Banquet On The Dead by Sharath Komarraju - A Review

My tryst with mysteries continues.

Sharath Komarraju is an author who knows his craft. I can say this, because Banquet On The Dead is his second book which has left me impressed. His first book - Murder In Amaravati - was a treat to read. Easy, laidback mystery, which makes you turn pages rapidly, but without making you feel edgy. Yes, I agree mysteries/thrillers are books which should make one jittery, accelerate palpitations and occupy the mind and heart of a reader, but Murder In Amaravati proved to be a delightful read precisely for not belonging to that racy-edgy category of books. Banquet On The Dead is a murder mystery which follows the same, calm, easy narrative style, and just about manages to satiate the reader in you.

Banquet On The Dead is an investigative journey into Kauveramma's murder. This old woman, owner of a huge estate, was found dead in the well in her compound. However, it was common knowledge that she was petrified of water, so much so, that she dreaded taking showers. Her death, then becomes more complex and intriguing a phenomenon than it was a at first understood to be. Kauveramma has a large family - full with sons, daughter, grandchildren - and almost all of them stand to gain some pecuniary advantage from her death. Who was it then, among all those, who made Kauveramma meet her end in such a grotesque manner - floating in the well, hair fanned out, limbs outspread?  The answer is discovered by an unlikely pair of detectives  - Inspector Valmiki Narayan, and a 'charming' rogue, Hamid Pasha.

Having mentioned Hamid Pasha's name in the last sentence, I must confess that he was perhaps the best takeaway from this book. Hamid Pasha's character has been fashioned very well, and if I may say, stylishly so. Among a deluge of characters, he is the one who becomes instantly recognizable and is the lynchpin for staying abreast with the storyline. And amusing too. He has his peculiarities and convictions as a detective, and his mind probes alleys of doubts which even his veteran police partner fails to conceive. More than anything else, it is the all-knowing, limping figure of Hamid Pasha, which stays with you once you close the book after a satisfied reading.

Besides brilliant characterization in terms of Hamid Pasha's, this book has many other upsides which keep you hooked onto it till the last page. Among its few negatives I would count, for starters, certain amount of tiring repetition. Too many characters in the book implies too many recounted stories, all similar except that one crucial aspect hidden as a tiny detail. The second issue I had while reading this book was the multitude of characters, who could sometimes leave you befuddled. It takes time to start differentiating one from the other, and if you, like me, are not good with names, the task only becomes more difficult. The language is simple and narrative lucid, and as reader you are aware that in the hands of a good writer, you are being securely led ahead on an interesting investigative trail. There is some local flavour interspersed in the script and the occasional linguistic transgressions make the reading a little more fun.

The climax of the story was rather creative, but it hits you in your face out of nowhere. It was entertaining and thrilling, for sure, but it the sub-plot which leads to it builds up rather late in the story. Few tiny sub-plots are also left unattended. Convincing, yes. But it does leave you asking for more. Just a little more. It is a good read for those of you who like the mystery genre. 2.5 stars on 5 is my verdict, and that is perhaps influenced by my attempt to establish a relative merit between Sharath's earlier book and this one. Between them, Murder In Amaravati would definitely be my pick! Oh, and Banquet On The Dead deserves a pat for the brilliant cover design as well.

(Reviewed on request by the author)

Book Details - 
Title - Banquet On The Dead
Author - Sharath Komarraju
Publisher - Westland
Published - 2012
Price - ₹ 250
Pages - 265
Genre - Mystery/Thriller

Quote Quintet - November

Aah yes. I am late by about a week. I have a decent excuse though - exams! They do not have a reputation of ever having spared anybody. The only concession I had this time was that I was writing papers in a subject I understood and enjoyed. This is not a privilege I have happened to carry with me for most of my life. If anything, its novel.

I am romancing the world of literature these days in Jamia Millia Islamia. Quite surprisingly, this new world encapsulates in itself vistas that from a distance I could not even have imagined. Being a literature student is fun and challenging at the same time. One needs not just the power of language but analysis as well, to develop discourses on themes which could be anachronistic, contemporary or even futuristic. However, these ramblings deserve a separate post of their own.

For now, the quintet. November was  a month full of mad-scurrying for notes, last minute completion of syllabus, confused/harried faces and other general attributes of exam times. November was also a month of bonhomie - pleasant classroom banter, close friends getting closer. For this month, I will not share some random lines drawn from newspapers (I had not been reading much of them anyway). I will share here excerpts from five best pieces of poetry which were taught to us by our wonderful professors at Jamia - Dr. Anisur Rahman and Dr. Ameena Kazi Ansari.

My favorite lines might mostly be the romantic ones. So, feel the love and read on!

#1

A cordiform map projection

My face in thine eyes, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west?
- John Donne, The Good Morrow
John Donne is one of the great metaphysical poets whose poems speak a language of their own. His most prolific achievement, however, is that he is my friend, Mishail Sharma's favourite poet, and owing to her incessant and excited monologues, I have developed a mini-expertise on him as well. These lines are remembered fondly by me because of the way they philosophise on love, because of the way they make you see two lovers. As two hemispheres, the north of which is not too cold and the west of which is not declined towards darkness, these lovers complete a whole - they complete a world for their existence - beyond which nothing is desired. Donne goes on to say that such love is eternal. If it died, that love was not which could find a balance.

