Kids Corner

Below, first and third image from bottom: courtesy, Anthony Russo, The Washington Post.

                Gautam Malkani

















Gautam
Malkani

Books

Londonstani

A Book Review by MANJYOT KAUR

 

LONDONSTANI, by Gautam Malkani. The Penguin Press, New York, 2006. ISBN-13: 978-0-14-311228-0 (pbk.). 342 pages. Price: $14.00.

 

Books are, among a million other things, for entertainment and escape. Londonstani, which I found while searching for a total change-of-pace "palate cleanser", amply fulfilled these purposes and many more, swiftly whisking me across the "Pond" to a very different world from my own. It made me laugh and recollect, wince and squirm, shake my head with disdain ... and identification.

Its author, the thirtyish Gautam Malkani, is a graduate of Cambridge University and an editor with the U.K.-based Financial Times. Although this novel sprung from his academic dissertation, its lingo couldn't be further from stuffy ivory-tower-speak. Always outrageously "in-your-face" and often saturated with profanity, it's a perversely twisted mash-up of Brit-Asian street slang and text-messaging shorthand, with doses of American hip-hop patois and Punjabi tossed in for good measure. (Luckily, there's an eight-page glossary at the end of the book for the uninitiated.)

This all adds up to a optimal fit for the brash adventures of a gang of Hounslow "rudeboys"  -  Hardjit, Ravi, Amit and Jas (the narrator)  -  as they and their mates swagger through late adolescence with all the machismo and bravado they can muster, savaging "goras", disparaging "coconuts", "chirpsin" with "fit" girls, reprogramming stolen cell phones, and pretending to study to retake their A-level exams along the way.

Their attempts at asserting their aggressive masculinity and materialistic obsessions with achieving the maximum degree of "designer desiness" keep them engrossed in the constant quest for perfectly-sculpted muscles, perfectly-shaped facial hair, perfectly-styled "garms", and, of course, as much glitzy "bling" as possible.

All of these wannabe-gangstas are not disenfranchised street kids from gritty ghettos, but suburb-dwelling members of firmly middle-class Sikh, Hindu and Muslim families of Subcontinental origin. Here lies what may well be Londonstani's major strength: its ironically spot-on and genuinely funny portrayals of the myriad of contradictions and absurdities that endlessly crop up in the protagonists' lives.

The tricked-out "Beemer" they cruise in is lilac-colored and sports a "K4V1TA" license plate, as it actually belongs to Ravi's mother. Their illicit cell phone racket is conducted in Hardjit's childishly-decorated bedroom, with frequent interruptions by his mum barging in at the most inopportune moments, to serve them trays of Cokes and homemade samosas or to scold them for messing up the "really real genuine silk" bedcover sent from Aunty Nirmal in Mumbai. A trip to the pharmacy (specially chosen for its attractive young cashier) to buy condoms ends in hilarious disaster, when the boys are caught red-handed  -  and red-faced  -  by Amit's nosy Aunty Narrinder.

All the above notwithstanding, their struggle to completely reinvent themselves meets with impressive success. As in any adolescent subculture, their lives are stringently rule-bound affairs, with strict conventions regarding the approved methods of fitting in, winning the all-important respect of one's tribal peers, lusting after barely-approachable girls, and coping with all that Malkani lumps together under the elegant rubric of "complicated family-related shit".

Hardjit (formerly known as Harjit), the book's main Sikh character, adds an additional key element to this explosive mix: hardcore violence. Surrounded by his homeboys in the grisly fight scene that opens the novel, he punctuates his kicks (each one carefully planted, so as not to damage his "wikid trainers") with the eloquent lines: "Hear wat my bredren b sayin, sala kutta? Come out wid dat shit again n I'ma knock u so hard u'll be shittin out yo mouth 4 real. (...) We ain't bein called no fuckin Paki by u or by any otha gora, u get me? U bhanchod b callin us lot Paki one more time n I swear we'll cut'chyu up, innit".

