The Police Chowki of Krishna Dwar is generally a very peaceful place and you seldom hear anything except for the rustling of trees, the barking and yelping of a black, spotted dog who thinks that the spot under the hawaldar’s stool is his home and seeks a tenancy there as soon as the man and his stick are out of sight and the gay Bhojpuri tune of the sweeper who sings as if his wages depend on it. Sometimes, I wonder where they are holding all the ruffians and the trouble-makers who ought to have had something to say about the level of peace here. The place was the very definition of tranquility and the eternal silence made even the dropping of leaves seem like a very noisy affair. Today, though, was different; very different. As soon as we were in the compound where the chowki stood, I could hear voices drifting towards us. They were not your normal, conversational ones, mind you, but loud and angry and it seemed as if the bearer of those voices had a lot on their mind which they were just getting into the act of pouring out.
As we reached the door, I saw that Inspector Chandu Srivastava had company which he was not in the least enjoying. On the chairs opposite his table, where once Bhrigu and I had warmed the seats, there sat two men; a middle-aged man with thick, grizzled hair and a young man who was talking to the inspector as if he were giving some kind of speech.
‘…..and this is why I could not say or do anything.’ he was saying passionately. ‘I can show you the statute which states that it will be an act of criminal negligence if you arrest anyone without proper investigation. No one will give you a second hearing. I mean, you still don’t have the warrant, do you?’
‘Yes’ joined in the middle-aged man. ‘You should at least know that, inspector. I am very unhappy at the way you have humiliated respectable citizens like us. Did I serve my country to receive this treatment?’ I observed that he had a gruff voice but his pronunciation was very clear. If I had not known better, I would have thought him to be a speech therapist. He spoke every word with due consideration, very much like the affected speech of a rallying minister. Chandu Srivastava was breaking a sweat sitting there on his seat, listening to the joint performance of the two gritty men. It looked as if he, the inspector, was the culprit being subjected to a harsh interrogation. The stricken man glanced towards the door in a hope of freedom from this disgruntled company when he spotted us standing at the door. He leaped from his seat as if a man dying of asphyxiation had been handed a cylinder full of oxygen.
‘Here they are!’ he shouted happily. ‘Please come in, sir.’
The two men looked at us in a synchronized manner. There expression of disdain was, for a moment, replaced by surprise.
‘Hawaldar’ Chandu Srivastava cried again. ‘Get two more chairs, quick.’
The chairs that the hawaldar brought in were arranged round the other side of the table, brushing the window. The arrangement was uncomfortable at first but then we all quickly settled.
The father and son were witnessing the proceedings with a dazed expression when the inspector explained it to them. ‘This is Bhrigu Mahesh. He is investigating the case with the help of his friend, Sutte ji.’
They stared at us together. It was a marvel how the couple’s every action was synchronized. If they had the same faces, they would have looked like mirror images of each other.
‘Are you a detective?’ asked the middle-aged man. He had a large face which was covered in grey hair and I could not see much of it except his dark, brooding eyes. He looked and sounded like a cultured man but the unseemly hair was giving him the look of an ascetic. If he had just shaved it all off and kept instead a lion mustache, he would have looked like a typical retired army general. His son, on the other hand, was clean shaven and his face looked almost as if it were bleached. His eyes were bright and clear and he had a habit of blinking twice.
‘Yes.’ Bhrigu replied.
‘And you have evidence that my son killed Savita?’ V.K Malik’s query seemed like a threatening.
‘I have none, sir’ replied my friend. ‘But my partner here, the inspector, has procured a vital one that links your son to Savita.’
‘If anyone in this world who happened to know her is being arrested’ said the man, enunciating each word beautifully. ‘Then why do I see only my son here and not a big, fat country fair crowd?’
‘If your son is not the murderer’ chimed in Chandu Srivastava, borrowing confidence from our presence. ‘Then why did he not come forward till now? Why was he faking as if he did not know the victim? Is that not the admission of guilt?’
