But I’ve always been a sucker for a good double entendre; the gap between what is said and what is thought, what is stated and what is implied, is a place in which I have always found myself. I’m really not a liar, I just learned very early on that those of us deprived of history sometimes need to turn to mythology to feel complete, to belong
Quoted from the novel’s prelude, this paragraph introduces several of the major themes in Anita and Me, including the delicate balance between lying and myth-making. As Meena comes of age, she will learn both the dangers and merits of myth-telling, with myths being used to separate communities (e.g. the stereotyping of other cultures) but also to create community (e.g. shared family narratives).
I squeezed my hot dog and suddenly the sausage shot into my mouth and lodged firmly in my windpipe […] I thought of writing SAUSAGE STUCK on the windscreen and then realised I could not spell sausage. I was going to die in the back of the car and somewhere inside me, I felt thrilled. It was so dramatic. This was by far the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me.
From Chapter 2, this quote exemplifies Meena’s point of view at the beginning of the novel. Relatively sheltered at her young age, Meena naively romanticizes drama. She has yet to learn the difference between fictional drama and real-life drama, between comedy and tragedy—but, of course, neither has she learned to “spell sausage.” Meena is a youthful protagonist, and the novel tracks her gradual maturation.
But whatever he did to make money was not what papa really was; whilst my Aunties and Uncles became strangers when listening to him, papa became himself when he sang. My tender papa, my flying papa, the papa with hope and infinite variety. And then one day I made a connection; if my singing papa was the real man, how did he feel the rest of the time? This hurt me unbearably, and I stopped hanging around the adults to see him perform. I somehow felt it was my fault and not Dada’s, that papa never got into the movies.
Meena’s family regularly hosts mehfils, musical get-togethers led by Mr. Kumar, a skilled singer. In this quote, Meena reflects on her father’s musical talent, and realizes that his day-to-day life—his work—hardly encompasses Mr. Kumar’s true passions, namely performance. This is an early example of Meena’s gradual understanding that dreams are not often actualized—but it is also an argument against defining individuals by just one part of their identity (i.e by just their occupation, just their race, just their gender, etc.).
Papa was giving up on getting a coherent answer from me, so he changed tack. "Your mama is very overworked. She could do with your help sometimes. Life isn’t all ha-ha-hee-hee with your friends. They will leave you when times get bad, and then all you will have left is your family, Meena. Remember that."
We walked back in silence, although papa insisted on holding my hand. If Anita’s father, Roberto, had delivered a speech like that to her, she would have flicked her hair and said Bog Off! The words sat poised on the tip of my tongue all the way home. I did not have the courage to free them, but I imagined their effect and the image made me giddy.
This quote exemplifies the conflicting interests—of her family, of her friends, of herself—that Meena must reconcile as she develops her own agency. Here, Mr. Kumar asserts the significance of family, and the unconditional support family provides, while also forewarning Meena of the shortcomings of friendship and play (later proved true in her friendship with Anita). Meena day-dreams about back-talking her father, just as Meena imagines Anita might do. But Meena remains silent, indicating she cannot fully align herself with either her father, or Anita: she respects both.
Noteworthy, as well, is Mr. Kumar’s criticism of comedy, saying, “Life isn’t all ha ha hee hee,” which, importantly, is the title of author Meera Syal’s second novel. Syal has a thematic interest in the purpose of comedy—consider her choice to largely communicate through comedic modes, with playful characterizations and ironic narration. Perhaps Meera Syal is asking the reader: how much of life is comedic? Should we find space for that “all ha ha hee hee”?
No one in the Yard, particularly the women, ever showed that they were upset or hurt […] I knew this was the expected Tollington stance, attack being the best form of defence, and never ever show that you might be in pain. That would only invite more violence because pity was for wimps and wimps could not survive round here.
