Blood in the boondocks | Review of The Jasmine Murders by Roopa Unnikrishnan

In her debut work of fiction, Roopa Unnikrishnan crafts an interesting murder mystery, positioning it in the early 1960s and setting it in a deceptively ordinary small town. Of course, what we see is not what we get, and the place in Tamil Nadu is a cauldron teeming with age-old taboos, seething communal tensions, secrets and lies, dirty deeds done in the dark, all waiting for that lit matchstick to go off.

Into this potential maelstrom arrive two Malayalis: the new Assistant Superintendent of Police, Jayan, and his whip-smart bride of 40 days, Uma. The couple hasn’t settled in before the first of a series of calamitous events fetches up at their doorstep literally— a man carrying the severed head of his wife. It soon transpires that Vikraman has decapitated his wife himself, singing the old infidelity tune.

Soon, incidents break out like a rash all over Manamadurai; a robbery at a bank manager’s house, another at the local zamindar’s mansion, a second decapitated body, this time of an unidentified male.

Running simultaneously to this trail is Uma’s exploration of the place, its Ladies Club members, the town’s two medical men. The ‘jasmine murders’ of the title hints at a fragrant surface with a murky undertow. Both trails meet, of course, and end up with Uma being of immense help to her policeman husband.

This is a murder mystery which does not pepper the plot with red herrings, and neither does it get the reader guessing as the story unspools quite organically. Here, we are presented with a series of incidents, a bunch of small reveals working up to the big one, and all we have to do is follow the prominent dots.

Inspired by parents

The denouement is as dramatic as it gets, with Jayan’s chase of the perpetrator leading him to Dhanushkodi just as a cyclone hits the place, leaving death and devastation in its watery wake.

The author does a skillful job of character delineation, telling us of Uma and Jayan’s Malayali roots and way of life, juxtaposed with the overweening patriarchy that stalks places like Manamadurai. If at times Uma over-reaches, it’s fine because her husband soon gets used to his new wife’s assertive ways. The author has said in interviews that the story is partly inspired by her parents’ life.

Despite being a promising debut, the book reads like a first draft at times. A gruesome package is placed on a table and the sentence ends with a mention of the damp thud it makes against the floor. Somebody gestures at a locked metal almirah… only, they are sitting in a Jeep at the time. A character tells himself he needs some strong coffee to get him through the day and the next minute, is found drinking tea.

The dynamic between Uma and her mother, too, is not explored deeply and is resolved in a rather pat fashion. It’s the same with Uma and her brood of elder brothers; the reader isn’t sure if they bullied her or if she ruled over them.

The reviewer is an author, journalist and manuscript editor based in Bengaluru.