The Bandit Queens

Description

NATIONAL BESTSELLER • GOOD MORNING AMERICA BUZZ PICK • A young Indian woman finds the false rumors that she killed her husband surprisingly useful—until other women in the village start asking for her help getting rid of their own husbands—in this razor-sharp debut.

“A radically feel-good story about the murder of no-good husbands by a cast of unsinkable women.”—The New York Times Book Review (Editors’ Choice)

Longlisted for the Andrew Carnegie Medal • A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: Shondaland, She Reads, CrimeReads

Five years ago, Geeta lost her no-good husband. As in, she actually lost him—he walked out on her and she has no idea where he is. But in her remote village in India, rumor has it that Geeta killed him. And it’s a rumor that just won’t die.

It turns out that being known as a “self-made” widow comes with some perks. No one messes with her, harasses her, or tries to control (ahem, marry) her. It’s even been good for business; no one dares to not buy her jewelry.

Freedom must look good on Geeta, because now other women are asking for her “expertise,” making her an unwitting consultant for husband disposal.

And not all of them are asking nicely.

With Geeta’s dangerous reputation becoming a double-edged sword, she has to find a way to protect the life she’s built—but even the best-laid plans of would-be widows tend to go awry. What happens next sets in motion a chain of events that will change everything, not just for Geeta, but for all the women in their village.

Filled with clever criminals, second chances, and wry and witty women, Parini Shroff’s The Bandit Queens is a razor-sharp debut of humor and heart that readers won’t soon forget.“A radically feel-good story about the murder of no-good husbands by a cast of unsinkable women . . . A tale that demonstrates how the antidote to bleak circumstances is female friendship.”—New York Times Book Review

“[A] wild ride. Very funny—like, laugh-out-loud funny.”—NPR

“This funny, feel-good read is a rollicking ride rife with memorable characters involved in ill-fated hijinks. It also serves up commentary on class, power dynamics and the role of women in society, with a feminist history lesson to boot.”—Good Housekeeping

“Shroff cleverly considers how women might achieve autonomy within rural India’s patriarchal society through shrewd, if complicated, female friendships.”—The Washington Post

“This book is so much fun! In Parini Shroff’s dark comedy, the put-upon women of a small Indian village decide to get rid of their husbands—permanently. Things quickly spiral out of control as the bodies start piling up, the police get curious, and Geeta enters into a second-chance romance with a quiet widower who runs a speakeasy. And there’s a dog! What’s not to love?”—CrimeReads

“For fans of dark humor and social commentary! The book is expectantly funny, but it also tackles things like the pursuit of freedom from abuse. The characters are well thought out, and there’s great female friendship.”—BookRiot

“The Bandit Queens is an original, memorable, and endearing story. At times deeply serious, then laugh-out-loud funny, Parini Shroff has written a sobering but hopeful exploration of womanhood, social injustices, and second chances.”—Charmaine Wilkerson, New York Times bestselling author of Black Cake

“Twisty, compulsive, bold, surprising, moving: It’s a wonderful book.”—Elizabeth McCracken, bestselling author of The Souvenir Museum and The Hero of This Book

“Parini Shroff’s debut novel is a rollicking mash-up of adventure story, thriller, dark revenge, and comedy. An immensely enjoyable read!”—Cristina García, New York Times bestselling author of Dreaming in Cuban and The Lady Matador’s Hotel

“Shroff’s debut is a darkly hilarious take on gossip, caste, truth, village life, and the patriarchy. A perfect match for fans of Oyinkan Braithwaite’s My Sister, the Serial Killer and clever, subversive storytelling.”—Booklist (starred review)

“At once immensely sad . . . but it has laugh-out-loud moments too. This is a deeply human book, with women surviving and overcoming in their culture while still remaining a part of it. Similar in feel to Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri.”—Library Journal, starred reviewParini Shroff received her MFA from the University of Texas at Austin, where she studied under Elizabeth McCracken, Alexander Chee, and Cristina García. She is a practicing attorney and currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. The Bandit Queens is her debut novel.Dear Reader,
 
On February 14, 2013, I repaid the last of my law school loans. By that May, I’d quit my firm in Los Angeles to move to Austin, Texas to write. That summer, before I began my MFA program at UT, I visited my family in India.
 
