An auto-fictional account of a childhood ending in turn-of-the-century India, delivered by an entrancing new voice.
When at year’s end a schoolteacher asks her pupils to write an essay about their vacations over the summer, twelve-year-old Zeenat turns the routine exercise into a daily exploration of her innermost thoughts. It is the dawn of a new millennium, and she’s coming of age in a politically unstable Mumbai that is still resolutely Bombay to her Muslim community. Though the world beyond her window is full of change, Zeenat spends long hours bored inside her family apartment, preoccupied with the cockroaches under the fridge, the pigeon’s nest above the cupboard, the shared toilet in the building, and the American shows on TV. At night, she reads English books in the kitchen as she questions where she fits between languages in this post-colonial society. But as summer drags on, the boredom of her routine gives way to anxieties around the place of women in society, the violence that lurks underneath their daily lives, and the anticipation of childhood’s end.
A delightful book that I devoured in two days. Felt like reading Judy Blume - albeit grittier - set in another time and place. There’s so much in here that made me laugh out loud, and so much that made me pause. An excellent work that gives voice to a place and a time and a point of view that we rarely come across.
One of the worst (though apt) book titles ever. One of the best, most understated novels I've read in ages.
Narrator, 12-year-old Zeenat journals everyday of her summer vacation in her Bombay neighbourhood, a neighbourhood taxi drivers refuse to enter, day or night. She shares her bathroom with a rat. She accepts her surroundings, even as she subverts the difficulties of living as an Islamic girl. Zeenat is not a victim. Zeenat is a rebel with a clue, and a cause.
Nuff said.
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