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SIX SUSPECTS NOVEL PDF

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Six Suspects From the author of the New York Times bestseller Slumdog Millionaire comes a richly You can read the book for free here: Six Suspects read online free mystery books Where can I get online PDF or EPUB versions of books?. Six Suspects is the second novel by Vikas Swarup, an Indian diplomat and author of The New Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version. Read Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android.


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Editorial Reviews. From Publishers Weekly. This satirical crime novel from Swarup (Q&A, the basis for Oscar-winner Slumdog Millionaire) opens promisingly, but. Six Suspects is a murder mystery that exposes the corrupt urban Indian society. In the opening lines of this novel the writer focuses on the difference between. They are a glitzy bunch, but among them the police find six strange, cover image of Six Suspects Six Suspects. Detective Fiction. by Vikas Swarup. ebook .

He is an avid reader and enjoys the works of Albert Camus as well as American thrillers. Vikas Swarup, 43, was born in Allahabad India in a family of lawyers. He has been writing for years and has received many awards for his short stories. He studied contemporary History, Psychology and Philosophy before joining the diplomatic corps. He has been posted to various countries such as Turkey , the United States Ethiopia , the United Kingdom and South Africa He was especially marked by his posting in Great Britain. He is now busy working on a musical in the strictest Bollywood tradition His second novel, Six Suspects, will be released in France in May

In part because the stories all seemed to be from different books. There's a magical realist satire of a guy possessed by Gandhi, a gritty gangster type tale, a tragedy of dispossessed and discarded underclass, a Bollywood actress in a Bollywood plot, and a spectacularly poor effort at a caricature of the American Abroad.

It didn't add up. It didn't really work for me as satire or as realism because I found the tone too uneven--I'm here for tragicomedy but I think once it's caricature you do lose the emotional weight. The Plot: Vicky Rai is the playboy son of a corrupt Indian bureaucrat - he's also newly acquitted from a murder he was clearly guilty for, a verdict that has the entire country of India up in arms.

When Vicky throws a party to celebrate his freedom, he's subsequently murdered - and a motley crue of 6 suspects are taken into custody for possessing guns. A deeply dedicated investigative journalist concedes he will do what it takes to uncover the murderer of Vicky - not because Vicky himself is particularly important or deserving within the story and to the reader but because Vicky Rai represents all that is wrong within the Indian justice system.

From there, Swarup divides each section of his book background, motives, evidence, aftermath into six stories written in six unique styles surrounding the six suspects.

The audience coughs and fidgets and waits for the show to begin, but the velvet curtain draped over the stage refuses to budge. At eight thirty p. Soon the hall is plunged into spooky darkness. Simultaneously, strains of the sitar fill the air and the curtain begins to rise.

Six Suspects: A Novel

A single spotlight illuminates the stage, which is bare save for a straw mat on the floor. Arrayed in front of the mat are a number of items — a hand-driven spinning wheel, a pair of spectacles, a walking stick and a bundle of letters. A simple banner at the rear is emblazoned with the blue-and-white logo of United Entertainment. A familiar baritone booms from the large black speakers on either side of the stage.

I am your host for the evening, Veer Bedi. Yes, the same Veer Bedi who meets you on the silver screen. You cannot see me in front of you, but you know that I am very much here, behind the scenes. Spirits are similar. You cannot see them, but they are all around us. The man of whom Einstein said Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this walked the earth in flesh and blood.

Yes, I am talking about none other than Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, our beloved Bapu, who was born on this very day in the year With your own ears you will hear Mahatma Gandhi speak through the medium of Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra, an internationally renowned psychic. Aghori Baba possesses the siddhi, the divine energy acquired through yoga which enables one to pierce the veil between this world and the next, and talk to spirits.

I used to be a non-believer too. But no longer. Let me share something personal with all of you. We were very close and I missed her terribly. Two months ago, Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra made contact with her.

Through him, I spoke to my sister, learnt about her journey to the afterlife. It was the most amazing, transformative experience of my life. And that is why I am here to vouch personally for Aghori Baba.

I can guarantee that what you are going to witness today is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something that will change you for ever. Nevertheless, we have been helped by powerful benefactors who knew the Mahatma intimately. They have lent us items belonging to him which you can see arranged in the centre of the stage. There is the wooden charkha, the spinning wheel with which he spun the khadi cotton cloth which he always wore. Next to it lies his favourite walking stick. There is his pair of trademark round spectacles, and that bundle contains some letters written personally by the Great Mahatma.

