A Rainbow Collection: Three Novels of Gay Experience (The Secret City, Murder in Mahim, The Sufi’s Nightingale)

Email

Whatsapp

Facebook

Pinterest

Twitter

Copy link

Book- 1: The Secret City About the Book Rupert-Yuvraj Rupinder Singh-is heir to the throne of the princely state of Mubarakpur in undivided Punjab. Except that there is no throne to inherit, now that India is free and a democracy. So, in the late 1960s, he moves to the palatial Mubarakpur House in the heart of New Delhi, where he throws lavish parties to ward off loneliness and boredom. The parties sparkle with alcohol, gossip and music-with stars like the great Begum Akhtar making them magical. The parties draw Delhi's rich and powerful-politicians, judges and senior bureaucrats-and idle royalty, many of them gay men forced to hide their sexual identity for fear of persecution and ridicule, and because homosexuality is a crime in the Indian republic. There are also a variety of young men who come to the parties-handsome, adventurous men whom Prince Rupert first picked up in the famous cruising spot, Central Park, Connaught Circus, or in the streets of Central Delhi past midnight. The narrator, a near invalid whom no one desires, and who is happy to be a voyeur, watches the people who come and go in this secret world. And he watches Prince Rupert love, lust and self-destruct. Some four decades later, he tells the story of the prince and the secret world of others like him-some happy men, some sad; some good people and some villains and chancers-in this tragi-comic novel full scandal, pathos, tenderness and black humour.

About the Author Robin Gupta studied at Bishop Cotton School, Shimla, New Trier High School, USA and St. Stephen's College, Delhi. He joined the IAS in 1974 and served four states-Bengal, Madhya Pradesh, Haryana and Punjab-apart from a long period of deputation with the Central government. He retired as Financial Commissioner Revenue, Government of Punjab. Robin is the author of And What Remains in the End: The Memoirs of an Unrepentant Civil Servant, which has been acclaimed for its rare and revealing investigation of the Indian bureaucracy. He has also published a book of poems, The 70th Milestone. He divides his time between New Delhi and Panchkula.

Prologue As Rupert lay dying in his dim, curtained bedchamber, the stained-glass lamps mounted on golden globes switched off, I hastened to be by his side, crossing the lawn carpeted with the brittle, brown leaves of ber and kachnar. But even as I reached the arched entrance of the half-ruined palatial bungalow, I knew that he was dead. Death in Delhi's strange season, I thought, as I entered: the middle of spring, when trees that should be green are bare. Later, Fatima Begum, as clever as she was venomous, would say, 'How appropriate the invert should find his jahannum in this inverted season.' And the saintly June Bailey would be provoked for the first time in her life to raise her hand. 'Hell awaits the likes of you, not my Rupert,' she said nd struck the Begum twice across the face and walked out the crematorium.

Book- 2: Murder in Mahim About the Book This is possibly as close to literary fiction as the Subcontinental detective novel has got in recent years.'-Zac O'Yeah, Open A young man is found dead in the toilet of Matunga Road railway station, his stomach ripped open. Retired journalist Peter Fernandes joins the investigation with his friend, Inspector Jende, and discovers a world of secret desire, greed and despair-a world that he fears his son may be a part of. Driven as much by fear and empathy as by curiosity about men who seek men, Peter tries to track down the killer, with some help from the flamboyant Leslie Siqueira, his guide to an alternate universe. [A] page-turner...the author draws you into a world of ageing queens, male prostitutes, corrupt cops and other very well portrayed characters...Murder in Mahim succeeds not just because it is a well-plotted whodunit but also because it is a non-judgmental tale of characters rarely cast in Mumbai's hoary narratives.-Simha Sagar, Hindustan Times A gruesome murder slowly unravels a murky tale of prostitution, homosexuality, extortion and police corruption... As Pinto's story navigates through the alleys of Colaba, Bandra and Mahim, recreating the melancholic sounds and smells of crime, poverty and death, you can't help but relate to this monster of a character-the city he conceals in the narrative.'-Mid Day One of the joys of reading Pinto is to savour his nuanced handling of characters. Mumbai, at once indulgent and menacing, becomes a living, breathing entity...Murder in Mahim is a novel about crime and retribution. But, beyond that, it is a story of rage and sorrow. It is also a tale of family ties, friendship and empathy, those quiet virtues gently ebbing from middle-class life that Pinto is so good at decoding.' -Paromita Chakrabarti, The Indian Express

About the Author Jerry Pinto is a poet, novelist, translator and journalist based in Mumbai. His books include Em and the Big Hoom (winner of the Hindu Literary Prize and the Crossword Book Award) and Helen: The Life and Times of an H-Bomb (winner of the National Award for the Best Book on Cinema). Among his other works are widely acclaimed translations from Marathi: Daya Pawar's autobiography (Baluta); Baburao Bagul's first and classic collection of stories (When I Hid My Caste); novels by Sachin Kundalkar (Cobalt Blue) and Ganesh Matkari (Half-open Windows); and the memoirs of Malika Amar Shaikh (I Want to Destroy Myself), Vandana Mishra (I, the Salt Doll) and Eknath Awad (Strike a Blow to Change the World). Jerry Pinto was awarded Yale University's Windham-Campbell Prize and the Sahitya Akademi Award in 2016.

