Although born in Kenya and raised in Canada, Munir still has India in his heritage. Now a widower, he is thinking about his family and his roots, and decides to go to Delhi to visit the places his grandparents talked about. He stays at the Delhi Recreational Club, a haunt for successful Indians, and it is here he meets Mohini who has sat down to wait for her husband for dinner. They strike up a conversation, and, as they say, the rest is history. We follow through the alternating narrative, watching their friendship move quickly to an obsession. Complicating this scenario is the fact that she is a devout Hindu and his heritage is Muslim, although he has never been observant, and indeed regards himself as an agnostic. As a backdrop to this growing relationship, we are treated to a bit of a travelogue as we share their day trips around Delhi, and Munir's ventures into other parts of India, and watch as he begins to feel more and more his Indian identity. There is no escaping the undercurrent of hatred from radical Hindus for the Muslims, and we know this relationship will be targeted. The writing is spare but moving, with an ability to paint mental pictures that kept me wanting to read on. The somewhat casual, slow pace is the perfect lead up to the sudden abrupt end.

GLNovak's rating:
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