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Journalism of Courage
In The Beast Within, Rudraneil Sengupta flips the script on traditional crime fiction. This is not a whodunnit that builds suspense through shocking twists or eccentric detectives. Instead, it’s a grounded, deeply immersive look at how a case is pieced together — patiently, relentlessly,
and, often, in spite of the system.
Set against the smog-and-sweat drenched landscape of Delhi, the novel opens with the death of15-year-old Jyoti Dhurwa, a tribal girl working as a house help in the Srivastavas’ plush mansion in Panchsheel Park. Everyone, including the Srivastava family and the officials are ea-
ger to dismiss the case as an accident. But to sub-inspector Prashant Kumar of the Crime Branch, something feels off— and he refuses to let it go. What follows is a gripping investigation that reveals as much about the city and its power structures as it does about the crime itself.
Fresh off a gritty case in Bawana, Kumar has just been transferred to Hauz Khas and is still finding his footing. Sengupta crafts his protagonist with subtlety — he’s not a brooding genius or a rebellious maverick but a cop with sharp instincts, deep empathy and a refusal to be swayed by bureaucracy or superficial closures. The manner in which Kumar navigates his way through the case makes the story gripping: negotiating with his superiors, rallying his team and slowly
earning the trust of rookies and veterans alike. Sengupta’s detailing — the delicate push and pull within the system — gives the book a refreshing sense of realism.
There are scenes with high octane action, but at the same time, Sengupta succeeds in showing the slow-natured process of investigations — that the officers do not find a turning point to the case everyday and investigating a case is a slow and lethargic process.
Kumar is not a lone wolf on a mission, he has an interesting team that does not trust the boss blindly but listens to him nonetheless: Meera, is a wrestler-turned-cop with fierce loyalty and street smarts; Zeeshan, Kumar’s steady and sharp right hand man, and Parveen, who takes his
caste and vegetarianism very seriously and considers interacting with women beneath him. These characters bring texture and rhythm to the investigation, balancing the bleakness with moments of dry, earthy humour and camaraderie.
Sengupta’s journalistic background — especially his time with the Delhi Police — adds a layer of authenticity that many crime novels struggle to achieve. He doesn’t romanticise the police force nor does he reduce it to a corrupt monolith.
Instead, he captures its complexity — the push for justice often entangled with class and caste biases, personal compulsions and bureaucratic lethargy. His familiarity with the multiple terrains of the National Capital Region helps bring out the multifacetedness of the city — from gated
colonies to cramped bastis, from cold drawing rooms to searing streets. The atmosphere — whether it’s the dense winter fog or the oppressive summer heat — mirrors the psychological weight of the case, pressing down on both investigators and readers. Sengupta’s deep detailing of the city’s locations not only shows how familiar he is with the city but also helps the readers to reimagine the story.
The Beast Within is less about “who did it” and more about “how the one who did it was brought down”. The plot steadily uncovers not just one crime but a series of intertwined acts of violence, systemic failure and buried truths — all connected to Jyoti’s death. The procedural builds
tension through methodical, grounded storytelling.
The Beast Within ends with a quiet conviction that justice must be pursued, however delayed or imperfect.
