Crime thrillers are often considered escapist literature, but a book like The Party Worker reminds us how the opposite can hold true as well. This is partly because its primary setting, Karachi, is palpably close to home; because its plot, about brutal manoeuvres by and within a political party, cannot but resonate with Indian readers too, and because of the pedigree of the writer. Omar Hamid is and has been a counter terrorism officer in the Karachi Police, so he knows his material. But more than these, the story is true to life because of the spirit in which it is told.
Too often, plots about gangsters and mob killings are glamourised, and the storyteller appears simply in awe of the carnage. Not so in this book. A thoughtful and sorrowful sentiment pervades it, elevating it above the ruck. It is always conscious of the ultimate pettiness of power struggles, and of the dignity of human life, even when it is treated as nothing.
This consciousness comes to the fore in the book’s central character, Asad Haider, the chief hitman for decades of the United Front Party, headed by Mohammad Ali Pichkari, a.k.a. the Don, who rules Karachi with an iron fist, even from exile in New York, indeed with the connivance of the CIA. But as the story begins, something has gone awry, for the Don has tried—and failed—to have his right hand man assassinated in full public view on the steps of the Museum of Natural History in Manhattan. This episode represents a moment of inflection in the lives of many people.
Hitman to target
The Don, all-powerful, has grown weary and paranoid of disloyalty. Asad, while not remorseful for his past, has reached a point of paralysis—his crimes weigh too heavily on his spirit—and having refused to carry out a certain hit, he has become a target himself, with his family already murdered. Anthony Russo, a nondescript, twice-divorced New York cop, is drawn inexorably towards the politics at the root of the museum shooting, spurred on by the CIA’s attempts to bury it.
Meanwhile, back in Pakistan, the Don’s enemies are stirring too. A local gangster from Lyari Town, in partnership with a canny-minded journalist, is staking claim to power. And an old man and a young woman, who have lost their son and their brother, respectively, to the Don’s violence, bide their time and hope for vengeance.
The Party Worker; Omar Shahid Hamid, Pan Macmillan, ₹399.
All of this considerable cast of characters is treated with respect, and the reader is not lost amidst their individual concerns. Meanwhile, it is Asad’s story that drives and deepens the plot. In his past, we see the genesis of the Party, the old story of idealistic young men taking to the gun, sliding inexorably from noble intentions to blood-lust. And in the wakening of his conscience, we see the mystery of personality, with its unextinguished spark of humanity. “I remember all of them,” he says, “The ones I killed myself and the ones I gave the order for. Every date, every location.”
Asad, however, remains a tragic character, because even in his repentant state, he has no strength to rebuild his life, only enough to focus on destroying the Don. So it is this question, of whether the Don will be destroyed, and if so how and by whom, that keeps us turning the pages.
It is good enough motivation to read, because although the Don is not a particularly colourful villain, he is clearly a monster. Indeed, the author’s wisdom shows here, in that he does not make the gangster’s personality gaudy, but lets evil simply reveal itself, in all its banality.
Coherent but incomplete
“A pharaoh,” as Asad puts it, “who thinks he is a god on earth.” This is not a comic-book character, but just a man who wishes every lust of his satisfied, and will do anything for his own sake. Detective Russo, who, along with Asad, is the other voice of conscience in this story, has a hard time explaining why he dislikes the Don so much, despite having nothing to do with Pakistan and Pakistani politics personally. He only says: “People like that piss me off. They think they’re untouchable because they’ve got so many levers to pull.” But the reader gets it.
Having got the reader involved, The Party Worker then moves pacily to its climax, which is unpredictable and skilfully written, and in which all the various characters play their part intelligibly. Yet the ending, while fitting, is not satisfying, and the story feels coherent, but not complete. This is inevitable given the absence of a proper countervailing force to that which the Don represents—because Asad is too tormented a character and Russo too distant. Even so, when read as a tragedy (which is the true spirit of this book) rather than as a thriller, The Party Worker is good and edifying.
The Party Worker; Omar Shahid Hamid, Pan Macmillan, ₹399.
The author is a novelist, whose most recent book is The Persecution of Madhav Tripathi .
