Netflix’s Never Have I Ever makes a mockery of Indian Representation like Never Before. Here’s Why?

Most millennials around the world will concede to American High school dramas as an entertainment staple. Embellished with elementary formulas available at a fitting disposal, transitioning it to screens is indisputably not a herculean undertaking. However, quite often the recurrent tropes bring mundanity which necessitates the infusion of innovative elements into the same formulaic story ahead of exhibiting it on screen. 

In my finite exposure to firang content on OTT platforms, Never Have I Ever come across a South Asian-origin protagonist headlining a mainstream High-School drama. The recent Netflix original Sex Education had a handful of brown characters inserted into the narrative, marginally thriving on the periphery of what was touted as a diverse cast. And as much as I fancy a normalised portrayal of an Indian origin person pivoting an American High School drama, Mindy Kaling tasks herself with the onerous errand albeit glorying the presumable stereotypes.  

Never Have I Ever is the coming-of-age story of Devi Vishwakumar, a 15-year-old first generation Indian American girl navigating through the perils of high-school dilemmas, whilst coping with the unforeseen death of her father.  In the aftermath of a paralytic attack which had her confined to a wheelchair for almost a year, Devi marks her return to sophomore year at school, joined by her best friends Eleanor and Fabiola, who without any surprises also happen to be women of color.  As an ode to their intellectual capabilities, the remainder of the class brands these girls as the UN which stands not for United Nations but for  Unf***able Nerds. Devi therefore, maps out a strategy to alter their social status through a series of steps one of which incorporates shooting a spice-girl style music video in Devi’s backyard. Much to Devi’s anguish, the video includes photobombed appearances from Devi’s mom Nalini Vishwakumar, a struggling single mother tasked with raising a teenage rebel and Devi’s cousin Kamala, a PhD student from India battling the pressures of an arranged marriage. While Maitreyi Ramakrishnan who plays Devi stays true to her American accent, both Poorna Jagnnathan and Richa Moorjani who play Nalini and Kamala respectively, put up an unnecessarily exaggerated Indian accent. This undisguised forgery only left me wondering, how hard was it for the makers of the show to source someone who spoke English with a real Indian accent, considering there are over a 100-million of us.  

Devi’s spice girl styled video despite its share of interferences makes it to the gram, aimed towards the fancy of her crush Paxton-Hall Yoshida, perfectly type casted as the high-school hottie. What happens to their love story isn’t an imminent concern, what startled me was a scene where Paxton tells Devi- You're so beautiful. You look Like Priyanka Chopra. The disconcerting compartmentalization is reiterated in another sequence where Devi’s friend highlights her goodwill in continuing her friendship with Devi despite Nick Jonas marrying an Indian.  

The lack of nuance in depiction of Indian culture is embodied in the reductionist approach to Kamala’s character into the bargain. Devi’s cousin, Kamala is a PhD student who despite travelling across the world to pursue her educational pursuits grapples with inescapable arranged marriage proposals. One of the scenes which enticed most of my rage had Kamala inviting Devi to watch a Bollywood movie, casually mentioning the duration of the movie that amounted to 7 HOURS. Dear Makers of the show, I grew up on Bollywood and Never Have I ever encountered or even heard of a Bollywood movie lasting seven hours. GET YOUR FACTS RIGHT!!  

Because Bollywood fails to serve the purpose, Kamlas dormant roubustness is awakened upon watching TV drama Riverdale (yes, you heard that right). She decides to stand up for her rights but succumbs to patriarchy draping a saree in front of a computer screen, as Nalini brags about her domesticity to her prospective in-laws. Yes, India is a country which continues to thrive on arranged marriages but the overtly-regressive portrayal dispenses accounts dissimilar to new-age arranged marriage set-ups. Even as Kamala finally meets her husband-to-be, he rewards her “rebel” streak validated on account of having a non-Indian boyfriend, Kamla much like all of us watching the show falls for this presumable “wokeness”. 

Never Have I Ever, also glorifies the extremity of NRIs religious sentiments through a Ganesh Pooja Sequence where Devi, much against her comfort is wearing a saree. On her way to the Pooja venue, a little American Girl in a coffee shop confuses Devi for princess Jasmine while her mother nudges Devi to pose for photo with the girl. Talk about the “othering” of the un-ordinary. The Ganesh Pooja also forms a venue of gossip for aunties, defined in the show as older Indian women who have no blood relationship with you but are allowed to have an opinion about your life and shortcomings. Honestly, the only depiction that not just stays true to facts but also transgresses national boundaries. Another representational inaccuracy is manifested as Garba songs headline the Ganesh Pooja festivities. The show also inordinately amplifies the universally acknowledged brown parent’s overprotective streak obsessing over their child’s education and sex life or lack of it thereof.  

There is no denying the fact that the 10-episode-narrative grows on you and despite initial resentment to the representational inaccuracies you find yourself invested not just in Devi’s story but that of her mom, her friends and Kamala. However, in its exotified treatment of everyday Indian life, it only scratches the surface of what could have been a real window into the lives of Indian Americans. Never Have I Ever ultimately remains a half-baked attempt at celebrating diversity, for the show fails to the very expectations of people of colour who form the inspiration behind it.