This book is proof of the adage 'never judge a book by its cover'. Or, in this case, don’t even judge it by its title, its print and its back cover.
A great story, Sufi suffers because of loose editing, punctuation errors and disconnected sentences. Most importantly, the power of Aabid Surti’s narrative is dimmed hugely by a translation that just doesn’t meet the mark.
A mind-boggling number of characters are introduced in the first chapter, and you wonder if you’ll ever manage to keep track. But if you love stories based on the underworld, stick on — it’s a true story about Bombay from 1940-1960 (when the underworld was in power).
There are two parallel narratives — one of the author’s life and the other of an underworld don — and both compel you to turn pages.