Coming Out of the Hindu Closet
Learning to Embrace My Roots + Indigo Top 100 Books of 2024
The Indigo Top 100 List
I don’t write expecting to end up on any lists or to receive any accolades (my last Substack made clear that none of that is predictable.) But it is always nice when it happens, especially if it means people are connecting with the book. A Good Indian Girl being on Indigo’s Top 100 Books of 2024 List will forever be a career highlight for me. For those who aren’t Canadian, Indigo is like the Barnes & Noble of Canada. And Indigo’s support of A Good Indian Girl has been what every author dreams of. It is an absolute privilege to be sharing a list with so many authors I admire like Percival Everett, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Shilpi Somaya Gowda, Rachel Khong, Lianne Moriarty, and Kristin Hannah, among so many others.
October was a big month in other ways too. I had my head down to meet a deadline for my 2025 release. It was the hardest edit I’ve ever had to do, and while the essence of the story remained the same, I basically had to rewrite the whole thing. It is a better story as a result, and I’m grateful for all I learned in that process so I can continue to develop and grow as a writer. I’m now sitting with bated breath to hear back if my editors like it. The waiting that comes after sending out a piece of your heart and soul via Word document is next level, and there’s a lot of meditation during that time.
We are also actively working on covers, which is equal parts harrowing and exciting, but I will hopefully have something to share with you soon.
And last, but not least, I was invited to speak at the American Association of University Women (AAUW) Literary Luncheon along with Belinda Huijuan Tang and Rufi Thorpe (both of whom are fabulous people and writers and I hope you check out their work), and it was one of the most meaningful events I’ve attended as an author. AAUW raises scholarship money for girls and that mission is so near and dear to my heart growing up in a household where I often heard “education is the one thing no one can ever take away from you.” Hearing from one of the inspiring scholarship recipients nearly brought me to tears with her resilience, and I’d encourage anyone who has the means to donate and help fund more of these life-changing scholarships.
Diwali & Embracing My Roots
Diwali (the festival of lights) just finished and we are moving into the Indian New Year tomorrow. These holidays were always celebrated by my family when we were growing up, and my parents would get very into the festivities. But after we moved from Toronto when I was young, we moved to a very small town in Oklahoma. And the thriving Indian community our family once had was now nonexistent. In Oklahoma, we were one of a few Indian families in the entire town, and my brother and I were the only Indian kids in our respective grades. Given that, the need for assimilation was not a choice but a survival mechanism. We had plenty of outward things that made us stick out: our names, the way we looked, the foods we ate, so we didn’t need to pile anything more on top of that.
That meant, Indian rituals were performed at home, with our immediate family, but not otherwise discussed outside of our house. I loved the traditions we engaged in at home, but I never told my friends if there was an Indian holiday or celebration. I had no need to give people more reasons to see me as other. The holidays that we outwardly celebrated were ones like Christmas, Halloween, Easter, and Thanksgiving so that we could show that we, too, were just like everyone else in our small town.
I carried this with me into adulthood, and after I moved away for university and then out on my own, I distanced myself so far that I didn’t even know that major holidays like Diwali were even coming up or had happened. They weren’t a part of the life that I was building, so other than my parents calling me on those days, they played no other role in my life. As I got older, however, I started to miss those traditions, but wasn’t sure what to do about it. I lived far from my family, hardly had any Indian friends given my chosen career path, and I wasn’t well-versed on the customs or traditions. So, the part of the culture I had always gravitated toward was the food. And I began to experience my culture through cooking. And I recall one day in my late-twenties, I had decided to have my (mostly non-Indian) friends over for a home-cooked Indian meal. That meant, I was calling my mom repeatedly as I cooked to confirm that I was doing things right, and she asked me if I was cooking for a Diwali party.
I froze. I hadn’t even known it was Diwali, but I heard the excitement in her voice that I was celebrating our holiday, did a quick google search to see that my pre-planned dinner that was organized without even a whiff of a thought about Diwali was actually planned for then, and I said yes. Whether it was dumb luck or divine intervention, a tradition was born. Each year after, I hosted a Diwali dinner and cooked for weeks leading up to it, because I had to do it in the off hours from my job, and given my personality, everything had to be made from scratch down to the paneer. It became a ritual that I looked forward to each year, but as far as my professional life went, I still kept that part of my life secret—not wanting to stand out any more than I already did.
