Noir has a loyal audience among English readers in India, and that is why crime thrillers always find a space here. Interestingly, over the two decades, with the rise of TV series, films, and popular news shows around crime and thrillers, Indian noir writing has also undergone a shift. It is no longer limited to pulpy, sensational, and titillating storytelling; the genre has grown to become multidimensional, exploring gangs and rivalries while also adding subtextual social fault lines such as caste, class, and even gender.
While the desire for screen adaptations may not be a prime factor, crime as a major pastime in popular culture and the accessibility of small-town manohar kahaniya (titillating stories) have shaped much of this writing. Therefore, authors are also setting their stories in small towns. Still, metropolitan cities like Mumbai, Kolkata, and Delhi feature more prominently due to the writers’ familiarity with the city, as most of them live in these cities.
In that context, Shreyas Rajagopal’s novel Gun Boy, set in the fictional small town of Rannwara, possibly in Maharashtra, makes for an interesting entry. It follows the story of two school boys, Arvind and Sudipto, agonised by school bully Jaggi Ranade for being outsiders as Arvind is South Indian and Sudipto is Bengali. Their life changes when notorious hitman Amar Singh arrives in their city, and they find a gleaming white, gold-plated pistol said to be blessed by lord Hanuman.
The gun, though an ordinary Beretta 9mm, is passed on reluctantly from builder to hitman to these schoolboys. The author gives it mystical and metaphysical qualities, presenting this weapon as an important part of the story.
The book starts off with engrossing details about school bullying and an unsettling sense of fear, setting the ground for both pulp and literary noir. Rajagopal brilliantly manages the pace and keeps the narrative exciting, balancing action with the kind of details that move the story forward. It is steeped in graphic violence, both casual and deliberate, which gives the novel a raw appeal.
But the novel falters as it progresses. The author is too ambitious to write lofty passages, with few dialogues, which makes the book less gripping. The characters are not fully developed, except for Amar, and Rajagopal’s constant juggling between them weakens the narrative’s hold.
Even as the sense of place seems weak, Hindi gali (abuses) and slang, recurring in the novel, sound perfectly natural. The novel would have been stronger had the author clearly identified which part of India it is set in, and incorporated local dialects and references into the dialogues or the story.
Despite the flaws, the novel is a decent read. It stands as a solid noir, the kind one can enjoy over a long weekend if one likes this genre. While the gore may put some readers off, the mystery and thrill are strong enough to hold interest.
