FrontLine

Murder is announced

The latest in Krishnan Srinivasan’s thriller series featuring the retired diplomat Michael Marco and the feisty private detective Koel Deb is as peppy and perceptive as it gets.

- TALMIZ AHMAD

Krishnan Srinivasan, a former Foreign Secretary, has, after retirement, diverted himself and thousands of delighted readers with stories of criminal investigat­ions by a low-key and soft-spoken Somali diplomat based in Kolkata, Michael Marco. After a distinguis­hed diplomatic career, Marco came to Kolkata to research African presence in India, took assignment­s from the Indian government (which conferred a Bharat Ratna on him), and periodical­ly assisted the Kolkata Police.

After setting out Marco’s activities in ve earlier books, Ambassador Srinivasan has paired him with a young and ebullient former police o cer and now private detective, Koel

Deb (“Minnie” to close friends). Right Angle to Life is their second outing, though they investigat­e di erent cases that have hardly any links with each other. Koel was hit by a bullet in her left arm in an earlier police encounter with a known criminal and acquired a prosthetic arm, a half-pension, a Glock-17, and a Harleydavi­dson Elektra. The motorcycle has been adapted to her injury and is now her principal mode of transport through Kolkata and neighbouri­ng towns.

Right Angle to Life is straightfo­rward. A prominent Mumbai-based lm producer, Ranvir Sethi, has been murdered in his hotel room in Burdwan, two hours from Kolkata. He had gone there to locate a director, Vishnu Baras, who had made a students’ lm, Daughter of the Clouds, about two decades ago. Judged as

Koel was hit by a bullet in her left arm in an earlier police encounter and acquired a prosthetic arm, a half-pension, a Glock-17, and a Harley -Davidson Elektra.

“softcore” by the moral norms of the times, both the lm and its director had vanished from the public eye. But, on viewing the lm much later, Sethi had detected a unique cinematic talent in the young lmmaker and wanted to sign him up for some of his own lms.

Sethi is killed on his rst night in Burdwan. Given the victim’s national importance, the State Home Minister enlists Koel’s services to investigat­e the murder. In Burdwan, Koel encounters diverse personalit­ies: the local police superinten­dent, the town mayor, a business tycoon who owns the lm studio, the tycoon’s wife, a local trade unionist, and a few ru ans. She also meets a rather attractive person from Mumbai, Elem Hussain, who is friendly but seems to be stalking her, intentions unknown.

With the murder obviously tied to the twodecade-old lm and its missing director, the local people make every e ort to obstruct Koel, misdirect her, and threaten her with violence. But the energetic and dogged Koel gets the better of them, her prosthetic arm proving to be a particular­ly useful weapon when needed. She describes a savage attack in which her attacker “struck my raised bionic arm with a metallic thud”. She responds with a poke with her steel ngers, which brings him down “like a punctured balloon”.

Koel intuitivel­y asks the right questions and coaxes the truth out of the characters until a sad and sorry tale of unrequited love and misplaced possessive­ness explains the murder and exposes the story behind the lm and its director.

Srinivasan describes people in a few deft words. A mayor has “the assured voice of a man of means approachin­g sixty”, and a policeman “walk[s] as if his feet hurt constantly”. The tycoon’s wife is a “selfconsci­ous beauty and she knows how to impose it on an audience”. At the other end of the social scale, a taxi driver is “stick-thin with a supercilio­us expression and pretentiou­s pony-tail”.

Srinivasan is also a shrewd observer of the social scene. At an upmarket reception in Kolkata, “the guests inched together, joined in forced heartiness, everyone milling about, passing and repassing like a pack of cards shuf

ed by a clumsy dealer”. The guests’ interactio­ns consist of “mumbled introducti­ons, meaningles­s cliches, unresponde­d enquiries, indi erent handshakes, enthusiast­ic references to the weather, sudden silences, and insincere enquiries about everyone’s state of health”.

Koel’s zest for life enlivens the book. She likes Elem Hussain’s looks (“a fashionabl­e twoday-old unshaven face with sharp cheekbones, light-brown eyes, thick hair opping over his forehead”). On the motorcycle, she enjoys having his “arms around my waist or his hands on my hip-bones”. It is an enjoyable romp, embellishe­d by our feisty heroine’s joie de vivre.

The deaths examined by Michael Marco run parallel to Koel’s investigat­ions. These cases appear brie y early in the book and then take up almost all of its last bit. The story, of two cousin sisters, involves identity theft, complex nancial transactio­ns, and a gruesome murder—all this is unravelled by the unassuming Somali diplomat.

With the cheerful and buoyant Koel absent, these investigat­ions are slow, e cient, and painstakin­g. Marco also provides the nal links between the murder investigat­ed by Koel and the one examined by him.

Right Angle to Life refers to alternativ­e ways of looking at the various events that make up our life, seeing di erent meanings in human thought and action, and identifyin­g patterns in disparate occurrence­s that would usually evade the casual observer. This is what makes Marco and Koel such good detectives and Srinivasan such a great writer.

Talmiz Ahmad is also a former diplomat who, however, lacks Srinivasan’s “right angle to life”.

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