Third book in Anita Nair’s Inspector Gowda series is disappointing on several counts

Gowda possesses the charisma of a captivating detective, but it’s unfortunate that Nair underutilises his potential in this novel.

Nair captures the spirit of Bengaluru not just through descriptions of locales, but also through a liberal use of Kannada cuss words, slang, songs, and local food. | Photo Credit: Getty Images/ iStock

In the parched landscape of Indian crime fiction, Cut Like Wound (2012), Anita Nair’s noirish police procedural set in Bengaluru and featuring detective inspector Borei Gowda, kindled hopes of a good series ahead. However, the next two instalments in the series have failed to meet the expectations created by Cut Like Wound.

Hot Stage

By Anita Nair

HarperCollins India

Pages: 444

Price: Rs.499

That said, the latest in the series, Hot Stage, does have some of the qualities that made Cut Like Wound click: chiefly, a vivid sense of place and a detective to root for. Nair captures the spirit of Bengaluru not just through descriptions of locales, but also through a liberal use of Kannada cuss words, slang, songs, and local food. She is spot on in her exploration of the dynamics of the city’s police force and the city’s politics, which often work in collusion with the real estate and garbage mafia. It is this exploration that gives the novel its authenticity.

When we first meet Borei Gowda in Cut Like Wound, he is a talented police inspector who finds himself stuck for refusing to be compliant. In Hot Stage, he has been promoted to Assistant Commissioner of Police but remains as dogged as ever. In fact, he ticks all the boxes of the cool fictional detective: honest, tenacious, and a lone wolf even after marriage and an affair. With his sakkath (awesome) sense, Gowda is a hero all the way.

Cover of Hot Stage

Hot Stage opens (spoilers ahead) with the murder of Prof. Mudgood, “a well known rationalist and fervent critic of right-wing forces in India”, which will pique the interest of informed readers, who will recall the assassinations of rationalists and writers in recent years, including of the editor-activist Gauri Lankesh in Bengaluru. But the possible political angle of Prof. Mudgood’s murder eventually turns out to be a red herring in the investigation. This made me uncomfortable, given that the Hindutva right wing has also come up with alternative explanations for the motive of these murders in an effort to deflect blame. But I read on, telling myself that the writer, after all, has the licence to shape her plot as she likes.

After eliminating the possibility of a “political motive” midway, the novel hurtles towards the big reveal, which, to my utter dismay, turned out to be very similar to that of the 1990 Ian Rankin novel Hide and Seek, the second in the series of the Inspector Rebus thrillers. On top of this resemblance, the resolution has other shortcomings. Loose ends are left dangling and the harking back to the villain of Cut Like Wound in the subplot does not work as effectively as it should have.

To her credit, however, Nair keeps the tension intact until the very end, and her writing packs a punch. The depiction of the helplessness and bitterness of old age is also poignant.

Gowda has all the charisma of an engaging fictional detective, and it is a pity that Nair fails to use his potential to the hilt in this novel. We hope that his future escapades will be more appealing.