While in Gujarat, my father, my brother, and I drove to the village of Samadra, to attend a women’s meeting of microloan group my father was involved in financing. I’d viewed my debt as shackles to a job for which I wasn’t particularly suited. To these women, however, loans were a boon, a buoy offering life and independence. Money lent them agency—so long as the men around them permitted it, that is.
 
By the time I was on a plane to Texas, Geeta and Farah were born within a short story and had forged an economic alliance to “get rid” of Farah’s money-siphoning husband. They were unsuccessful back then and the story ended with a quiet fizzle.
 
It was not until years later that I had the thought: But what if they actually did it? Not only that, what if other women wanted in on the action?
 
This book is set in a fictional village in Gujarat, where its denizens have recently acquired city comforts such as toilets and solar power. Despite these struggles specific to developing countries, this Indian village is reminiscent of any small neighborhood or community, where such intimacy can feel comforting
. . . or claustrophobic. Families have known each other for generations, reputation is one’s currency, gossip runs amok, and it’s all but impossible to keep secrets—especially ones about murder. The close- knit bonds within such a village, however, are also what drive these characters to their ultimate actions and choices.
 
I wrote this novel in 2020 and its pages were a cozy bolt-hole in the grim pandemic days where I, like so many of us, deeply missed my friends. Once the ensemble cast of female characters had been drawn, there was no stopping these rambunctious women. Isolated, they felt powerless; but together, the strong
bonds of their female friendship made the impossible suddenly achievable. It was then that I realized the heart of this book isn’t about what money can do, it’s about what friendship can.
 
Each day, I loved returning to these sassy, fierce women and their escalating antics. It is my hope that you will feel just as heartened when you join their world. They embody so many of the traits I admire in the women around me: unapologetic, clever, strong, insightful, kind, generous, and just plain damn fun.
 
With gratitude, Parini Shroff

Discussion Questions

1.        Discuss the title, “The Bandit Queens.” How do you think it relates to the overall story? How does it apply to each of the characters in the book?
 
2.        India and the village Geeta lives in are intrinsic to the narrative. Discuss the ways in which the setting functions as a character in the novel and how each of the other characters relates to it.
 
3.   The caste system has existed in some form in India for at least 3,000 years. It is a complex social structure wherein social roles like one’s profession and status became “hereditary,” resulting in fixed hierarchies. Were you familiar with India’s caste system before reading The Bandit Queens? In which ways did the pervasive societal structure appear within the novel? Are you familiar with any other caste systems across the globe? How are they like—and how do they differ from—India’s caste system?
 
4.         In what ways does the past seem to control, or at least influence, the present in The Bandit Queens? How do the characters try to repress or escape the pain of their pasts?
 
5.        Discuss the significance of the following quote from the book:
“It was, Geeta felt, just another example of women living within the spaces that others defined. Farah’s words came back to her: They don’t get to make all the choices. We get to make some, too. It was pretty but it wasn’t true.”
 
In what ways are the women in the novel limited in their choices? Did you find that Geeta’s view on the matter in the quote above evolved over the course of the story? How?
 
6.         What role does gossip play in the narrative? To what extent does it change the course of the characters’ lives and help drive the plot within the story?
 
7.       The author infuses snark, wit, and humor into a devastating storyline about women wanting to escape their abusive marriages. Explore ways in which you use humor in your own life to deal with difficult situations. Do you find this method to be effective?
 
8.         How are female relationships depicted in The Bandit Queens? How does the novel play with and subvert female stereotypes and archetypes? How would you position Geeta in relation to contemporary feminist discourse?
 
9.         Love, family, friendship, and feminism are all major narrative themes. What other overarching ideas did you notice? What did you take away from reading the book overall?
 
10.        What did you think about the ending—were you satisfied or disappointed? How do you picture Geeta’s life after the story closes?

 

Authentic Homemade Indian Chai

Serves 2

Ingredients:
1⅓ cup water
⅔ cup milk
1-inch ginger, freshly grated (about 3 oz.) 3 tsp. tea leaves
2 tsp. sugar, adjust to taste
Chai masala spices (can be replaced with ½ tsp. prepared chai masala) 2 green cardamom (elaichi)
2 cloves (laung)
½-inch cinnamon (dalchini) 8 black peppercorns
 
Instructions:
Heat water in a pot on medium-high heat.
 