Flexing and preening in his Dolce & Gabbana vest, a tiger tattooed on his left shoulder and a Khanda on his right bicep, Hardjit then helpfully explains proper cross-cultural protocol to his utterly hapless opponent, now fumbling for his smashed eyeglasses and spluttering in a gruesome puddle of his own blood: "It ain't necessary for u 2 b a Pakistani to call a Pakistani a Paki. But u gots 2 b call'd a Paki yourself. U gots to b, like, a honorary Paki or someshit. Dat's da rule. Can't be callin someone a Paki less u also call'd a Paki, innit. We b honorary Pakis n u ain't".

One of Hardjit's most disturbing characteristics is the fusion of his external Sikh identity with his role as a violent enforcer. As Jas reminisces during the gang's drive from the fight back to Hounslow College: "When he sparked Imran, Hardjit slid his Karha down from his wrist over his fingers and used it like some badass knuckleduster. Even though he was one a them Sardarjis who don't even wear a turban, Hardjit always wore a Karha round his wrist and something orange to show he was a Sikh. We told him he shouldn't use his religious stuff that way. Didn't matter that he was fightin a Muslim".

An interesting, but all-too-brief aside shows us, however, that Hardjit also harbors a deeper and more thoughtful involvement with Sikhi. As Jas tells us: "He always used to go on bout how Sikhs and Hindus fought side by side in all them wars. He says Sikhs were the warriors a Hinduism one time. But even though Hardjit said all a this stuff, he din't like the way his mum had hung up pictures a Hindu Gods on their landing at home next to their pictures a Gurus. (...) I seen Hardjit win arguments with his dad by quoting bits a the Guru Granth Sahib that his dad din't even know, like them hardcore Muslim kids who keep tellin their parents what it says in the Koran".

While this information came as a welcome glimpse into another, much more positive aspect of Hardjit's persona, this bit of character development was, most unfortunately, not expanded upon. It should be noted that his elders hardly seem like role models when it comes to Sikhi; although a room in the family home (right outside the landing with the "mixed" images) has been set aside for Guru Granth Sahib, the sacred scriptures lie inert and irrelevant on a table, surrounded only by burning incense sticks. As Jas observes: "Usually you only get Hindus who'll blend their religion with Sikhism but Hardjit's mum an dad were one a the few Sikh families who blended back".

It also must be said that Hardjit's parents' Hindu counterparts are portrayed even more negatively in terms of the part religion plays in their lives. In the case of Amit's Brahmin family, caste considerations, and a grossly-exaggerated sense of the roles and duties that derive from them, end up having literally deadly consequences.

Not at all suprisingly for a work with tons of teenage appeal, almost all the adult figures in the book are depicted as thoroughly useless and clueless. The mothers are embarrassingly overbearing, endlessly attemping to interfere in every detail of their childrens' lives; the hen-pecked dads are utterly incapable of giving support and advice. The few teachers mentioned come across as ridiculously ineffectual and hopelessly dorky, tooling about in ancient Volvos or toting their school supplies in goofy plastic bags.

The blatant exception to this is Sanjay, whom Malkani portrays as a rather James Bond-like villain. Ironically, the boys are introduced to him through one of their mutual former teachers, who, wholly ignorant of Sanjay's real activities, lauds him to them as a shining example of a successful alumnus. His amoral life of decadent ultra-affluence and conspicuous consumption is totally financed by illegal means. Capitalizing upon their shared interest in stolen cell phones to draw the gang deeply into his shady world of "Bling Bling Economics", he uses them (especially Jas) as unwitting pawns in his elaborate scheme of international fraud and tax evasion.

The topic of interfaith relationships arises when Jas begins dating Samira, ignoring both friendly warnings from Sikhs and Hindus ("You think I's gonna go out wid a Muslim n let ma dad gimme fifty thapparhs across ma face wid a brick?", asks Amit) and enraged threats from her co-religionists to "turn him into Halal meat". Though he persists in his naive belief that love will prevail, he ruefully remembers studying India's Partition in school and remarks, "What we din't learn, though, was how some people who weren't even born when it happened remembered the bloodshed better than the people who were".

