Author: Suparna Chatterjee
Publisher: Rupa & Co
Pages: 180
My GoodReads Rating: ⭐⭐
Akhil Banerjee, Calcutta High Court judge, retires
from service. On his morning walk, the day after his retirement, three other
retirees, Chandan Mukherjee, Bibhuti Bose and Debdas Guha Roy, all recent
retirees, invite him to become part of their group. Chandan has retired from
the State Bank of India, Bibhuti from a British firm, while Debdas is a retired
professor of geology.
Mr Agarwal, a rich man from the vicinity, invites the
four men to his house to a function at which he proposes to felicitate Akhil. A
collector of valuable artifacts, Mr Agarwal’s home is filled with expensive
paintings, and other collectors’ items. A precious stone belonging to the late
Mrs Agarwal is passed around from hand to hand and admired by everyone. Later,
after the function is over, Mr Agarwal files a police complaint, alleging that
the stone has disappeared.
Akhil and his three friends take it upon themselves to
solve the mystery. Will they succeed in finding the stone? Or is the thief one
of them?
The mystery was extremely tepid and weak. The identity
of the criminal was obvious but the good judge and his detective buddies waited
until the end of the book to figure out who it was
The language was colourful and entertaining, but proportionately
very little has to do with the robbery. It could have improved with tougher
editing. The punctuation issues too should have been resolved. Most of the book
was in the past tense but a stray present tense hinted at the imperfect
editing.
The character’s names were mentioned in full every
single time. It was most annoying. Has the author never read another book before
beginning to write this one? Another issue a good editor would have eliminated.
The only exception to this odd usage is Subhadra, wife of Akhil, who never gets
more than her first name mentioned.
Oddly, while the Bengalis, except for Subhadra, are
referred to by their full names every time, Mr Agarwal doesn’t even get a first
name.
Mr Agarwal says at one point, “I didn’t mean to
insinuate my guests, sir.” Incorrect usage of the word.
What the author does with joy is create a pleasurable
image of the city, Kolkata. Its old-world sentimentality, its addas, its
culture and the things that make its people tick. The descriptions of the city
are laidback and charming. The book does a good job of evoking the Calcutta sensibility,
the diehard support of Brazilian or Argentine football, the reading of The
Statesman, the broken Hindi spoken by Bengalis to the rickshaw drivers from the
Hindi heartland.
There was a fair bit of humour in the book. Chandan’s
use of the word, iye, when he was at a loss for words. There are far too many digressions
into Indianisms and Bengali idiosyncrasies.
There are far too many threads in the book, too many
subplots, that are standalone; if only they had had some tying in with the main
thread, it would have worked.
Chhaya Guha Roy is looking for a groom for Piya, her
educated “wheatish complexioned” daughter. Incidentally, Piya was the only one
who stood out in her bit role. The others are all stereotypical.
Poltu, a streetside Romeo, is smitten with Piya, but
will she ever reciprocate his love? The Sabuj Kalyan Samiti plans to make its
Durga Puja pandal better than that of the Milonee Club, but is hiring a lion
really the best way to achieve that? Piya’s parents attempts to engineer an
arranged marriage for her. Bibhuti’s nightmares about his family. At one point,
it even becomes a history lesson about the battle of Plassey and the East India
company.
The trouble is that none of these should have taken over a
book that purports to be a mystery novel. For a book that was described by the
Sunday Guardian as a ‘combination of Blyton, Christie and Ray,” this one was
none of the above.
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