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With a Whimper, Not a Bang: Sunny Ends her Erotica Disappointingly

The last story in Sunny Leone’s kitty of literary porn is disappointing and bizarre.

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Lifestyle
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I’m not very sure what The One is. Yes yes, it’s the swansong of Sunny Leone’s book of erotica. But could it also not be a romance tale, gone horribly awry? Or perhaps it’s a horror story, wrapped under layers of bubblegum? You see, I’m not very sure what The One is. It’s certainly not erotica – I’ll give you that. It’s also unlike anything Sunny’s written yet in her collection.

It is a difficult feat to review the last of Sunny’s short stories, without giving away the plot. I shall attempt a hand, though. First, the pluses. There are few. This wasn’t meant to be erotica – and it therefore ends up as a cross between R.L. Stine and Mills and Boon. (I never thought I’d say those two names together in the same sentence.)

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Perhaps Sunny hoped to tie things up on a happy ending note that would be the happy ending of all happy endings. We mean, a stupendous Bollywood-esque love story. She might’ve achieved it too, had she not married Raaz 3 to Namastey London. Kiara is an American who moves with her Indian boyfriend to Bangalore to be with him. They have a soppy, mushy, ‘adorbs’ kinda love story – one that involves many surprises and the catchphrase ‘Honey, I’m home’. Raj (the boyfriend) eventually pops the question, there are tears and family, and the two get married. It’s all very predictable – but the sort of happy predictable you like. This is going to be a love story, you tell yourself. That’s how Miss Leone wants to end her book, you are sure.

Except that you aren’t prepared for the consequences that follow. A tragedy occurs – at which point too you’re surprised to find yourself hit by a wave of sadness. You didn’t assume it was going to be the sad kind of love story.

And then, bizarreville hits, and hits hard. Let’s just say there are very surreal resurrections and a very real (and weird) twist at the end. We are still not sure if we saw (read) a ghost.

Of all the seven stories of Sunny Leone, in her collection Sweet Dreams, if there’s one thing I have realised it’s that her forte is writing without pretence. Her previous – the sixth tale – was as unapologetic a tale of erotica as you might hope to get, and one loves her for it. This one, however, straddles three (or four? maybe five?) different genres of storytelling and ends up confusing the reader.

I certainly didn’t want her to end on this note. (Or to drift into such strange territory.) But I realise the reason it disappoints is because I have gotten used to Sunny Leone the author, over the course of a week, and I’m still not done. Miss Leone holds promise, she does, and I’m ready to stay up reading her next collection of tales already.

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(You can read The One and the remaining stories in Sweet Dreams on the Juggernaut app for Android phones.)

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