Mughal detective returns to murder in Dilli
Crimson City, Madhulika Liddle’s fourth novel in the Muzaffar Jang series, was a delectable stroll through the streets of the Delhi of 17th century, a stroll on which I was constantly startled by gory

Crimson City, Madhulika Liddle’s fourth novel in the Muzaffar Jang series, was a delectable stroll through the streets of the Delhi of 17th century, a stroll on which I was constantly startled by gory murders and disappearances. The book is heavy with the scents, sights and sounds of that period, which form an elaborate backdrop to the crimes Jang, the 25-year-old Mughal nobleman with a thirst for solving crimes, gets involved in sometimes by virtue of his sharp intellect and sometimes just by chance.
Jang comes to life in Crimson City after a three-year hiatus. Despite being the fourth book of a series, Crimson City can stand by itself as a murder mystery that requires no knowledge of the first three books: The Englishman’s Cameo, The Eighth Guest and other Muzaffar Jang Mysteries, and Engraved in Stone. A man with a keen eye and a sharp mind, Jang cannot detach himself from the mysteries that he gets entangled in. As Jang investigates, his innate sensitivity about people and their circumstances that led to the crime guides him to the truth. In a society where men from his class prefer pomp, he invests more time on observing people and dedicatedly taking care of his estate in a just manner. While the intricacies of Mughal life in Delhi were unfolding throughout the book, Jang grew on me as an astute, confident and empathetic investigator of justice.
Jang, newly married to the demure but intelligent and courageous Shireen, gets acquainted with the first murder when he accompanies the Kotwal of Delhi, also his brother-in-law, to the crime scene. Though Jang has assisted the Kotwal earlier, he finds the latter resentful of his inquisitiveness. Even after the Kotwal explicitly asks Jang not to interfere in the matters of the kotwali, Jang cannot but help himself from getting involved in the crimes that follow the first baffling murder of the cloth merchant. As he tries to trace the murderer, he stumbles across two more crimes — a kidnapping and a second murder. Just as he solves these two crimes, they are followed in quick succession by two more murders. Jang struggles to see the possible causes behind each of these killings.
As Jang ponders and sifts through the broken pieces of information, Shireen takes a keen interest in his work. Jang finds himself discussing his discoveries with his beloved, who surprises him with her excitement and bright responses. As the story progresses, Shireen plays a pivotal role in Jang’s investigations, venturing into women-only spaces which Jang cannot access. His other side-kick, if only for a short while, is his good friend Akram, a flamboyant, “woolly-headed”, but honest and unpretentious man.
Liddle paints a glorious picture of Shahjahanabad, now old Delhi, of the 17th century — the jamas worn by the men, the veiled women, horses clomping down the street, the exquisite Mughal architecture, the kebabs and the chaos of the walled city of Shahjahanabad. The story is set a time when Shah Jahan was at the tail-end of his rule, and the collapse of the Mughal empire was in the offing. The book, at 324 pages, is laden with long-winding descriptions. The author has an eye for meticulous detail; read this, for instance: Akram was stepping out of the shop, a brilliantly dressed figure in a deep marron choga, its hem embroidered in shades of blue, ranging from turquoise to the colour of the sky at midnight. His turban was the blue of the purest lapis, and a string of perfectly matched pearly hung around his neck.
Liddle uses such lengthy descriptions throughout the book, making reading the mystery a tad bit cumbersome. However, these descriptions gave me a brilliant picture of the sights, sounds, aromas and tastes. Despite being a murder mystery, one with a string of murders at that, the book took a leisurely pace, a welcome departure from hectic, fast-paced crime novels. I fought my urge to jump forward for the action and persevered through the intricacies of the narrative and let the city and characters take shape.
As the book gallops into and past its rapid climax, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for me too. By then, Jang had grown into a fully-fleshed man in my mind, and I lingered with him as he meandered through the dusty, colourful and lively streets of old Delhi. When I return next to the old parts of Delhi, I don’t doubt that I will try to imagine horses trotting down the street of Chandni Chowk, and pause on the steps of Jama Masjid and wonder where Muzaffar Jang would have sat had he existed.