Words do matter.

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent
about things that matter~ martin luther king
Words heal..
Words reassure..
Words express...

Book review : Private India by James Patterson, Ashwin Sanghi.








I had the pleasure of reading Private India by James Patterson, Ashwin Sanghi.


Thank you Blogadda for sending me this book as a part of book review program..



It was tedious 470 pages roller-coaster ride and I had my pauses in between where story seemed a bit slow. So here goes my review:


Chapter one begins with the murder of a foreign national. Private India is bidden to look into it. And before everyone knows, more bodies are found. Only females are being killed and none of them have connection with each other directly. But all of them are linked to the slayer in some way. Each victim is found the similar way, strangled with a yellow scarf and surrounded by weird religious artefacts like eggs, dolls, a bucket of water. As scary as it sounds, it is these artefacts that aid in finding the connection in the killing pattern. The entire story is set in Mumbai with abundant use of iconic places in the city. Private India goes out of their way chase the killer and end up saving the entire of Mumbai from a terror assault.


The main story is excellent. I could not guess the killer until the end. The finale was least expected and distinctive in a way of its own. Some turns looked straight out of bollywood movies. The language was a bit crude and rough. Sentences like "She had one of the best bodies he had ever had the pleasure of pleasuring" didn't sit well with me. "You bastard, what are you thinking? Why are you messing with my head?" sure is bothersome. And this occurs almost throughout the book. When the forensic expert pronounces that the bodies are all set for autopsy, the author uses the metaphor "Like a baker announcing a fresh batch of bread from his oven", was a tad bit over the edge for even roughness.


Most of the book is a descriptive, but the chapters concerning the killer are in first person. It was confusing and upsetting at the same time. At times it felt like I was reading another book all the way. Pointless angles take away the spirit of the core story, which could have been a stand out even without side plots. Involving Pakistan's ISI and Indian Mujahideen to develop a parallel plot was absurd and only made into the overflowing extra pages of the book. These side plots dampen out the actual serial killing. The intention of killings is understood and the story that follows the exposure of the killer is decent. Completely unanticipated and unique. The main plot stands out in this book, but I so wish that they had used appropriate language and diminished the side plots.


As I said earlier, book is a tedious read. It needs a lot of amends and could have easily under 250 - 300 pages, had it not been those unnecessary fillers. But at the end of the day, this one sure is an enjoyable book.



My rating : 3.5 out of 5


This review is a part of the biggest Book Review Program for Indian Bloggers. Participate now to get free books!

Game of Blogs : Story Weavers (Part 20 of the story)

Team Name: Story Weavers

Read the first part of the story here.
Read the previous part of the story here.

-o-


“Do you think we’ll die today?” Cyrus asked the guy next to him, quite restless now that his battery had drained out and he had nothing else to do.

“Not me for sure!” Replied the guy next to him.

“Whoa! Very confident on our destinies, are we?” Cyrus was back to scared self, all the bravery gone with the phone battery.

“I don’t believe in destinies. I believe in my skills” Replied the same guy looking straight ahead at the body of the terrorists who was shot from the window. The guy seemed somewhat agitated.

“That’s good.” Cyrus drew back from the strange guy. “It’s good to know your weak points and strong points.”

“I don’t have any weakness!!” The strange guy cried. “I can’t afford any weakness! These excuses are for people like you who don’t have any aim in life!”

Finishing off the sentence with gritted teeth he stood up in haste. One look at the Cyrus’s wide eyes made him step up to get done was needed to be done now?

Pulling up Cyrus by clutching his upper arm, He drew out his mini 9mm pistol he had in his sock. Putting it up to Cyrus’s head he motioned him towards the door.


-o-


Shekhar had his men chase the man he had seen gone just a moment ago in a flash right when he entered the hotel. He himself headed towards the predicted location of the room where hostages were held. 2 men were already taken out. He had to just go in and make sure everything was stable before he sent all the hostages to the roof for rescue team to take them off.

He stomped his foot on the door and barged is as soon the door hit the adjoining wall. “Everybody heads down and lie…” He cried out as instruction to the civilians. Coming face to face what he had least expected, he stopped mid-sentence looking at the cold eyes that looked back at him. Those known but cold eyes.

“Aryan”

“Shekhar!” Aryan smirked. “I was hoping to meet you here finally!” Aryan smiled his same wicked smile that he had seen on the vlog video. Aryan had a human shield. A tall, fair guy wearing spectacles with moppy curly hair. Aryan had his gun pointed at the guy’s temple, who was visibly shivering. “You have no idea how long I have anticipated this moment. This moment when I’ll witness the expression on your face, when you know who I am!” Aryan grinned. “Too bad! Now I’ll have to kill you.” He pointed his pistol towards Shekhar. A clicked was heard before everything went black..

-o-

Jennifer sat there in confusion as she saw the live video of what was going inside the hotel through the camera pinned in Shekhar's army cap. 
Is this the same Aryan whom Kareem mentioned? Oh my god...


-o-o-



Read the next part of the story here.



“Me and my team are participating in 
Game Of Blogs’ at BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”

Game of Blogs : Story Weavers (Part 4 of the story)



Team Name: Story Weavers

Read the first part of the story here.
Read the previous part of the story here.