#2

The handsomest among poets

There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away
When the glow of early thought declines in feelings' dull decay
- Lord Byron, Youth and Age
Despite not preparing this poem for my examination, I remember vividly its first line. How very true, or as my teacher put it, very 'axiomatic'. We have heard of the cliché about the value of things becoming apparent only upon losing them. Byron has restated that very ideal, perhaps in a more provoking way. True it is - the most precious happiness is that which has been snatched from us. This poem is about what the title says it is - youth and the journey towards old age - and it reflects on that path and the things we lose on our way to the end of life. Byron is graceful in his acceptance of the ageing process, though a tinge of longing for the transience of youth is palpable in his tone. That sense of longing is what makes this poem remarkable for me.

#3
When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;

http://arb.hubpages.com/hub/The-Journey-chapter-1

The weak one is singled 
To endure what it once possessed.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley, When The Lamp Is Shattered
It is another of those poems which deal with the concept of transience, thought Shelley succeeds in taking forward the concept of impermanence to the concept of death, which eventually leads to regeneration. In these particular lines, however, what catches my attention is the sensitivity which the poet displays towards relationship of lovers which is ephemeral like everything else. It is the weak one, the more attached one who is always left to suffer the pangs of longing for what once was his. I find these lines echoing in me because I can see their manifestation in many instances around me. My age, after all, is the age of heartaches and heartbreaks.

#4
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan
The proper study of Mankind is Man.
- Alexander Pope, An Essay On Man, Epistle II
I will admit - Pope is not one of those poets I have understood well, yet, I remember the way our Professor delivered these lines in class and they instantly became a hit with me. I quote them frequently and ask my friends what they think of it. In this section of his extremely lengthy poem, Pope has urged mankind to stay away from prying into the affairs of God, and to seek answers for their own powers and limits, strengths and frailties, reason and impulse, within the ambit of worldly existence. To know his affairs, Man must study himself. However, I always feel a greater meaning lurks behind those lines. Does something pop up in your mind when you read these?

#5

Purple flower by the moss

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
- William Wordsworth, She Dwelt Among Untrodden Ways
Wordsworth is among my favorite poets, for the simple reason that he talks in a language I understand and he conveys ideas which touch my heart. In a set of five poems, together called the Lucy Poems, Wordsworth has concocted an iconic romantic character in the form of Lucy - one who can be romanced and loved, but never be achieved. No one knows the identity of Lucy for sure; not even if she was real or a figment of his imagination. But Lucy poems, taken together, are pregnant with a sense of an impending loss - of love, of Lucy. Of all the five, these lines reverberate often in my mind. His object of love, pristine and virginal and untouched - she lived hidden from the prying eyes of the world. But now, she is no more, and while the world might carry on at its pace, it makes a difference, a huge difference to him.

I should've perhaps undertaken this exercise before the exams. However, as they say, 'better late than never!' Hope you had a good time reading this one.

Picture Perfect - November

For this month, I am sharing the picture which remained my wallpaper for most of the month. I clicked this in early October, on one of my unique visits to Ajmer; unique because this trip signalled the close of a significant chapter in my life, it signalled the loss of someone very dear to me. Since I was a little kid, I have been visiting Mayo College - one of the best known institutions of our nation, where many a film-stars and politicians have accessed knowledge from - and I have always been enamoured by the pristine surroundings and the heritage buildings which define this place. I used to go their in summer holidays to visit my mamaji. The laidback, calm, and inviting warmth of my mamaji's house within this residential campus form few of my most prized memories of childhood. With mamaji, I gained knowledge of Hindi literature, of food and of Hindi cinema. He was the one who introduced me to Premchand, cheese omelettes and Manna Dey. All that love, care, guidance, unfortunately, is no longer with us. Mamaji left us, left this world sometime back, and I think it will take some more time before a lot of us accept the magnitude of loss we have suffered. I don't think I have been able to accept it till now. 

Wiping those tears away, here is my fondest click of the year - the building which Mamaji introduced me to, and which remains my definition of grandeur. 

Awe-inspiring

Rich With Life!

Clouds gather lustre

Nature comes to life

Dew emits sparkles

All in her one smile

Makes me love her more, much more

It was an ordinary day when she came to my life. However, any day there after I spent with her, was anything, but ordinary. She has occupied my mind and heart for the better part of 2012. I know there are people convincing you that 2012 the world will end. I can confidently denounce their claims as grand 'rubbish', for it is in this 'doomed' year, that I got a new lease of life. In her.

She chirps to brighten my morning. She laughs like no one's watching. She is conscious of the world around her, yet, she dares to carve another, mini world of her dreams and fantasies around her. Gentle, and naive - she easily grants entry to anyone in her world - her realm of imagination, of blooming flowers, of flowing rivers, of magic, of angels, of darkness, of good triumphing over evil, of niceness pervading all hearts, of love binding people together. It is hard to imagine - a girl, whose visions hold so much piety, how pure would be her heart?

