Most crime novels have a setting. Mine have a city that breathes, pushes, deceives, and confronts.
Mumbai is not just a place in Death in the Rain or Bombay Reckless — it’s a living, scheming, relentless character in the story. It’s the reason these stories exist. You can’t write about justice, corruption, ambition, or even love in India without bumping into Mumbai’s chaotic soul.
I grew up fascinated by cities — their rhythms, their secrets, their shadows. But Mumbai? It’s something else. Here, skyscrapers share walls with tin shanties. Politicians rub shoulders with gangsters. Journalists chase truth in a haze of diesel smoke and moral compromise. And beneath the surface, a quiet war rages — between the privileged and the invisible, the law and those it conveniently forgets.
In Death in the Rain, we meet Kabir Joshi and Ananya Rao, two investigators operating on the fringes of power. A murdered politician sets the wheels in motion — but the real mystery is what the city lets you see, and what it keeps hidden.
Why do I write stories set in Mumbai? Because here, crime isn’t just personal. It’s institutional. The city is full of stories. I just follow the footprints they leave in the monsoon mud
