In general, I think life would be more fun if we took it down a notch. I am a huge proponent of standup comedy and improv because I think it helps us let go our Type A existence, be spontaneous and have a laugh or two. That goes for the performers as well as the audiences members. So many of us take ourselves way too seriously and really need a whack of our funny bone from time to time.

I grew up reading very serious novels, most of them Classic British literature. It wasn’t until I moved to the United States many years later that I discovered the American sense of humor – so basic, so subtle and so able to lighten your mood on any given day. It made me think about how I had so material right here in my home.

In the Indian life, be it in or outside of India, there is an element of predictability and safety that underscores practically every decision — it’s a classic example as to why Indian parents want their kids to go into ‘safe’ professions like medicine and engineering. There is plenty of comedy in that itself – you just need to dig for it. And when it comes to predictability, you don’t typically find an Indian situation in which the daughter is setting up her mom  – usually it happens the other way around. You don’t find stories which expose you to a variety of cray cray ethnic situations strewn around Mumbai – all ripe for comedic interpretation. That’s what I wanted to do with Operation Mom — in many ways it is an LOL window into my life and circumstances. As a Mumbaikar I feel like I have many affinities – to the Punjabi way of life, to the Parsi community, to places like Swati Snacks and Worli Seaface…all these are part of my ordinary world that I wanted to share with folks everywhere. I wanted to highlight the contextual comedy that is such a huge part of my people and in these places. And the fun with writing fiction is that through it, you can make the ordinary, extraordinary.

My relationship with my own mom has been fairly laid back. She definitely played her role of ‘Classic Punjabi Mother’ during my younger years but as any Punjabi will tell you, the moment you enter into the institution of marriage, the Punjabi mother becomes completely hands-off. My book actually has nothing to do with my own mother but her ridiculous Punju traits definitely carry through all the humorous set-pieces. For anyone familiar with the quirks of this particular community, the anecdotes will resonate.

When I was a kid, she was highly skeptical of anything concerning me  – where I went, who I met and why I pursued the things I wanted to do. Her old-school Punjabi mindset had her believe that if I was too ‘interesting’ or ‘determined’, then it would naturally become an impediment to ‘marrying me off’. So when I successfully stalked George Michael, my teen pop idol, it truly stressed her out.

Who is George Michael, you ask? Well, back in the eighties, he was the lead singer of Wham! Okay that completely gives away my age 🙂 I was one of many teenage girls in the eighties who was completely obsessed with him. Determined to meet him in person, I went through lengths to stalk him one summer holiday in England. It took practically all summer for me to track him down, and mind you this was long before the age of internet or social media, so I really take great pride in my grass roots research skills! I made my way to his father’s restaurant in Edgeware, and then followed his cat to his house in Bushy Meads where I had a long chat with his mother, who finally pointed me to his the office of his manager in Central London, where I eventually met him. I was 15 then, obsessive to put it mildly…or perhaps I should say, ‘determined.’ But this event propelled me to teen stardom…as pathetic as that sounds! And the story has kept listeners marveling and laughing with each re-telling these last 35 years. So I chose to copy-paste the George Michael story from my life and into my novel, almost verbatim.

What’s wrong with the Comedy of Obsessiveness? Like I said, life would be so much more fun if we took ourselves a little less seriously.