Books like Riot — picked by fans

Mukherjee’s first chapter is a masterclass on how to open a mystery-thriller.

“It’s not unusual to find a corpse in a funeral parlor. It’s just rare for them to walk door under their own steam. It was a riddle worth savoring, but I didn’t have the time, seeing as I was running for my life.” This got my interest right away. I was in!

Mukherjee’s protagonist is in an opium den at the wrong time. Beautifully bookended, opium forms the personal struggles of this worthy protagonist. With quirky lines “take me to your organ grinder” and “we’re here to see Torquemada” I enjoyed this action-packed story, set against the backdrop of the 1920s Indian independence movement.

Protagonist Sam Wyndham is an English policeman who’s apolitical, and I enjoyed his comic-accurate cynical portrayal of both Indian proclivities and the British pretensions. But Indians are far more than backdrop, and form vibrant… show more.

A young woman is found dead only a few yards behind the stands where hundreds of students gathered to watch the Prince of Wales’ parade on his 1922 visit to Bombay. When lawyer Pervin Mistry realizes it’s the same woman who consulted her only days ago, she’s driven by guilt and determined to help the Parsi family through the awful process of the coroner's inquiry.

I started this book with a whole host of questions, which grew more dire as the number of suspects rose. Finely etched characters abound. Pervin is torn between a natural patriotism and desire to see justice and her own family’s interests. As she learns more, she realizes that the young female student has a sort of dangerous honesty (a term the author Sujata Massey used when I interviewed her) which complicates matters and shows the difficulty of being a dutiful daughter while staying true to… show more.

Sidhwa’s book describes the partition of India that formed present-day India and Pakistan. These tortured days and the tragedies and massacres that followed are viewed through the lens of a gentle and educated Parsi family. The narrator is Lenny, a young girl afflicted with polio, whose active observations center on the members of her family and servants. Her eighteen-year-old Ayah and the devotion of the ice-candy man play out against the backdrop of terrible hatred and betrayal, where religious affiliation trumps all, even what some call love, and others, lust. 

This book had me weeping for days. Its simplicity is deceptive. The simple narration from a six-year-old is entirely believable, the confusion of what really happened, and what it means. But the adult me could read between the lines and understand the full measure of tragedy, the horror, the inevitable result. And I was glad that Lenny was too young… show more.

Oh, how I enjoyed the dry wit embedded into each page! This complex mystery is filled with engaging characters. Author Vaseem Khan lavishes even the most minor characters with detailed and hilarious descriptions. The mystery of three separate murders converging is wrapped up with a cipher puzzle embedded in the mythology of Indian culture and iconography. The crimes with two different modus operandi makes things even more confusing.

Sourcing from the internment of foreign nationals in India during World War II, this twisty tale takes us through a number of locations and little-known events of India's history. I enjoyed protagonist Persis Wadia, as a Parsi woman myself, however, seeing her run headlong into dangerous situations does not do her credit. The deepening personal relationship with Archie is delightful but perhaps a deeper understanding of the moral and personal quandaries will be coming in future books. This does not detract from… show more.

I loved this book because it nuanced my understanding of how modern Hindu identity was manufactured through Hindi literature in the literary salons and polemics of nineteenth-century Banaras. Dalmia’s intricate study of the life and writings of Bharatendu Harischandra, a colorful and creative personality and often called the Father of Modern Hindi, impacted me strongly.

Here was a writer, playwright, publisher, and polemicist who played a critical role in the formation of Hindu modernity in North India. I also find the book interesting for its description of social history, rooted in the ancient city of Banaras. 

A children’s book that adults will enjoy, The Night Diary is the story of twelve-year-old Nisha, half-Muslim, half-Hindu, and caught up in the tragedy of partition – where Pakistan and India separated in the aftermath of India’s independence from Britain.

Nisha is about to experience the disorientation and fear that comes when a family decides to flee for safety. Nisha’s story is told through a series of letters to her mother as she leaves what is now Pakistan, to find a home and an identity. Her predicament – that of a desperate search not just for physical safety but for hope - reminds me of that of Resi, the main character in Sigh For A Strange Land, who wants nothing more than to find that "'tomorrow' is not a threatening word."

I really enjoyed reading this book because it offers a deeply original perspective on Hindu nationalism by shifting the focus away from the usual Hindu Right organizations and instead examining how its idioms infiltrated the Congress party in the United Provinces.

Gould’s analysis is important because it reveals how Hindu nationalist ideas operated beneath the surface of a party officially committed to secularism. This covert influence, as he shows, played a key role in alienating Muslim communities and complicating the communal landscape in the run-up to Partition.

I appreciate how the book draws on a rich variety of historical sources to unpack these dynamics, making it a significant contribution to our understanding of how political language shapes ideological outcomes. 

This is the final book that I have included in my list. I read this book only recently and thought of it as an important intervention because it traces the roots of modern Hindu nationalism to the encounter between Hindu society and European missionaries under colonial rule, an angle often overlooked in mainstream scholarship.

Manu S. Pillai persuasively shows how colonial pressures led to a reimagining of Hinduism, not just as resistance but also as adaptation and appropriation. For me, the book showed how Hindu nationalism emerged from this complex process, shaped by both confrontation and mimicry.

Its rich cast of historical actors and lucid narrative style make it an important intervention, one that connects cultural anxieties, colonial power, and identity formation with striking clarity.

This book enriched my understanding of how Hindu nationalism framed India’s imagination, not just through politics but also through publishing. Mukul’s minute excavation of Gita Press’s empire enthralled me—how two Marwari businessmen set up a publication house to strengthen militant Hindu nationalism.

What particularly stunned me was the reach of this vernacular press and its publications and how many nationalists legitimized its project—their bylines sandwiched between caste orthodoxy and cow protection pamphlets.

The book powerfully showed to me how a ‘spiritual’ enterprise quietly standardized the grammar of Hindutva, making devotion quantifiable, nationalism religious, and majoritarianism sacred.

I love Rumer Godden’s novels, but I’m even fonder of her memoirs, especially this one. Writing with her sister, Jon, she describes life in Naryangang (then in British India, now in Bangla Desh) during and shortly after World War 1. The large household, the bazaar, the diversity of people, the bright sun and the monsoon rains, the wealth and the poverty, the danger of rabid dogs, the holidays in hill stations…I grew up in India forty years after Jon and Rumer Godden, but in many ways, their experiences bring back my own childhood.