Murder in Old Bombay: A Mystery by Nev March

Indian American author Nev March’s debut novel, Murder in Old Bombay, is the winner of the Minotaur Books/Mystery Writers of America First Crime Novel Award and a nominee for both an Anthony Award and an Edgar Allan Poe Award. Published by Minotaur Books in 2020, the plotline was inspired by the real-life deaths of two Parsi women, Bachubai and Pherozebai, who fell from Rajabai Clock Tower at Bombay University in 1891. To this day, the factual case has remained unsolved.

When Nev March’s fictional investigative mystery begins, it is 1892 and thirty-year-old Captain Jim Agnihotri has been convalescing in a Poona hospital from injuries sustained fighting for the British regiment, the Fourteen Light Dragoons, on the northern frontier in Karachi. He has little to do during his recovery but re-read the tales of his idol, Sherlock Holmes, and browse the daily papers. He becomes obsessed with a letter to the editor in the Chronicle of India referring to a recent incident. Previously, two young women (19-year-old Bacha and 16-year-old Pilloo) plunged to their deaths, falling from the university clock tower in broad daylight. The court acquitted the men arrested and returned a verdict of suicide. Mr. Adi Framji, the husband of one of the victims and brother of the second is the author of the letter and swears that neither his wife Bacha nor sister Pilloo “had any reason to commit suicide. They had simply everything to live for.” Those words cut into the captain and, having experienced the grief of seeing almost all of his fellow comrades-in-arms die, he feels a kinship with Mr. Framji.

Four weeks later, having retired early from the army and secured a job writing for the Chronicle, Captain Jim decides to visit the bereaved husband and brother and rides a tonga through red gulmohur trees and stately houses to “a great white house on Malabar Hill.”

Now standing atop a sweep of stairs outside Framji Mansion, I hoped to meet the man whose words would not leave me: “They are gone, but I remain.”

Filled with trepidation, I breathed in the crisp morning air. Bougainvillea danced in the breeze beside fluted pillars, and scattered pink petals over smooth marble. The blooms’ wasted beauty struck a poignant note, echoing the tragic loss a few months past. Adi Framji’s wife and sister had fallen to their deaths from the university clock tower. Had the two women committed suicide or were they murdered? The trial had failed to resolve the question for lack of evidence. Since young Mr. Framji had never spoken with the press, an interview could be the making of my new career. Hat in hand, I waited. [p. 5]

After talking with Adi Framji and his father Burjor, Captain Jim takes a brief hiatus from the Chronicle to investigate the tragic events. He is a great fan of Sherlock Holmes and thinks he can use Holmes’ power of deduction and sleuthing to solve the mystery and bring closure to the family. Like Holmes, he often uses disguises to go undercover and gain valuable information.

Adi and his sister Diana help with the investigation and Captain Jim spends a great deal of time conferring with them in their home. His growing fondness for Diana introduces the theme of India’s social structure and the tension that brings to certain relationships. We learn from Diana’s father Burjor that the Framji family are wealthy Parsees, Zoroastrians, followers of the ancient prophet Zarathustra. Captain Jim adds that Parsees are widely respected, enterprising businessmen and pro-British. They own hotels, newspapers, and plantations, run shipyards and banks. Burjor continues to enlighten us:

“We do not convert anyone to be Zoroastrian. Centuries ago our ancestors came to Gujarat as refugees, from Pars, in Persia. We are very few—-perhaps a hundred thousand in all…..So if a son or daughter marries someone who is not Parsee, well, they can no longer continue the race. They are as good as lost to us.” [pp. 123, 124]

Captain Jim, the narrator and protagonist of this story, is the illegitimate son of a British father he never met and a Hindu mother. He was raised by Father Thomas at a Mission orphanage in Poona. Jim’s achievements (the ones we see and the ones recounted by others) might lead us to think of him as a hero in the epic mode, but he is depicted within the confines of an environment that possesses strict social divisions based on race, class, and caste; patriarchal attitudes and rigid adherence to convention; conflict caused by external raids, nationalist movements, and political maneuvering; mistreatment of the vulnerable; and widespread pain and suffering. Because of this, he is flawed; experiencing “a mix of pity and disapproval” all his life, and suffering from horrible nightmares, panic attacks, and an overpowering sense of guilt and grief for not being able to save his fellow soldiers during an attack in Karachi.

Just one of his many challenges is described by Captain Jim as follows:

In polite circles, a man who was happy until then to shake my hand would hear my name, James Agnihotri, and pause. His shoulders would stiffen, and he might spot an acquaintance across the room, and need to meet him. Women who seemed perfectly gracious—-as they heard my Indian surname, their eyes might widen with understanding. Those quick glances of confirmation, how well I knew them, and the reserve that followed, polite, distant and final. [p. 124]

Later in the story, Captain Jim describes a soldier’s reaction to him when he is disguised as a Pathan.

I sighed. Indian hierarchy, dogging me again. At the top, admired, obeyed and watched, always watched, were British officers. Next came “the civil”: administrators, Englishmen regardless of education or connections. Then non-coms, followed by native officers of high caste. All high castes, Brahmins-the priestly caste-and Shatriya warriors preceded Sikhs and Gurkhas. Parsees might figure with the non-coms, educated, wealthy and influential. At the bottom, ignored at best, often just despised, were the low castes: traders and tribesman thought to be crude, ignorant carpet peddlers like the Pathans, like me. High castes could escape crimes perpetrated upon lower castes. Low castes could not hope to be promoted, since no one would follow them. Did I expect Ranbir to follow a Pathan? [p. 207]

Captain Jim trained in the calvary and spent much of his time traveling quickly on horseback to deliver important messages. The following quote exemplifies the author’s lyrical style. It describes the joy Captain Jim feels as he rides to Panthankot to find a witness he wishes to question.

The Arabian ran as if power and poetry were one, her hooves eager for wide ground and open skies. Each stride hit the ground and lifted. She stretched forward in a smooth arc, reaching, until she tucked hind legs under and pushed off again. Each bound curved easily, her hoofbeats punctuating the moments we were airborne. She taught me that my weight rode better toward her forelegs, that to change direction took the slightest nudge. To pull on her would be like shouting in a temple. She needed only whispers, altering her gait as though she knew my mind. I’d not ridden in months, and it felt wonderful to fly across the meadow. [p. 206]

References to historical events are numerous in Murder in Old Bombay, although the narrative from Captain Jim is British-centered. One example appears as follows:

While vast landscapes of India were ruled by the British Raj, numerous pockets, called princely states, were held by local Rajas, or princes. An Indian prince must obtain British approval before he could inherit his throne. If succession was disputed, the British Raj could take control.

The old coves resumed discussing the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857, when armed Sepoys and farmers rebelled against British rule. It was before my time, but I’d heard it discussed in army mess halls. Indian soldiers had been assigned new Enfield rifles, which required tearing cartridge casings with their teeth, casings that were rumored to be greased with pig and cow fat. Mohammedan Sepoys were horrified at the use of pork, which is taboo to their faith, while Hindus were distressed at the use of bovine fat, since the cow is a holy best.

Gathering support, they had laid siege to a fort in Cawnpore. Although its four hundred English residents surrendered, the rebels slaughtered everyone: men, women, children and Indian servants. By ’58, the British army had crushed the uprising and the East India Company was no more. The Crown had ruled India ever since. [p. 62]

This is a protagonist-driven novel but what makes it different from others is that the protagonist often finds himself within an environment so outside his norm and often so dangerous that he is constantly on his guard and therefore, so are we. As other critics have testified, Murder in Old Bombay is a tension-filled and beautifully told tale of mystery, history, and adventure.

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