Chetan Bhagat: The Paris Hilton of Writing

Chetan Bhagat, or CB, is the author of five blockbuster novels (selling in millions);

'Five Point Someone' (2004), 'One Night at a Call Center' (2005), the '3 Mistakes of My Life' (2008) '2 States' (2009), 'Revolution 2020' (2011) and his latest book du jour 'What Young India Wants', his first non-fiction. Most of his books have been made into movies but, except '3 Idiots', which was only successful because the script was nothing like the book, none of them have done that well. The New York Times, called him the 'biggest selling English language novelist in India's history.' He claims to be the voice of India, writes op-ed columns for English dailies, and is part of literary panels across the country. For me, he's just a delusional man who has it in his head that he can write.

Why is he so successful then? Is it because he is a cunning marketeer or is it because the Indian readers have turned stupid? I have struggled to answer that question for long. One shouldn't judge others based on their reading preferences, but one has to agree that it says a lot about them as a person. A decade or so ago, children started their literary journey by reading 'Wizard of Oz', 'Malgudi Days', 'Hardy Boys', then graduated to Sidney Sheldon, Grisham, and later to other greats. Today, almost every high school, senior school and college-going boy or girl has read at least one of Chetan Bhagat's books. That, for me, is horrifying. Primarily for the reason that there is nothing one takes away from his books, except terrible, terrible English, comparable to the atrocious English in 'Chacha Choudhary' comics; and a "style" of writing that makes me want to barf. We are a nation that boasts of writers like R.K. Narayan, Shashi Deshpande, Khushwant Singh, Arundhati Roy, and Rabindranath Tagore. I am not even listing writers of Indian-origin living abroad, the likes of Kiran Desai, Jhumpa Lahiri, Vikram Seth etc. In the same breath, when people list Chetan Bhagat, that's like saying Cricket and gulli-danda enjoy similar patronage.

What has happened to our tastes in books? Good books! Why have we succumbed to mediocrity? Why is our youth interested in trash? Are you telling me that CB has the talent to share a podium with the likes of Rohinton Mistry and Naipaul and Amitav Ghosh?

He may claim to be a writer par excellence. He may also claim that he doesn't need to approach any other publisher ever because Rupa will always have his back. My question is will the giants like Harper, Random House or Hachette, even look at his manuscript without turning up their noses? Will his work ever be accepted by a respectable literary magazine, say New Yorker or Boston Review or Paris Review? I would like to throw him an open challenge. If he gets his work accepted by one of these publishing houses or literary magazines, I'd buy all his books and will praise him till the day I'm alive. Until then, he's the worse writer I know.

CB's novels, like Sarah Palin's quotes, are overloaded with dumbness and implausible idiocy. His books are as famous for nothing as Paris Hilton (OK , maybe a little for her sex tape), and that is what his readers celebrate, the nothingness in his books – plot or grammar-wise – an author with an enormous lack of literary talent, and who is what he is today, purely because our youth has dumbed down.

Pick up any of his books. Let's say, '2 States'. After 296 pages of no language, plot, character development or just about anything that remotely makes for a good read (but of course only to elitist prigs), you'll throw yourself off a building, or jump in front of a train. And if you're an up and coming writer, you'll lock yourself in your room with donuts and a bucket-load of champagne bottles, stay in bed in your pyjamas, and weep for all the years you thought you were reading gold, and writing platinum.

In Bhagat's '2 States' – an autobiographical story about his marriage – because he can only write about his life; because he doesn't have the imagination to create anything new and when he does, it hurts your guts even more. The novel starts with a 2-page long prologue where he's at a psychotherapist's office nursing a broken heart. Then he starts off for real and we're taken back to his IIM days; early courtship; the problems he faced after being transferred to Chennai amidst a primarily Tamil-speaking populace; clash between families — his and hers, Punjabi family disliking the Tamil family and vice versa; some failed attempts at profundity and philosophy; few silly fillers and then a disgustingly sweet, hurried ending in the form of an Epilogue. What annoyed me the most about this novel, amongst other things that I have already mentioned above, was the butchering of Tamil language and the stereotyping of South Indians, and this despite having a Tamil-speaking wife (who after reading Revolution 2020, apparently told him he understands women better than themselves – I wanted to kill myself). His somewhat constipated use of Tamil words in the book like, Illa, enga, seri-seri, made him sound like a spaz. His observations – All Tamil women wear flowers in their hair; and Tamil men don't believe in pants and wear lungis even in shopping districts – are not only incredibly ridiculous, but are also offensive. Somewhere in the novel, the hero's girlfriend says, "Tell me you love me," over the phone. But the protagonist's mother is in the room, so he very smartly replies, "Movies I love. You should see them, too." I died. There are several such gems throughout the book. Another memorable line from the book goes something like this: "If this were a Booker-prize winning book, this paragraph would go on and on for three-long pages." I shut the book and took a moment to gather my thoughts. Then I laughed and thought to myself: Not in a million years would any of your books will ever come close to winning even a local, community-sponsored prize, let alone something as prestigious as Booker. Not because I am prejudiced, but because I know he doesn't have a scrap of writing talent.

Then why did 2 States sell 500,000 copies in its first year? Why do people love him so much? Yes, he has made readers out of non-readers. Yes, he has introduced a sizeable section of India's population to the idea of buying and reading English fiction, and yes, his books are bestsellers, but that doesn't mean shit. The fact remains that his work makes me want to gouge my eyes out.

Just out is his first non-fiction book, 'What Young India Wants'. It is a collection of his "opinion" pieces from Times of India and other publications. They were shallow and (as always) badly-written the first time I read them and are just as bad in the book as well. There is nothing thought-provoking or interesting. Just an un-edited, first-draft version of what he "thinks" is wrong with our nation. And adding to the shoddiness (just like his other books) – a rubbish book cover design.

His books are not only undermining the real value of literature, undermining all the good work authors have done before him and are doing, but are also discouraging, disheartening all the new, aspiring authors (agreed, not all of them are Chekhovs, but they most certainly are NOT CBs) who are working their butts off, dreaming of being published one day, of being heard. And while they are being shown the door by every publishing house in the country, this incredibly untalented, unliterary, pop-fiction "author" continues to be country's best-selling writing rockstar.

I will leave you with this anecdote, in his own words: "Once at Dehradun, a girl in the audience asked me, 'Sir, why is your hair so short?' Some may get offended by such a silly question but I explained to her that my hair is thin and when I grow it, it gets messy. She would never have asked that question to Salman Rushdie."

You think?

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