The best books on India that blend history with gripping mysteries

Mukherjee’s first chapter is a masterclass on how to open a mystery-thriller.

“It’s not unusual to find a corpse in a funeral parlor. It’s just rare for them to walk door under their own steam. It was a riddle worth savoring, but I didn’t have the time, seeing as I was running for my life.” This got my interest right away. I was in!

Mukherjee’s protagonist is in an opium den at the wrong time. Beautifully bookended, opium forms the personal struggles of this worthy protagonist. With quirky lines “take me to your organ grinder” and “we’re here to see Torquemada” I enjoyed this action-packed story, set against the backdrop of the 1920s Indian independence movement.

Protagonist Sam Wyndham is an English policeman who’s apolitical, and I enjoyed his comic-accurate cynical portrayal of both Indian proclivities and the British pretensions. But Indians are far more than backdrop, and form vibrant and compelling portraits in this book. The pace of this book is fabulous from start to finish. Descriptions of Calcutta could only come from one who’s been there. Come prepared for the grungy seedy Calcutta, and the grandeur of faded glory.

But how can an Englishman who does not speak Bengali interview suspects or witnesses? How could he know if they were lying? How could he navigate the city? These pose hurdles for this sleuth! Luckily his assistant is young Surendranath “Surrender-not” Bannerjee, a puny-bodied law graduate committed to law and order, even against his own family’s preferences! Best of all I enjoyed the rapport between Wyndham and Surrender-not Bannerjee who is one of the most delightful characters in the book.

A young woman is found dead only a few yards behind the stands where hundreds of students gathered to watch the Prince of Wales’ parade on his 1922 visit to Bombay. When lawyer Pervin Mistry realizes it’s the same woman who consulted her only days ago, she’s driven by guilt and determined to help the Parsi family through the awful process of the coroner's inquiry.

I started this book with a whole host of questions, which grew more dire as the number of suspects rose. Finely etched characters abound. Pervin is torn between a natural patriotism and desire to see justice and her own family’s interests. As she learns more, she realizes that the young female student has a sort of dangerous honesty (a term the author Sujata Massey used when I interviewed her) which complicates matters and shows the difficulty of being a dutiful daughter while staying true to one’s own beliefs.

I read this book until past 2 AM and kept thinking about it when I wasn’t reading it. The end came with multiple surprises and was very satisfying. I enjoyed it all and kept rooting for Pervin as she works through the barriers thrown up before a woman lawyer.

Pure nostalgia and a delightful return to the complex Bombay under the Raj.

Sidhwa’s book describes the partition of India that formed present-day India and Pakistan. These tortured days and the tragedies and massacres that followed are viewed through the lens of a gentle and educated Parsi family. The narrator is Lenny, a young girl afflicted with polio, whose active observations center on the members of her family and servants. Her eighteen-year-old Ayah and the devotion of the ice-candy man play out against the backdrop of terrible hatred and betrayal, where religious affiliation trumps all, even what some call love, and others, lust. 

This book had me weeping for days. Its simplicity is deceptive. The simple narration from a six-year-old is entirely believable, the confusion of what really happened, and what it means. But the adult me could read between the lines and understand the full measure of tragedy, the horror, the inevitable result. And I was glad that Lenny was too young to know, and that her parents would not have explained. This book demonstrates how dangerous religious fervor can be, as a warning to us all. As India becomes even more virulently nationalistic with BJP Hindutva overcoming the usual benign benevolence toward all religions, this book is a must-read for all generations. Because “those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.”

Oh, how I enjoyed the dry wit embedded into each page! This complex mystery is filled with engaging characters. Author Vaseem Khan lavishes even the most minor characters with detailed and hilarious descriptions. The mystery of three separate murders converging is wrapped up with a cipher puzzle embedded in the mythology of Indian culture and iconography. The crimes with two different modus operandi makes things even more confusing.

Sourcing from the internment of foreign nationals in India during World War II, this twisty tale takes us through a number of locations and little-known events of India's history. I enjoyed protagonist Persis Wadia, as a Parsi woman myself, however, seeing her run headlong into dangerous situations does not do her credit. The deepening personal relationship with Archie is delightful but perhaps a deeper understanding of the moral and personal quandaries will be coming in future books. This does not detract from the fabulous pace, the twisty plot, and the delicious prose this novel offers.

This book is misnamed Riot - A Love Story. But don’t be deceived. In fact it is the tale of an affair gone wrong: Page one starts with a news article about the death of an American student. Solving the puzzle sheds light on the Hindu-Muslim riots in India as well as the underpinning of Indian families and how they view foreign-born individuals.

The book is a murder mystery without a detective, or even a clear denouement. That put me, as the reader before a set of puzzle pieces, each from a different point of view, laid out unflinchingly to draw a picture of enormous betrayal. Murder Mystery readers expect a neat wrap-up at the end and a clean ending. Tharoor has none for us. Instead, murderers pray piously, wearing their religion with a self-righteous smirk. But no, I do not believe criminals go unpunished by the eternal eye, not over the long run. In India, manmade and natural calamities abound, giving that eternal eye ample opportunity for justice.

Tharoor elaborates on the different positions on the Hindu-Muslim conflict, each with its own internal conflicts that caused the rise of militant Hindu Fundamentalism. This thinking resulted in the 1980s with nationwide propaganda and the plan to demolish the Babri Masjid and ‘rebuild’ a Ram Janmabhoomi temple believed to exist on that spot centuries ago. This led to several Hindu-Muslim riots throughout India, murders, rapes, lynchings, people set aflame. Did you believe Indians were peaceful? This book may change your mind. 

Religion is still being hijacked by extremists just as when Tharoor wrote Riot in 2001. No wonder that globally, each year less and less youth claim to belong to any religion!

Are we supposed to pity the dead woman’s lover? Is it a semi-autobiographical note? Much of the book is given to his internal angst: to leave a loveless marriage for the appropriately named Miss Hart or break up with her and lose his chance at happiness. Tharoor paints an eloquent picture of selfish male entitlement with his self-pitying prose and excuses of ‘I cannot destroy my daughter’s life.’ I wasn’t sure Tharoor means us to feel this outrage, but this is a feminist book, even if he did not intend it: in relationships, women end up giving far more than men.

Little betrayals masterfully revealed also stab at the reader who is placed in the position of a detective unravelling the girl’s murder. The effusive quotes from those same betrayers, their mournful words upon her death add another layer of poignancy that may forever change how you read such news articles in the media. Finally, Tharoor has given a message he may not have intended, an indictment of a culture where ego and position define men more than their conscience, a stinging portrayal of the supreme selfishness of the traditional Indian male.