In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Nikkitha Bakshani’s novel Ghost Chilli is an engrossing dark comedy.
The Telegraph wrote of the book:
“Ghost Chilli is enjoyably bittersweet, a black comedy that conjures the turbulent twenties in all their isolation and shame”
In her own words, here is Nikkitha Bakshani’s Book Notes music playlist for her debut novel Ghost Chilli:
In the first chapter of Ghost Chilli, the protagonist Muskan – excited by a first date where the attraction seems mutual – wastes no time in creating a playlist of love songs. Until that point, she’d resisted “committing to” these songs, so to speak. She couldn’t relate. They reminded her of a deep, painful inner conviction that she is unlovable.
I don’t listen to music when I write, because I need total silence to hear my own thoughts, but playlists are still an essential part of my writing process. I fill them with songs that reflect my characters’ inner states, or ones that could be playing in the background of particular scenes. Oftentimes, it is the songs that inspire the writing, not the other way around.
At least once a week while writing Ghost Chilli, I wanted to throw everything in the trash, give up, and start over. (From what I’ve gathered, this is not uncommon.) I worried Muskan’s struggles weren’t important enough; that there was no story here. But then I would listen to the songs on the Ghost Chilli playlist and remember that a desire to be loved—and the fear of it being out of reach—is a universal human dilemma that never, ever gets old. I have loved these songs for years and never tired of them.
This is an abridged version of the playlist, selected in a way that follows Muskan’s journey. The first half reflects the constant disillusionment, rage, and sadness that simmers under the surface of her easy-going persona. The second half is more relaxed; these songs delve into acceptance and, ultimately, hope.
“How Soon Is Now?” by The Smiths
Like Athena bursting from the head of Zeus, Ghost Chilli emerged from this iconic song. The second I heard the lyrics I am the heir / of a shyness that is criminally vulgar, I knew I wanted to write a book about a character who has A) inherited something traumatic; and B) is acutely aware of how banal that is. (Ten years after first listening to the song, I wrote the book.) Like Morrissey, Muskan engages in harsh inner dialogue (you shut your mouth!) and has the humbling realization that—despite her perceived uniqueness—she wants (no, needs) to be loved, just like everybody else does. The way the guitar strings tremble before that primal scream of a note—it sounds like someone finally breaking free.
“Save Me” by Aimee Mann
Muskan cannot help but be honest with herself, not unlike Aimee Bender in this vulnerable, soulful song. Both of them know that their reason for liking somebody has less to do with him, and more to do with an anxiety about being a freak, who suspects, they can never love anyone. I like that this song is soft but not passive; it’s less about the fear of not being loved, and more about the fear of not being able to. It shows that taking responsibility for a situation doesn’t necessarily fix it—a lesson Muskan has to learn time and time again.
“GMF” by John Grant
Muskan uses humor to hide her sadness and rage, and no singer does “humor as an avoidance tacti” better than John Grant. In “GMF,” short for “Greatest Mother Fucker,” he ricochets bravado and vulnerability, revealing the deep loneliness beneath it.
“Stayin’ Alive” by The Bee Gees
The Bee Gees do a much better job at hiding despair than John Grant. They managed to convince the world this is a dance anthem, but look closely at the lyrics, and it contains both an admission of childhood trauma (been kicked around since I was born) and a cry for help (I’m going nowhere, somebody help me). It’s a testament to how well a good dance beat— or in Muskan’s case, charisma—can mask the difficult stuff. Nobody wants to stop dancing in order to ask the Gibb brothers: are y’all okay? And they are well aware of that – that’s the point. The Gibb brothers, like Muskan, and like that popular meme of the dog sitting at the table with a coffee while the room around him burns down, are fine, all Gucci, thanks.
