The Perfect Suicide - A Nine Series Thriller

In today's world, speaking the truth in a crisis can feel like committing the perfect suicide, but don't raise your eyebrows just yet, that isn't why this book carries its title. "The Perfect Suicide" is, in fact, a gripping thriller that explores how victims and perpetrators alike behave and react, both to their circumstances and to one another. The essence of the story is captured well in the book's cover, which shows two spiders facing off on a web. Jalaj Shrivastava, an IAS officer (originally IPS, from the 1983 batch) and the author of the book, lays out the setup and every moving part of the plot with great care, all while lacing the story with humour. This comes through clearly in the Author's Note, where he clarifies, as is legally required, that the book is a work of fiction and does not represent any person, living or dead. He notes that he has made the necessary changes to keep the work fictional throughout, though he does admit that a few names, his batch-mates John (Durga M. Mitra), Rina Mitra (Durga M. Mitra's wife), Deepak Nath, and others, belong to real people.

This debut novel is the author's attempt to give something back to society and the country at large, and to leave behind a gift for future generations. There's plenty here to engage both the analytical and imaginative sides of a young reader's mind. As you read, it feels as though the author is narrating the story directly to you, subtly weaving in the hints and imagery that reveal his own personality along the way. In short, reading this novel also means getting to know its author a little. One trait that stands out, alongside his transparency and clear, well-structured way of describing things, is his openness to criticism. This shows in how he turned his family's blunt feedback, when they "mercilessly criticised and punched holes," as he puts it, in his early drafts, into an opportunity to learn and improve the story.

The story is set on the eve of Valentine's Day, though not in the romantic sense. It unfolds during the annual lunch of the IPS Officers' Wives Association (IPSOWA), held on 14th February 2016 at Hotel La Vie's sixteenth-floor restaurant, Casablanca. The event draws together 200 of the most powerful women in the heart of New Delhi, which is precisely why Daulat, the restaurant's Assistant Manager, is on edge. As the women settle into their winter lunch, fully immersed in the warmth of the occasion, tragedy strikes without warning. Within roughly 34 seconds, they are taken hostage by terrorists who had wired the restaurant with explosives beforehand. Meanwhile, their husbands, senior officers of the Indian Police Force, find themselves drawn into a high-stakes game, much like a match between the black king and the white king on a chessboard.

Chapter One opens at 11:40 am on Valentine's Day at Casablanca, laying the groundwork for everything to come. The author clearly has an eye for detail, and given current trends, this novel could easily find its way to a film or television adaptation. The chapter begins on a lighter note, observing the hotel's rhythms, how Europeans tend to have breakfast around 7 am, while sharply dressed Indian professionals, honeymooners, and vacationers drift in later. From there, the scene shifts to the day's backdrop: sunny weather, the meeting's agenda, the food and drink arrangements, and the housekeeping preparations underway. Daulat, anxious about the ladies' safety, insists on strict security until the last guest leaves the hall. At 11:42 am, as planned, he sets the cleaning staff to work. The restaurant offers a sweeping view, from the Sarai Kale Khan bridge to the Lotus Temple, and from the Qutub Minar to the southeast, with glimpses of Vikas Bhawan and the Player's Building complex to the north. Just outside Casablanca sits another restaurant, "The Lobster," helmed by Cordon Bleu chef Deepak Nath, alongside a commercial complex the hotel built to handle sudden guest overflow, located about sixty metres away.

By 12:20 pm, the tables are set with cutlery and decorations, and speakers begin arriving. That afternoon's programme features the well-known Gauri–Nayanika duo, showcasing Gucci and Jimmy Choo, with a talk planned on the art of sushi. The countdown to the story's climax has already begun, and the author starts tracking time with growing precision, tick by tick, ten, eight, seven, down to one. Near the end of the chapter, in its final two paragraphs, he plays his hand: the tragedy. A simple electronic signal, sent from a hundred metres away once the music ends, detonates a low-grade explosive, planted the day before by a window cleaner using a pencil detonator with a radio-frequency trigger. Thirteenth February, often considered an unlucky day, turns out to be exactly that, the day the seeds of devastation were quietly sown.

Within 34 seconds of the explosion, before anyone can process what has happened, four armed men in jackets rappel into the hall on plastic ropes through the blast point above. Weapons drawn, they take the powerful gathering hostage in an instant. The chapter closes there, much like a cliffhanger in a television drama. Chapter Two picks up at 3:52 pm, with Daulat counting six uninvited guests, one carrying a pistol with its magazine sticking out unusually, another armed with a handgun. The author goes further here, detailing the weapons themselves: 9mm handguns like the Browning, Colt, or Beretta, typically holding ten to twelve rounds. Because 9mm ammunition is a standard format, magazines can be swapped across different guns as needed, a level of preparedness that puts to shame the Bollywood villains who run out of bullets simply because they didn't think to switch magazines in time. Among the six terrorists is Salim, known for his fixed, piercing, watchful eyes. Midway through the chapter, he instructs Daulat to hand over a mobile phone with a stolen SIM card to someone, laying out careful instructions, while also revealing their plan to raid the kitchen's food and drink supplies.

