After the debut novel “Anita and Me” that won British-Indian Meera Syal a nomination for the Guardian Fiction Prize, the title of her second book tends to sound ludicrous. And Syal’s book is indeed peppered with a comic cast comprising the extended family members of her three female protagonists, all spouting Punjabi, decimating English, and hilariously fulfilling clichés.

But the humor and plot are background for Syal’s main theme: the cultural identity of South Asian immigrant women. This book is, mainly, an impassioned critique on the impossibilities faced by these women. The inspiration for the novel apparently came from two juxtaposed headlines that Syal saw in a paper: ‘Asian Women Top the Graduate League’ and ‘Asian Women Top the Suicide and Self Harm League’.

The British-Indian protagonists of Life… similarly find themselves pulled in different directions by traditional society and the inevitable modernity. There’s homely Chila, who only wants to do the right (that is, South Asian) thing; rebellious Tania, self-exiled from her community; spunky, intellectual Sunita, married with two children. The story begins with Chila’s marriage to “dreamboat” Deepak, whose former list of girlfriends, unknown to anyone, includes Tania. Shortly thereafter, Tania begins a documentary which uses her two best friends as fodder, revealing their personal agonies and the cracks in their marriages. Sunita’s marriage begins to fall apart, Tania and Deepak resume their tortured affair, and Chila struggles with her pregnancy and self-doubt. Eventually, however, (after a plot worthy of a soap opera) the women rally together, and mend both their friendships and their ties to their community.

Syal’s writing is fluid, poignant, laugh-out-loud hilarious, and occasionally poetic. But this isn’t meant to be a review on the novel; rather, it’s a personal reflection on the novel’s main theme. I was surprised to find how much I identified with each character – and then I realized how much my own views on my culture and upbringing are actually a conglomeration of the views that Sunita, Chila and Tania themselves express. More importantly, it’s a set of experiences that I’m sure most South Asian women would relate to.

For instance, there’s Sunita – a rabid feminist in her college days, fully knowledgeable of her roots and the role of gender in her community. Like her, I want to understand first; to follow traditions and practices because I know their meanings, not because I’ve been conditioned into them by my family. Perhaps it’s become so natural to me to accept these values instead of finding out where they originate from that I’ve hardly made the effort – but more than ever now, I’d like to aspire to Sunita’s level of understanding. I do wonder, however, if the sometimes antiquarian assumptions behind these traditions would lead me to sympathize far more with Tania instead.

Tania’s defiant attitude towards her community and her rejection of its society is something I definitely understand. She recalls how she was “force-fed” her culture against the “corruption” that was the Western world of London, and describes the hypocritical world that successful South Asian women live in - “we meet the world head up… we meet our men and we bow down gratefully.” That hypocrisy is probably understandable; a result of the clash between modern and traditional. For instance, it always surprises me that parents still expect their children to live and earn degrees in foreign countries, and then meekly accept the idea of an arranged marriage. It is often a source of great exasperation for me, and I sometimes wonder if I wouldn’t be better off leaving altogether, like Tania.

But I know that this is impossible, because my culture has provided me with a set of values that form the framework of my life. The sense of inclusiveness I feel whenever I attend any gathering or religious function is a sense of comfort, of belonging. Chila knows and even accepts this, asserting that “some of the old rules hold you up.” As narrow-minded as this might appear, the certainty of knowing what’s accepted and what is not is often a secure corral, and one that I remain in most of the time.

Identifying with the characters themselves made the book a thoroughly interesting read. But I took away something further from that, which might be an extension of the ideas of these three women – the concept that being “cultured” is just that: a concept, not a set of preordained rules.

It might seem like stating the obvious, but I’ve found myself, and those around me, often compartmentalizing the girls we know. There were the “good” ones (the quiet girls without any apparent interest in acquiring boyfriends) and the “bad” ones (the ones who sneaked out to clubs and actually spoke to members of the opposite sex).

And then there’s one of my close friends: no stranger to parties, and equally enthusiastic about visiting the temple every week. In stark contrast, I’m entirely indifferent to clubs and going out in general, and have next to no interest in religious activities. I don’t think either of us is more “good South Asian girl” than the other – and I think this is what Syal is trying to say with her three main female characters. The very concept of culture, formed as it is by society and circumstance, is so fluid that I can’t bring myself to acknowledge any universal standard, regardless of how I’ve been brought up.

I enjoyed this book primarily because it gave me so much food for thought, and it left me wondering one other thing: what on earth did the title mean?

Change, it goes without saying, is difficult, and this includes the shift in perceptions of what even constitutes culture. Syal’s women struggle to find a place for themselves and their values in a society that hasn’t yet relinquished its old traditions. As Chila’s mother tells her, “Life isn’t all ha ha hee hee,” but Chila, Tania and Sunita eventually figure out their balancing act.

Perhaps Syal’s title is simply encouragement; a shout out to all South Asian women managing the impossible.

Publishers: Macmillian
Pages: 336

Full Title: Life Isn’t All Ha Ha Hee Hee

Photo Coutesy:jas kaur, sarboo

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