Beauty * Writing Talent = Constant?

I'm starting off a post on a book of 'confessions' with a confession of my own: I love beauty pageants-- the beautiful clothes, the glitz, the celebrity, the pretense of being part of a bigger, nobler purpose and ostentatious shows. What is not to like? But this isn't a particularly easy topic of discussion. Such admissions are usually met with a self-righteous remark or two about how shallow beauty contests are, how big a farce it all is and so on.

This automatic distaste for beauty pageants brings to mind the Comedian from Alan Moore's Watchmen (notice how I redeem myself by making a reference to a contemporary masterpiece), which I am currently reading. The Comedian sees with clarity the farce that the world is. It is is his acceptance of the world's iniquities and ironies that gives him the ability to fight crime, albeit without much of a conscience(I haven't finished the book yet, so don't tell me if he turns out to be a saint). The Comedian, for instance, would have no issues with the 'intelligence' of beauty contests. He'd happily embrace(considering his lascivious ways, that makes an accidental pun) the inanity and laugh at it all. Getting over their silliness is a good way of enjoying the funner sides of 'inner beauty', 'women of substance' and 'beauty with a purpose'. Besides, the only way one will end up getting disappointed with beauty pageants is if one really expected them to be about women of "charm, grace and wisdom".

After that elaborate argument in defence of beauty contests, and having earned your intelligent self's disapproval, we move on to the more intriguing confessions of a could-have-been beauty queen. Readers of Sunday papers' literary sections will have heard of Ira Trivedi for her second book The Great Indian Love Story. I just finished reading her first book What Would You Do To Save The World? - Confessions of a Could-Have-Been Beauty Queen (2006)

What Would You....is a novel about a twenty-year old Economics student, Riya who follows her childhood dream of participating in "The Miss Indian Beauty Contest". She takes a semester off her course at Wellesley college to take part in the event. Her portfolio, taken at Indore by the family photographer with her posing in gaudy make-up courtesy a local beautician Juhi("who likes to be called Jewels"), is accepted by the organisers of Miss Indian Beauty, not before asking her what her height is. The question is so ridiculously important that it is checked and cross checked several times, the author claims. What's more, it is the title of one of the chapters in which the author explains why there is a strict minimum height cut-off for all contestants. Riya's experiences during the one month training period leading up to the contest is the premise of the book.

"I beg to differ. I don't think that Miss Indian Beauty is a contest held just to enter the movies. The pageant aims to find a girl who epitomises India in every way, from her beauty, to her morals to her intelligence. She is the paragon of Indian womanhood, and has the responsibility of representing the Indian woman at a global level." God, I sounded like I had stepped straight out of the beauty bible. I must have sounded staggeringly corny.

'OK, well then...Miss...'

'Riya.'

'Nice name, unique. Ok then Riya, why don't you name for me a single Miss Indian Beauty who has done anything other than  join the movies to rise to stardom. Can you name a Miss Indian Beauty who has gone on to become an acclaimed academic or activist?"

"Well, I am not saying that, but entering the movies is not the point of the pageant, that's all I want to say."

He laughed loudly, raising his head up high. A bit of his moustache went into his mouth. "Listen babe."

"Please don't call me babe Mr. Kakre." I was getting angry now.

"Wah, Wah, we have quite a chingari here! Listen Riya, if you weren't pretty, and you are quite pretty, you wouldn't be here: the Miss Indian Beauty contest is only a certification of your beauty.It is a stamp of approval that you're beautiful enough to be in the movies, and once you are branded, the signal turns green and you are allowed to go."

I had no reply to give him. I thought I might as well shut up. I was obviously pathetically failing to support my argument.

That was the end of the session. It had lasted only twenty minutes, but it made me think afterwards. My arguments with Mr. Kakre had unleashed the thoughts that I had pushed away into the coner of my mind. They had emerged again with a vengeance. I wasn't here to make it in the movies, so why was I here? What did I want out of this? Like everyone else, I wanted fame and glory, but was being Miss Indian Beauty going to get me that?


Ira Trivedi was herself a Miss India contestant in 2005, and she makes no bones about the fact that this is her story. WWYDTSTW isn't really a novel in the strictest sense. It is one person's account of her experiences, her opinions of people and, possibly, her bitterness. An account with real names swapped with fake ones, which people clued in on the Miss India contest can easily figure out(I can proudly say that excepting the skin specialist, I knew the original names of each of the prominent references. Even the contestant who came second. Yay me!). There is Donald Singh, the holistic guru and nutritionist, Emma Contractor, the diction expert, Yasmeen Wadia, the choreographer. Textbook Roman A Clef.

Now I am sure a lot of people--me included-- immediately write Trivedi off just because she is a beauty pageant contestant. I was careful to avoid slotting her as an airhead just because she had perfect BMI. I tried to be optimistic about the book before I started reading it. Especially considering Ira Trivedi has previously lived all over the world and studied Economics at Boston University and all that. Sadly, it's just as well to judge the book without reading it. For the writing is most terrible. Grammatical errors, wrong usage apart, the book has no depth, no soul, and fails miserably at drawing you in. The no-dialogue(a personal peeve) adds to the meh-ness of it. Clearly the lady isn't much of a writer. It's as if she happily forgot all about writing a book and sat for hours and wrote one loooong email about her experience to her editors who then chopped the text into a few chapters and quickly had Sushmita Sen release it.

I will cruelly say that author has made no effort towards making this an interesting story. This, however, turned out to be a good thing. Superficial and shallow as the perspectives are, the plot(or whatever little there is of it) remains largely free from embellishment by stereotypes. By writing exactly what she saw, without dwelling too much on the meaning of things, Trivedi manages to write of the other side of beauty pageants-- Beauty Pageant Q&A books, the mismanagement and erratic schedules, the contestants being 'used' by sponsors, t.v channels and the organisers to market products, the useless nutrition regime, and about how contestants are confined to the hotel for nearly a month etc.

In all, What Would You... is an absorbing email to read, an intriguing blog to scan and a terrible book to be stuck reading. To be fair, I found that the writing becomes bearable after a few pages. One never knows. It might have been my stubborn resolve to finish the book.

I am aware I've written a thousand or so words on a book no one has heard of or cares much about.But, true Miss India fans (erm, I am one. Almost. So?) and chicklit enthusiasts will understand my distress. What I'm ruing is the loss of an opportunity. 'An insider's view of the goings on at the Miss India Contest' is screaming out 'possibilities' to me. This could have been a very entertaining book, if not top literary lists. Instead, What Would You... is just one person, who admittedly threw away her chance at the crown, writing down her opinions without the slightest artistry. She took a premise brimming with potential and flattened it into pulp resembling the jowar rotis they were forced to eat(that comparison brings it to two people lacking artistry).

Oh, what could have been...

PS- This review in Mint of Ira Trivedi's The Great Indian Love Story has nearly the same things to say about her second book as I do of the first.

PPS- They should have been really desperate to use a stiletto on the cover. Really now.

Also, Miss Trivedi got an MBA from Columbia after writing her first novel. Hmmph.

That snarky conversation in the excerpt above alludes to Prahlad Kakkar's session. Kakre, as he is known in the book, is described as having 'a fetish for women' by the author. Funnily enough, it was he who was asked to launch the book along with Sushmita Sen.