While water is heating, crush spices using a mortar and pestle or a coffee/spice grinder. Add the crushed spices to the water.
 
Grate the ginger directly into the pot of water. Reduce heat to medium and bring the water to a boil.
 
Add the tea leaves and let it boil for a minute. You can also add sugar at this time or add it in the cup when serving. Add milk and stir it in.
 
Bring the tea to a boil. The tea can overflow easily, so keep a close eye. Once the tea comes to a boil. Turn off the gas and cover with a lid for one minute. Strain the tea in a cup and enjoy!
 
Source: pipingpotcurry.com/indian-masala-chai

Instant Pot Khichdi Geeta’s Favorite Childhood Comfort Food

Serves 4

Ingredients:
½ cup basmati rice washed (125 ml)
½ cup split yellow lentils (moong dal) washed (125 ml) 1 tbsp. ghee plus more for topping, or oil for vegan
1 tsp. cumin seeds (Jeera)
⅛ tsp. asafoetida (hing) optional, skip for gluten-free 4 cups water
1 tsp. salt adjust to taste
½ tsp. ground turmeric (haldi powder) Cilantro leaves chopped, to garnish
 
 
Instructions:
Add basmati rice and moong dal to a bowl and rinse with water a few times till the water runs clear.
 
Heat the instant pot in sauté mode and add ghee in it. Add cumin seeds and asafoetida.
 
When the cumin seeds start to sizzle, add rice, moong dal, and water. Add the salt and turmeric powder. Give it a stir. Then close lid with vent in sealing position.
 
Change the instant pot setting to manual or pressure cook mode at high pressure for 6 minutes. When the instant pot beeps, let the pressure release naturally (NPR).
 
Khichdi is ready to serve. Serve in bowls topped with a dollop of ghee, along with a side of papad and pickle.
 
Source: pipingpotcurry.com/khichdi-instant-pot

Who was the original Bandit Queen?
THE LEGENDARY PHOOLAN DEVI

  The notorious “Bandit Queen” who became legendary in India both for her acts of revenge and her aid to the lower castes.
 
She’d been born Phoolan Mallah, a Dalit and a woman, therefore twice-trodden. Even in a gang with no regard for civilization or law, caste reigned. Her husband Vikram was slaughtered over caste, she was gang-raped because of her caste. She killed twenty-two upper-caste men in revenge. And only then did she cease being a woman and become a legend; the country dropped her caste-marked surname

“Mallah,” and made her a Devi instead. ”

—The Bandit Queens

Phoolan Devin was born to a low-caste household in 1963 in a village on the banks of the sacred Yamuna River in the vast north Indian state of Uttar Pradesh.
 
At the age of 10, in what would be the first of her many acts of protest, she confronted her cousin, a man in his twenties, for fraudulently stealing her family’s land. He beat her unconscious with a brick.
 
When she was 11, Phoolan’s family married her to an older man. After being abused by her husband for several years, she managed to escape him and fall into the company of a gang of bandits. Devi participated in gang activities until she was kidnapped and taken to Behmai where she was repeatedly tormented and publicly humiliated over the course of 3 weeks. She was 17 years old.
 
In 1981, several months after her escape from Behmai, Phoolan and her new gang returned to the village of Behmai to seek revenge. She demanded that her tormentors be produced before her, but the two men could not be found. She rounded up 22 young men from the village and ordered them killed. The massacre sparked outrage and Devi became the most wanted person in India, with a $10,000 price on her head.
 
In 1983, Devi surrendered to the Indian government (then under Prime Minister Indira Ghandi) and was accused of 48 criminal offenses. She was imprisoned for 11 years until she was pardoned in 1994 at age 31.
 
Devi became a female rights activist and was elected a member of India’s Parliament from 1996 to1999—the first low-caste woman to hold that distinction.
 
On July 25, 2001, Phoolan Devi was assassinated by 3 masked shooters outside of her Delhi home. She was rushed to a hospital but was declared dead.
Source: Based on “The Life and Legend of India’s Bandit Queen” published on RoadsAndKingdoms.com at roadsandkingdoms.com/2017/indias-bandit-queenOne

The women were arguing. The loan officer was due to arrive in a few hours, and they were still missing two hundred rupees. Rather, Farah and her two hundred rupees were missing. The other four women of their loan group had convened, as they did every Tuesday, to aggregate their respective funds.

