IndyLit

🌏 From Colonies to Colloquialisms

Indian literature in English was never supposed to be this sassy. It started off obediently enough—some decorous essays, a few “dearest sirs,” and a fear of misplacing commas in front of Queen Victoria. But give a few decades, a dash of rebellion, and an overboiled cup of chai, and suddenly English wasn’t just the coloniser’s language—it was India’s personal playground. What began as a linguistic inheritance turned into a literary revolution, full of rhythm, riot, and regional sarcasm. English in India didn’t stay crisp and colonial—it got curry stains, festival colors, and emotional baggage. And thank God for that.

It’s hard to explain to the world how this nation—with its hundred languages, fifty states, and one billion daily existential questions—decided English would be the language it rewrote itself in. But it did. And it didn’t just write novels—it wrote history, philosophy, social satire, awkward dinner scenes, and a hundred arguments between mother-in-laws and mangoes. Indian English literature has done something miraculous: it’s made the foreign familiar and the familiar slightly foreign, just enough to make you uncomfortable and enchanted at once.

🖋️ ABS and the Art of Cultural Eavesdropping

Into this layered literary thali steps ABS, The Literary Scholar—armed with linguistic curiosity and a mental playlist that swings between Vedas and viral rants. With no intention to simply “cover” Indian literature, ABS is here to taste-test its flavors, pick apart its phrasing, and lovingly roast its contradictions. There will be footnotes, but there will also be foot-in-mouth moments—because analyzing Indian writing means dancing through sarcasm, spirituality, and postcolonial hangovers all at once.

This isn’t just a scroll—it’s a decoding. Of sentences that pretend to be about weather but are secretly about God. Of protagonists who spend three chapters boiling tea but somehow unravel five centuries of trauma in the process. ABS is here to read between the arranged lines, trace the curve of every bilingual pun, and laugh, sometimes cry, always underline. IndiLit doesn’t whisper—it sings, questions, chants, and occasionally breaks into a full Bollywood monologue. And The Scholar? Fully here for it.