Romance is probably the hardest genre to write (and for some, to read). The average reader of romance is discerning, and not easily impressed. This audience expects several things in order to be fully satisfied with the story, including realistic characters, reasonable backdrops, rational plotline and, of course, a happy ending. It is quite rare to find a love story which ticks all the boxes, or even half of them, but Milan Vohra — India’s “first Mills and Boon writer” and author of The Love Asana and Tick-Tock, We’re 30 — manages a fair number of ticks with Our Song. As a South Asian, I, quite frankly, was not very sure about an Indian romance novel (Bollywood is to be blamed), but this book defied many, if not all, of my presumptions.

The story twirls around struggling music composer Ragini, and Andrew, head of a big pharmaceutical company. Ragini is a charming and vivacious girl who can also, at times, be imprudent and rash. Despite being described as a stereotypical “creative type”, she comes across as unique, yet relatable in her own way. Her relationship with music is the highlight of the whole book and her creative process — she breaks into a beat whenever or wherever it dawns upon her, writes notations on scraps of tissue paper, clacks spoons and sings out loud — is endearing.

With her unfettered curly hair, mismatched colourful clothes and jaunty, unpretentious personality, Ragini does not care the least bit what people think of her and is not afraid to speak her mind. However, attractive and amiable as she is, her recklessness often lands her in trouble. She is in strained financial circumstances and carries the baggage of a perilous past, but maintains her exuberance and is never seen brooding. She talks about her past in a manner which does not only evoke sympathy, but also implies that she emerged from it all a stronger person. Even in her most vulnerable moments, Ragini affirms that, in spite of her imprudence, she is wise enough to steer herself out of the dark and make reasonable choices for herself.

In character development, Ragini’s character is almost flawless in its clarity. The same, however, cannot be said for Andrew. He is a cold, “typical corporate type” with strong work ethics, is highly conscientious and belongs to the love-makes-you-weak lot — we are reminded of this several times. Andrew is (conveniently) half-British, hence the blue eyes, black curls and — as Vohra mentions in her acknowledgements — bears a strong resemblance to a young Robert Downey Jr., except that Andrew is six feet tall.

It seems as if Vohra is trying to infuse various contrasting traits in his personality to make him more likeable and not the standard apathetic, rich and handsome hero of generic romances. Thus, he is domineering, rude, stubborn, unreasonable, utterly unsentimental and yet, at the same time, caring, empathetic, gentle, generous, inspiring and hopelessly in love. It could be assumed that the character is heavily layered, but the problem is that these traits don’t blend together very well and Andrew is almost unrecognisable at various points in the story.

A desi romance novel almost manages to pull off a genre most South Asian writers do not venture into

Ragini and Andrew’s first meeting is nothing short of melodramatic: she is running late for her interview at Livin’On, a big pharma company that needs a song composed for its anniversary celebrations. Stuck in Bangalore traffic, she decides to leave her taxi and walk and, as a result, one of her sandals breaks. Hopeless and exasperated, she ventures too close to the road and is pulled back by a man who rebukes her for — as he assumes — trying to kill herself.

This man is, of course, our hero Andrew. A baffled Ragini demands Andrew put her down, only to realise that the man is actually “Andy Zot”, a popular senior at a school she attended for a short while. After a long, absurd argument, Ragini gets on his bike to be dropped off at Livin’On — although it’s unclear why this supposedly rich man rides a bike.

At the company office, she learns that the owner, Anand Arya, who was supposed to interview her, has left. This infuriates her further and, after a series of thoughtless actions, she discovers that Andrew is Anand’s son. His behaviour, meanwhile, undergoes a dramatic change, from concerned to cold, in complete contrast to what was witnessed earlier, enraging Ragini to the extent that she storms out of his office, dumping his business card in the bin and vowing never to return again.

But, as anticipated, Ragini returns because she needs the money. She is offered the project on the condition that she spends two months observing the staff of the company, whom Andrew seems to hold extremely dear. It is a strange, perplexing condition, but Ragini accepts. This subsequently takes our protagonists to the breathtaking landscapes of Simla and Kasauli, where romance sparks between our two protagonists so vastly different from each other.

Ragini’s music, woven so deeply into her personality, is perhaps the most enchanting aspect of the story. Through her constant mention of the numerous ragas and melodies roving in and out of her mind, even a musically illiterate person such as myself can gain an insight into the wondrous minds of composers and songwriters. She spreads hope with her song — also titled ‘Hope’ — and, clichéd as this sounds, enchants Andrew to the extent that he starts viewing life and love in a different way.

South Asian writers have always written beautifully in most genres, but lighter ones — such as modern romance and comedy — are not produced as much as the others. It is refreshing to see authors such as Vohra bringing in much more diversity to our literature, reaching out to the younger generation. For someone fond of a good rom-com, this book is certainly one to pick.

The reviewer is a student and freelance writer

Our Song
By Milin Vohra
HarperCollins, India
ISBN: 978-9353572754
240pp.

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, June 7th, 2020