Killing Time in Delhi: When Rich Kids Stumble Into Murder
Let me be clear right up front. Killing Time in Delhi by Ravi Shankar Etteth is not a proper mystery novel. Not the kind where you follow clues and figure out who did it. Not the kind where everything makes logical sense at the end.
This is what you might call a masala mystery. Fast, messy, more about style and vibe than actual detective work. It’s about a privileged Delhi rich kid who gets tangled up in two murders in one night and spends the rest of the book trying not to get caught or killed.
If you’re looking for a tight, logical whodunit, this isn’t it. But if you want a quick, chaotic read about wealth, emptiness, and stumbling through danger while being completely unqualified to handle any of it, this delivers exactly that.
It’s under 200 pages. You can finish it in a couple of sittings. And it never pretends to be deeper or smarter than it is.
The Setup
Charlie (full name Chaitanya Seth) is a wealthy Delhi socialite. Old money. Raised by his rich grandfather and an army of servants. Never had to work. Never had to think about consequences. Never developed much in the way of empathy or purpose.
He wakes up one morning next to his girlfriend. She’s dead. Drug overdose.
And what does Charlie do? Call the police? Rush her to a hospital? Break down with grief?
Nope. He has a party to go to. So he asks his servant to handle the body situation and leaves.
That night, while at the party, he stumbles across another dead body. This one murdered.
Two deaths in one day. And Charlie, who can barely handle ordering his own coffee without servant help, is now caught up in something way over his head.
Charlie Is Terrible And The Book Knows It
Here’s the thing about Charlie. He’s awful.
Classist. Condescending. Emotionally shallow. He sees people as either useful or invisible. His servants aren’t people to him, they’re furniture that occasionally talks.
Women in his world are bodies, accessories, problems to manage.
He has no depth. No real thoughts beyond what party he’s going to next, what drink he wants, who he’s sleeping with. His entire personality is money and boredom.
And the book doesn’t try to redeem him or make you like him. It just shows you who he is and lets you watch him flounder through situations he’s completely unprepared for.
That honesty is actually one of the book’s strengths. It never pretends Charlie is secretly good or smart. It knows he’s a privileged mess. And it’s kind of darkly funny watching someone this useless try to survive actual danger.
Not A Detective, Just Surviving
In a real mystery, the protagonist figures things out. Follows clues. Makes connections. Uses intelligence to solve the crime.
Charlie does none of that.
He’s not solving anything. He’s barely understanding what’s happening around him. He’s just trying not to die or go to jail while completely lacking the skills to accomplish either goal.
His survival depends almost entirely on luck. On other people doing things for him. On his money smoothing over problems. On circumstances randomly working in his favor.
The book never pretends he’s clever. And honestly, if this kid managed to solve even one murder, let alone get tangled in two, it would feel completely unbelievable.
So the fact that he’s overwhelmed, confused, and basically helpless works better than if the book tried to turn him into some kind of amateur detective genius.
The People Around Him
There’s a mysterious holy man. An attractive woman with unclear intentions. Various other characters who drift in and out.
And with most of them, you’re never quite sure what they want from Charlie.
Are they helping him? Using him? After his money? Genuinely concerned? Playing their own games?
The ambiguity creates some tension. But it’s tonal tension, not the kind where you’re trying to figure out clues. It’s more like watching Charlie paranoid and unsure who to trust while being too self absorbed to actually read people properly.
The uncertainty keeps you reading but it’s not the kind that rewards close attention to details. It’s just vibes and suspicion without much payoff.
The Romance That Doesn’t Quite Work
There’s a flashback romance storyline. I think this is meant to give Charlie emotional depth. To show he’s capable of real feeling. To make you care about him more.
But it doesn’t really land.
Partly because tragedy alone doesn’t equal depth. Just because something sad happened doesn’t mean the story earned emotional weight.
Partly because the romance feels underdeveloped. You’re told it was important but you don’t really feel it.
And partly because it slows down the forward momentum of the actual plot without adding much. You’re reading a fast, chaotic mystery and suddenly there’s this flashback trying to make you feel things and it just interrupts the energy.
The Writing Style
The prose is contemporary. Almost Gen Z in its tone. Conversational. Breezy.
It keeps the pages turning even when the plot isn’t doing much. Even when you’re frustrated with where things are going, the writing style pulls you forward.
This isn’t literary fiction trying to be profound. It’s urban, quick, styled for people who want something that reads fast and doesn’t demand much effort.
If you like that style, it works. If you prefer more formal or elaborate prose, this will feel too casual.
The Pacing Problem
The pacing is uneven.