In 2016, I started a new job, and decided I was going to come out of the Hindu closet, so to speak. Until that point, I had never referenced being Hindu in a professional setting. I’d always given some vague response that suggested I wasn’t religious, or maybe even agnostic or spiritual, depending on what was more accepted at the time. But those were never really quite right, because I’d always felt Hindu, but didn’t think that was okay to say. Some part of me knew that people would crinkle their noses and ask what that meant, and I wasn’t sure how to even answer such a question. So it felt safer to give one of the more socially accepted answers.
That year, Donald Trump’s run to the presidency was more successful than any of us anticipated, him being elected was imminent, and I was already seeing the country change in ways that were incomprehensible. While that was a moment in my life when it would have been safer to continue to hide my differences, some part of me felt compelled to show up and remind people that I exist. That my culture and life are worthy of the same respect as anyone else’s.
So, that was the first year that I affirmatively took time off work for Diwali and the Indian New Year. I put up an out of office with that as the stated reason I was out and said I would not be responding, signaling for the first time that my cultural holidays deserved the same deference as Hanukah or Christmas. That may sound like an easy thing to do, but it was a struggle to be that open about something I had long kept hidden and been conditioned to think was a negative. For the first time, I had dedicated time to prepare the meal the way someone else would a Thanksgiving dinner rather than having to cram it into my off-work hours in secret. I was doing this when the country was already beginning to divide, and it was scary to put myself out there culturally for the first time in my life, but it also felt essential to show up authentically.
It also made it easier that I was in an environment for the first time where I knew there wouldn’t be repercussions. I had a well-traveled, liberal boss and a team of people from many diverse backgrounds, who I knew would never question that decision and respect the boundary. That hadn’t been the case in my previous jobs, and I knew that had I said I was celebrating those religious holidays, while I would have gotten the approval because it would have been against the law to not give it, the sentiment around it wouldn’t have been the same. My colleagues and bosses wouldn’t have avoided sending me emails during that time, and would have expected responses, and I, in turn, as a good model minority, would have obliged.
Now, as someone who writes about culture and identity, I have to take a hard look at myself. The truth is that I still have work to do in terms of believing my culture is as important as the Christian and Jewish faiths that were most dominant in my professional life. The way we are conditioned as children is a heavy lift to undo, and that includes believing my culture is as important as the more visible ones. It is a journey to confidently say to other people that I am Hindu without feeling that somehow makes me less than. But as I’m reminded of the political climate of 2016 and feel it playing out again, this Diwali I am even more determined to shine a light on my culture and continue to hope that light will eclipse the darkness, not just for me, but for all of us. The world is a more authentic and compassionate place when we are all shining our inner lights together.
Bookish People to Know
As many of you know, I was born in Canada and even though I have not lived there in a long time, it will always be among the places I call home. This month, I’m very excited to feature Indo-Caribbean Canadian bookstagrammer Lochi.
I first met Lochi because she reached out to me when she was trying to get an ARC of A Good Indian Girl, and had been denied access on NetGalley. Once I saw that a fellow Canadian South Asian wanted to read it enough to seek me out, I made sure she got a copy. Since then, we’ve developed a friendship, and I can’t wait till our paths cross IRL.
Here’s a chance to get to know her better and pick up some of her favorite books.
Lochi, tell us a little about yourself, including a fun fact we might not otherwise know from your social media.
Hello! My name is Lochi (it rhymes with mochi). I’m from Toronto. When I’m not reading, I’m obsessed with afternoon teas. Little sandwiches, petit fours, and baked goods all with tea. I’m there, sipping on a cup of tea and quietly loving it.
You’ve described yourself as Indo-Caribbean, and Guyana has an absolutely fascinating history. For those who aren’t familiar with it, can you tell us a little about that?
Here’s how I break it down: my familial ancestors were Indian indentured labourers (fancy word for slavery) that were transported by the British from India all the way to the British colony of Guyana. In Guyana, they worked on sugar cane fields (owned by families that still crank generational wealth from it to this day) for a pittance salary (basically pennies) and were treated horribly. The British Empire enjoyed all the wealthy from the sugar. Meanwhile, Guyana and her people never saw any of it.
In this dark period, many India indentured labourers brought their culture, faith, and traditions along with them. They befriended the freed African slaves and Amerindian peoples (the Indigenous people of Guyana). Sadly, many indentured labourers didn’t make their way back home to India (the passage back was too expensive and treacherous). For those who were able to return, they were shunned. So, they had no other choice but to go back to Guyana. There, they built a life, gained a new identity while in the Caribbean, and charted their own course. All the while missing home.
That is an all too familiar colonization history. How do you feel it impacted you?
