It is not a book for the faint-hearted as the language itself is the language of the streets, and it is a reflection of our times that even politicians such as Indira Gandhi are referred to in extremely colourful terms. Could this be a happy sign that art is finally being liberated from the powers that be?

The Peacock Throne has some unforgettable characters. One of them is Kartar Singh, the Sikh who lives through the 1984 riots and quickly re-establishes his business. However, with laudable Punjabi acumen, he shifts blithely from the illegal hawala trade to illegal cricket betting. He is the ultimate survivor. Another such character is Nepali whore Gita, who transforms herself from a voluptuous, abused victim into a strident activist, fighting for the rights of other exploited prostitutes. But when the demands of politics become overwhelming, she is able to bury her new-found idealism and use her army of burkha-clad prostitutes to cast bogus votes so that her candidate wins.

But the one truly memorable character is that of the tragic but ebullient, one-armed Gauhar — a Bangladeshi refugee who arrives at the doorstep of Chandni Chowk and uses all his ability and wit to resurrect a life for himself over and over again. He too changes many avatars: from a sodomised orphan to a hawker of saris to a political pawn. It is in the last avatar that we see him completely drenched in the slime of politics — he is even able to pass himself off as a Hindu when he is used to destroy the Babri Masjid. His short life is blown into smithereens when he becomes a road block to political ambition.

... contd.