Death In The East – by Abir Mukherjee

I have always been fascinated by the British Raj. It might be a politically incorrect statement in today’s India. Of course, as an Indian, I am not fond of the 150+ years of rule, tyranny and oppression that the British wrecked in this country. But since I believe that the apathy and greed of most of the Indian royalty and general populace alike, was equally, if not largely, responsible for allowing the British to first gain a foothold, and then to flourish in this country, I do not look at that era with pure hatred.

To cut a long story short, when I read that this novel is set in the British Era I did not think twice before checking it out.

This is the 4^th in the Wyndham & Banerjee series of crime novels. The plot keeps alternating between 1905’s London and 1922’s Assam. Captain Sam Wyndham has come to Jatinga, a remote village in Assam, as a final resort, to rid himself of his opium addiction. But his past does not seem to let go of him. As he endures the grueling detoxification regime at the Ashram, his mind keeps flashing back to his time in Whitechapel, an area in London’s East End. The enormous guilt of not having been able to save his one-time sweetheart, Bessie Drummond, so many years ago plagues him now more than ever.

And then death comes knocking once again. This time, at the Ashram’s door when a fellow patient is found dead in a stream. The jury is still out on whether it is a murder or an accident. As Wyndham completes his treatment and goes out to spend a few days with another Britisher in Jatinga, the quaint village is rocked by yet another death – that of a very wealthy and powerful man. However, this man has a connection with Wyndham’s past. A connection that Wyndham would do anything to forget. Though this death, by all accounts, seems to be a natural one, Wyndham cannot quite shake off his suspicion that it is anything but that. Luckily for him, in an answer to his earlier letter, his Sergeant, Surendranath (or Surrender-not!) Banerjee, arrives in town in time to help him unravel this mystery.

The novel keeps you engaged as you try to work out who could have killed Bessie, if the death of the patient is an accident and who, if anyone, killed beautiful Emma’s rich husband. The novel has intermittent references to events from India’s freedom struggle like the non-cooperation movement and the Chauri-Chura incident. We all know that Indians (and dogs!) were not allowed in the British clubs set up in India. But the references can still rile you. The author has managed to beautifully capture both - the earlier camaraderie between Sam and Surendranath and Sam’s later realization that though most of it is intact, a subtle but sure change has crept in.

I suspected that the library does not have the first 3 books of this series – because if they had had them, the assistant would have handed me the first one instead. When I went to return the book, I inquired and my suspicions were confirmed. I told them that I liked this one a lot and to let me know in case they bought the others.

Let’s see if I get to read more of the Wyndham-Banerjee, or should I say Banerjee-Wyndham, stories.

I seem to have recovered my penchant for whodunits. When I went to the library to return Sai Paranjpye’s Memoir, my eyes fell upon a collection of Agatha Christie’s mysteries. ‘You must have read most, if not all, of them’ – I tried to reason with myself. But, my hands, almost of their own accord, reached out and grabbed the book😊

Now, Christie’s stories do not need my review. So, needless to say, I enjoyed every one of them😊

A Patchwork Quilt – by Sai Paranjpye

I have always been fascinated by theatre –the plot, sets, costumes, lighting and of course, acting. So, when I saw this memoir by Sai, I immediately checked it out. And I am delighted to say that I was not disappointed.

Sure, Sai does not lay out her life’s story in a neat chronological fashion. She cannot remember exact dates or years, she confesses candidly. But that does not take anything away from the narrative. We get to read about her childhood, her days in NSD and All India Radio, the plays she wrote and directed for children and adults, the documentaries that she directed, her stint with Doordarshan and CFSI and her film career. She tells us about the people she worked with, the hardships and the triumphs. We come to know about how a play gets written, directed and produced. We are treated to interesting anecdotes about people we have been seeing for years on TV and on the celluloid screen. All this with a healthy dose of tongue-in-cheek humor. The memoir is a fascinating read for anyone who is interested in plays and movies.

I smiled when I came across references to the movies – Jadoo Ka Shankh and Sikandar. These movies had been screened at our school. And I had loved them😊

I am ashamed to say that I have not watched a single one of Sai’s movies. But I am determined to watch at least the light-hearted ones. I especially want to see her movie Papeeha as forest conservation is another subject close to my heart.

I only wish that I had read the original memoir in Marathi, instead of its English translation.

Madam Prime Minister – by Seema Goswami

I was in the library after a very long gap. Hard to believe that there was a time when I used to go there to borrow books every week, every month. Then this was no longer the case. For some months I was pressed for time. The enthusiasm to read was simply not there for a few more months. And the rest of the months were gobbled up by the pandemic. But then, all of a sudden, the books called me back. In India we believe that to be able to visit an important shrine, like e.g. Vaishno Devi, the invitation has to come from the Deity herself. Perhaps it is the same for books.

So, there I was. Nudged also by the WhatsApp messages from the library staff who dutifully kept informing me about the new arrivals. I stared at the messages wistfully for days and finally succumbed to the temptation😊On my way there, I kept telling myself that I need to borrow a book in Marathi. I am woefully illiterate when it comes to reading literature in my own mother-tongue.

But then it would have taken some time to look for a Marathi book. So, I told myself that I will do that one Sunday morning. And then, free from the guilt, started looking through the English books when I caught sight of this book. The plot seemed promising and so I checked it out.

Like I said, it has been a month since I read this book. So, I do not remember much of it except for the fact that I did not like it much. Though India has had a prime minister who came to power at a young age, was derided by her own party veterans as Gungi Gudiya (a dumb doll!) and went on to become a force to be reckoned with, the character of Asha Devi who becomes prime minister after the assassination of her father did not appeal to me. The details of her affair with her finance minister felt like an attempt to add the customary ‘sex factor’ to the book – similar to why an item number is added to a Hindi movie, irrespective of the the main plot. It did nothing to add to the story. And I am rather tired of reading about the central female characters who are too beautiful to be real.

The only thing that resonated with me was the fact that it does not take a long time for someone to become adept at the game that is politics. You may start as a naïve one, but you sure do not end up as one.