‘I know how you inspectors are.’ growled V.K Malik. ‘And that’s why I stopped my son from any kind of active participation in the investigation. Your reputation precedes you, inspector. You people are bound to put anyone in prison who comes out for help.’
‘Father’s right.’ said Prem Malik indignantly. ‘Criminal lawyers are plagued by bumbling inspectors like you, let me tell you. How do they expect to win a case fairly when the police had completed a botched investigation at best? Your lot is the reason I took civil litigation, although my passion was for fighting criminal cases.’
‘Look here, mister, you are crossing the mark.’ snarled Chandu Srivastava. ‘If it hadn’t been for Bhrigu sir here, I would have thrown you into the jail and my stick would have elicited a confession from you by now.’
‘Really?’ barked back Prem Malik. ‘Touch me just once and I will make sure that you don’t wear that uniform again.’
‘Please keep quite!’ my friend almost shouted. Silence reigned for a couple minutes and he capitalized on it. ‘Mr. Prem, the inspector won’t arrest you. He is just angry because you did not come forward to co-operate and…’ he said now addressing Chandu Srivastava. ‘Inspector, you cannot arrest anyone based on what you have. “Savita had his perfume on her handkerchief.” does not in any way translate into “he killed her.”
The inspector looked hurt but he did not say anything.
‘Mr. Prem.’ my friend said again. ‘I have a few questions to ask of you. Please answer them and you can go without a blemish on your character. Is that fair enough?’
The man looked a little piqued but he nodded his head to show his approval.
‘Let’s finish with it, son.’ said his father. ‘You know you have nothing to fear. Tell everything that you knew about Savita and also about your true feelings for her. Love is not a crime. You need not be afraid of anything or anyone.’
Prem K. Malik looked at his father nervously and his confidence visibly struggled for survival but then it got a weak life and as if to reassure himself of that confidence he flashed us a wide smile.
‘Ask whatever you have to ask.’ he said boldly. ‘I will not hide anything. As my father just said, love is not a crime.’
‘So one thing’s for sure.’ said Bhrigu with a smile. ‘You loved Savita.’
‘With all my heart.’ he replied brightly. I could see that this question was the least difficult of all that was yet to come and had given Prem Malik the confidence to face the rest.
‘Why did you love Savita?’
This was another question that did little to the sang-froid of the man and he handled it in a heart beat. ‘Because she was a remarkable woman.’ His eyes lit up as he said this. ‘I have never known anyone so full of depth and character. She was intelligent, well-read and anyone who had the pleasure of her company had never a dull moment to complain of. That’s the reason why I coveted her.’
‘And her good looks helped too.’ I said with the touch of the acid.
‘What did you say?’ he snarled.
‘Nothing.’ replied Bhrigu and threw me a warning look to never repeat the stunt again. Why did he always try to smother my voice? Prem K. Malik wasn’t attracted by Savita only because of her qualities. I know men of his kind. They appreciate everything in a woman only when it comes in a beautiful package.
‘Savita and I shared similar interests.’ Prem Malik went on. ‘We were compatible in every way and that’s how I realized that she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.’
‘What interests did you have in common?’ asked my friend.
‘We had many interests.’ said the man but on his face I could see a shadow of a doubt. He did not look as sure of himself as he was given this question to handle. ‘We both loved books. Good books, I mean. Savita had a good collection of literature which she had shown it to me once. She said that whenever she was unhappy, she would read. That made her feel good. Just like me.’ Here, he giggled nervously. ‘Also, we both loved children. In such a sort span of time, she had grown so fond of Pranjal. Pranjal too, loved her like her own mother. She really had a way with children.’
‘Yes.’ his father said, who had hitherto maintained a dignified silence. ‘My grandson Pranjal loved her very much. He had grown so attached to her that he wanted her to live with us permanently. Poor kid. He has not got much in the way of a mother. Rashi, my daughter-in-law is so occupied with herself that she tends to neglect everything else. It’s not her fault, mind you. She is such a socialite that she has to be in the top shape all the time and that includes frequent visits to the mall, beauty parlors, salons…one naturally doesn’t get enough time for anything else.’
