A son of the circus is the only contemporary book I've read set in India but written by a non-Indian. Mr Irving apologises for this quite adequately in his foreword: "I repeat, I dont 'know' India, and 'a Son of the Circus' isnt 'about' India. It is, however, a novel set in India - a story about an Indian (but NOT an Indian), for whom India will always remain an unknown and unknowable country..." It is a book well worth reading. A few quotes.
"It is most assuredly nothing to upset yourself about," the old Parsi said, "It is merely a dead golfer."
As for twins separated at birth, the irony was tht this is an extremely popular theme with Hindi screenwriters, Such a separation frequently happens at the hospital -or during a storm, or in a railway accident. Typically, one twin takes a virtuous path while the other wallows in evil. Usually, there is some key that links them - maybe a torn two-rupee note (each twin keeps a half). And often, at the moment they are about to kill each other, the telltale half of the two-rupee note flutters out from one twin's pocket. This reunited, the two twins vent their anger on a real villain, an inconceivable scoundrel (conveniently introduced to the audience at an earlier stage in the preposterous story).
"Durga is looking after me - I am praying to her." vinod added.
"The Goddess of Death and Destruction is looking after you?" Farrokh inquired.
"She is always protecting me" the dwarf insisted.
"I see," Dr Daruwalla said; he guessed that being protected by the goddess of death and destruction had a kind of karmic ring to it.
Inspector Dhar was characteristicaly silent - 'characteristically,' depending on which rumours you believed.
"Oh what pretty flowers!" she remarked. "Oh, what a nice cow!" she said to it. (Veronica Rose's repertoire of friendly, inoffensive responses was exceedingly small.)
"Oh I hate this country!" she yelled. "It is merely a passing riot," Meher assured her.
She believed that AIDS was God's well-intentioned effort to restore a natural order to the universe; like many morons, Vera would believe the scourge was a godsent plague in judgement of homosexuals. This was remarkable thinking, really, for a woman who wasn't imaginative enough to believe in God.