“Where is she?” Geeta asked.

No one answered. Instead, the women pieced their respective Farah sightings into a jigsaw of gossip that, to Geeta’s ears at least, failed to align. Saloni—­a woman whose capacity for food was exceeded only by her capacity for venom—­goaded most of the conversation.

“This isn’t the first time,” Priya said.

“And you know it won’t be the last,” Saloni finished.

When Preity mentioned she was fairly certain she’d seen Farah buying hashish, Geeta felt it best to nudge them to more prosaic matters. “Varunbhai is not going to like this.”

“Well, now we know where her money’s going,” Priya said.

“Some devout Muslim.” Saloni sniffed, the gesture dainty for a woman of her size. Lately she’d been attempting to rebrand her weight as evidence of her community status. Compounded with her preternatural talent for bullying, this guise worked on the women. But Geeta had known Saloni and her family since childhood—­when she ruled the playground rather than their loan group—­and could accurately attribute her heft to genetics betraying her in her thirtieth year rather than any posh mark of affluence. Ironic, considering Saloni had spent her first nineteen years perpetually malnourished, thin as paper, and just as prone to cut. She’d married well, curving into a stunning woman who’d reclaimed her slim figure after her firstborn, but hadn’t managed the same after the second.

Geeta listened to their rumors, observed how the women contributed and piled on, with clinical interest. This must’ve been the way they’d whispered about her after Ramesh left—­a fallen woman “mixed with dirt”—­then shushing each other when she approached, their lips peeling into sympathetic smiles as sincere as political promises. But now, five years after her husband’s disappearance, Geeta found herself within the fold rather than shunned, thanks to Farah’s absence. It was a dubious honor.

Her fingers toyed with her ear. When she used to wear earrings, she would often check to make sure the backs were secure. The sharp but benign prick of the stud against her thumb had been reassuring. The habit lingered even after Ramesh vanished and she’d stopped wearing jewelry altogether—­no nose ring, no bangles, no earrings.

Tired of the gossip, she interrupted the women’s musings on Farah’s defection: “If each of us puts in another fifty, we can still give Varunbhai the full amount.”

That got their attention. The room quieted. Geeta heard the feeble hum of her fan stirring the air. The flywheel’s tight circles oscillated like a tiny hula hoop. The blades were ornamental; the heat remained thick and unforgiving. The fan hung from a strong cord Ramesh had tied in their old house. It’d been early in their marriage, so when he’d stumbled on the ladder, it had been okay to laugh—­he’d even joined her. Rage hadn’t found Ramesh until their second year together, after her parents passed away. When she’d been forced to move into this smaller home, she’d tied the cord herself.

A lizard darted up the wall in a diagonal before hiding in the lintel’s shadow. Geeta’s mother used to tell her not to be afraid, that they brought good luck. She itched to see it plop from the dark pocket onto one of the women—­preferably Saloni who was terrified of all animals except, inexplicably, spiders. The other two—­sisters Priya and Preity—­were neither kind nor cruel, but they deferred to their leader. Geeta could sympathize, having herself once served under Saloni.

“No way,” Saloni said. “It’s Farah’s problem.”

Geeta stared at the dark wall, willing the lizard to be a good sport. Nothing. “It’s our problem,” she snapped. “If we default, Varunbhai won’t give us another loan next year.” The women were somber; everyone knew the center extended loans to groups, not individuals.

Then began a communal metamorphosis from fishwives to martyrs: the women spilled their excuses onto each other, all pushy contestants in a competition with no judge to rule as to who was the most aggrieved party.

“I have to buy my kids’ schoolbooks. They keep getting more expensive.” Saloni’s lips compressed. “But it’s such a gift to be a mother.”

“We just bought another buffalo. My kids guzzle so much milk. I keep telling them ‘if you’re thirsty, drink water!’ ” Preity coughed. “But still, they bring me joy.”

“My boy needs medicine for his ear infection. He cries all the time.” Priya hurried to add, “But there’s no better blessing than a son.”

“Joys of motherhood,” they murmured.

“Such a privilege, na?”