When the spirit enters the medium it is a critical and delicate moment. There should be no noise, no disturbance of any kind. That is why your mobile phones have not been allowed inside. Please maintain absolute silence throughout the show. On behalf of United Entertainment I would also like to thank our sponsors this evening — Solid Toothpaste, for solid white teeth, and Yamachi Motorcycles, way to go!

I also thank our media partners, City Television, who are beaming this event live to millions of viewers in India and across the globe. The mirth lingers for a while before fading under the weight of nervous anticipation. The time has now come, ladies and gentlemen, for which you have been waiting breathlessly. Hold on to your hearts, because you are about to witness the most amazing spectacle in the history of mankind. I am now going to invite on stage Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra.

Through the mist appears a shadowy figure, clad in a white dhoti and saffron kurta. Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra turns out to be slim and of average height. He seems to be in his late forties, with dark knotted hair piled high on top of his head, a dense black beard and piercing brown eyes. He looks like a man who has seen the world, who has conquered his fears. The baba walks up to the edge of the stage and bows before the audience, holding his hands together in a gesture of salutation.

His voice is soft and soothing. I am going to take you on a journey. A journey of spiritual discovery. Let us begin with what our holiest book, the Gita, says. There are two entities in this world: the perishable and the imperishable. The physical bodies of all beings are perishable, but the atma, the soul, is imperishable.

Weapons do not cut this soul, fire does not burn it, water does not make it wet, and the wind does not make it dry. The soul is eternal, all-pervading, unchanging, immovable and immortal. In other words, it continues to have the faculties of hearing, touch, sight, taste, smell and mind. That is what makes it possible to communicate with a soul.

But none touched me as deeply as the spirit of Mahatma Gandhi. The term Mahatma itself means Great Soul. Bapu has been guiding my personal spiritual evolution for the last five years.

I feel his presence every waking minute. So far this has remained a private dialogue between the Mahatma and me. Today I will share his blessings with the entire world.

So it is a vital journey that we will undertake today. The journey of the soul. But also a journey of hope. Because at the end of the journey you will know that death is not the end of life, but the beginning of another life. That we are eternal and immortal. Soon the spirit of Bapu will enter me and speak through me. I request all of you to listen attentively to the message Bapu gives us today. But remember, if the communication is broken midway, immense harm will be done, both to the spirit and to me.

So as Veer Bedi sahib has advised you, please, please maintain pin-drop silence. When the mist dissipates, the Baba is sitting cross-legged on the mat, chanting incantations in a language which resembles, but is not, Sanskrit. The spotlight changes from white to red. A serene calmness descends on his face. He becomes perfectly still, as though in a trance.

All of a sudden there is a burst of light on the stage and a sliver of white smoke sallies forth into the hall. There is a collective intake of breath from the audience.

Equally suddenly the spinning wheel whirrs into action.

Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup

It appears to do so without any external agency, with the Baba sitting a good six feet away from it. The audience watches transfixed as the spinning wheel revolves faster and faster. She is bending forward in rapt attention, her fingers gripping the arm rest. As the spinning wheel continues to rotate, the walking stick and pair of spectacles stir into motion and rise from the floor. They ascend higher and higher towards the ceiling in a synchronized gravity-defying supernatural duet.

There are gasps of disbelief from the assembly. Mohan Kumar feels a prickling sensation in his palms. Rita simply gapes. As suddenly as it had begun, the spinning wheel abruptly grinds to a halt.

The walking stick falls down with a clatter. The spectacles hit the floor and shatter. There is a long pause, and for a moment Mohan thinks the Baba has gone to sleep. Then his body begins to shudder uncontrollably as though in the grip of a violent fever. At that very moment comes the sound of a voice unlike anything Mohan Kumar has heard before.

It comes from the lips of Aghori Baba yet does not appear to be his. A deathly silence falls over the audience. They feel themselves to be in the presence of a superior force, one they can neither see nor fully comprehend. I am one of you. And today I want to talk to you about injustice. But Non-violence should never be used as a shield for cowardice. It is a weapon of the brave. His long black hair is in disarray and his eyes shine with unnatural brightness. He rushes towards the stage, chased by a couple of policemen wielding sticks.

Aghori Baba turns silent in the face of this sudden intrusion. Bapu is our legacy. The protestor takes no notice of him. He inserts a hand inside his kurta and produces a black revolver. Gripping it tightly, he points it at Aghori Baba.