“Someone Else’s Bed” by Hole
I hate the term “situationship” even though it’s used in the jacket copy of Ghost Chilli.(Good SEO, I was told.) It flattens a complicated relational dynamic and makes the feelings that spring from it easy to dismiss. This Hole song, my personal favorite, does the opposite. It captures the jadedness of somebody who has given up on romance but still desperately wants to be understood by the other.
“Prisoner” by The Weeknd featuring Lana Del Rey
Though Muskan is loath to admit it, she loves the rush-and-crash cycle of getting hung up on a romantic partner and then self-destructing when it inevitably doesn’t work out. Her lowest lows are comforting because they are familiar, and that’s what this duet from The Weeknd and Lana Del Rey captures so well – being addicted to and imprisoned by a life so empty and so cold.
“Girl in the Movies” by Dolly Parton
This song is an anthem for maladaptive dreamers everywhere, Muskan included. I put it in the middle of this playlist because in the bridge, Dolly Parton changes key, shifting her voice from detached sadness to embodied desire—she wants to shine. She doesn’t want to sit back and dream anymore. The change reflects Muskan’s own mental shift of no longer wanting to be a sad gurlie whose self-concept is refracted through other people’s eyes. She wants to actually live.
“Urvashi Urvashi” by A.R. Rahman
In the movie Lion, this iconic Bollywood song plays while Dev Patel and Rooney Mara walk across the street from each other while heading in the same direction, making eye contact and smiling. It’s adorable, and it was only the second time I’d seen a Bollywood song deployed in a Hollywood movie in a way that didn’t seem ham-fisted. (The first is Spike Lee’s Training Day.) In Lion, as in Ghost Chilli, the song represents the temporary shrugging off of “reflecting on my trauma” to just have a nice and relaxed time, à la the “take it easy policy” the song espouses in its Indian-ized English.
“These Days” by Nico
This was the song I had imagined would be playing in the background in the part of Ghost Chilli when Muskan returns to New York after spending months in India. Instead of bristling against the disillusionment in her life, she just accepts it, and like Nico, acts accordingly. She goes on a lot of long walks and doesn’t do too much talking. And that’s fine. Kind of nice, actually.
“Despair” by The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
I saw The Yeah Yeah Yeahs perform an acoustic set at London’s Royal Albert Hall a few months ago, about a year after Ghost Chilli was published in the UK, but I just had to add it to the playlist. Karen O opened her performance of “Despair,” admitting that she worried this song was too vulnerable, then backtracked and said (I’m paraphrasing): “But what’s more punk rock than shouting about it?” This song, to me, represents getting to the heart of your deepest fears, right there in the darkest void, and saying: You know what, you’re actually not as bad as I thought, do you want to hang out in the sun?
“It Never Rains in Southern California” by Albert Hammond
This song reminds me of Muskan’s mother, who in the book is never named. She, unlike Muskan, did not have the privilege of pursuing exactly what she wanted in life. Thus, she is more determined to put on superficial airs and show off to others. (I’m doing great! This is exactly the life I wanted!) There’s a moment near the end of the book where Muskan has great empathy for her mother. She realises how painful it must have been for her mother to both love her children and resent them for their freedom, which she helped provide. This song—hands down the best song ever written about jilted dreams—will always remind me of that.
“Happy” by MARINA
When I heard “How Soon Is Now?,” it was the unofficial start of the project that became Ghost Chilli. And when I heard “Happy” by MARINA, I knew how to end Muskan’s story. Not with a bang, but with the quiet realization that actually, she’s content. Yes, her unmet desires still poke at her, but she—in Marina’s words—believes in divinity. (Does Muskan join the Church of Scientology or something? I won’t spoil that for you.)
Nikkitha Bakshani is an American writer based in London. Before getting an MA in Creative & Life Writing from Goldsmiths, she was an editor at New York-based publication Food52. She has also worked at the Paris Review, Departures, the Village Voice, and The Week. She’s been a Contributing Editor to The Morning News since 2013. Her writing has appeared online at all the aforementioned publications as well as Eater, The Baffler, Vice, and more.