Preity and Priya were twins, formerly identical. The scars across Preity’s face and neck shimmered like heat when she toggled her head in agreement.

“What about you, Geetaben?” Saloni asked. Her upper arms were plump and wide, straining against her sari blouse’s sleeves, but they then abruptly transitioned to the trim elbows and forearms of her youth. The two halves could’ve easily belonged to separate people.

“Well, I don’t have the joys of motherhood,” Geeta said after the women were emptied of excuses. Her voice was patient, but her smile was feral. “But I do have the joys of sleep and money.”

No one laughed. The women looked at the ceiling, the fan, each other, the door, anywhere but at her. Geeta had long ago released the idea that one needed eye contact in order to feel seen. She’d grown accustomed to their discomfort around her; people didn’t like being reminded that what you’d lost, they took for granted—­though Geeta no longer felt like Ramesh had robbed her of anything by leaving. There were times she wanted to tell the women that they could keep their blood-­sucking husbands, that she harbored no envy, coveted no part of their messy, small lives. It was true she no longer had friends, but she did have freedom.

Another lizard skittered along the wall. While Geeta appreciated luck as much as anyone, she had no use for two lizards. It was said that if you happened across two lizards mating, you’d meet an old friend. If you saw them quarreling, you’d pick a fight with a friend instead.

“I’ll pay,” she told the women, as she reached for the grass broom she kept in the corner. “I don’t have children, I don’t have a husband and I don’t have a buffalo.” She tickled the ceiling corner with the jhadu’s stiff bristles. When that failed to cajole the lizards, she thumped the wall twice.

Someone gasped at the loud sound. Priya scooted behind Saloni’s larger frame as though Geeta were a threat. Which many assumed she was: a churel who, depending on the gossiper, gobbled children, rendered women barren or men impotent. That a woman had to have perished in order to return as a churel did little to staunch the village’s rumors.

Saloni blotted her upper lip with the back of her wrist. Fresh sweat bloomed quickly. She glared and Geeta could easily recall her at fourteen—­slender and haughty as she held court, hip jutting against a bicycle while the boys sighed.

The lizard finally dropped from above—­alas, missing Saloni’s disdainful face—­and scrambled for its bearings. With the broom, Geeta slapped the floor, herding it toward the open entrance.

“Right,” Saloni said. “So we agree: Geetaben will cover it. You’ll settle it with Farahben later, correct.” It was not a question.

Given Saloni’s stamp of oppressive approval, the others did not even pretend to mew or protest. Saloni’s social weight was as robust as her physical. Her father-­in-­law was the head of the panchayat, the village council. Five years ago, when the government demanded their village observe the reservation system and elect a woman to fill one of the five council seats, Saloni was the obvious choice. In fact, these pre-­loan meetings were usually conducted at Saloni’s house, but this week Geeta’s empty home had been selected for reasons no one had bothered explaining to her.

The twins stared at Geeta, wary, as though she were the death goddess Kali and her broom a sickle. She knew they were thinking of Ramesh, what had allegedly become of him at her hands. And just like that, she was no longer a part of the pack; they avoided her gaze and her touch as they handed her their money on their way out. Saloni alone met her eyes, and though Geeta recognized the scorn as easily as she would her own face, at least it was some manner of acknowledgment. A response, however negative, to the space Geeta occupied in this world, in their village, in their community.

She slammed the door shut after the three of them. “No, no,” she muttered effusively to no one. “Thank you.”US

Additional information

Weight	20.2 oz
Dimensions	1.1600 × 6.3400 × 9.5000 in
Imprint	Ballantine Books
Format	General Trade
ISBN-13	09780593498958
ISBN-10	059349895X
Author	Parini Shroff
Audience	General / adult
BISAC	FIC045000, FIC031010
Subjects	dark humor, women's fiction, gifts for women, asian american books, india, family life, literary fiction, books for women, book club recommendations, small towns, contemporary fiction, books for mom, relationship books, mother's day gifts, gifts for her, feminist gifts, widow, funny books for women, good books for women, asian american authors, The Bandit Queens, drama, patriarchy, women, feminist, feminism, rural, crime, marriage, relationships, family, Literature, FIC045000, fiction, FIC031010, Friendship, humorous, resilience, friends, novels, funny