I began this post thinking, I will write her story. That, would be one of first birthday gifts I would surprise her with. However, when I closed my eyes, to conjure her face - my muse for now - only a million descriptions swam in my head.  It is her birthday today, a day no less special to me than her, for it is today I can celebrate her, her existence, her presence in my life. Actually, I do it each day, albeit secretly. Today, the show can be opulent. And it is not her story I need to write, that privilege is entirely hers. I can only cast a subtle impression in words of the grand personality my friend is. Tiny eyed, kind hearted, scared of traffic, proud of her friends, always available to help - all these words are but insufficient capsules to contain the phenomenon Neha is (yes, Neha, that's her name) - and it will take many, many more posts for me to chronicle what time spent with her has been like.

Coolest place in Delhi, and the coolest people in town!

Right now, as my eye lids become heavy, I plan to whisper these wishes into the cold air of night, hoping they are carried as a murmur to her ears.

Dear Neha, 
I pray for your life to be rich. Not (just) with wealth, but with love. You have so much in you too give, and you deserve so much more in return. Just know, you will always get your due, and rewards will always come your way, just not from the direction you expect. Have faith in the grander plans life has for you. Make your talents speak for you. Persevere and excel. 

My God protect you from pain.
May Life be kind on you.
May the stars watch you over.

Happy Birthday!

Love,
Saumya 

Your pictures look lovely with me, hence only 'couple' pictures allowed!

When The Snow Melts by Vinod Joseph - A Review

My library has seen a flood of thrillers/crime novels finding their way in and stuffing themselves on every last inch of space available on any shelf. The latest entry, sigh, belongs to the same genre. However, a saving grace of all these books have been, that they have taken me through different terrains, different sub genres of thriller-writing. While the last thriller I reviewed was a medical mystery, and the book I am reviewing for this post had the promise of being an exciting spy novel - and exciting is only an understatement for what Vinod Joseph's book, 'When The Snow Melts' turned out to be.

It is easy to give views on a piece of writing when as a reader, you are friendly with the subject matter contained there in. However, my knowledge of spy-activities and intelligence sharing is limited to Bond movies and Ludlum novels - which is a fair knowledge, I feel. However, no novel have I read which explores fictional topographies constructed out of intelligence activities carried out by Indian or Pakistans spies. Yes, I have seen Ek Tha Tiger, but please - stop! To even mention that overtly (ridiculously) romanticized tale in the review of When The Snow Melts is to do injustice to the great fun and thrill I experienced while reading this novel. In long, I came across a book which I just HAD to finish in one reading. Two readings, spread over 2 days, is what it eventually took. I would not say it is the greatest spy-fiction ever written by an Indian, the novel does have its lackadaisical moments, but overall, I can already let it out - this review will sing strong praises of the author Vinod Joseph.

A little about the storyline before that. Ritwik Kumar is a veteran intelligence agent, who is working with Intelligence Assessment Group in London - a global terror fighting establishment where intelligence reports from across frontiers are pooled in to make the combat against terror outfits more cohesive and efficient. However, Ritwik is not quite the quintessential, invincible, extremely smart spy, who is all committed to the task of searching out Osama Bin Laden from his hideout in the hills of Afghanistan (well, that is what it was assumed for a long time, isn't it?) or purging the ISI, and the whole world, from fanatics and fundamentalists promoting violence in the name of religion. Ritwik is an alcoholic and gambler, snowed under debt, who defects over to nothing less than the al Qaeda! And from their begins the tale of finding his place in the midst of their ideological impositions, feeling titillations of a possible but forbidden love and saving not only himself, but his love interest from the way of fatal harm.

Honestly, the reader will be quite clear after reading the first fifty pages what the eventual outcome of Ritwik's adventures in Al Qaeda-land will be, but the journey is truly worthwile. Vinod Joseph's novel is a treat for readers who like to get into the author's mind and attempt to stay a pace ahead of his narrative. A wee bit unfortunate is the fact that as a reader, I did win this race against the author many a times, but there were moments of unexpected revelations, which kept me on the edge and even made me shiver for a nanosecond perhaps. The glimpse that one gets into the world of diplomacy, intelligence-sharing, terrorists and fanatics in this book is quiet valuable. What is excellent is also the fact that the sub-plot of a love story is cleverly woven into the larger script, and not once does it overpower the actual genre-allegiance  of this book - When The Snow Melts remains an interesting spy thriller, giving you something to chew on till the last page. Easy and intelligent use of language make the reading experience better.

I did wonder, at the end, what relevance did the title have to the story line, except for that there was a lot of snow was present everywhere in the description. A title always gives the promise of meaning, and if, in that case, melting of snow is similar to clearing of mist, then, well, okay. There were a few breathtaking turns at the end in the story, but I would maintain, the larger picture was devoid of any mist. On that note, I would conclude this review, by awarding it 3 on 5 stars. Good read, and strongly recommended to everyone who likes this genre

Book title - When The Snow Melts
Author - Vinod Joseph
Source - Review copy provided by the author
Publisher - Amaryllis
Genre - Thriller/Spy Fictionn
Price - Rs. 195
Pages - 202