Veer Bedi swallows hard and hastily retreats into the wings. The policemen appear to be immobilized. He thought he would go on for ever. But he had been defeated by time, by the inexorably ticking clock which had tolled sixty and ended all his powers in one stroke.

In the eyes of his colleagues, he has managed the transition from government rather well. He is now on the boards of half a dozen private companies belonging to the Rai Group of Industries which together pay him ten times his former salary. But these perks cannot compensate for the loss of patronage. Of power. He feels a lesser man without its aura, a king without his kingdom. In the first couple of months after his retirement he woke up on some nights, sweating and itchy, and reached dimly for his mobile to see if he had missed a call from the Chief Minister.

During the day, his eyes would involuntarily turn towards the driveway, searching for the reassuring white Ambassador with the revolving blue light. At times the loss of power has felt like a physical absence to him, akin to the sensation experienced by an amputee in the severed nerve endings of a stump where a leg once used to be.

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The crisis reached such a point that he was forced to ask his employer for an office. Now he goes there every day, and stays from nine to five, reading a few project reports but mostly playing Sudoku on his laptop and surfing porn sites.

The routine permits him to pretend that he is still gainfully employed, and gives him an excuse to be away from his house, and his wife. It also enables him to slip away for these afternoon assignations with his mistress. At least I still have Rita , he reasons, as he knots his tie and gazes at her naked body, her black hair spread out like a fan on the pillow. There is a gap of twenty-seven years between them, but no difference in their tastes and temperaments. At times, he feels as if she is a mirror image of him, that they are kindred souls separated only by their sex.

She is too demanding, nagging him constantly for gifts of diamonds and gold. She complains about everything, from her house to the weather. And she has a ferocious temper, having famously slapped a former boss who was trying to get fresh with her.

But she more than makes up for these deficiencies with her performance in bed. He likes to believe that he is an equally good lover. At sixty, he is still virile. With his height, fair skin and full head of hair which he dyes diligently every fortnight, he knows he is not unattractive to women. Still, he wonders how long Rita will stay with him, at what point his occasional gifts of perfume and pearls will prove insufficient to prevent her from falling for a younger, richer, more powerful man.

Till that happens, he is content with these stolen afternoons twice a week. Rita fumbles underneath the pillow and retrieves a pack of Virginia Slims and a lighter. She lights up a cigarette expertly and draws on it, releasing a ring of smoke which is immediately sucked in by the A-C. And they say Aghori Baba is a great psychic. He can really talk to spirits. He is just a cheap tantric who probably feasts on human flesh.

And Gandhi is no international pop star. He deserves more respect. He looks her in the eye. I have to think about my reputation. Rita sends another ring of smoke spinning towards the ceiling and gives a shrewd laugh. She says it lightly, but it stings him. And he realizes that his mistress, too, has changed. Even the sex was different now, as if Rita was holding something back, knowing that his power to mould things in her favour had diminished, if not disappeared.

Think of it as just another show. Like a movie premiere. All my friends are going. They say it will be a page-three event. Come on, be a sport, darling. He knows Rita is nothing if not persistent. Once she sets her heart on something, it is difficult to dissuade her, as he discovered to his cost with the Tanzanite pendant she demanded on her thirty-second birthday.

He gives in gracefully. I will arrange two passes.

Suspects pdf six novel

So it is that at seven twenty-five p. A large contingent of police in full riot gear are trying their best to control an unruly mob of protestors shouting angry slogans and holding up a variety of placards: On the other side of the road, a battery of TV cameras are lined up, filming sombre-looking anchors making breathless live broadcasts.

Rita, looking svelte in a black chiffon sari and corset blouse, follows him in stiletto heels. The family of Mahatma Gandhi has termed it a national disgrace.

But with the Supreme Court refusing to intervene, it appears that even this most sacred of names will be sacrificed today on the altar of commercial greed.

Mohan Kumar nods his head in silent agreement as he inches closer to the gate. Looking at the eager, expectant faces milling around him, Mohan feels vaguely distressed. The inexhaustible capacity of the gullible to be cheated has never ceased to amaze him. He frets at the slow progress of the queue, not having stood in one for the last thirty-seven years. After an interminable wait, during which he has his ticket scrutinized by three different checkers, his body scanned for guns and metal and his mobile phone confiscated for later return, Mohan Kumar is finally permitted to enter the brightly lit foyer of the auditorium.

