I just finished Bogey Bonhomie and came away pleasantly surprised by how the book folds a playful, almost homespun sense of friendship into something quietly uncanny. Right from the start I felt rooted in the small-world textures of 1961 Goa — the sea, the makeshift dreams of two boys, the uneasy air of political change — and then watched that same intimacy resurface decades later in the most improbable way: five schoolmates in Bombay who turn out to be carrying the same bond, the same unfinished story. Reading it felt like meeting an old friend who remembers things I don’t, and who keeps nudging me to put the pieces together.
Setting and atmosphere
The book moves effortlessly between the sleepy coastal rhythms of South Goa and the rush of Bombay’s city life, and I loved that contrast. The seaside scenes are vivid in a lazy, tactile way — wind, sand, the kids’ inventions — while the Mumbai sequences bring in heat, noise and that particular urban restlessness. The Goa→Bombay transition is handled so that the past never feels like mere backdrop; it’s an active force pulling at the lives of the new generation. The occasional supernatural beat — the sense of an inherited weight or a latent curse — never overwhelms the setting but heightens it: the landscape itself feels still haunted by what was buried.
Characters and the “Pentagon of Bonhomie”
At the heart of the book is friendship — not the idealized kind, but the messy, layered kind that survives awkwardness, rivalries and the cruelties of luck. Ray and Roy are the original axis, small boys with daring and a secret, and their presence as a reincarnated echo across Kuber, Yug, Prahlad, Siddharth and Som is what gives the story its pulse. These five feel like a believable group: chaotic, close, with different intellects and aspirations that still bind them to common choices. I particularly liked how their camaraderie reads as cozy and chaotic, the kind that makes you laugh at each other and then keep each other out of trouble — until the trouble turns out to be something much deeper.
Plot, mystery and pacing
The discovery of the buried Portuguese treasure — and the suggestion that it might be a curse — gives the narrative a steady engine. There are investigative moments (the Matheran picnic, the Architecture college reunion, the South Goa inquiries around the Serenity project) that move the plot forward without feeling contrived. I appreciated the measured pacing: the book allows the friendship scenes room to breathe and lets the mystery unfurl rather than dropping everything into frantic action. That said, the slow-burn quality will reward readers who enjoy atmosphere and character over relentless twists.
Themes and what stayed with me
Karma, destiny, loyalty and choice are woven through the story in a way that feels intuitive rather than preachy. The idea that true friendship can survive lifetimes is romantic, but the book also shows the darker flip side: loyalty without wisdom, decisions repeated unthinkingly, the risk of dragging loved ones into shared ruin. That moral ambiguity — that some bonds are gifts and some become burdens — stayed with me long after I put the book down.
What I loved (and one small caveat)
I loved the emotional core: the nostalgia, the seaside imagery, the way the author makes reincarnation feel intimate rather than metaphysical. The “Pentagon of Bonhomie” is an inspired device — it’s funny, warm, and at times unexpectedly moving. If I had one small caveat, it’s that readers expecting full-throttle horror or an out-and-out thriller might find the supernatural elements more suggestive than terrifying; the book leans toward companionship and reflection, even when handling curses and fate.
Recommendation and rating
If you like friendship dramas with a twist — stories that mix adventure, a touch of the supernatural, and a real sense of place — this book will likely stay with you. It’s a quirky, layered read: amusing, nostalgic, and thoughtful about karma and connection. For me, it was an enjoyable and affecting read.
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