Vaseem Khan is an accomplished author, who has gained recognition for his remarkable crime series set in India. His literary works encompass two distinct series: the Baby Ganesh Agency series, which unfolds in modern Mumbai, and the Malabar House historical crime novels, which take place in 1950s Bombay.
Vaseem’s dedication to the craft of writing was validated in 2021, as his novel "Midnight at Malabar House" secured the esteemed Crime Writers Association Historical Dagger, widely regarded as the premier accolade for historical crime fiction worldwide.
Now, he has made history by being elected as the new chair of the Crime Writers' Association. In a significant milestone for diversity and representation, Khan becomes the first person of colour to assume this role in the association's 70-year history. He succeeds Maxim Jakubowski, a notable author, editor, publisher, and critic, as the chair of the organisation.
In a conversation with Asian Voice, Vaseem discusses the art of writing crime and the representation of the diaspora in the industry.
When were you introduced to crime novels and how did you end up writing these intricate books? Is there a crime-fiction writer who served as an inspiration?
My first introduction to crime fiction was via Agatha Christie’s Poirot books and my novels are written in a golden age-Christie style. I even had the honour of being invited as a Guest of Honour at the International Agatha Christie Festival in her hometown of Torquay, last year. The first book in my historical series, Midnight at Malabar House, was compared to Christie by a national UK newspaper. In the book, I introduce India’s first female police Inspector – Persis Wadia – who is posted to Bombay’s smallest police station - Malabar House - where all the rejects and undesirables are sent. This is 1950, just three years after Indian independence, the assassination of Gandhi, and the horrors of Partition.
A lot of your work is based in the city of Bombay, now Mumbai. Do you have a special connection with the city? Also, what is the backstory behind the character of the baby elephant, Ganesh?
Although I was born in the UK, I have lived in Mumbai for ten years in my twenties. My first series (known as the Baby Ganesh Agency novels) is set in modern Mumbai and began with The Unexpected Inheritance of Inspector Chopra, about a middle-aged policeman who retires and solves murders while having to look after a baby elephant. Those books showcase my incredible memories of India, both the amazing changes that have transformed the country in the past two decades, but also the legacy issues that continue to linger, such as the slums that are part and parcel of cities such as Mumbai.
During my time in Mumbai, I came across a retired circus elephant living close to my apartment in Andheri East. That memory stayed with me, and so I decided to include a baby elephant in my first crime novel when I returned to the UK. That elephant is both a symbol of India and also allows me to humanise my detective, Chopra, who is a grim and serious man, but one who cares deeply about the changing Indian society around him.
In the last eight years, you’ve written ten crime novels, which require so much more research and attention to the tiniest of details. What is your writing process like and what do you do when hit by writer’s block?
My novels are tightly plotted, with plenty of cryptic clues and a gentle note of humour. Many of the things I write about are based on real facts. The latest book in The Malabar House series, Death of a Lesser God, asks a simple question – can post-colonial societies treat their former colonisers justly? James Whitby is an Englishman born in India during the Raj, convicted, post-Independence, of murdering a prominent Indian lawyer. He claims he is innocent, the victim of a form of ‘reverse racism’. As far as writer’s block is concerned, I think if you plot thoroughly before you start writing you won’t suffer very often. And plotting still allows you to change things as the story develops. I discover this with every book I write!
As the first non-white person helming the chair of the Crime Writers’ Association (CWA), what do you hope to achieve while holding this prominent position?
The seventy-year-old UK Crime Writers’ Association (the CWA) is the oldest and largest association of crime writers in Europe. It exists to promote crime writing and crime writers. I will be following in the footsteps of world-famous crime writers such as Ian Rankin and Dick Francis. My main responsibility is simply to spread the gospel, to tell writers of all backgrounds and from all countries that crime writing is an open field.
What does your election as the premier of the CWA mean for the South Asian community? What advice do you have for the diaspora youth who want to follow in your footsteps?
My parents – and others of their generation – did not believe that the creative arts were a ‘proper’ occupation. They were obsessed with the holy trinity of lawyer-doctor-accountant. There’s nothing wrong with encouraging younger people to look for stable careers. But not everyone is cut out for that sort of study and nor is it everyone’s dream to be a doctor. So, my advice is not just for diaspora youth but also for diaspora parents. Listen to each other. Communicate. Because, although financial stability is important (I studied accounts at the London School of Economics and worked as a management consultant for many years), so is living a fulfilling life. If the creative arts inspire you, you should be free to pursue that. I could not have imagined that after twenty years of trying to get published, I would finally see a book in print at age 40. And now, as I approach 50, I hope I can act as an inspiration for others from the South Asian community who have the same dream that I had.
How far, according to you, can fictional writing take the responsibility of representing diaspora voices? Can it help make diaspora struggles more relatable for a greater mass of people?
The purpose of good fiction is to critically examine the world around us. In both my series I try to depict the reality of life on the subcontinent for my readers around the world, both diaspora and white readers – I think this helps the two communities better understand each other. In my Malabar House novels, I slip in details to correct omissions and misconceptions from the British time in India. The Lost Man of Bombay, the third in the series, tells the story of a white man found murdered in the Himalayan foothills with only a notebook in his pocket containing cryptic clues. In the book, I mention that Mount Everest was named after a Welsh surveyor who worked in India. But George Everest never went near the mountain, nor determined that it was the world’s highest peak. An Indian named Radhanath Sikdar did that. Alas, you won’t find Sikdar’s name on any map!
