be? Are not children naturally inclined to share a special and eternal bond of love and trust with the people who beget them? But that is not the case with Sanjay. And this makes me terribly tense.
Therefore, I have decided to become cruel now. Just sitting and pondering about stuff is not going to be of much help, I have concluded. No, I am not going to allow my son to grow up to become a social misfit. It’s all too hunky dory to say that one should let a person be how he or she is without caring about the society, but, the truth at the end of the day is that social acceptance and assimilation are of paramount importance. Therefore, I have decided to start sending my son to this new play school in the city from the next session onwards and thereafter to the best public school in town. I hope he is able to improve himself there under the guidance and rulers of his teachers. I hope he becomes like you and me over time.
Into The Wild
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; / There is a rapture on the lonely shore; / There is society, where none intrudes, / By the deep sea, and music in its roar; / I love not man the less, but Nature more... / ”
At some point in the history of human civilization, the society became more important than the individual, more important than individual rights, individual freedom, and, most importantly, individual happiness. They say that man is a social animal. Well, that’s exactly what he is, but only to an extent. What they forgot to say is that, more than an animal, man is an individual human being, a private person first. Man is, above all, a man. Ideally speaking, that is.
In the present social structure, all of us have two roads in front of us, one overcrowded, the other less frequented. Both of these roads lead to death. But the destination does not count; it is the journey that matters. While the overcrowded road has flowerbeds of social acceptance with thorns of individual negation, its solitary parallel is riddled with thorns of social exclusion and flowers of individual freedom. There is hardly any midway between these two paths. Quite sadly, there is none.
The road you opt for in life decides the kind of person you become. Nothing here is easier or more difficult. It’s more about knowledge, intellectuality and ideas. You can either transform yourself to have company or you can transform your world and have freedom. The choice of course is difficult to make. But it is also the important choice that one is got to make in life.
“Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road.”
Christopher McCandless, the protagonist of Into The Wild (2007), chooses the road less taken. After graduating from college with some excellent A’s, Chris decides to flee civilization to go into the wild. He just leaves, without informing anyone, without knowing what he is going to find. He donates a large portion of his money to charity, burns the rest of it, and on his feet, with some most basic things for company, he just escapes. From the society, into the wild.
“It should not be denied that being footloose has always exhilarated us. It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations. Absolute freedom.”
When the premise is as interesting as this, you morosely hope that the rest does not disappoint you. This movie’s rest, thank god, does not. It only in fact draws you into it with its sheer beauty, both visual and verbal. While Sean Penn’s direction is as impressive as his two Oscar winning performances (one deserved, other not so much), Emile Hirsch’s performance is top-notch too. But it is perhaps the dialogues that have the largest contribution to make in the movie’s high aesthetic quality.
“The sea's only gifts are harsh blows, and occasionally the chance to feel strong. Now I don't know much about the sea, but I do know that that's the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once. To find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions. Facing the blind death stone alone, with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head.”
The character of McCandless has been criticized for being an escapist, a loser if you may. After all, how wise is it to run away from the world in case you are sick of it? Should you not instead stay and attempt to transform it, make it better somehow? But how powerful is an individual against the whole grain of society? And should you not move on when you perceive circumstances to be hopeless? Is it not your right to do what you want, notwithstanding anything, except a concern for others’ peace and happiness? The answers are not really easy, disliking this movie less so.
“Society, man! You know, society! Cause, you know what I don't understand? I don't understand why people, why every fucking person is so bad to each other so fucking often. It doesn't make sense to me. Judgment. Control. All that, the whole spectrum.”
All in all, Into The Wild is a haunting experience, moving and influential. Many scenes just stay with you long after the credits have rolled and the soundtrack has ended. If you had loved the anti-materialist brand of nihilism of Fight Club, give Into The Wild’s awesomeness a try. You, like me, might just end up being more impressed.
“What if I were smiling and running into your arms? Would you see then what I see now?”
At some point in the history of human civilization, the society became more important than the individual, more important than individual rights, individual freedom, and, most importantly, individual happiness. They say that man is a social animal. Well, that’s exactly what he is, but only to an extent. What they forgot to say is that, more than an animal, man is an individual human being, a private person first. Man is, above all, a man. Ideally speaking, that is.
In the present social structure, all of us have two roads in front of us, one overcrowded, the other less frequented. Both of these roads lead to death. But the destination does not count; it is the journey that matters. While the overcrowded road has flowerbeds of social acceptance with thorns of individual negation, its solitary parallel is riddled with thorns of social exclusion and flowers of individual freedom. There is hardly any midway between these two paths. Quite sadly, there is none.
The road you opt for in life decides the kind of person you become. Nothing here is easier or more difficult. It’s more about knowledge, intellectuality and ideas. You can either transform yourself to have company or you can transform your world and have freedom. The choice of course is difficult to make. But it is also the important choice that one is got to make in life.
“Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road.”
Christopher McCandless, the protagonist of Into The Wild (2007), chooses the road less taken. After graduating from college with some excellent A’s, Chris decides to flee civilization to go into the wild. He just leaves, without informing anyone, without knowing what he is going to find. He donates a large portion of his money to charity, burns the rest of it, and on his feet, with some most basic things for company, he just escapes. From the society, into the wild.
“It should not be denied that being footloose has always exhilarated us. It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations. Absolute freedom.”
When the premise is as interesting as this, you morosely hope that the rest does not disappoint you. This movie’s rest, thank god, does not. It only in fact draws you into it with its sheer beauty, both visual and verbal. While Sean Penn’s direction is as impressive as his two Oscar winning performances (one deserved, other not so much), Emile Hirsch’s performance is top-notch too. But it is perhaps the dialogues that have the largest contribution to make in the movie’s high aesthetic quality.
“The sea's only gifts are harsh blows, and occasionally the chance to feel strong. Now I don't know much about the sea, but I do know that that's the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once. To find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions. Facing the blind death stone alone, with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head.”
The character of McCandless has been criticized for being an escapist, a loser if you may. After all, how wise is it to run away from the world in case you are sick of it? Should you not instead stay and attempt to transform it, make it better somehow? But how powerful is an individual against the whole grain of society? And should you not move on when you perceive circumstances to be hopeless? Is it not your right to do what you want, notwithstanding anything, except a concern for others’ peace and happiness? The answers are not really easy, disliking this movie less so.
“Society, man! You know, society! Cause, you know what I don't understand? I don't understand why people, why every fucking person is so bad to each other so fucking often. It doesn't make sense to me. Judgment. Control. All that, the whole spectrum.”
All in all, Into The Wild is a haunting experience, moving and influential. Many scenes just stay with you long after the credits have rolled and the soundtrack has ended. If you had loved the anti-materialist brand of nihilism of Fight Club, give Into The Wild’s awesomeness a try. You, like me, might just end up being more impressed.
“What if I were smiling and running into your arms? Would you see then what I see now?”
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