Dying Day by Vaseem Khan
Set in 1950 as India forges its national life after Independence, Khan’s second Inspector Wadia novel features many of the characters introduced in Midnight at Malabar House. The only female inspector in the Indian police service, Persis Wadia once more works with and against a motley array of colleagues and dastardly criminals.
Her personal life is still conflicted. She argues good-naturedly with her bookish and guilt-ridden father, but deftly resists Aunt Nussie’s relentless attempts to get her married off to someone suitable. The one person who might interest her in that way is eminently unsuitable. He’s the British forensic expert Archie Blacksmith, whom she often consults about police cases.
To further complicate things, Peris has bitter memories of a prior disappointment in love. Confounded by matters romantic, she deems it a “damning indictment” when the city pathologist — who sees his clients in the autopsy suite — “seems to have a better grasp of the logic of romance” than she does.
This case concerns the theft of a priceless manuscript from Bombay’s Asiatic Society, an institution that dates back to the days of the Raj. Under pressure from a foreign government and with a well-known American museum taking an interest, Persis’s pessimistic boss, Superintendent Roshan Seth, grows more morose as the mystery deepens and bodies accumulate.
Seth’s successful policing career under British rule has left him on the wrong side of history in an independent India. Relegated to the backwater of Malabar House, he now feels “naked without an office around his shoulders or a drink in his hand.” When he learns that a Nazi may be involved in the case they’re investigating, he confesses his fear of having the clothes torn from his back “if this gets out.“ But Inspector Wadia is unsure of his pronoun reference. She wonders, but does not ask whether he expects an attack from “the press or the marionettes in Delhi.”
As well as being admirably plotted, this novel has a great many fascinating historic tidbits seamlessly woven in. For instance, it provides a capsule history of Bombay, briefly relates how the Masons established themselves in India, and outlines the rivalry between the Nazi spy agency the Abwehr and the SS before the two merged. We learn that after WWII, Nazis used escape networks to flee to Argentina, where they were aided by Juan Peron, and “allegedly, the Vatican.” As for Mussolini’s spies, a regiment of them inside the Holy See worked exclusively “to dig up dirt on Vatican priests so Mussolini could bend the Pope to his will.” At the end of the book, we find a list of historical notes, including real characters who feature in the story.
Vaseem Khan’s brilliance with language is showcased in some unforgettable descriptions. This novel does wonderful things with smells and moustaches. City pathologist Raj Bhoomji has one that reminds Persis of “a spider that had crawled under his nose and died there,” and his aftershave reminds her of a gas leak. When she enters a gentleman’s club to investigate a murder, a woman arrives “heralded by a gust of perfume.” A male client then joins them at the table. Looking like “a wrestler gone to seed” but “dressed like a banker,” he sports a hairstyle that resembles Hitler’s - “missing only the toilet brush moustache and the eyes like dead flies.” He too is preceded by a pungent whiff of aftershave that rides ahead of him like “Pestilence, the Fourth Horseman.”
When an Italian military attache wearing a “ruthless grey buzz cut” is seen in company of a Dante expert, the question of what they are doing together sweeps “across her bows like a freak wave.” In another scene, somebody falls to the ground in a manner resembling a grand piano falling from a third floor window. As Persis lies in bed pondering the meaning of a double spaced message, a sudden intuition stands out “like a steeple on a flat landscape” and she pads into the kitchen to confirm her hunch.
The story evokes history that was recent at the time, drawing parallels between two examples of mob psychology: the frenzied violence of Nazi Germany and the Partition rioting that followed Indian Independence. In a moment of crisis, one character likens a regime to a powerful locomotive: “you either hop aboard or it cuts you down.”
As the trope requires, the novel ends with the crime solved, and a bonus note of hope for future romantic developments. Two friendly colleagues lunch on “neutral ground” — an unimposing Chinese restaurant called the Dancing Stomach. Miffed by how the Indian Chronicle has given all the credit to male colleagues and downplayed her part in solving the crime, Persis reconsiders an invitation to talk to a women’s group about her work in the police. She also finds herself open to accepting another interesting invitation she had previously managed to avoid.