Before that, the women receive video footage over Bluetooth, meant to be forwarded to their husbands. Salim plays the role of tormentor here, doing his best to terrify the hostages at every turn. As Madhuri records the video, he gestures toward the C-4 explosive packs, the detonators, and the camera rigged with a pencil device. Amid the chaos, the author introduces one of the story's braver figures, Ms. Rini Mitra, a 35-year-old woman married to John Mitra. Her fear isn't for herself but for the fact that her office has been unable to gather any intelligence on the attack. She waits anxiously for any information she can pass on to her husband.

Salim continues to threaten the women, warning that the explosives could claim both their lives and their wealth. But Ms. Rini stays sharp, quietly gathering whatever clues she can. She notices that "Dixit" barely speaks and never strays far from Madhuri, trailing her like a shadow. She also picks up on an accent: the terrorists pronounce "Kashmir" as "Kshmeer," leaving her to wonder whether he's speaking English, French, or Hindustani. The next chapter shifts back to 12th February 2016, as the author begins fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. By then, The Lobster and Casablanca are effectively theirs for the taking. The story then rewinds further still, to 25th October 2015, on the third floor of the Commercial Complex, where a business card changes hands between a client, Hotel La Vie, and the commercial office, printed in English on one side and Japanese on the other. A thirty-year-old woman greets them in Japanese. These threads eventually converge into a six-room office on the fifteenth floor, leased by a Japanese firm, M/S Sumi, drawing the story back toward that fateful, unlucky day.

Chapter Four opens at 12:35 pm on 11th February 2016, during hotel check-in. Four small-framed men arrive with a heavyset woman wearing a hat and sunglasses. She hands over her ID and passport, instructing one of her companions, Sathya, to handle the formalities while she settles down for a cup of coffee. Who exactly is Sathya? That question is answered in the chapter that follows.

The story moves smoothly through recaps and interwoven threads, giving readers the pieces they need to follow each sequence of events. It brings to mind the structure of the American television series "Arrow," where the protagonist, having escaped years of hardship on an isolated island, works to protect his city while constantly, whether consciously or not, revisiting memories from those five formative years. This novel follows a similar rhythm. In Chapter Twelve, the author describes 1989 as a year of "uncertain central governments and political affiliations; of unsure friends and knives up every sleeve. Of caste and religious divides. Of hung assemblies and Parliament. Of Brutus in everyone and Caesar in none." This chapter centres on a threatening ransom letter sent to Rajbir Gujjar, named directly in the text, a native of Khurja-Bulandshahr known as the "Handsome Dacoit," whose father was reputedly the first person in western UP to own an AK-47. The demand: two crore rupees, in denominations of a hundred or less. The author adds a wry touch here, noting that unlike the dramatic monikers typical of Hindi cinema, "Black Scorpion" or "King Cobra," Rajbir is referred to simply by his own name. This incident sparks a serious discussion at the Chief Minister's residence, chosen for its security. Chapter Fifteen returns to the hostage crisis, marking Chauhan's full entry into the story.

The story's flow makes it genuinely captivating, but what stands out most is how relatable it feels. The author grounds his storytelling in real, tangible details, which makes the narrative all the more believable, particularly for readers familiar with Delhi, since the entire story unfolds there.

What makes the author's writing so engaging is the way several qualities come together, sometimes blending, sometimes standing apart, across different stretches of the story: a grounded realism, thorough detailing, carefully measured pacing, deliberate placement of every object and character, transparency, a light touch of humour, and an overall positive tone. Every element, down to something as small as a coffee mug, is placed with clear intention, weighed for its impact on the scene. This precision likely traces back to his background in physics, which seems to shape his exacting approach. Timings like 2:05 pm or 3:25 pm are never rounded off, and details like "sixty metres away" are given with the same careful specificity throughout.

The author also works hard to keep IPSOWA feeling authentic, weaving in references to brands like Zara and Mango along the way. His skill at guiding readers through flashbacks stands out too, allowing them to independently piece together, connect, and make sense of the story's events, which is likely why he suggests reading the book twice. There's a quiet irony running through it all: these events unfold during a time of horror, even as much of the world outside is celebrating love.

"The Perfect Suicide," the ninth book in its series, is dedicated to the integrity and discipline of India's uniformed forces. The author's next book, "The Dog Who Spoke Too Much," is expected soon.