A Rising Man loaded with Abir Mukherjee's wry observations
Anglo-Indian Miss Grant explains the hypocrisy of the place to him: "The British pretend they're here to bring the benefits of western civilization to an ungovernable bunch of savages, while in reality, it's only ever really been about petty commercial gain." The educated elite among the Indians are no better. Neither knowing nor caring about of the needs of the millions of fellow countrymen in villages, they "just want to replace the British as the ruling class."
Annie Grant adds that her own people, those with both British and Indian roots, are "as bad as the rest," calling themselves British, mimicking British ways and referring to Britain 'the old country,' even when they've never been closer to it than Bombay.
Sam encounters a variety of characters as he works with his intelligent right-hand man. Sergeant Bannerjee's real name, Surindranath, is so hard for English speakers to pronounce that he's been dubbed 'Surrender-not.' (There was a historical person with this nickname, says Mukherjee.)
Techniques used by power brokers to manipulate information feel chillingly contemporary. So does the rivalry between duelling bureaucracies. After thus tempting the reader to think things have barely improved in a hundred years, the author applies a bit of comic relief, as when Sam describes some fellow as "all mouth and no trousers."
Even as the government restricts movement and suppresses bad news, Detective Wyndham and Sergeant Bannerjee get wind of the shocking Jallianwala Bagh Massacre. They also discover all manner of skulduggery among the apparently great and good. Sam's boss is friendly, but is he trustworthy? His superior in the police force is embittered after a justified criticism of a certain police operation has left him stuck at a low rank. Even the L-G has something shocking to hide.
As they investigate a murder followed by an attempted robbery of the Darjeeling Mail, the two policemen find themselves in church, waiting to question the minister after the service. From inside the plain Scottish kirk, Sam hears "English voices mangling some poor hymn," and imagines the same going on "in every outpost of the empire, from Auckland to Vancouver."
The Reverend tells the cops that Buchan, the Scottish jute tycoon, "measures folks in terms of what they can do for him," seeing them as "simple commodities to be bought and sold, like so much of his jute or rubber." When Surrender-not advises his superior officer to avoid raising the ire of this powerful businessman with hard questions, Sam digs in his stubborn heels, deflecting the Sergeant's warnings by pointing out that in recent days, "I've been attacked, shot and almost poisoned by my landlady's cooking. If Mr. Buchan feels he can top that, then good luck to him."
When a subordinate misbehaves, the policeman shows his stubborn side and his self-deprecating humour. "Call it ego," she says, "but I don't take kindly to anyone pulling the wool over my eyes...that sort of thing can make a fellow look bad" -- then in an aside, says he prefers to do that on his own.
Sam later asks a prisoner, Mr. Sen, newly converted to Gandhi's nonviolent resistance, to identify some of his former associates, political agitators for independence. Mr. Sen responds by pointing out the glaring shortcomings of British justice as practiced in India. He then reminds Sam that he is not a Christian, explaining that "the law of karma does not allow for the possibility of forgiveness. Its consequences are inescapable."
My karma involves reading Book 3 in this series, and then waiting impatiently for Book 4 to be published. Not to mention learning more Anglo-Indian history and more obscure words like thana, satrap, punkah, and high heidyin.