The Hindi-Bindi Club, Paperback
2 out of 5 (1 rating)


For decades they have remained close, sharing recipes and customs, and shaped by ancient ways.

They are the Hindi-Bindi Club, a nickname given by their daughters to the mothers who left India to start anew daughters now facing struggles of their own.

For Kiran, Preity and Rani, adulthood means balance, from the ways they tweak their mothers' cooking to rejecting their parents' beliefs.

But will they have the courage of the Hindi-Bindi Club to hold on to their dreams - or create new ones?




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The idea is sound. A family saga about Indian mothers and daughters in Washington, DC: their lives, their marriages, their relationships. And there are occasional memorable lines and moments, and one or two very likeable characters. But the execution is so terrible - so cheaply manipulative, so full of unearned faux-profundity, so full of tired clichés - that the good points are very well-buried in this novel.Stylistically, it has more faults: Marathi and Hindi words that are supposed to be second-nature to the protagonists are italicised throughout, and the lack of nuance makes the six characters' narrative voices blur and become indistinguishable. Perhaps I read it from the wrong perspective - an NRI myself, I find the endless exposition about Indian culture and history wearing - but even with that taken into account, there is nothing subtle or refined about the way it conveys cultural clash.(And one final note: I find it deeply, deeply irritating when an author waxes lyrical about a dish in her prose and goes on to include the recipe, down to oven temperatures, on the next page. Others may disagree with me, and may even wish to try the recipes. But I think I will desist.)