When downtrodden women turn to murder
“Women were built to endure the rules men make,” Parini Shroff writes in her debut novel, “The Bandit Queens,” which covers a litany of grim realities in rural India: poverty, hunger, alcoholism, domestic violence, sexual assault and a caste system, to name a few. This might sound depressing, but Shroff manages to spin all of the above into a radically feel- good story about the murder of nogood husbands by a cast of unsinkable women.
The leader of the pack is Geeta, whose abusive husband, Ramesh, abandoned her five years earlier without so much as a goodbye. Now the whole village thinks she murdered him; neighbors give her “the wide berth bestowed to any social pariah.” But, for the most part, the isolation that comes with the reputation of “self- made widow” suits Geeta — or at least she’s convinced herself that it does.
Intent on funding a jewelrymaking business that will cement her independence, Geeta joins a microloan group with several village women. She’s proud to focus on her craft — as opposed to homemaking or social jockeying — and insists on eating “no one’s salt but her own.” In fact, she’s al - most saved enough money for a refrigerator, which will “change everything, including how others saw her.”
To make sense of her lot in life, Geeta has adopted as her guiding light Phoolan Devi, a young woman who became known throughout India as the “Bandit Queen” after she killed 22 men — her tormentors and rapists — in a single day. Part historical figure, part legend, Phoolan completed her jail sentence and became an activist and member of Parliament before being assassinated at age 37. To Geeta, she is an inspiring example of a woman who managed to wrest control of her life: “The Bandit Queen didn’t wait for help, she was help.”
When Farah, one of the women in the loan group, asks Geeta to help her “remove her nose ring” ( meaning, get rid of her own alcoholic and abusive husband), Geeta reluctantly agrees. But nothing stays secret, and news of Geeta’s expertise quickly spreads around the village. She receives more requests and even demands that she help kill terrible husbands. Because of Geeta’s role as a makedo murder consultant, she is no longer an outsider.
“The book’s quick pacing stems from Shroff’s reliance on rapid dialogue, which is sometimes clever, sometimes inane, but always succeeds in creating the vibe of village gossip, with its volley of quips and comebacks. When discussing the trials of raising children, a village woman describes motherhood as “rewarding,” prompting her twin sister to echo “Like, so rewarding” — setting up a silly but fun pattern that repeats throughout the novel. (“You’re brave.” “Like, so brave.” “Tasty.” “Like, so tasty.”) And though the ladies may not take themselves too seriously, the men’s folly is that they follow suit.
Occasionally, the constant chatter feels misplaced; for instance, a third- act standoff feels downright dippy despite the high stakes. Overall, however, the characters’ stubborn levity and goofiness work well in a tale that demonstrates how the antidote to bleak circumstances is female friendship. When Geeta re- examines the Bandit Queen’s story late in the novel, she finds herself dismayed that the only choices for women are “violence or violation,” but perhaps unwittingly and somewhat unwillingly, Geeta has fashioned a third option: sisterhood.