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62 pages 2 hours read

Parini Shroff

The Bandit Queens

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2023

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Symbols & Motifs

Alcohol: Power to Powerlessness

The use of alcohol—technically illegal in the Indian state in which the characters live—is ubiquitous throughout the small village, and the abuse of alcohol is inextricably linked to the abuse suffered by many of the women. When Geeta recalls the many instances of abuse meted out by Ramesh, in particular the breaking of her fingers, she also recounts his use of alcohol. She often blames Karem, who sells the illegal stuff out of his storefront. Geeta has learned that Samir is most abusive when he has been drinking, as well; more importantly, Samir steals money from Farah to pay off his liquor debts to Karem.

Alcohol is symbolic not only of abuse but also of male privilege and power. Geeta has never touched a drop of alcohol, though her husband regularly drank, while Saloni notes that her husband “allows” her to drink. When Geeta retrieves the cheap liquor in which Farah plans to put poison for her husband, she “did wonder what the fuss was about. Ramesh had chosen this over her. For the joys in this bag, Samir was willing to harm her” (50). Ultimately, this is the tragic irony of the substance. On the one hand, the novel uses alcohol as a symbol of male malevolence, the power wielded over women in the form of physical abuse. But on the other hand, it represents these abusive men’s greatest weakness. The substance that they enjoy becomes a substance that eventually holds them under a thrall they cannot escape. Ramesh even talks Bada-Bhai out of testing his adulterated liquor on the women, wanting it for himself despite its dangerous taint. In the end, Ramesh will legitimately go blind as he consumes Bada-Bhai’s free, if otherwise costly, alcohol. He loses not only his sight but also his own free will to the tyranny of his addiction.

“Joys of Motherhood”

From the very beginning of the book, it is clear that the pinnacle of a woman’s experience is to produce and raise children. The women who do have children—Saloni, Farah, Preity, and Priya—often employ a refrain about the “joys of motherhood” (5). This motif surfaces in the novel multiple times, out of the mouths of multiple characters, usually as this exact phrase. Symbolically, the phrase functions in several ways: First, it serves to emphasize the primary role of motherhood in Indian society. As mothers, women provide heirs for their husbands—ideally, male children who will carry on the husband’s family name. Secondly, it also reminds the reader that Geeta is different; she stands apart from the other women due to her lack of children. This fact renders her suspect and even dangerous, for her childlessness makes the churel rumors easier for the villagers to believe. A single, childless woman has a freedom of movement that disturbs the status quo. Finally, there is an underlying anxiety that is implicitly admitted in the frequent need to affirm that motherhood is a “joy,” to announce aloud one’s commitment to the whole enterprise.

In fact, in one of the funniest scenes of the novel, the women abdicate their heretofore stubbornly sacred position on the “joys of motherhood.” The women are being held at gunpoint, fearful for their lives, when Ramesh makes a jab at Saloni for her weight gain. Heedless of the situation, Saloni launches into an invective about the challenges of giving birth: “You don’t know! Everything changes after a baby, okay? You don’t even recognize your own body” (307). She goes on to admit that, when she sneezes, she often urinates a little in her pants. Farah joins in with her own admission that “I also pooped on [my second-born child] during birth” (307). Ramesh and Bada-Bhai are both horrified and silenced by the women’s graphic admissions. The women go on to lament the whole exercise of child-rearing, saying, “Hardly anything goes back to normal [after having children]. It’s all saggy boobs and sneeze-peeing and ungrateful children” (308). When the astonished Bada-Bhai reminds them of the “joys of motherhood,” both Saloni’s and Farah’s responses are an underwhelming “Meh” (308). The “joys of motherhood” are often anything but joyful, and the women here—in the process of outwitting the men and taking control of their own destinies—choose to define themselves in more than one dimension.

Bonobos: Bonded Females

Geeta regularly listens to a nature program as she works on making her wedding jewelry to sell. One afternoon, she hears a particularly intriguing segment on the bonobo. The program states, “But unlike apes, which were the other closest relative to humans, female bonobos, though not kin, forged alliances to obtain food and ward off male harassers” (112). The bonobo becomes Geeta’s inspiration for how she and her fraught band of female friends might unite in ways to benefit themselves rather than their wayward husbands. The motif runs throughout the conversations between the three main characters, Geeta, Saloni, and Farah.

When Saloni begins the process of repairing her friendship with Geeta, she admits, “I’m human. I have regrets. So I’ll help you. Like your bonobo or whatever” (157). Saloni makes this comparison so that Geeta will recognize the selflessness of her intentions. Later, when the plans to dispatch Darshan go awry, Preity and Priya immediately agree to help take the fall for his death. They put their fingerprints all over the statue that Geeta has used to murder Darshan in self-defense. Geeta, still in shock, says only, “Bonobos” (188). Saloni tries to explain, but Geeta is expressing her understanding that the twins are now part of the female fold.