He brightens as he spots several well-known personalities mingling in the crowd — the Auditor General, a Deputy Commissioner of Police, five or six Members of Parliament, an ex-cricketer, the President of the Golf Club and quite a few journalists, businessmen and bureaucrats. Rita breaks away from him to join a group of her socialite friends, who greet each other with little whoops of fake delight and feigned surprise. The middle-aged owner of a textile mill, from whom Mohan Kumar had once extracted a hefty bribe, walks past him, studiously avoiding eye contact.

Six months ago the man would have fawned on me , he thinks bitterly. It is another quarter of an hour before the doors of the auditorium open and an usher directs him to the front.

He has obtained the very best seats, right in the centre of the first row, courtesy of an IT company on whose board of directors he is now serving.

Pdf six suspects novel

Rita looks suitably impressed. Mohan glances at the people around him. The ladies look vulgar in their brocaded silks and permed curls, the men faintly ridiculous in their Fabindia kurtas and Nagra jutis. The audience coughs and fidgets and waits for the show to begin, but the velvet curtain draped over the stage refuses to budge.

At eight thirty p. Soon the hall is plunged into spooky darkness. Simultaneously, strains of the sitar fill the air and the curtain begins to rise. A single spotlight illuminates the stage, which is bare save for a straw mat on the floor. Arrayed in front of the mat are a number of items — a hand-driven spinning wheel, a pair of spectacles, a walking stick and a bundle of letters.

A simple banner at the rear is emblazoned with the blue-and-white logo of United Entertainment. A familiar baritone booms from the large black speakers on either side of the stage. I am your host for the evening, Veer Bedi.

Yes, the same Veer Bedi who meets you on the silver screen. You cannot see me in front of you, but you know that I am very much here, behind the scenes. Spirits are similar. You cannot see them, but they are all around us. The man of whom Einstein said Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this walked the earth in flesh and blood. Yes, I am talking about none other than Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, our beloved Bapu, who was born on this very day in the year With your own ears you will hear Mahatma Gandhi speak through the medium of Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra, an internationally renowned psychic.

Aghori Baba possesses the siddhi , the divine energy acquired through yoga which enables one to pierce the veil between this world and the next, and talk to spirits. I used to be a non-believer too. But no longer.

Let me share something personal with all of you. We were very close and I missed her terribly. Two months ago, Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra made contact with her. Through him, I spoke to my sister, learnt about her journey to the afterlife. It was the most amazing, transformative experience of my life. And that is why I am here to vouch personally for Aghori Baba. I can guarantee that what you are going to witness today is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something that will change you for ever.

Nevertheless, we have been helped by powerful benefactors who knew the Mahatma intimately.

Join Kobo & start eReading today

They have lent us items belonging to him which you can see arranged in the centre of the stage. There is the wooden charkha , the spinning wheel with which he spun the khadi cotton cloth which he always wore. Next to it lies his favourite walking stick. There is his pair of trademark round spectacles, and that bundle contains some letters written personally by the Great Mahatma.

When the spirit enters the medium it is a critical and delicate moment. There should be no noise, no disturbance of any kind.

That is why your mobile phones have not been allowed inside. Please maintain absolute silence throughout the show. On behalf of United Entertainment I would also like to thank our sponsors this evening — Solid Toothpaste, for solid white teeth, and Yamachi Motorcycles, way to go! I also thank our media partners, City Television, who are beaming this event live to millions of viewers in India and across the globe.

A babble rises in the hall. The mirth lingers for a while before fading under the weight of nervous anticipation. The time has now come, ladies and gentlemen, for which you have been waiting breathlessly. Hold on to your hearts, because you are about to witness the most amazing spectacle in the history of mankind. I am now going to invite on stage Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra.

A machine sprays dry ice across the stage, adding to the eeriness of the atmosphere. Through the mist appears a shadowy figure, clad in a white dhoti and saffron kurta. Baba Aghori Prasad Mishra turns out to be slim and of average height. He seems to be in his late forties, with dark knotted hair piled high on top of his head, a dense black beard and piercing brown eyes. He looks like a man who has seen the world, who has conquered his fears. The baba walks up to the edge of the stage and bows before the audience, holding his hands together in a gesture of salutation.

His voice is soft and soothing. I am going to take you on a journey. A journey of spiritual discovery. Let us begin with what our holiest book, the Gita , says. There are two entities in this world: The physical bodies of all beings are perishable, but the atma , the soul, is imperishable.