‘I know Savita made some unfortunate decisions.’ said Nataraj Bhakti. ‘And her free spirit was partly to blame for it but…but sir, she could never as much as hurt an insect. My sister had a few faults like any other person but it did not in anyway include a sin. She never harbored a mean feeling towards any one; not even the likes of Chiranjeev and his wife. She was incapable of hate, sir. Who could then hate her so much so that they…that they…’ he swallowed painfully.
We were sitting in Bhakti’s room. To reach there, we had to politely dodge the guests, loitering in the courtyard, searching for someone of the bereaved family to latch on to. One woman, despite our protests, started tailing us, looking sick with a thousand questions stuffed down her throat. I knew that the slightest encouragement would have been enough for her to relieve herself of her pain. We almost had to shove her in order for her to get the message clearly. There is one among the many human weakness that the city dwellers and the villagers have in common and that is curiosity. While the former use subtlety to satisfy theirs, the latter is usually quite blunt in getting what they want. I don’t know which one of these methods is more efficient but I can say without a doubt that both are equally unpleasant and no one wants to be at the receiving end of such a pesky inquisition. As far as I am concerned, the government should make a law declaring all questions meant to invade the personal space of a person, illegal. Anyone found involved in such as act, either aggressively or passively should be ready to suffer the consequences.
‘…and that is what we have to find out.’ Bhrigu was saying as my mind came back to the present.
‘Find out what?’ I asked.
‘The reason for such hatred.’ he said, slightly annoyed at my loss of attention.
‘Bhaktiji’ he continued. ‘Please tell me from the beginning everything you know. How did this tragedy unfold?’
‘I…I don’t know much myself.’ he said, looking at my friend with tired, swollen eyes. ‘Her routine was fixed. Everyday she would wake up at 6 or 6.30 and then after getting ready, she would make lunch for us all.’
‘Lunch?’ I asked. ‘But we make breakfast in the morning.’
‘This is a village, sir.’ he replied. ‘Here we don’t have the English system for meals. The lunch is prepared in the morning and is taken as early as eleven. Hence, it’s quite heavy.’
‘Right.’
‘Premkala sleeps very late. She is not up until 9 and hence Savita, instead of waiting, makes the lunch for everyone.’ He then flinched with pain as he remembered that his sister was no more. ‘I mean, used to make lunch for everyone.’ he said as if those words were strangling him.
We offered him a glass of water which he drank thankfully. ‘She had to go to teach two students at their house and hence she set out early. Anyways, Premkala, the way that she is, compensates for the lunch by making dinner. But I think it is more for stealing and eating food than any real attempt at being fair. Well, let’s not talk about them.’ He paused for a breath. ‘One week ago, on the fateful day, Savita kept the same routine as she had been following every day. Nothing unusual. She woke up at 6, washed and dressed, made lunch and then made out for her private tuitions. The children she goes to teach belong to the most respected families of the village. One is the grandson of a retired army general, V.K Malik, who lives in his native house with ten year old Pranjal. Pranjal’s father was a major in the army and achieved martyrdom while tackling an insurgency problem in Myanmar. His mother, shattered by the loss, committed suicide. The poor boy now lives with his grand father. The man was a true admirer of Savita. He would oftentimes praise her when we would meet at the market. To quote him- “You should be so proud to have such a sister. Savita is such a bright and talented woman and such good with kids too! I would have been forced to send Pranjal to his maternal grandparents in the city for his education but thanks to Savita and her classes, he can now stay with me a little longer.” How proud I would feel then!’
‘And still you kept her at a distance.’ I said, sarcastically.
‘I kept her at a distance?’ he cried, suddenly overcome with rage. ‘No sir, you have got it all wrong. It was she who went cold. I always loved her the most, more than my own family.’ Tears were now coursing down his cheeks. ‘I even fought with my best friend, Manju, and swore never to see him again when it came to her. I was ready to do anything for her. I even begged my parents to attend her wedding but…but she just went cold. She would never come to the village and when she did, she rarely spoke to me.’
‘And you? You could have said something.’ I said, fighting back.
‘I…I thought she wanted her space and I gave her one. I thought…I thought she would come to me when she was fine again, but…but that day never did come.’
‘If only your thoughts had led you to some action.’ Bhrigu began. ‘A woman might have…’
‘What…what do you mean by that?’
‘Let it go, Bhaktiji.’ he replied. ‘Nothing I say now will matter anymore. Please, continue.’