One of the major themes in Anita and Me is the gap between an individual’s public and private lives. In this quote, Meena describes the performative nature of public life in Tollington, wherein her neighbors mask their true feelings, and instead posture toughness, to avoid being perceived as weak. This behavior is paralleled in the behavior of Anita and Sam—and even, on occasion, Meena herself (e.g. when Meena steals from Mr. Ormerod to impress Anita and frighten her cousins, Pinky and Baby).
It was all falling into place now, why I felt this continual compulsion to fabricate, this ever-present desire to be someone else in some other place far from Tollington […] driven purely by shame, the shame I felt when we ‘did’ India at school, and would leaf through tatty textbooks where the map of the world was an expanse of pink.
Throughout Anita and Me, author Meera Syal explores the interplay between fact and fiction. When Nanima’s childhood stories contrast with Meena’s understanding of India, as taught in school, Meena realizes that the “truth” can be misleading, that her history textbooks were created with a European bias. Through imagery and metaphor—the world map becoming “an expanse of pink”—Meena makes tangible the way in which white (“pink”), Eurocentric historians have distorted her worldview.
It startled me, the realisation that he was not only handsome but that he was talking to me. He does not have much choice, I told myself. He’s bored, you’re the nearest. Trust you to end up next to a dishy bloke when you’re in your oldest nightie with no lip gloss and your leg in the air.
At perhaps her lowest point in the novel—when Meena is physically immobile, away from her family, and no longer capable of trusting her friends—Meena still finds a way to make light of her situation, self-deprecatingly lamenting her lack of sex appeal in her hospital garb. Anita and Me, in many ways, champions comedy as a necessary response to tragedy: showing how laughter can be used to heal.
But I chose to nod understandingly and flash Nanima a bright, reassuring smile. I was a grown-up now, I had seen my parents swallow down anger and grief a million times, for our sakes, for the sake of others watching, for the sake of their own sanity. It was not so hard to do, this sacrificial lark, it came with the territory.
Upon learning that Nanima must return to India, the formerly impulsive Meena demonstrates her character growth by hiding her true feelings, by putting on a “reassuring smile,” so as to protect her family from further sorrow. It is another example of Anita and Me’s complex exploration of lying, wherein masking the truth becomes not only a way to comfort others, but also a way to comfort oneself: “for the sake of” one’s own “sanity.” Meena uses metaphor to liken her protective smile to a “sacrificial lark”–– perhaps a double entendre, referring both to the songbird and the British slang term, meaning to enjoy oneself through play. Like a songbird continuing to sing, Meena strives to stay playful and light-hearted in front of her family.
I had lost my best friend to someone who could have been a friend and lost himself, and between them, they had caused me what I thought was agonizing pain, until I met two other people, Nanima and Robert, who had thrown all previous self-pity into stark relief. But I hated Sam and Anita even more then, for making me believe that the power they had exercised over me was important, everlasting.
Speaking of Anita and Sam, Nanima and Robert, Meena reflects on her changing relationships, and her corresponding character growth. Meena has learned that bullies can be victims—characterizing Sam’s violence as Sam “[losing] himself”—but, more importantly, learned to better live in the present moment, after confronting her own mortality through the loss of Nanima and Robert. Meena can accept herself for who she is because she no longer believes in the “everlasting”; now she believes in change.
It was time to let go and I floated back down into my body which, for the first time ever, fitted me to perfection and was all mine […] He was telling me I could put them away if I wanted, but I’d had my revenge, I was leaving them to themselves and I believed utterly now in the possibilities of change.
At the emotional and narrative climax of Anita and Me, when Meena must give testimony to a police investigation, Meena is faced with a choice: either to falsely accuse Sam and Anita of pushing Tracey into the pond, and so enact her revenge, or to truthfully admit that no one pushed Tracey, and so forgive Sam and Anita. Meena chooses forgiveness. And in so doing, Meena affirms her belief that people are not black-and-white: that Sam and Anita are not wholly bad, that they contain ambiguities, and are thus capable of change.
