How a Simple Love Story Made Me Rediscover Myself

Being a writer means practicing your craft, reading obsessively, and knowing when you need to reconnect with the source of it all to produce the story you really want. That last point has been a recent struggle for me, until I read When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon.

I first purchased the book in June 2020 - I know because the receipt was still tucked behind the cover – and of course I was intent on reading it. Being a writer focused on fantasy I tend to gravitate more towards the likes of Marissa Meyer and Renée Ahdieh – writers whose work is built off of high-fantasy elements that I want to capture in my writing. When Dimple Met Rishi is the exact opposite of this storytelling style and so it stayed on my bookshelf longer than expected. Fast forward to 2022 and I’ve once again continued focusing on high-fantasy narratives with specific references to Indian culture as inspiration for my own writing. Ironically, I found a title that gave me very much what I was searching for, only to get about three chapters in and give up. Something about the story wasn’t hitting correctly. I didn’t feel like this was the substance I needed for my own YA writing. You see, I’d been stuck on making my main character more relatable as a Desi girl in high school and the scene just wasn’t coming together authentically. The magic was there and it was written beautifully, but it wasn’t syncing up with the non-fantasy elements.

So, I went back to my shelf and took a chance on a very normal YA story - When Dimple Met Rishi.

A total play on “When Harry met Sally,” the novel is a wonderful love story that brings together the clashing realities of its main teenage leads – Dimple and Rishi. Dimple is a fiery girl ready to break away from her parents and focus solely on her career as an aspiring app developer. She objects to most of her mother’s pestering when it comes to conventional looks and traditions, insomuch that they are in constant conflict. Rishi, on the other hand, was happily raised in a traditional household. A believer in match-making practices, he’s more than ready to settle down and start a family soon after completing his education at MIT. He believes tradition and practicality go hand-in-hand and has his eyes set on a career that will guarantee stable success. The two could not be more different, and yet the two meet at Dimple’s college prep program for aspiring app developers thanks to her parents sneakily arranging the encounter.

The meeting is far from a meet-cute, with Dimple splashing her iced coffee directly at the then strangers face after he introduces himself as the man ready to marry her. Needless to say, Rishi had no idea Dimple was in the dark while Dimple had no idea her parents had even dared to pull a stunt like this. Stuck as partners throughout the program, Dimple and Rishi ultimately come to terms with their situation and learn to find common ground. What began as a horrible start to an awkward friendship quickly buds into romance with both uncovering more about one another, as well as challenging each other’s ideas about tradition and the future.

I have to say – this hit home for me! As someone who identifies very heavily with Dimple, I immediately disliked Rishi. He’s written as someone who naively believed that Dimple would just automatically adjust her plans and follow him across the country to be closer to his college. The fact that he’s a first-gen teen who accepts the matchmaking by his parents, or that he’s so dismissive of things that he believes aren’t practical such as art – I just couldn’t understand it.

And then it clicked.

It’s because I understand it all too well.

The nuances of this culture, why we’re raised to believe in practicality, why women are valued more for their ability to be dutiful wives and mothers instead of for being ambitious with their careers – this is my culture. I’ve also had to investigate what I like and dislike about it at the ripe age of 17. My parents did not believe I would succeed with just art or writing. My grandfather tried to create a match for my mother. These are tiny examples that I caught myself reminiscing on while reading through the story.

Taken from Sandhya Menon's Instagram

As I read on, I learned that Rishi’s value of such traditions is rooted in his identity as an Indian American – it makes him who he is – and it does not come without struggle. I learned that he feels the pressure to achieve a specific type of success, and it’s made him dismissive of his own passion for art and comics. He wanted to be a comic book artist. My heart lit up when I read this because I was once him - trying to be an artist while my parents dissuaded me consistently because it wasn’t a guaranteed money-making career. I get it.

The same revelation goes for Dimple, too. Despite how adamant she was about independence and fighting the traditions that her parents try to preach to her – I learned that she, too, struggled with her identity as an Indian American. Unlike Rishi, she felt more disconnected from her roots even when she was in India. She only ever felt like an outsider. As she continues her relationship with Rishi, their interactions force her to get to the root of how she truly feels about her parents. She misses them. She admits to needing them in her life. Her entire dedication to her career as an app developer, and her ideas for said app, are based on her parents. They are the root of her identity and I am the same way.

Another thing worth noting is how extensive the mother-daughter dynamic is explored in this story. To me, Dimple’s relationship with her mother is accurately reflective to that of other Indian daughters and mothers, if not for most first-gen minority families. A lot has to do with the way we as first-gen women struggle to break out of what may feel like confines from previous traditions practiced by our parents. Notions of conventional beauty, being a proper wife and daughter, and respecting family are even more universal to all regardless of what culture you may come from. I appreciated how Menon handled the varying perspectives on this and showed us how vital these issues are to both Dimple’s identity and her relationship with her family.

Aside from the actual narrative, there’s even more to admire in the way the Indian cultural references are addressed. Menon drops references to jhandis, Shah Ruhk Khan, and Bollywood without explanations. It took me a second to realize that I was waiting for the explanation of these terms and when it never came, I smiled. I believe Menon did this for several reasons. First, the story is so rooted in Rishi and Dimple’s perspectives that there’s no reason to explain it in the narration. Second, it intentionally pulls readers into the universe. Sometimes pausing for the explanations creates a them-vs-us mentality between the character and reader and caused distances between the two. Third, Menon probably did not want to owe any reader an explanation.

This story was obviously meant for all who could identify with its characters – primarily Indian or Desi readers, Asian, and/or first generation Americans. Everyone else may have to work a little to understand the cultural differences, but the entire story of a budding teenage romance is entirely universal. Homesickness, flirting, college parties, drama between friends – it’s all there for everyone to enjoy.

Menon’s book not only helped me rediscover elements that are core to my identity, but it also challenged me to think about how I want to share my identity with the world through my characters. Menon gave us two very different degrees of the same Indian-American identity. I wonder how I can best reflect who I am in my main lead and still show an authentic character that everyone can relate to. That’s the challenge as a writer!

Article edited by Lindsey Huddleston & Lola Lujan.