Anatomy of murder

Puja Changoiwala presents a behind-the-scenes reporter's view of the Arunkumar Tikku murder in 2012

The Front Page Murders

Inside the serial killings that shocked India

Puja Changoiwala

Hachette India

322 pages; Rs 350

Whenever the story of a high-profile murder breaks on the front pages, it is guaranteed to last in public memory for a long time. For one, and more obviously, it is only those murders that have the potential to generate a sustainably healthy news cycle that make the cut as front page fodder. But a murder is also vicariously sensational, infusing a mundane day with stories of revenge and devious plots. Think back to the Sheena Bora murder case, which, even almost a year after the initial revelations, continues to grab prime real estate on news channels and newspapers whenever a development occurs. Or, for that matter, the unsolved Aarushi Talwar murder, where public opinion has been sharply divided between sympathy for her accused parents and anger and bewilderment at their assumed guilt.

But what does all of this entail for a crime reporter? In The Front Page Murders, journalist Puja Changoiwala presents a behind-the-scenes reporter’s view of the Arunkumar Tikku murder in Mumbai in 2012, which eventually led to the unravelling of a complicated plot and several dismembered bodies. Reportage of the Tikku case was initially limited to the murder of a wealthy senior citizen which was deemed to deserve coverage because it highlighted the issue of security, or lack of it, for the elderly. But what followed as the investigation unfolded took even the police by surprise. Ms Changoiwala writes about the events of April 2012 as they unfolded for her as a crime reporter with the Hindustan Times. The biggest strength of the book lies in the manner in which she writes, with the flair and flourish of a crime fiction writer — except that all the events narrated in the book are true. 

Though the book is classified as “non-fiction/true crime”, Ms Changoiwala’s employs the classic crime writer’s technique of detailing seemingly unimportant nuances, the significance of which become clear later in the story. For instance, the character sketch of Dhananjay Shinde, one of the accused, affords an insight into how a once studious and artistic boy turned into a crazed murderer. His story is one of the several pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that fall in place at the end. This certainly builds the suspense, though I found myself skipping bits to read the details of the events as they happened. 

Being the crime reporter for the newspaper on this case, Ms Changoiwala has the advantage of unparalleled insights into the mechanics of how crimes are reported and solved and the role the media plays in this process. A large part of the information about such cases is shared through informal channels and a journalist needs to have the kind of people skills to establish a rapport with reticent sources to encourage them to talk. The Tikku case was extensively reported in the mainstream media, but this book reveals as much about the murder as it does about society at large — from editors looking for a good story to capture their readers’ attention to the readers who revel in the gory details untouched by the plight of the victim’s family coping with loss and sweeping generalisations and speculation about their relationships. 

Avirook Sen’s book Aarushi, also a journalist’s account of how the investigations in the Talwar case undercut the efforts to solve it, adopted a similar approach. But unlike Mr Sen’s grim narrative and prose style, Ms Changoiwala intersperses her story with witticisms about what a journalist’s day entails and how the chase for a good, “meaty” story sometimes dehumanises the case itself. Wry observations such as “confusion is the mother of all journalism” and “journalists don’t mind insults, it’s a part of the job description” regularly feature in the pages detailing the grimiest details of murder.

But that isn’t to say the author writes this account with an insensitive relish. An introspective quality infuses the prose and Ms Changoiwala often wonders how the family of those murdered or even the accused would feel. Rather than a hurried 1,000-word copy, with a factual account of the killings, this is a calmer piece of writing that seeks to capture nuances that cannot be included in a news report.

The subject of Ms Changoiwala’s narrative is gripping by its nature, so the book has that natural advantage. Combined with her almost Victorian style of writing – where even the subtlest inflection of a man’s voice on the phone or the fear on a security guard’s face is woven into the prose – The Front Page Murders is a page-turner. It is almost like re-reading an Agatha Christie novel, that has you frantically read through the night under the surreptitious light of the mobile phone to cherish that “ah ha” moment. 

That said, the book could have benefitted from some brevity; it tends to drag before the writer ties up the loose ends. Ending with a cryptic observation on human behaviour, the author writes, “You and I, I realised, we made Vijay Palande [the accused].” And that probably explains why sensational murders make the front page.