Later, the term is bandied about in order to distinguish between Saloni’s loyalty and Farah’s duplicity. When Farah threatens to expose Geeta’s role in the killing of Samir if Geeta does not hand over more money, Geeta explains why Farah is “no bonobo” when she says, “They’re primates whose females band together against male aggression. They’re allies, unlike you” (209). Saloni also accuses Farah of not being Geeta’s true friend when Farah refuses to help with Ramesh, stating, “You’re not a bonobo” (271). The bonobo therefore represents the high standard to which Geeta holds her friends, with their unified front. In the end, when Farah finally comes around to the side of the women, they ask her what changed her mind. “I was trying to be a bonobo” (305), she says—trying to be loyal. Thus, these bandit queens are ultimately all bonobos at heart.

Bandit: The Canine Queen

The tortured dog that Geeta rescues from Bada-Bhai’s house and eventually names Bandit is a catalyst to kindle her maternal feelings. While Geeta may not have much affection for actual children, she immediately embraces the prospect of becoming the dog’s caregiver. Even as she and Karem walk through the market, Geeta holds the dog like a child in need of comfort, heedless of the odd looks she receives. Geeta, too, takes comfort in the dog, for “Bandit’s body, warm and pulsing, proved a panacea for Farah’s lackadaisical cruelty” (87). When Farah threatens Geeta with prison and insults the quality of her craftsmanship, Bandit provides Geeta with unconditional affection.

Their bond is strong because they are both survivors. Bandit is a symbolic representation of both the Bandit Queen—the fact that the dog is actually a female only cements this association—and Geeta herself. As she admonishes Karem, “Oi! Show some respect. This dog is a hero. He’s a survivor of abuse” (92). When Karem points out that Geeta, too, is a survivor, she is wary but touched. The connection between canine and woman grows stronger as the novel develops. When Geeta is traumatized by Darshan’s assault, Bandit can only echo her anguish; as the novel states, “Bandit was awake, keening his concern. [. . .] Her distress was his; he roamed for a way to help her, as restless and impotent as she was” (207). Bandit proves herself worthy in the end, as she tackles Ramesh at the most opportune moment, sinking her teeth “into Ramesh’s ankle with a relish usually reserved for leftovers” (309). Bandit, once she is finally recognized as female, becomes another member of, or at least a mascot for, Geeta’s band of bonobos.

Salt and Storage

The term salt is employed throughout the book, acting as both a synecdoche for food and a symbol of physical and spiritual sustenance. For Geeta, salt signifies independence and self-sufficiency, for the novel states, “She’d first eaten her father’s salt, then her husband’s; it was time to eat her own” (16). Geeta therefore starts her own small business and provides for herself, beholden to nobody. She has done well for herself and is able to set aside some money for larger purchases. She wants a refrigerator, in particular, which would free her from daily trips to the market, not to mention the hassle of cooking one small meal at a time. With refrigeration, she could presumably make a curry that would last her through the week. Like salt, the refrigerator also symbolizes independence. Thus, when she thinks of selling her mangalsutra, her wedding necklace, in order to afford one, she balks, for she does not want a refrigerator that is “linked forever to Ramesh. She ate no one’s salt but her own” (49). She therefore resolves to earn the appliance through her own hard work.

Fundamentally, salt represents money, which provides basic resources like food, for survival (Even the word “salary,” is derived from the Latin word for “salt”). But salt also represents the diligence and dignity that one invests in one’s work and income. When Saloni warns Geeta about Ramesh’s intentions, she reminds Geeta that “He’s stolen enough from you. [. . .] Like your time. Love. Your salt” (244). In this instance, salt means all of the above—money, food, and dignity—but it can also signify tears: the salt that Geeta has wept because of his abuse, his reckless spending, and his disappearance. She owes Ramesh nothing.

Salt also symbolizes the nurturing attention that goes into caring for another. For example, Saloni takes care of Geeta’s parents after their disastrous spiral into debt; after all, she had grown up eating their food and being sheltered by them. As the novel states, “So Saloni had tried, without breaking the promise she’d made to the people whose salt she’d eaten most of her life, to guide Geeta” (267) to the truth about Ramesh and his family. The greed of Ramesh’s family destroyed Geeta’s parents, and Saloni knows that Ramesh is no different. Thus, Saloni makes sure that Geeta’s parents have enough food and adequate shelter—without revealing to Geeta the dire nature of their circumstances, as they requested. Saloni does not view her support as a sacrifice, for she states, “I ate their salt for two decades. […] It was an honor to help them” (275). One of the most basic seasonings, salt reveals the flavor and character of those who use it well.

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