Prem Malik put a hand on his father’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.
‘You were talking about your shared interests in books.’ Bhrigu said, ignoring the interjection of the ex-army general. ‘What were the books that you both loved? Can you not name a few?’
‘Of course, I can.’ said the man. ‘She…she loved that book…what was the name? It started with a K…no…Well, it was the name of a man, a great man and of that I am sure. He was a king, a king of an ancient kingdom.’ He sat there thinking for a while. ‘Jules…something…’
‘Julius Caesar?’ I volunteered.
‘Why, yes!’ he cried happily. ‘That’s the name. You like that book too?’
‘I do.’ I replied. ‘But how can it be your favorite book when you didn’t even remember the name?’
‘I…I knew the name.’ said the man, slightly red around the ears. ‘I had read the book too. It’s just that I have a very bad memory. I just tend to forget.’
‘In that case, you are caught in a very wrong job.’ I said and I meant it to sting.
‘Well…’ he said and faltered off.
‘You said you loved children.’ Bhrigu said, after a while. ‘Tell me, when you returned home from your holidays, what did you get for your nephew Pranjal?’
‘I…er…um…’ he stammered.
‘He…he was very busy as it was his final semester.’ his father supplied, quickly. ‘That’s why he could not get the time to bring Pranjal any presents.’
‘He didn’t have time.’ said Bhrigu with a smile. ‘Just like your dear daughter-in-law.’
The father and son exchanged a worried glance and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Their boisterousness of a moment before had all but evaporated.
‘Never mind.’ Bhrigu went on. ‘Mr. Prem, please tell me if you remember what Savita was wearing the last time you met?’
Prem Malik smiled at this question and I knew at once that this was among the ones that he could handle. ‘That’s not difficult at all. She was looking particularly beautiful that day. She had worn a light green colored sari with attractive embroidery of gold and a black blouse. She was by far the best dressed that day than I had ever seen her.’
‘You did not quite approve her fashion sense?’ I quipped and got another strong look from my friend.
‘You say you loved Savita.’ Bhrigu said again. ‘But the most important question remains is this. Did she love you back?’
The young man clearly struggled with this one. He looked at his father for support but what he saw did not encouarge him much.
‘She…she…erm…yes, in a way, she did.’ he stammered again.
‘In a way?’ said Bhrigu. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Prem K. Malik sighed deeply. ‘Well, Savita eventually fell in love with me but at first she would not even look in my direction. She would come to the house, teach Pranjal and leave. I should confess here that she caught my attention from the moment I first saw her. There was something about her that drew me to her and I just could not fight the magnetic pull that tugged relentlessly at my heart. She had been giving private tuitions to Pranjal for the last one year. I was not to come home until later this year as I have acquired an internship position in a prestigious law firm which keeps me very busy but when father informed me of Savita’s death, I dropped a sick leave and rushed home. I had met Savita on my vacations in the last year when I was here, just before and after my odd semester. I wanted to talk to her but could not manage the crucial amount of guts required to approach her. Also, she was always silent and reserved and hence I did not feel encouraged to do anything more than stare at her from a distance and watch her leaving the house from the roof. She would leave physically but her image would haunt me in my dreams. I could not get her out of my mind and it was driving me mad! You should have seen me during my last holidays. I, a practical, no nonsense man had changed into a hopeless Romeo!’
At this point, V.K Malik nodded his head quite passionately to confirm the condition of his son at that time.
‘As my desperation grew, so did my courage.’ Prem Malik went on. ‘I would sneak into Pranjal’s room when she would come to teach him and fake as if I was looking around for something or the other. She would carry on with her work as if I was nothing but air. I felt offended at first at her total indifference towards me but I took heart from the fact that this was no ordinary woman. She had so much character in her that even if she liked me, she would never let it show outwardly as that would, in her mind, amount to immodesty. Hence, it was now up to me to draw her to me without compromising her values.’
