Mystery and mayhem | Review of Chhimi Tenduf-la’s A Hiding to Nothing

All pleasantly cosy questions that set up for a moderately thrilling read on a monsoon evening — but do we believe what we read, told as it is mostly through Neja’s perspective, in Chhimi Tenduf-la’s A Hiding to Nothing?

The unreliable narrator made its first splash in popular fiction with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926). Agatha Christie was at the top of her game in this carefully crafted novel, resulting in a denouement that is as astonishing today as it was a hundred years ago. Since then, the device has been widely adopted across media with varying degrees of success, the most recent headline-grabbing one being, of course, Gone Girl.

Unreliable much?

For the gimmick to work, the destabilisation needs to be a slow process for the characters in the narrative as much as for the reader or viewer. Imagine an idyllic family scene — parents and children out on a picnic, and a metaphorical mask slipping, maybe, or a meek chemistry teacher finding a new move in the bedroom (Breaking Bad, anyone?) — something that evokes a reaction within the story even as we across the fourth wall go, a-ha! 

In this scenario, it’s critical that the reader or viewer suspect they’re smart enough to know something others don’t. It creates tension and dissonance — is the narrator or the protagonist really telling the truth? — all potent emotions for a satisfying finale where, of course, the arc will bend towards justice.

Author Chhimi Tenduf-la

The basic problem with Tenduf-la’s protagonist is that everyone in the narrative believes Neja is unreliable — and she doesn’t help her own case much. Neja doesn’t walk, she stumbles. Her vision is perpetually blurred — and lest you think that’s metaphorical, her thighs “vibrate against each other”. She’s forever dehydrated (or drinking wine or tequila on an empty stomach); at one time, she clambers across the façade of a house in nothing but her birthday suit (jeez, girl, did you have to lose the towel?). 

Despite the awareness this could be deliberate, it still serves to make her pretty annoying. And she’s not the only one: there’s also the vastly infuriating Ramesh, the husband, a strongman named Popeye, a mysterious embassy staffer called Mercy, a shady British hotelier, rotund balding Asian men, a randy swimming coach, a lookalike womb-on-hire, her former stalker, aliases, red tuk-tuks… phew. There are so many characters, so many timelines, so many unclear motivations, so many red tuk-tuks, sorry, red herrings, that one can almost empathise with Neja in the head-reeling aspect.

Problematic portrayal

To be fair, Tenduf-la doesn’t just depend on chaos to drive his story. Occasionally, the author displays flashes of a wicked sense of humour, which makes you think it is he who is having the last laugh on the reader. But too many times, Neja’s desperate question — “Where is my son?” — falls on retreating backs, as people who should have the answer stage unexplained exits. Ekta Kapoor would have been proud of the hook.

Underlying the apparent incoherence, there are themes of love and loss in the novel but the near-fetishisation of motherhood — from the school mums’ text group to Ramesh’s relationship with his dragon-mother, to Neja’s own get-out-of-jail-free card, played with almost no foreshadowing and certainly no warning — is problematic. The Neja part of it is objectively a great twist but, by the time it springs on us, we care so little, it’s all we can do to mutter, good for her, turn off the bedside lamp and settle into a peaceful night.

It’s all a bit of a pity. The half-British, half-Tibetan Colombo-based Tenduf-la’s previous novels were received fairly well and this one, too, had the potential to be a really zany post-truth dark comedy. Instead, this thriller-wannabe feels like a force-fit for a different genre.

The reviewer is a Bengaluru-based writer and editor.

A Hiding to Nothing

Chhimi Tenduf-la

Hachette India

₹599

Published – August 29, 2025 06:05 am IST