This history has been passed down from generations and is the culmination of who I am today. I have a strength and determination to simply live that is deeply rooted in me. Being Indo-Caribbean is accepting my heritage knowing that it’s not mainstream. It’s constantly explaining my identity and sharing the similarities and connections I have with the South Asian community, while still being an outsider. I like it, it makes me fabulous *flips hair*. I carry my history with pride, and I want to share more about it with my book community.
Was that part of the inspiration to start your bookstagram account?
I created Lochi’s Library on a snowy cold day in February this year. I had a lot of free time and quite frankly, I needed something to do. I was shocked that there was a place where I could talk about books, engage with authors, and just do bookish things. Initially, it was all fun. Things changed in the summer of this year where I pivoted my page.
In what way? And what led to the change?
I was initially denied an ARC of A Good Indian Girl and was sad. So I decided to send a DM to Mansi and ‘shoot my shot’. I knew I needed to read it, and Mansi made it happen. I read the book in a time of my life when I was just floating and kind of directionless. I was in the South of France eating, drinking, flitting from place to place while soaking in the sun. But I was also ruminating, and thinking. The alignment in the book freaked me out. It was the universe placing a book in my life because it knew I needed it. (Note: I did not ask Lochi to say this…lol.)
After reading A Good Indian Girl and reflecting on Karishma’s storyline and the publishing industry, I now primarily champion books written predominantly by South Asian authors, and I’m thrilled to see that people are connecting with the content. The need to support marginalized voices is undeniable right now, and I’m happy to play any part I can in that growth. I hope Lochi’s Library is a safe space to share books, celebrate authors, and just be a good place for positive vibes.
It is brave to openly commit a platform to supporting and bolstering underrepresented voices, and to think that my novel played a role in that is beyond humbling. But this is an interview about you, so what have you read that makes you feel the most seen?
There are pieces of several books that have snuck their way into my psyche and have settled into me as a reader. In an odd way, I carry them with me and they resonate for entirely different reasons.
Whether it’s Jyoti from A Good Indian Girl discussing the reality of family planning and fertility fears, Gia from Sunshine and Spice by Aurora Palit fighting for her career and defending her identity, the inexplicable pressure women place on themselves to achieve something by a certain age in The Thirty Before Thirty List by Tasneem Rashid, or discussing the reality of women entering politics from Flirting with Disaster by Naina Kumar.
It’s like a mosaic. Each book is a tile, distinctive but adds something special to the entire design. Once you step back, and look at the entire piece, it’s whole. But you understand the importance of each tile in making the mosaic shine. As a reader, I learn different things, I reflect on my lived experience, and I also try to approach life differently. Those quiet moments while reading resonate and I cherish them.
What is a book you wish more people knew about?
A Great Country by Shilpi Somaya Gowda. A Canadian author that wrote a book that will make readers sit in discomfort and think about the current state of the world.
What was the last book that made you laugh?
Oh wow, I haven’t laughed out loud, but I certainly giggled while reading Spiral by Bal Khabra.
What is the last book that made you cry?
My eyes recently welled up while reading There’s Something About Mira by Sonali Dev.
What types of books would you like to see more of on the shelves?
There hasn't been a South Asian author in the adult romance genre to make the New York Times best seller list in over ten years. TEN YEARS. Romance is generating billions of dollars right now and South Asian authors deserve a piece of the pie. Readers are engaged, eagerly waiting, and flock to a new release ready to uplift and celebrate. My only hope is that publishing houses are listening and watching. If not, then I’ll do everything I can to make noise.
Recent Read
Short stories are a different skill set from what I write, and I have always found them challenging. I’m always in awe when a writer is able to create not just one short story, but an entire book of them and weave them together in a way that feels seamless. That’s exactly what Deepa Rajagopalan did in Peacocks of Instagram, which is also a finalist for the Giller Prize.
This collection tells the stories of different women across the Indian diaspora and also brings them together such that a character from one story will be the main character in another, and the reader gets different glimpses of their lives. One of the really unique things about this collection is how the women are portrayed. Deepa has created complex, flawed characters who have experiences that I have not otherwise seen in South Asian fiction. The women explore their power, sense of self, and feelings about what home means to them in unique ways. The stories also travel the globe, spanning Canada, California, and South Africa. The writing is poignant and smart, but it also avoids overtelling the story, which is a true writerly skill. Deepa often lets the moral of each story hang there in the silence between the words, in a way that leaves you thinking about each woman’s journey long after the page.
Thank you all for joining me on this journey…I still can’t believe that I get to do this work and it wouldn’t be possible without your support.
xo,
mansi