Some parts move quickly. You’re flying through pages because things are happening and the style is propelling you.
Other parts drag. You’re stuck in scenes that aren’t adding much. Or in that romance flashback that’s slowing everything down.
But here’s the saving grace. The book is short. Under 200 pages.
So even when it lags, you’re not stuck there long. You can push through the slow parts knowing you’ll be done with the whole thing soon.
If this had been 400 pages with the same pacing issues, it would be painful. At under 200, it’s tolerable.
What Really Doesn’t Work
Let me be direct about the problems.
The objectification of women is constant. Women in this book are bodies. Objects. Things that exist for Charlie to look at or sleep with or be inconvenienced by.
They have almost no interiority. No real agency. They’re accessories to Charlie’s story.
The book doesn’t seem aware this is a problem. It just presents it as normal for Charlie’s world, which maybe it is, but that doesn’t make it less uncomfortable to read.
The mystery logic is weak. If you’re reading this as an actual mystery, trying to follow clues and figure things out, you’ll be disappointed.
Things happen more through coincidence than deduction. Solutions appear without being properly set up. The crime elements are more about creating situations for Charlie to stumble through than about building a puzzle the reader can solve.
This is fine if you know what you’re getting. But if you picked this up expecting a proper whodunit, it fails completely at that.
What This Book Actually Is
Killing Time in Delhi is a masala mystery. Fast food fiction. Style over substance.
It’s a portrait of elite Delhi excess. Of privilege so complete that consequences don’t feel real. Of emptiness dressed up in designer clothes and expensive parties.
It’s about someone morally and emotionally unequipped for anything serious trying to survive something serious anyway.
The value is in the voice. In the momentum. In the dark comedy of watching someone this useless deal with murder.
Not in the mystery. Not in character growth. Not in emotional depth.
If you approach it as a quick, messy, urban crime story that doesn’t take itself too seriously, it works fine. If you expect more than that, you’ll be let down.
Who Should Read This
You might enjoy this if you:
- Want something quick you can finish in one or two sittings
- Are okay with style over substance
- Want a glimpse into wealthy Delhi social scenes
- Don’t need mysteries to be logical
- Can handle objectification without it ruining the book for you
Skip this if you:
- Want actual detective work and clues
- Need mysteries that make logical sense
- Are sensitive to how women are portrayed
- Want character growth or redemption
- Prefer deeper emotional engagement
- Need books to be more than just vibes and momentum
This is beach read crime fiction. Airport book territory. Something to kill time with, ironically enough, without requiring much from you.
A Few Questions You Might Want to Ask Before Buying This Book
Is this a proper crime or detective novel?
No. This book does not rely on deductions or logic. It leans heavily on coincidence, chaos, and momentum.
Is the main character likeable?
Not really. Charlie is entitled, classist, and shallow. The book does not try to redeem him.
Does the book seriously examine privilege and class?
It portrays elite excess clearly, but often stops short of critiquing it in depth.
Does the writing keep the book engaging?
Yes. The modern, conversational writing style carries the story even when the plot slows down.
Is there a strong romantic or emotional track?
There is an attempt at romance, but tragedy alone does not give it depth. This is not an emotionally rewarding arc.
How are women written in the book?
Women are frequently objectified. This is something readers should be aware of before buying.
Who will enjoy this book most?
Readers looking for a quick urban masala read who are not bothered by weak mystery logic or flawed characters.
Final Thought
Killing Time in Delhi isn’t interested in justice or redemption. It’s interested in excess, privilege, and survival. And it doesn’t pretend otherwise.
Charlie doesn’t grow. Doesn’t learn. Doesn’t become a better person. He just stumbles through murders and mayhem being exactly as shallow and useless as he was at the start.
The mystery doesn’t really solve itself through clever detective work. Things just happen and eventually stop happening.
The emotional moments don’t land with real weight.
But for a quick, chaotic read about a rich kid in over his head, it delivers exactly what it promises. Fast paced. Stylish enough to keep you reading. Short enough that its flaws don’t wear you down.
It’s junk food. And sometimes that’s all you want. Something quick, a little trashy, entertaining enough while it lasts, forgotten as soon as you’re done.
If that sounds good right now, pick it up. If you want something more substantial, literally anything else on your shelf is probably a better choice.
But at under 200 pages, it won’t waste much of your time either way. And occasionally, that’s all a book needs to be. Quick enough not to waste your time while being just entertaining enough to justify the couple hours you spent with it.
If you want a fast, messy, privilege soaked Delhi crime caper and not a logical mystery, this is a quick guilty read.
Affiliate link. I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you.