He stared at my friend in a hope to understand the meaning of what he had just said but then took a deep breath and began. ‘The other student was the grand child of our village Pradhan, Bulla Ram Prakash.’
‘I have seen him.’ I said. ‘I met him on the mini-bus.’
‘Hmmm. He must be going to meet the doctor. If he had not absconded already, that is.’
We laughed weakly at the much needed joke.
‘She was through with Pranjal.’ Bhakti said, a little better in spirits. ‘And was making her way to the Pradhan’s house. The area is not very populated and save for a couple of cow sheds scattered here and there, you won’t find anything much; just a narrow, broken road and dirt paths. It takes about twenty minutes to reach the Pradhan’s house from V.K Malik’s. She was found on the last stretch of the dirt road that leads to the house, lying in the pool of her own blood.’
‘Oh!’ I almost cried with the unbearable pain.
‘Yes.’ Bhakti said, as horror read clearly in his eyes. ‘Someone…someone had stoned her! Crushed her head into pulp!’
A frigid silence followed this chilling statement. I could hear the muffled hum of the crowd outside but that did nothing to relieve the deadening quiet that we shared inside that small room.
‘That is horrible!’ I cried, as my mind finally processed what it had just heard. ‘Who could do such a thing? Who could even think of hurting a woman as good as her?’
‘Did you send the body for a post-mortem?’ Bhrigu asked. He was looking at Bhakti with bright, penetrating eyes, as if trying to force the answers out of the man with a look alone.
‘Yes.’ he replied. ‘Someone must have told the police even before I had any chance to do so. A small crowd had already collected around Savita’s body when I received the terrible news and came running there. Almost half an hour after my arrival the police came and took the body for post-mortem. The results were in yesterday.’
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know about the medical jargon but the result in simple English was that she died by sustaining massive brain injuries and blood loss. Her body sported many other bruises too; inflicted by stones but the ones to her head caused her death.’
‘So the police must be investigating the case.’ said my friend making a wry face. His days as an inspector had left a bad taste in his mouth for police detectives. According to him, they were either too rough or too dull while on the job and either peccadillo did nothing to head an investigation in the correct direction.
‘Yes, sir. But of course.’ replied Bhakti. ‘Two police officers were here a day before yesterday. They asked us a lot of questions. I thought they were quite convinced that one among the three of us was the culprit. Why? They questioned Jeetu, Savita’s son as if he could be an accessory to her own mother’s death! I was so numb with grief that they could hardly affect me but now that I recollect it, they were here for more than a couple of hours and ordered us to be ready to be summoned to the police station any moment. Oh!’ he cried, suddenly. ‘No one will even let me grieve in peace!’
‘That’s standard investigation protocol, Bhaktiji.’ replied Bhrigu. ‘They will put you through this even if you like it or not.’
A deep sigh of defeat greeted this less than comforting information.
‘Nonetheless, they must have collected much circumstantial information or clues; if they did it half as well as I think.’ he said as if he was being more than hopeful. ‘I regret that I was not here to examine the crime scene. That’s one major drawback of going freelance. One never gets the crucial data that is to be collected first hand from the crime scene. You have to make do with whatever they give you; if they give you any, that is. I wonder how long I will have to be at their mercy. Leaving my job was only the half of it.’ he then checked his wondering thoughts to concentrate on the matter at hand. ‘I will have to meet the officers assigned on the case. I don’t see anyway around it.’
‘You will work with them just fine.’ I said, trying in vain to lighten his mood. ‘Not all police detectives are the same. You weren’t’
‘I…I should have tried to talk to her…’ Nataraj Bhakti broke down again. He was shaking all over with some invisible force of panic and guilt that now possessed him. ‘Told her that despite everything I still cared for her but how can I now? She died thinking that I was her enemy; that I never thought of her like my own sister! This guilt will haunt me for the rest of my life.’
‘What’s done is done’ said my friend. ‘There is still a chance for you to do her good.’
‘H…how?’
‘By looking after the one thing she loved the most. Her son.’ he replied. ‘He has lost both her father and mother. You can give him their love. Raise him to be an asset to this society. That will be a debt paid. Savita is dead, yes, but she still lives on in her son, isn’t it?’
A light of hope cleared some of the misery and helplessness that convulsed the stricken man’s face. ‘Yes. That’s true.’ he replied, hopefully. ‘Jeetu is now my own child and I will look after him as well as I can. That is a promise I make to my dead sister.’
I could see that he looked a better man after making that resolution.