Book Review | Race Course Road

Book: Race Course Road
Author: Seema Goswami
Publisher: Aleph
Pages: 285 
Price: 599

Fictional political thrillers, at least in English, have been few and far in India. This is, perhaps, because of the country's tumultuous political history. The reams of print given to the assassinations of Indira and Rajiv Gandhi had ensured that non-fiction, for a long time, trumped anything that fiction could offer in this regard with the result that most authors never even tried.

The fact that Seema Goswami's Race Course Road has been published suggests that India, its people and politicians are ready to see the country's politics and politicians in a fictional avatar. What makes it easier for the author is that it will be new and refreshing for millennial readers who have not experienced the tumultuous days before and after both assassinations.

Being a journalist, Goswami is on home ground. The book that opens with the assassination of Prime Minister Birendra Pratap Singh, who has been poked by a poisoned needle, and the desperate rush to the hospital to save his life is compel reading. The politically astute reader, who would be well aware of the drama surrounding former AIADMK supremo J Jayalalithaa's death can't help but feel that s/he is reading about a real life incident, which is what all good thriller writers must aim for.

The fallout of the assassination as Birendra's children Karan and Arjun gird themselves to lead the party (a role that they are completely unsuited for) and the rise in domestic tensions (as their step-sister Asha returns from London and is forced to interact with the brothers, who despise her — make for great reading. Goswami captures well – at least, in the first few chapters – the chaos and confusion, the turmoil within the family and the country, as exemplified by the desperate scrambling of the two top journalists Manisha Patel and Gaurav Agnihotri (no prizes for guessing who they are).

It is when the book begins to develop that its flaws come to the fore. Goswami is at home covering the turmoil and problems of Lutyens' Delhi, but when she ventures outside it, there are serious issues. For one, the game changers in Indian politics today are no longer part of Lutyens' Delhi and to portray the heads of the two main parties Karan Singh and Jayesh Sharma as anglicised upper-class elite is laughable.

Second, the jostling for power in the novel is so gentlemanly that we wonder if we are in Eton, receiving lessons in fair play, rather than the no-holds-barred world of Indian politics. Where are the cloak and dagger men? Where are the rumbles of revolt, as would be natural after a prime minister's death? Where are the rustic men and women who take no prisoners? They are absent and when some of them do appear towards the end of the book, their characters do not ring true, because they are so sanitised they seem immersed in Dettol.

The biggest failure of the book is the scheming political villain, the supposedly wily Madan Mohan Prajapati – who belongs to Birendra's party. Prajapati is so inept that he is immediately caught every time he looks to make a move to further his career. His and the other characters' failure to be two-faced will annoy readers who not only expect such calculating behaviour from politicians, but expect an author – especially one who is a journalist – to provide it to them. Caste, class, constituencies, none of it is discussed here even in passing. This is a big failing.

Are such failings enough to deter you from reading the book? No. The writing, the human drama, the author's empathy for the main characters – particularly Karan and Asha, is enough to make you want to read on. Her sensible decision to focus largely on them ensures the casual reader is likely to remain with the book till the end. However, those who like a bit more punch, and are expecting double-games, maneuverings, rebellion, like the kind exemplified by Ram Gopal Varma's Sarkar, should give this book a miss. Race Course Road will be a plod in the park for you.