THE SATAPUR MOONSTONE by Sujata Massey

A few months ago I read A Murder on Malabar Hill, the author's first outing with Bombay lady lawyer Perveen Mistry in the 1920s, and what a surprise it was.  And now I have had a chance to read Perveen's second outing. We know quite a bit about Perveen now from the first story - how she came to be the only woman lawyer in Bombay, how she managed to get to Oxford University and graduate as a lawyer, how she had a disastrous arranged marriage, how she escaped the marriage.

In this novel, she again is challenging the norms of a woman in traditional Indian/Parsi society, her intelligent and curious mind no match for the men around her, so expectant of a compliant and most agreeable young woman. Not Perveen. She turns completely on its head the way woman should behave and be in India.

The 1920s were probably the peak of the British Raj in India. There were still many princely states of the country under the control of their traditional maharajas, but the ultimate control of everything in India at this time rested with the British. Perveen finds herself travelling to the remote princely state of Satepur in the mountain ranges south of Bombay. Strange things have been happening with some months earlier the maharaja dying of a sudden illness, and more recently his teenage son killed in a hunting accident. The state is now ruled by an agent of the British Raj on behalf of the two maharanis or queens - the maharaja's widow, and the mother of the surviving son. Oh, and a daughter. The two maharanis are now fighting over the future education of the young prince and future maharaja. As the women live in a state of purdah, the male British agent is unable to meet with the women to discuss the problem, so Perveen is called into make a recommendation to the agent on the where and how the young prince should be educated. Pretty straight foraward you would think. Well, not really - in India nothing is as it seems, and an ominous threat continues to linger around the palace.

There is no way you could ever call Perveen a scaredy cat. She revels in challenging the expectations of how a well brought up young Parsi lady should be, finding herself admired, ridiculed, threatened, ignored, presumed upon, and in spots of danger. Throw into this mix the tantalising idea of a possible romance with a British man, and Perveen is really walking on thin ice, or in this story literally on the edge of a precipice. She is a great character Perveen, as are all the characters, well drawn and quite believable. There is considerable tension in the plot, how things unfold, evoked through the barriers of distrust and suspicion from the maharanis, the descriptions of the lush and thick forests of the state, the dangerous narrow muddy tracks. The tension is particularly good in illustrating the clashes not only between Perveen and every male she meets but also between Indian and British, with the local and very traditional villagers and way of life, Hindu/Muslim/Parsi interactions. A microcosm of India really, not just then, but still now.



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