Prologue Bombay doesn't do night. The sun falls into the sea but darkness stands no chance. Every attempt it makes to swallow up the city is defeated by a million neon eyes that open and blink as evening comes; and by the glare of natural gas burning beyond the eastern harbour, illuminating the hill the children call 'Giant's Grave'. Each evening, darkness struggles for footholds and hidey holes. One of its refuges is the toilet under the bridge at Matunga Road Station on the Western Railway line. The authorities try their best to illuminate it but a small stone is enough to take out the bulb, and by the time an explanation has been made and the requisition has been sanctioned and Stores has disbursed a new bulb, darkness has stayed a while. And for a while it shelters the men who come here, groping each other in the dark, hoping to find some release, perhaps love, or just the warmth of another body. Darkness will shelter the hunter tonight. Though the crowds on the platforms have thinned, it shouldn't have been so easy to spot his prey. It is a sign. Now he must act quickly. His prey may not go down to the toilet just yet. He may pretend to be at the station to catch a train and look around for some time. He may even take the train out to Dadar and come back later. But in case he does decide to try his luck right away, it would be good to make sure the place is clear. Even at this hour, there will be men inside.

Book- 3: The Sufi's Nigtingale About the Book I n a small house beneath a mosque in the Bazaar e Husn, home to the pleasure houses of sixteenth-century Lahore, lives an unusual band of Sufis. Known all over the city for their startling red robes and shaven faces, they are seen singing and dancing wantonly every evening as they make their way through the streets to a maikhana, their favourite tavern. Their master, a former Islamic scholar now disowned by the clergy, is Lal Hussain. His exquisite poems-sung by his dearest disciple, Maqbool, a young man from the oppressed Marassi community-have begun to win the hearts of thousands of ordinary Lahoris, despite his notoriety. Into this world strides Madho, a handsome Brahmin boy from Shahdara, across the Ravi River, who comes to seek the favours of Amba, the most famous courtesan of Lahore. Lal Hussain is smitten the moment he lays eyes on Madho, and this sets in motion a saga of passionate love, heartbreak, scandal, mystical experience and, ultimately, spiritual triumph, as Lal Hussain becomes Shah Hussain, the king of faqirs. The Sufi's Nightingale is a fictionalized retelling of the life of the sixteenth-century mystic and poet of Punjab, Shah Hussain, who was a malamari-a Sufi who actively debased himself, choosing a lifestyle that would earn him rejection and abuse, as a means of conquering his ego. Over time, the very identities of Hussain and Madho merged, and today the great Sufi is known as Madho Lal Hussain. Hussain and Madho lie in the same mausoleum outside Lahore, where thousands gather every year to revel in song, dance and worship. Told in the voices of Hussain and his bulbul, Maqbool, The Sufi's Nightingale is among the most moving and beautiful novels about the wonders and mysteries of love and faith that you will read.

About the Author Sarbpreet Singh, writer, playwright and podcaster, is the author of Kultar's Mime, The Camel Merchant of Philadelphia, The Night of the Restless Spirits and The Story of the Sikhs: 1469-1708. He is also the author of the play Jujhar Cheema, an adaptation of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, set in Punjab in the 1990s. His acclaimed and popular Story of the Sikhs Podcast has listeners in go countries.

Prologue Murshid and mureed. It is the simplest relationship to understand and yet the most complicated. What can I tell you when you ask me what it is? I have had several murshids in my time and by Allah's grace, I have more mureeds now than I can count, and yet, what can I tell you? Can the indescribable ever be described? But you have asked so I must try to explain, for that is part of the sacred trust between murshid and mureed. These words that I address to Allah can be addressed to my murshid as well: My Lord, I have no one but You You are within and You without In every pore, my Lord, are You. You are the warp and You the weft Everything to me are You. Says Hussain, this beggar base I am nothing, all is You. I was but a boy. I can't remember how old I was exactly, maybe I was nine, maybe ten. It was just before the beginning of the month of Ramzan. That is when it happened.