Sacred Games

by Vikram Chandra

Book Overview

Seven years in the making, Sacred Games is an epic of exceptional richness and power. Vikram Chandra's novel draws the reader deep into the life of Inspector Sartaj Singh--and into the criminal underworld of Ganesh Gaitonde, the most wanted gangster in India.

Sartaj, one of the very few Sikhs on the Mumbai police force, is used to being identified by his turban, beard and the sharp cut of his trousers. But "the silky Sikh" is now past forty,...

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0061130354
• ISBN13: 9780061130359
• Release Date: December 2006
• Publisher: Harper
• Length: 928 Pages
• Weight: 2.55 lbs.
• Dimensions: 2.0" x 6.1" x 9.3"

Customer Reviews

A Visit to Mumbai

If you plan to read this novel, you should not read discussions of the plot, which will spoil the surprises and suspense that kept me going through nine-hundred pages. The length did not deter me, a devotee of REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST, and many pressing duties were overlooked while I read on, fascinated. This book came to me as a birthday present a month after my return from a two-week visit to India,with two days spent in Mumbai. To me the city was a frightening horror - insane traffic, relentless beggars, families sleeping on the sidewalks as crowds stepped over and around them. Everywhere throngs of people at all hours of the day and night. And HOT, even on New Year's Day. Yet individual Indians I met were charming. Reading Vikram Chandra gives me a fuller and more nuanced picture, as have other talented Indian writers, and some insight I lacked at the time. For instance, a timely bribe of an Air India clerk might have forestalled the misery of a thirty-six hour delay in my return flight. Corruption is a neccessary way of life in a land where government workers and functionalries generally are not paid a living wage, and where family loyalty and connections far outweigh any sense of public service or the common good. Vikram Chandra's gift is not for profound psychological observation, but he does create an interesting spectrum of Indian characters, from Brahamins to peasants, and especially the urban middle class, including the police and their collaborators, the criminals. He makes a seemingly far-fetched plot premise plausible and comprehensible. How Ganesh Gaitonde, who dies in the first chapter, narrates the greater portion of the book is never explained, and some elements of the sensational denoument seem unlikely to me, but improbabilities happen in real life every day, while the title hints at some larger, superhuman agency that is never explored or explained. This book is an engrossing read, though I wish the glossary in the back translated more than the 25% of the unfamiliar words I encountered. It remains to be seen whether, like Proust's and other great novels, it is one that I return to an re-read.

That weight in my suitcase...

I rushed out and bought this book after I heard the author interviewed on NPR because it sounded like a great novel to read before my first trip to India. Unfortunately, my flight time came before I'd finished its nearly 1000 pages. By that time, it had hooked me so thoroughly that I HAD to know how it came out; I couldn't just leave it at home. So, gods help me, I dragged it along. This is one honkin' heavy book, believe me. I was afraid that its weight might tip my suitcase over the rather meager limit for in-India flights, so I carried it the whole time in my hand luggage. Now, a week after coming home, my shoulder's still out of joint. But I can definitely say, it added more to my understanding of the country than any of the travel literature I read. It's a big Bollywood mess of a book--and I mean that in the nicest sense. Lots of intriguing characters, mystery, romance, big moustaches, the odd wedding, a virtuous mother, even music. Subplots and histories abound, woven deftly into the present action. Chandra has made his shady policemen, his corrupt politicians, his grasping and clawing would-be actresses, even his murderers, all sympathetic in spite of their actions. It's a long, rambling love letter to Mumbai, and yes, it's a complicated book. But Mumbai is a complicated city in a very complicated country; the scope (and the heft) of the novel feels perfect for the task it undertakes. Don't be intimidated by the foreign vocabulary. Once you decide to take the unfamiliar words in context--hint: most of them are either profanities or song lyrics--and stop skipping to the dictionary in back, you'll find yourself immersed. Susan O'Neill, author, Don't Mean Nothing: Short Stories of Viet Nam

The game of life

This big, juicy novel exuberantly thrusts the reader into modern India like no other I've read. Although the story moves as fast as any successful thriller, and the plot careens energetically in many directions, it's all headed to one deeper place: to examine if the way we act in the world reflects who we are inside, or is an assumed, learned response to the circumstances we experience. With that difficult task in hand, Chandra, a master raconteur, tells the intertwining stories of two men, who should not, on the face of it, have much in common. Ganesh Gaitonde is a small-time crook who becomes the biggest Hindu mob boss in India. A street kid with no resources but his own wits, he evolves into a violent, immoral, spoiled man/boy who is protected and catered to by his band of dependent henchmen. He is as fascinating for his acts of unthinking bloodshed and revenge as he is for his sentimental generosity; for his naive delusion that he can produce the perfect Bollywood action movie, as he is by his blind devotion to a renowned holy man. His story is laid side-by-side that of Sartaj Singh, a Sikh police officer in Mumbai. Singh is carrying the heavy mantle of a respected father who has preceded him on the force, a feeling of ennui about much of his daily grind, and a failed marriage. When Singh becomes the unwitting ear to Gaitonde's last words, and oversees the discovery of Gaitonde's body following his bizarre suicide, Singh is dragged into Gaitonde's sphere whether he wants to be there or not. We are captivated as Gaitonde posthumously recounts his autobiography and Singh tries to determine if Gaitonde's influence over India had grown from grossly criminal to internationally threatening. This is a novel full of surprises, humor, bravura set pieces, and a plethora of Hindi profanity. We are treated to the sights, sounds and smells of Bombay, which is truly its own lush character in the book. But more than that, Sacred Games is a delicious head-first dive into words, deftly used not only to tell a good story, but to plumb the contradictory depths of human nature.

