Book Review :: The Sirens of September

With author Zeenath Khan at The Hyderabad Library, Banjara Hills (2026)

The Sirens of September by Zeenath Khan (published by Penguin Random House India) builds a vivid world around Hyderabad’s princely state under the seventh Nizam, beginning at the cusp of 15 August 1947, when India gained independence.

One of the leads, Farishteh, is a teenager, and through her eyes we see a prosperous, well-functioning Hyderabad under the Nizam. Juxtaposed with her perspective is that of General Edroos, the commander of the Nizam’s forces. Much of Edroo’s account appears to draw from his biography; of course, this is fiction, so the author takes creative liberties. But through these two perspectives, we witness the tragic destruction of a rich and prosperous province through 1947, ’48 and ’49, culminating in the state-induced surrender of Hyderabad’s forces to India.

The language is impeccable, but the dialogue is perhaps one of the book’s biggest strengths. And then there are the characters, each bringing a different element of power into the mix, making the whole thing feel almost like a Game of Thrones-esque game of power set in historical Hyderabad.

You have tawaifs, nawabs, villagers, Sunnis and Shias, mixed marriages, young romance, ballroom sequences, alcohol flowing — all these seemingly disparate layers coming together to give the book its richness.

My favourite exchanges, though, were between Edroos and Hyderabad’s Prime Minister, Mir Laiq Ali. Their dynamic is fascinating because we experience Ali largely through Edroo’s eyes, who sees him almost through a lens of disdain.  Yet Ali repeatedly emerges as a formidable challenge, even if Edroos refuses to quite give him that respect.

My only real con with the book would be what happens after Operation Polo. The entire world that the book so painstakingly builds seems to collapse in a flash, almost mirroring the collapse of the state itself.

Once Hyderabad is gone and merged with India, that period immediately after is not really part of the book, and then we jump ahead in the timeline to 1958. There is something quite jarring about that absence... the missing emotions, the missing aftermath, the things left unsaid. In a strange way, though, that too becomes reflective of what happened to Hyderabad itself.

So while I call it a con because I was left wanting more, it is also perhaps a testament to how invested I had become in these characters. I didn’t want to leave them. I wanted to keep reading their stories, their journeys, and what happened to them through those ten missing years and to Farishteh's hair. * wink *

Rating: 4.8/5

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