At Hotel Continental sitting in the corner of the penthouse, Cyrus Daruwala was hyperventilating. He wished he had a paper bag to breathe in. This wasn't happening. It couldn't. He was only here to do case study on the ongoing hearings of Abdullah-Al -Asiri. This was supposed to be an easy, quick and clean case. Abdullah was the one of the culprits in 26/11 attacks. Everything was settled. Abdullah was to be sentenced tomorrow morning in Supreme Court. 
This wasn't good.

-x-

"We need to break in!" Tara said as soon as Jennifer stepped out of the Auto rickshaw.
"Yeah right. And would you like fries with that?" Jennifer replied in almost bored tone. "By the way good to see you too!"
"I am serious Jenny! We need to get inside the hotel to get what other media people can't get." Tara said frantically, shuffling on her feet.
"But you can't be serious? It's dangerous what you are talking about!" Jennifer tried reasoning with Tara, but one look said how much difficult this was going to be. "OK!  How about you don't break in yourself but let a professional or a semi-professional, who isn't a mere journalist, to do the work?"
"Like who?" Tara asked skeptically. "Who are you implying here?”
"You're forgetting whom I engaged to." Jennifer winked.
"He can't act on our whims! He has to follow the official protocol!" Tara exasperated.
"But he taught me his tricks honey. A semi-trained adventurer is better than a whimsy journalist any day."
"You don't mean what I think you do?" horrified Tara stared at her friend, looking both ways hoping no one heard their wild discussion.
"I certainly do" Jennifer replied putting on her sunglasses with an air of the one in command.

-x-

Roohi wasn't scared for her life. She had read too many books to be unaware of what was going on. She remembered reading something like this in 'Over the edge', except it was a plane being hijacked and the girl didn't have a phone in her backpack.
She looked up towards the man who had his big gun pointed on her teacher. Miss Daisy was trembling, she could feel it in the finger she held in her hand. She wanted to hug Miss Daisy and tell her they were going to be fine. But she wasn't sure it was true.

-x-

Shekhar was still framing a plan of action in his mind while reaching New Delhi in helicopter, when his satellite phone beeped. He answered both in relief and fear, relief to finally know she was fine, fear because of what was to come now. "Roohi! Beta, can you hear me?" He said loudly over the noise of chopper but couldn't hear any reply. Pressing the phone closer to his ear he tried again "Roohi! Say something beta!"  He could only make out a low rustling sound. And then someone spoke.
"You kid! Stay put or this time my bullet won't miss its target!" This was a voice of a man. It didn’t take rocket science to figure out what kind of man.
Shekhar again tried listening to the phone he held in his hand. There were faint noises of footsteps and few clear noises of someone crying. He knew his baby kid wasn’t a crier. It was so like her to be clever even in situations like this, to use the phone he had given her to not only save herself but trying to save a lot many people along with her. He only hoped she would put herself in more danger than she already is and god knew how much danger she already was in.
-x-
Anti-Terrorist Squad had taken position around the Hotel Continental and the New Delhi station when Shekhar reached his destination. After doing a reconnaissance around the station he located the possible break in points to be used when the command to go ahead was issued by the authority. A negotiator was called from army who had done quite a number of negotiations in previous hostage situations, but so far he too wasn’t able to extract a demand or figure from the captivators inside the station.
Indian authority had given them a deadline till the 2300 hours of that day to get the terrorists to speak their demand, if not, they were to break-in while the night was dark. There were already too many causalities since the attack. He hoped against hope that didn’t got worse by the deadline.
Still keeping a close concentration on the phone in his left hand, he started training his team and laying out the course of action for the night, if it came to that. Every now and then he would try listening for any clues in the phone, trying to gauge the situation on the inside. His little devil might not even know how she was helping her father. God bless her!

-x-

“Ok keep your eyes open and concentrate on that TV. Write what you see while I go in there and sneak into the service entry of the hotel kitchen” Jennifer instructed Tara while she adjusted the button-hole camera on the denim shirt. Pulling her hair in a messy bun she jumped thrice warming up for the action ahead.
“Are you sure you’ll be safe?” Tara inquired apprehensively. She didn’t want to put other’s life in danger and yet she was helping Jenny get ready to jump into the suicide well.
“Oh yeah! Never been better!” Jennifer grinned pulling out a small, palm sized gun from her sling bag and pushing it under her belt.
“Is that licensed?” Tara asked with wide eyes, pointing at the metal thing peeping out of her shorts.
“Yes of course. My fiancĂ© got me this as our engagement present.”
“Gun as an engagement present. Mine wrote me a poem on our wedding.” Tara replied still in daze.
“That’s why I get to break in baby” Jennifer winked and moved past her towards the back entry of the hotel.

-x-

Read the next part of the story here.



“Me and my team are participating in
Game Of Blogsat BlogAdda.com. #CelebrateBlogging with us.”


#32 The silent killer







They don't attack from behind,
With a dagger big as an arm.

They don't creep up in house
From unlatched windows.

They don't poison your coffee,
While you look away.

They don't shoot you with a gun
While they stand in front of you.

They'll tell you they love you
And gain your trust..
They'll take you to places,
You have never been to..
They sing you lullabies,
Till you fall asleep on their shoulders..
They'll touch your heart,
And own your soul..

Then they'll walk away
And let you fall apart
Till you drown in your own tears
Or hang yourself to death..

People think it's a suicide
While they enjoy watching
Their handicraft of killing in silence..