It's story time...

It's story time... Mr. Chandra is obsessed with stories. One could argue that this is a quality inherent in all authors, but it is especially true in this case. While some authors dote on their characters and still others focus on the prose, it appears that Chandra's foremost goal is to keep the reader trapped in a tale, and another, and yet another until the reader is utterly disoriented but also strangely satisfied. We saw this in Red Earth and Pouring Rain, where the reader descended through level after level of storytelling and was then warped back to the present at hyper-speed. In Love and Longing in Bombay we read 5 stories on distinct emotional levels, but each interesting and engaging. Sacred Games combines the breadth and scope of Red Earth and Pouring Rain with the realism of Love and Longing in Bombay and the result is a work of the quality that many observers felt Chandra was capable of. At its most superficial level Sacred Games is the story of Mumabi police inspector Sartaj Singh's investigation into the bizarre murder-suicide of underworld mobster Ganesh Gaitonde. Along the way Chandra paints a vivid picture of crime fighting in India, including the corruption, scandal, and backroom deals all for a greater good. As one of Chandra's characters puts it, Mumbai's policemen are good men who are forced to be bad to prevent the worst men from taking power. However the main storyline makes up a small fraction of this nearly nine-hundred page marathon, there are numerous stories within the story that keep the book fresh. Most notable among these subplots is the story of Ganesh Gaitonde himself and how he rose to prominence in the Mumbai underworld. In this way Chandra allows us access to the devlopment of the criminal mentality, the reader is able to easily pick out the the formative events and circumstances in his life which led to his rise and fall. Besides these two strands there are also several chapters termed "insets" by the author in which he is able to flesh out those characters which may not be directly integral to the plot but have an interesting backstory or some items in their past that reveal the slightest bit more to the reader. My favorite inset chronicles the life of an Indian intelligence officer, from his first meeting with Nehru to his many successes and finally to a vivid account of his mental failing and the frustration with it. During one of his mental lapses he recounts a bit of information that proves vital to Sartaj Singh's investigation and links the inset with the main plot. It is useless to attempt to summarize a book of such scope, but the above provides a broad outline of what you can expect to encounter. In Sacred Games, Chandra has crafted an epic piece of work which will hopefully recieve due recognition. Definitely worth your time and money.

A magnificient ode to that city by the sea...!

Vikram Chandra's "Sacred Games" is the "best" Bombay book, whichever way you look at it. It is set in Bombay and it is about the great metropolis. Bombay is probably the main character in this "tome" (900 pages and 7 years in the making), which is at first difficult to penetrate, but completely addictive and rewarding once, you go past the 200 page mark. What makes the book difficult to penetrate is the profusion of characters and the confusing at first-plot structure. (and to readers not from Bombay, the language. Chandra uses bombay street slang (which itself is derived from a multitude of languages and is its own "bambaiya" dialect) without your usual italics or a useful glossary as an annexure.) (The american edition, i understand carries a glossary) The book is at core a love song to the Bombay which the author loves, but works on multiple levels. Firstly, it works as a solid piece of Victorian fiction. Not as much a "whodunit", as a "why they did what they did" . Secondly, it is a deep introspection of the changing nature of that wondrous megapolis, which nurtures and nourishes its many economic immigrants. Religion, the Underworld, Weapons of Mass Destruction, Bollywood,the glitterati etc etc, are covered by the broad canvas of this novel which spans from pre independence India to the present day. Granted, that not all the side stories and minor characters pay off or add to the overall narrative (some of the insets are frankly self-indulgent), but that is but a minor blemish in a book which gives you a character as accomplished and complete as Ganesh Gaitonde. Ganesh Gaitonde- the "don", the "rags to riches"- it can happen only in bombay phenomenon, the taker of boys, the ravager of women, a connoisseur of Bollywood cinema, the self-learned street fighter, the at once dangerous impulsive, globe trotting, central character. It is apparent that Gaitonde has been invested with the 7 years of research and an infinite supply of humanity. This is a fiction character which will surely stay with you. In comparison, Sartaj Singh, the 40 year old, divorced cop,pales, but only slightly. Sartaj is the unwitting hero, in this novel, where all the characters are painted "pale grey" at best. Some of the other characters which Chandra creates, from jojo - the madam, to Katekar, Sartaj's constable are indeed Bombay characters of our times. Bollywood plays a huge role in this book as well. From the aspiring actress, Zoya Mirza's rise to Gaitonde's boys discussing what a Mukesh, Mohammed Rafi and a Kishore Kumar ditty, stands for. This is indeed a big, clamorous novel, very similar to Bombay where the sound of the crowds, the daily bump and grind, is its own sweet melody. This is probably the best bombay book ever. Move over Rushdie...