Death at the Durbar is the second in a trilogy (the third book hasn’t been published) of historical fiction novels by Arjun Raj Gaind, one of India’s best-known comic book writers and also creator and author of several graphic novels. It takes place in 1911 in India, and features Sikander Singh, the Maharaja of Rajpore (a fictitious kingdom), an amateur detective by interest and choice, and in this novel strong-armed into investigating a crime on behalf of the British Raj. I didn’t read the first in the series, although I now will, and I’m looking forward to the third, as well. There were no references to events or characters in the first book.
I highly recommend Death at the Durbar to those readers who read historical mysteries set in countries other than America and England because they are curious about other cultures, other times and justice systems other than the ones with which they are most familiar. On the other hand, a reader who reads primarily for the pleasure of solving whodunits may not find Durbar as engaging a read as I did.
The 1911 Durbar was the third Imperial Durbar organized by the British in Delhi. It was the only one attended by the then-reigning monarch, King George V. All three Durbars were mass assemblies of India-based British officialdom, Indian princes, higher-level military officials and the public. The first Durbar, held in 1877, celebrated the proclamation of Queen Victoria as Empress of India, marking the transfer of control of much of India from the British East India Company to the Crown. The second Durbar, held in 1903, celebrated the succession of Edward VII and Alexandra of Denmark as Emperor and Empress of India. A plain was transformed into an elaborate tent city. Two weeks of events, formal dances, polo matches, souvenir guide books, fireworks, exhibitions, temporary hospitals and post offices, and other components of a display of regal power and grandeur.
The third Durbar was organized by the then-Viceroy, Lord Charles Hardinge (target of multiple unsuccessful assassination attempts by Indian nationalists). The Durbar began on December 7th and ended on December 16, 1911. 40,000 tents, to house approximately 300,000 inhabitants, were erected. The Durbar was attended by almost all, if not all, of the Indian Maharajas and Nawabs, along with their respective entourages of servants, aides and friends. The world’s newspapers sent their best journalists and photographers to cover the event. Motion pictures of the event were created by many British and Indian photographers. It's worth searching Google images for photos of the event. They are stunning.
With that background, Death at the Durbar starts with a dead body, discovered 72 hours or so before King George is anticipated to arrive for his Durbar. Someone has murdered 19-year old Zahra, a Kashmiri nautch girl, e.g., a professional dancer, who had been delivered by the Maharaja of Kapurthala as a present to the King. One hundred years and a different culture later, and all of the connotations of “professional dancer” remain the same. The only thing more scandalous than a live dancer keeping company with the King is a dead dancer in the King’s camp. Hence, Hardinge and his colleagues are uninterested in calling the police and spreading news of Zahra’s death and location, but have a certain amount of interest in doing the right thing in terms of pursuing justice and locking up a murderer, so long as that justice can be achieved in short order – prior to the King’s arrival in Delhi. Accordingly, they arrange for amateur, but discreet, Sikander to be engaged off-the-record to solve the crime. Quickly. If he doesn't solve the crime in a timely manner, Zahra's death will be covered up and the investigation closed. After all, she's only a nautch girl to the powers that be.
Of course, forensic evidence is non-existent. Potential murderers are many. The motive also remains a mystery. Sikander’s method of investigation primarily involves traveling from place to place throughout the tent camp and nearby hotels, meeting with and interrogating potential witnesses, few of which have any interest in meeting with or being interrogated by him, because he is of lower social status – in several instances – substantially lower status. He is saddled with an annoying British barnacle, named Campbell. The best moments are when Sikander is explaining the social dynamics, politics, bigotry and personal history between the various Maharajahs, enjoying playing his piano late at night, as well as those when Campbell disappears for a few dozen pages.
An historical mystery novel comprised of a single person traveling from place to place, having conversations, frequently being insulted, and hearing entirely inconsistent stories, would seem to be an exercise in frustration and boredom. I assure you, it isn’t. Gaind does a great job of pacing and creating a sense of urgency around solving the crime. As the Author’s Note (an excellent and informative one) provides, other than Zahra and Sikander, all of the other characters and incidents are real, and Gaind indicates where and to what extent he has taken creative license. And the characters, including Sikander, are intriguing. Gaind provides a tremendous amount of detail about the history, the culture, the kingdoms and princelings, the politics, but does so without ever creating the appearance of a brain dump, or impeding the progress of the plot. The background information he includes is fully integrated into the mystery and not bolted on.
In the interest of full disclosure, there are a couple of contemporary American phrases that turn up (“snuck out” is one) from time to time that characters in 1911 India would never have used. Sikander is moody and inconsistent, as if the author is still learning his own main character. Plot holes exist. Sometimes the sheer volume of witnesses is confusing and the relationships between them difficult to recall. Sikander determines certain suspects couldn’t be guilty on what appear to be the flimsiest of bases. I raised an eyebrow at the identification of the culprit and explanation for the motive. Nonetheless, Gaind’s writing and his main character are highly engaging and overcome these deficits. The majority of characters come across as authentic, and Gaind’s description of the British Raj and the hierarchy of the princes and their kingdoms is detailed and fascinating. And after the big reveal? The novel closes with a letter from Sikander to his significant other that captured Sikander’s thoughtful, melancholy soul, finding his place in a world run on one level by the Brits, and on another by peers who have disdain for his darker-than-theirs skin, a world that is only a few years away from the Great War. Sometimes, as with Death at the Durbar, a great ending reminds you of everything you enjoyed about a good book, and allows you to forget some of its shortcomings.
As a special bonus, Gaind captured my heart by describing the make, model and other design details of every automobile used in the novel. (Readers who don’t care wouldn’t notice.)
Thanks to Poisoned Pen Press and NetGalley for providing an ecopy.