Like a lot of people, I discovered this book after watching the web-series Paatal-Lok and hearing the fracas about its uncredited storyline. It deserves to be known for more. It is an absolute travesty that this is a book which has a mere 520 odd reviews on GoodReads and is not even mentioned as a great work of our times in conversations and that Tejpal (his personal foibles apart) is not recognized (or even in the conversation) as one of the greatest writers of his age.

It's difficult to separate the art from the artist - especially in semi-autobiographical works like this where the protagonist whose name we never learn is clearly based on Tejpal himself. The book revolves around the character of Neeraj Kabi in the web-series and not Hathi Ram who is an interesting, albeit relatively minor character. I spent time reading about Tejpal and Tehelka after finishing the book and I hope he will receive justice, but am not optimistic about it (this book explains why people like him will get away with this). The loss of his precious news-magazine/website to its sorry state today where it looks like a college newsletter is clearly illuminating of how they've fallen. But despicable persons can produce great works of art which we can learn from - and we do consume them all the time, from Picasso to Naipaul to Polanski to Woody Allen (and I'm sure there are many closer home as well).

So apart from ruminations around 'should I give my money to an accused rapist', I'd encourage everyone to read this - use a pirated copy if you want (I chose the Audible version which is very very well read by Sunil Malhotra, balancing between slightly accented English and reverting to type for the Hindi words). The Story of My Assassins is different enough from Paatal Lok to make it worth your while even if you know the end (and if you don't, you will enjoy it even more).

The story is simple enough and based loosely of an incident from Tejpal's own life - where there was a plot to assassinate him which went awry. A large part of this book is from a first-person view of the nihilistic and callous journalist who has little regard or reverence for anything in life and how he deals with the aftermath of this murder attempt. His relationships with his colleague, his mistress, his 'spiritual guru', his wife and other minor characters. As I mentioned before, it's difficult to understand where the character ends and Tejpal begins - the snobbishness, the sexual deviance and the whole facade seems to fit perfectly well with the public image of the man today. Through these eyes we get a look at Delhi's corridors of power - small money and big money, the movers and the shakers.

But the book really hits its elements in the four back-stories of the five 'assassins'. This takes us to an India which we (the audience for books of this kind) choose to not think of and it takes us there in a manner so engaging that each of these could be 4 mini-novellas by themselves which I'd pay to read. With Chaaku, we go to inner Haryana - to the farmstead of Fauladi Fauji and his tank-driver son in the Army, the uncle Shauki in Mohali who runs a pilferage transport business and then back to Delhi and rising up in the corridors of powers with Mr. Healthy. With Kabir M - we travel all the way back to partition and Bareilly, the story of boys running off to Pakistan and being massacred, how this affected the psyche of a generation, the love of the movies, growing up in an environment beyond your own in a Convent School with Padres and chutter-putter ch*tiyas, being a part of a gang (and yet being distinct because of your religion) leading to police brutality and the solace men seek after they've lost all. Kalia and Cheeni take us to see the world of the station-boys, the origins from a family of snake charmers and how that community is coping, how death is just a part of this world on the tracks of New Delhi, how drugs, sodomy and fleeting moments of happiness can redefine living one day at a time. And with Vishal 'Hathoda' Tyagi we go far into Western UP and then the badlands of Chambal, and see how bandits mainstream themselves, seek political patronage and breed their hit-men, especially ones with special talents.

Each of these stories is incredibly descriptive, searingly real and (seem) impeccably well researched. They are not focused or to-the-point, no if that is what you are looking for, this is not the book. Even the minor characters have a rich tapestry of detail on which they're based upon and digression is the normal flow of things. The idiosyncrasies of the lands they come from - from across the cow belt - are elaborated upon in great detail and with a self-awareness of how readers of these books in English perceive the rest of the country and their limitations (knowing when it can 'talk-down' to us with a well-deserved condescension). Tejpal also does not over explain (although he is prone to repetition) - this is a book by an Indian for Indians and not for the white man and does not bother to necessarily wrap things up nicely and provide closure where the trail peters off. He is also a master craftsman with language - both English and Hindi, the prose is often exquisite.

I suppose it is only fair that I clarify this novel is not for everyone's tastes. It is pessimistic to a fault ("the Gods no longer descend on this godforsaken country" as the priest who reads Hathoda Tyagi's horoscope tells his parents), paints a depressing picture of India and its divides (chasms actually) which are clearly never going to be bridged. None of the characters are particularly likable - least of all our lying, philandering, dismissive protagonist whose best attribute seems to be his ability to think of the snarkiest responses to a situation in his head. There are gratuitous amounts of violence and sex which really make you worry what fetishes does Tejpal actually have going through his head. But if you can wince through those parts - you have an absolute treat on your hands.

The Story of My Assassins is also funny and witty in a dry sort of way, revealing without being moralistic or preachy - the world is what it is, we just play our roles - is the message we get again and again from various characters along with other gems. One of my favorite ones was a conversation between our protagonist and Hathi Ram who when asked if he would like an extra cup of key to loosen his tongue in a conversation where he is being especially taciturn says :

“One cup is friendship. Two is intimacy. And that is always reductive. As friends we talk about big things, philosophical things and national affairs. But in intimacy we will talk about wives and bosses and the price of milk and vegetables, and we will become small men obsessed with small things. So no more tea, my friend, no more.”