Journalist, speaker and award-winning author Meghna Pant tells Ayushi Sharma in a tête-à -tête that she wrote The Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Good News to debunk everything we’ve been taught about motherhood, marriage and the biological clock
Thirty-four-year-old Ladoo, a simple, middle-class divorcee from Rishikesh, wants only one thing from life — a baby. She eats gondh halwa, drinks badam milk and takes folic acid to slow down her ticking biological clock and become the world’s most fertile woman. When an accidental meeting with a gynecologist reveals that her ‘eggs are drying up’ and finding a sperm donor is her last chance of having a child, Ladoo races against time to find the right father for the baby, whose kundali matches hers, while addressing her own mixed feelings about whether ‘Mr Right Donor’ can also be ‘Mr Right’. Along the way, Ladoo must figure out whether motherhood means marriage, whether being a single mother means loneliness, whether ‘my body, my rules’ apply to women, and whether doing something scandalous is outrageous or courageous. We talk to the author of the book — The Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Good News — Meghna Pant, to find out the answers. Excerpts:
How did you conceptualise The Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Good News? What went into its research?
After I found myself childless and single at the age of 33, I spend years torturing myself and allowed society to shame me for my ‘failure’. Despite having a good career, living around the world, surviving an abusive relationship, publishing books and winning awards, I let myself be told that I wasn’t woman enough until I’d had a child. I was Ladoo. Fortunately, I met a wonderful man, got married, and — at age 37 and 39 — I had two beautiful daughters. After all the cautionary tales I’d been fed my entire life, of the difficulty older women have conceiving, I’d braced myself for futility. But both my pregnancies were natural and smooth. I worked till the day of my delivery.
This led me to the obvious question: Was everything I’d been told about pregnancy and fertility a lie? It would seem so. Women’s bodies are stronger than they’re given credit for. That’s why I wrote about Ladoo, the protagonist of this novel. To debunk everything we’ve been taught about motherhood, marriage and the biological clock.
The plot says, “This humorous yet inspiring story of a small-town woman’s fight against social stigma will resonate with every woman and man.” How and why do you think so?
I think women’s issues are everyone’s issues, and humour is essential for every gender as we try to survive this pandemic.
Mainstream cinema is now gradually warming up to the idea that there is no set age for motherhood with films like Badhaai Ho... How do you think your book can help shape public perception of pregnancy after a certain age?
I want women to know that ‘my body, my rules’ apply to each and every one of them. Let no one tell you if you should have children, when you should have them, how you should have them, and what to do after you have them. Society is opinionated about everything a woman does with her body — from the way she chooses to dress, pleasure herself, the hours she occupies in public space to her biological clock — and yet assumes a wide distance when a woman’s body is beaten, raped, mutilated or killed, just because she’s a woman. F*** that hypocrisy. Your body, your choice — that’s the main message of the book.
Why did it not occur to Ladoo that she could have simply adopted a child and fulfil her own desire of being a mother while, at the same time, giving a child a home? Does your book address this thought?
The book addresses this. Ladoo wants to experience pregnancy and have her own biological child. Motherhood is more about emotions than biology, so we cannot judge in what way a woman wants to have a child — whether it’s through surrogacy, IVF, adoption or the traditional way.
Is comedy a good way to address social issues?
It’s the only way to communicate the truth without being offensive or pedantic.
How did you come up with the title?
It is inspired by a sweet shop I saw in Lucknow, where my parents sometimes live. The protagonist’s pet name is Ladoo and she becomes badnam after she decides to become a mother without getting married first.
How have your formative years influenced your writing?
To be able to sit down and write about the world, it’s crucial to first stand up and see what’s out there. My parents worked for the government, so I’ve seen most of India (20 states). My studies and jobs have taken me from Zurich to Singapore to New York and Dubai. I’ve travelled to 34 countries across four continents and lived in eight different cities. As a result, I’ve lived in more than 30 homes. This exposure has given me a wonderful platform to immerse myself in worlds and cultures different from mine. It’s made me sensitive to what sets people apart and brings them together. I think travelling is the best way to absolve yourself from who you are. You realise the smallness of your fears and the largeness of your smiles.
As a child, I also read a lot. From Enid Blyton, Sidney Sheldon, Jeffery Archer, Somerset Maugham, Ruskin Bond, Shakespeare and RK Narayan, the typical fare that Indian children growing up in the 80s-90s were given to read. Gone With The Wind was the first book I stayed up till six in the morning reading, and till today I don’t think there is a book as perfect as that or a character as finely etched out as Scarlett O’Hara. Reading has ha d a definitive impact on my writing.
What does the future of the written world look like since we are swamped by digital entertainment?
I don’t buy into the competition between OTT and books. I think that both books and OTT are going to co-exist in the future. A good story must be told no matter what its medium is. I also think that OTT platforms are a fantastic way to scale your book and talent, if they fit, to a larger audience than you ever imagined. Therefore, as a writer, I see OTT as an opportunity and not a threat. We cannot hold it against someone that, if after a long day at work, they want to decompress by watching Netflix rather than reading a book. But humans need both sensory and semantic experiences to grow. That’s where books come in. The joy of holding a book, of smelling it, of snuggling with it under your blanket, can never be replicated by digital entertainment.
My bigger concern is that nowadays people are more concerned about owning a book than consuming it, in a phenomenon known as antilibrary. That’s fine, as long as it translates into sales for publishing houses, bookstores and authors, but if you want to go back to reading, it’s not an either-or. Don’t get FOMO (fear of missing out). Prioritise. Read during the weekends when you have time to immerse yourself in a book. Binge-watch during weekdays after work. Read in the mornings, watch at night. Read a book whose series you just watched. You can read and watch, without compromising one for the other.
Change is inevitable, let’s celebrate it instead of diminishing it.
Reports implied that your book will soon be seen as a feature film, Badnam Ladoo. Do you think film adaptations do justice to the books they’re based on? Why or why not?
The book is under development with a big studio. Films take time to gestate, on average two to three years, and more during the pandemic. So, we’ll have to be patient. But this is a film that people will love because it’s entertainment with insight.
Books need only one person — the author — in order to work. But film adaptations need many people to come together to work. Adaptations can lift the book but never diminish it. For example, I think films like Guide, The Namesake, 7 Khoon Maaf, Omkara and 3 Idiots have been better than the books, while films like Slumdog Millionaire, Mistress of Spices and Atlas Shrugged did nothing for the books, but could not take away from them being classics.
Can you share some anecdotes?
I have a childhood friend whose nickname I’ve borrowed for the character of 4-10 (Four-Ten), the protagonist’s best friend. All my characters are slivers begged and borrowed from real life.
(The book has been published by Penguin Random House India.)