Age of Vice

This section traces Ajay’s descent into violence during two parallel timelines. Every act of violence Ajay commits takes a toll on him, highlighting his position as the moral core of the narrative. Unlike others around him who are desensitized to violence and even derive pleasure from it, Ajay agonizes over his bloodlust. Yet he cannot escape the compulsion to lash out, as it offers him a way to staunch the trauma of his past.

The first timeline contains many reversals for Ajay, with Ajay realizing that the mother and home he fantasized about for years are just figments of his imagination. Mary’s rejection triggers a transformation, setting him up for his first kill. After revisiting his past, Ajay crosses a critical threshold. The changes in his psyche show the persisting effects of personal and social trauma. When Ajay is attacked by Singh’s men in the alley, he mentally thanks Eli for his training in arms so he can defend himself. However, as he blows up with anger, Ajay wonders: “But who to thank for the rage? Sunny? His mother?” (109). Significantly, even though the last man alive begs Ajay for mercy and promises to take him to the Singhs, Ajay does not spare him: “The red mist has fallen. He strides toward Vipin, raises the blade, and brings it down into Vipin’s face” (109).

In the second timeline, Ajay attacks Sikander to save Prem, which gives his violence righteousness. Yet, after Sikander collapses, Ajay’s first thought is self-accusatory: “You’ve killed him,” he thinks, even though Sikander is actually alive (162). Though Ajay is full of rage, he is also conflicted morally. His self-accusation shows how he retains a conscience.

Prem becomes the first person to whom Ajay confides the story of his past. Ajay considers Prem as traumatized and marginalized as himself, and can therefore let his guard down. Ajay physically comforts Prem after Sikander’s vicious beating, one of the rare instances when Ajay connects in such a manner with another person. Ajay’s sexuality and sexual being are somewhat elusive in the book. In the opening chapters, Ajay does not date or solicit sex. In fact, one of Ajay’s strengths in managing Sunny’s affairs is that he does not show interest in Sunny’s romantic life or female guests.

However, in this section, Ajay’s interior monologue reveals that he felt jealous after watching Sunny and Neda together in Goa. Neda’s empathy toward him sometimes inspired Ajay to fantasize she was his girlfriend. The narrative suggests that what Ajay craves, above sexual pleasure, is simple human touch and contact. He has trouble letting go of Prem because this is the only time he has been as close to a human being apart from the act of violence.

This section introduces the photo of Ajay’s sister, a key motif in the novel. The photo functions not only as an important plot point; it also propels Ajay out of his state of catatonia. The photo, showing his semi-nude sister in a brothel, reflects the marginalization of Ajay’s family. It serves to remind Ajay that while his sister is imperiled, he cannot simply lapse into apathetic prison life. The photo is also a threat, a reminder that Ajay is not safe even inside jail. Ajay might have thought he had paid his dues by taking the fall for Sunny, but the photo shows that the Wadias still pull Ajay’s strings. Ajay presciently notes that “things are being controlled, they can read his mind, they watch him all the time. That Vicky Wadia is playing some elaborate game” (168).

Vicky Wadia, an important character in the narrative, becomes even more prominent in this section. Vicky, physically imposing and ostensibly crueler than Sunny’s father Bunty, is presented as a foil to the urbanism of the city Wadias, a foil being a character who illuminates another character or characters through contrasting qualities. Bunty wears business suits to convey a more cosmopolitan, globalized image. On the other hand, Vicky’s all-black kurta pajamas, his long, black hair, rings, kohl-lined eyes, and red-yellow forehead tilak (a religious mark) are designed to achieve the opposite effect. Vicky draws his power from being aligned with the rural countryside, as well as people’s religious and superstitious beliefs. The narrative presents a dichotomy between the men. At the same time, it suggests that they are closer in their corruption and venality than is immediately apparent. If Vicky treats Ajay like a puppet, so do Bunty and Sunny.

Gautam’s point-of-view narration quickly resolves the mystery of the crash. Gautam’s debonair narrative voice is satirically juxtaposed with the wrongness of his actions, revealing his character and exposing his shortcomings. When Gautam remembers Ragini, the girl in rags who came under his wheels, he assumes that he may have slept with her. Then he corrects himself: “How vulgar, that can’t be right” (122). Gautam’s cruelty eclipses his royal blood and Oxford education, showing how meaningless they are. However, his suaveness shows why Sunny was charmed by him.

Much like Ajay wishes Sunny’s charm would rub off him, Sunny wants to imbibe Gautam’s old-wealth authority. In the hierarchical world of the novel, social aspiration is a constant, even for someone like Sunny. That Gautam gets away for his crime with a trip to rehab in Europe while Ajay undergoes spiritual torment in prison heightens the novel’s exploration of pervasive inequality. The text suggests that Gautam’s reprieve and Ajay’s suffering are not just extremes; rather Ajay’s suffering is necessary for Gautam’s reprieve.