Senior Police Inspector Arnav Rajput speeds through flooded streets on a homicide call. A body has been found outside a temple. Expecting a murder, he races against storm waters to recover all possible evidence but what Arnav and his team finds is something much more horrifying.
“…men murdered in or around Kaali temples in what looked like ritualistic…”
Vermilion powder and hibiscus pedals signify something more than a crime of passion or greed. Mutilated eyes and missing genitals point to rage and shame and more frightening: a plan. Then, as crime-scene video is posted on the internet, politicians seize on the opportunity to stoke public outrage.
The sequel to her excellent sophomore book, The Blue Bar, Damyanti Biswas’ Blue Monsoon, reunites us with Arnav Rajput, on his dangerous beat. Like a police ride-along without the reassurance of backup, Arnav works his cases from the edges and angles, often at cross-purposes with his superiors’ objectives and his subordinates’ agendas. He is always one misstep from dismissal or worse.
But if Arnav is the over-worked-bone-aching honesty of Blue Monsoon, then Tara, Arnav’s wife remains the beating heart of the story. She infuses light and hope to Arnav’s world. Crippled from events in the previous book, (which won’t be spoiled here) Tara remains optimistic even as her anxiety for lost mobility, her protracted recovery, and her unborn child prays on her unguarded thoughts.
When we rejoin Tara she is hosting a Shaadh or a baby shower. Like the city she loves, Tara welcomes everyone, regardless of faith, economics, or caste. To Arnav’s dismay, she has invited kinnar, the “third gender” or transexual women to perform. Disarmed by the kinnar’s gratitude, she embraces their blessing on her and her unborn child.
“…a policewoman with no women’s toilet at her workplace…who refused the weekly hefta or bribe to let things slide…”
Sita Naik—Arnav’s erstwhile sub-inspector—contends with the legacy of caste dynamics that high-caste Arnav cannot understand. Ambitious far beyond low-level positions and low-level games, Sita turns societal prejudices to her advantage, using her schedule-caste status and gender to gain entry to places and access to people closed to high-caste men like Arnav.
“Ran battered down like scattershot bullets…”
However the best reunion is with the star of Biswas’ Blue books: Mumbai. The city remains intriguing and seductive and at the same time menacing and deadly. Blue Bar’s sun-seared sweltering dread gives way to Blue Monsoon’s unrelenting rain and noon-to-sudden-night clouds. Killers lurked in blazing sunlight in Blue Bar but in Blue Monsoon death rules the shadows, dark halls, and dank factory floors.
“Everyone ran…whether they liked it or not.”
What remains the same between books is the real villain here: generational abuse and generational poverty. Like cities all over the world, everything is available for the right coin. And just like everywhere else, the poor and the weak pay the ultimate price.
Biswas balances party and caste politics right along with religion and organized crime to illuminate a city of staggering contradictions. Awash in wealth and technology, Mumbai is also inhabited by women who still sell their hair to feed their families. Girls and boys are prayed upon for exploitation. Ancient hatred has deep roots in the fear and greed that drive men.
“No pausing for a breather. Not in Mumbai…”
Yet, for all the commentary Blue Monsoon is never preachy. Biswas never forgets the story. Never gets in the story’s way. The pace is breakneck as Arnav stalks the streets for a killer. Driven by a dread she cannot name, Tara seeks healing for herself and her young daughter, by volunteering at a charity for children and Sita chases down leads on a pervert accosting young girls with unrepeatable propositions. None realize the how deeply their lives, personal and professional, are enmeshed with seemingly unrelated tragedy and terror.
In the churn of life and death in Maximum City, they each dance a deadly circle with the killer.
As the rains threaten to drown the city, outrage turns to a powder keg of civil unrest. Arnav, Sita, et al must contend with cellphone videos and influencers, a lethal turf war between gangsters, and a slew of personal grudges. At every intersection, the wheels are greased—or spoked—by the ever-present corruption.
And with each turn, the circle tightens as Tara, Arnav, and Sita, (all on different but converging paths) draw closer to the killer.
“You sign up for a task, you see it through…”
Then, as if by provenance, Arnav’s khabri, (informant network) comes through with a tip on a local gangster concretely linked to one of the victims with possible ties to others. The gunfight that follows rivals Clarice Starling’s throw-down with Jame Gumb in Silence of the Lambs, for atmospheric tension and gravity. Unlike Starling, our heroes find no “gun solution” here.
If not readily apparent, Biswas packs an embarrassment of rich characters in Blue Monsoon. Zoya, Tara’s bestie, is a delight. Tambe, the medical examiner is adult-in-the-room honest. Sita Naik is the hero Mumbai needs, but certainly doesn’t deserve.
The conclusion rolls over everyone like the titular monsoon, engulfing them all in rip currents of betrayal, secrets, and redemption. No one is unscathed. Everyone loses something.
Blue Monsoon is a mystery/thriller of 394 (quick) pages. While there is violence, NONE of the graphic/gory stuff is shown. It is highly engaging and you can easily read it in a day but it will stay with you well after you close the book. Check it out by pre-ordering here.
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