Lightning in a Shot Glass begins with a spark, quite literally. In the opening pages, as Meera and Jeet move from a train compartment to his apartment, their intimacy unfolds with such lush visual detail that I immediately thought the author, Deepanjana Pal, might be a filmmaker. The pace slows, the camera lingers, and every gesture is rendered with cinematic precision. It is only 180 pages later, when another intimate scene appears with the same sensuous attention, that I realise: this visual richness is deliberately reserved for moments of intimacy.
It turns out the author is not a filmmaker at all but a journalist, and the book — in some ways — reveals that. The newsroom scenes, Meera’s editorial challenges, even the insights into Aalo’s (the other protagonist) work at SWETE, a social organisation, carry the unmistakable clarity and observational sharpness of someone trained in journalism. Much of the novel revolves around these two women — their routines, their friendships, their professional dilemmas, their dating mishaps. The settings are simple and unpretentious, forming the perfect backdrop for what is essentially a romantic comedy.
Stylistically, the author keeps things breezy. There’s no extravagant literary experimentation, no urge to complicate form or language. Instead, she leans into tried-and-tested narrative comforts: light prose, clean pacing, and humour that lands often enough to make you smile. The simplicity works; it makes the novel easy to slip into, a companionable read that doesn’t demand too much but offers just enough.
What struck me the most, though, is how fiction becomes a powerful tool in this narrative, allowing the author to say things that might be hard to say otherwise. Through the lives of Meera and Aalo, the novel touches on Islamophobia in India, unending story of casteism, government pressure on NGOs, debates around the imposition of Hindi, a woman’s unapologetic appetite for sex. The list goes on. These themes enter the story lightly, never disrupting the flow, but reminding us that fiction can smuggle truth in through the side door.
At its heart, the book is a tale of two romances. Meera’s romance with Jeet (more than a decade younger) brings its own set of anxieties and delights. Aalo, meanwhile, finds herself involved with Aurangzeb, who appears almost impossibly perfect, as if conjured straight out of a fantasy. What unfolds is a 350-page roller-coaster: messy, warm, funny, and recognisable.
Lightning in a Shot Glass is not a novel that tries to astonish you with craft, but it does win you over with charm, clarity, and a certain journalistic honesty. It is a light read with a surprising amount to say, and it is delivered, fittingly, like a shot: quick, sharp, and leaving behind a warm aftertaste.
If I have one wish, it is this: that the author had extended the same cinematic touch she applies to the intimate scenes to the rest of the book. When she slows down, she is brilliant. I would have loved to see the same textured imagery spill into the everyday moments too.
Kalampedia 