‘And how did you do that?’ I asked bitterly. I discovered that I was liking this man less with every passing moment. He had the kind of face that got on your nerves and you could do little to squash the intense desire building enough pressure inside you to plant it right across his cheek.
‘By using the one medium that we had in common.’
‘Your nephew, Pranjal.’ said my friend.
‘Yes, sir, exactly.’ he said looking at my friend with a new found respect. ‘As I said before, I love my nephew very much and now I displayed that love in front of her. I started teaching him a few simple tricks to easily multiply two digit numbers and memorize important dates in history. I taught him how to accurately locate places on the map of India too. He would then mention it to his teacher in a hope to gain brownie points from her and when she applauded the tricks, he would tell her proudly that it was me, his uncle, who had taught him that. This was how she got the first taste of me. As I now had introduced myself to her indirectly, I started looking for opportunities to come up to her personally. One day, my dream came true when Pranjal himself, brought her to me. He said that Savita had been very impressed by the short cut method for calculating Compound Interest and she had found it very amusing. She reluctantly came with him to the living room where I sat reading the newspaper mechanically. I was so thrilled to see Savita standing before me! I was so nervous that I could feel my heart beating inside my chest. She sat there self-consciously; staring at her toes with Pranjal chattering away and I could do nothing but look at her covertly, with my heart hammering away in my chest. We did not talk anything that day but I knew then that it was now only just a matter of time that we would connect very soon again.’
‘Is it not quite a long story?’ said inspector Chandu Srivastava. He had been listening in to the young man’s story with evident interest but pretended as if it was boring him to death. ‘But anyways, carry on.’
‘I am carrying on, Inspector, but not for your benefit.’ Prem Malik snapped back.
‘Mr. Malik, please proceed.’ Bhrigu said impatiently.
‘Sure. I just don’t like to be disturbed.’ he said looking furiously at the inspector who just looked away. ‘As I was saying, Savita and I would soon connect, and of that I was certain. I had broken the ice between us and it was now time to capitalize on it. One day, I got my chance when she came to teach Pranjal and he had gone to see the village fair with father. He was to come back anytime now and so she had to wait for him. That left her ample time with me alone. I gave her a glass of water and then sat next to her. I was very nervous of the awkward silence between us and somehow managed to ask her what she was doing in this village. She looked like an urbane woman and hence I thought this question was valid enough. I don’t remember what she replied to this first question of mine because I was just lost in her eyes. One thing led to the other and soon we were talking quite freely with each other. It was then that I learned that she was a widow with a son. As if that made any difference to my feelings for her. She was a single woman and that was all that I needed to know. After the removal of the first obstacle which is always the most difficult, everything went on smoothly. I became quite comfortable talking to her and soon we were good friends. At that time my holidays ended and I had to go back to Delhi. We bid each other good buys as friends. I got constant updates about her from Pranjal and could not wait to meet her again. That whole semester was consumed by my growing passion for her. My exams suffered a little because of my tender preoccupation but I was not very sorry about it.’ Here V.K Malik shook his head in the negative as if he disapproved of his son compromising his studies for as silly a thing as a crush.
‘The next time I came, I discovered that she had not changed a bit; the same innocent face and hypnotizing beautiful eyes shining under the luxuriant canopy of thick eyebrows…each time I saw her, I could not help but wonder how can anyone be so perfect…so beautiful.’ Prem Malik went on. I could see that he was not telling us a story anymore, but by the look in his starry eyes, he was living those memories all over again. The brat was fortunate enough to even have those memories where as I was so brutally deprived of them.
‘…and met me very warmly this time and also asked after my exams.’ The man was saying when my wandering mind came back to the present. ‘I was on the seventh heaven on seeing her concern for me. We were now officially friends and would often talk about Pranjal’s strength and weaknesses as far as subjects were concerned. To make the conversations a little livelier, I asked after her hobbies. The next think I knew, I was confessing my love to her.’