Further impediments to a "happily ever after" ending for the couple soon ensue when Hardjit's next fight brings up the issue of "sisterising": "Today, Hardjit was gonna teach Tariq a lesson or two for going out with a Sikh girl and then trying to convert her to Islam. (...) Sikh bredren're always accusing Muslim guys a tryin to convert their Sikh sisters. Seems that they even got a proper word for it: sisterising. Sometimes the Sikh girls'd start cryin, sayin they'd used brainwashing techniques an that. Sometimes this even turned out to be true. Sometimes, though, it was just the girl's way a dumpin some good-lookin Muslim guy she'd been seeing without gettin killed by her community for seeing him in the first place".

Apparently, it is a "lesson" not learned by Tariq, despite the beating he receives from Hardjit, as when he gets word of the nascent romance, pay-back is the first thing on his mind. As one of the gang's members reports: "Tariq had even taken the mike at some party an started MCing bout it, tellin all the Muslim brothers in da house to 'Grab a Sikh boy's sista, Cos Hardjit's crew chirpsed a Muslim and word is he kissed her'".

The last third of the book races at absolutely breakneck speed to its conclusion, with all three subplots -  the ill-fated young lovers, Amit's family crisis and Sanjay's nefarious dealings  -  precipitously entwining into dire consequences. Then, just three pages from the very end, comes a shocking revelation about Jas' true identity that forces the reader to rethink much of what's transpired throughout the novel. Whew!

If you're prissy or squeamish, don't even consider approaching Londonstani. If you're not (and I certainly hope you're not), then by all means, go for it! It will make you laugh out loud. It will make you uncomfortable and angry. It will make you challenge many of your pre-conceived notions. It will make you open your eyes  -  and your mind. And isn't that exactly what a book is supposed to do!

 

November 29, 2007

Conversation about this article

1: Satinder Gill (Khanna, India), November 30, 2007, 7:31 AM.

"Londonstani" is a true modern day classic. Malkani has created a masterpiece and yes, it is a roller coaster of emotions and a complete riot. I keep up with books and read like there is no tommorow, the normal pace being a book or two every week. After reading "Londonstani", I was too overwhelmed and could not start a book for the next two weeks. The review by Manjyot Kaur ji is awesome and, like they love to say it here in India, "mindblowing".

2: Jagdeep Singh (London, England), November 30, 2007, 11:25 AM.

This novel tells the truth about what some Sikh, Muslim and Hindu kids in some parts of the diaspora are experiencing. It's a very good novel dealing with the ways that 'gangster' and street culture and exaggerated masculinity fuse and clash with aspects of South-Asian second- and third-generation life in Western multicultural societies. Any British born Sikh, Muslim or Hindu who lives in the U.K. will recognise these characters.

3: Doris Jakobsh (Canada), December 02, 2007, 10:29 PM.

Manjyot, I am intrigued! I'll be picking up a copy very soon. Thanks for the tantalizing review.

4: Tejwant (U.S.A.), December 05, 2007, 1:14 PM.

This excellent review of the book shows how 'fitting in' is tough, whether one wants to be the part of a salad bowl or of a melting pot.

5: Victoria (Canada), January 28, 2010, 11:51 PM.

For my final year of high school I decided to take a class titled "teen wildlife". The class focused on teen related issues and history. This book was assigned as part of the final exam. I have to admit I was less than thrilled to be reading this book at first. Its masculine undertone and odd 'text' language made it difficult to adjust to. Upon completion of the book, however, I was really pleased that my teacher made us read it. Its rich emotion and conflict made me keep turning the pages. And I was very thankful for the glossary to get me caught up on Punjabi/ British slang, innit!

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