--2--
I knew Inspector Pronob Guha – the in-charge of the local police station. He was a very active and a seasoned professional, but somehow he was not very friendly with Byomkesh, though his feelings never came out through his dialogue or body language. As he would talk to Byomkesh with some extra respect and would end each sentence with a subtle laughter, possibly their polarities were opposite and Pronob Babu didn’t like private interferences in Government work.
After listening through my story he said, ‘what are you saying! Crime in the detective’s den! But when Byomkesh Babu is around why do you need me? Let him investigate!
I was so annoyed, I replied pretty roughly, ‘Byomkesh is not in town, had he been here, he would have surely investigate.
‘Okay! Then I am coming. He, He!!!
Before he hung up he annoyed me thoroughly again with his laughter.
Pronob Babu came with his men half an hour later. He looked at me, had a silent laugh and started examining the body very thoroughly, collected the pistol in a handkerchief and then sent the body to the hospital for post mortem.
After all these, he called everyone for interrogation. I told him whatever I knew, and then everyone gave their statements.
Let me try to give a summarized version of all the statements.
Manager Shivkali Babu was an unmarried man and since last twenty five years he was working as the ‘mess in charge’. Natavar Naskar came three years back and since then he was living in that room only. He was around fifty and didn’t mix up much with people, only Ram Babu and Banamali Babu would visit him sometimes. He was very particular about paying the rent and that’s why Shivkali never had anything against him.
Today evening Shivkali went to buy some vegetables for the mess kitchen from a wholesaler but couldn’t reach in time and had to return empty handed.
Bbhupesh Babu worked for an insurance company and had got transferred to Kolkata just a month & half back. He was widowed with no kids and a frequent traveler.
He described everything perfectly from the early ‘card sessions’ to the evening of the accident, he also mentioned the man with the brown stole whose face he couldn’t see as was running away through the lane, wouldn’t be able to identify him in future.
Ram Chandra Roy and Banamali Chanda’s statements were quite similar, I noticed one thing -though Rambabu was quite and calm but Banamali Babu couldn’t hide his expressions of the shock he had.
They both were in Dhaka and worked for an British company. During the partition riot they both lost their families and could only escape with their own lives. Ram Babu was forty eight and Banamali Babu was forty five. Since the last three years they had been staying in this mess and working in the same bank. They loved playing bridge but couldn’t play since they came to Kolkata. Finally they were having some good times since Bhupesh Babu arranged the Bridge sessions in his room.
Today they came to Bhupesh Babu’s room and within five minutes they there was this ‘Bang’ sound came from the lane below. They knew Natavar Babu from Dhaka, but he was just an acquaintance, didn’t know much about him. Natavar Babu used to work as an agent in Dhaka. Here as they were in the same building Ram Babu and Banamali Babu would visit him sometimes. They didn’t really know if he had any other friend here; they had a glimpse of the man in a brown stole, but of course couldn’t see his face, as he was already on the main road and was quite far. They wouldn’t be able to identify him in future.
Other members of the house couldn’t say much, most of them were in the corner room of the first floor – some were playing chess and others were watching the game. Most of these people only knew Natavar Naskar by face.
Haripada – the only servant of the mess said something interesting – around six in the evening Suren Babu – a first floor boarder, sent him to bring some ‘Aloor Chop’ (a very popular Bengali evening snacks {fried} to be taken with puffed rice & Green Chilies), while coming back through the backdoor he heard someone talking to Natavar Babu in a very low but harsh tone, but the door was closed so neither he could see anyone nor he could recognize the voice.
Generally no one used to come to Natavar Babu’s room which made Haripada more suspicious but he couldn’t do much.
Suren Babu approved Haripada’s version and said he surely asked Haripada to bring ‘Aloor chop’ around six pm.
One thing became clear that just half an hour before his murder Natavar Naskar had a visitor; most probably no one from the mess, because no one had mentioned it. Could be that man with brown stole or someone else.
After noting down everyone’s statement, inspector Pranab said, “you all can go, now we will search the room. And yes! One more thing - Ajit Babu and Shiv Babu you two, please do not leave Kolkata without my permission, till the case is solved.”
“What!” I almost shouted in exclamation.
“Yes! Both of you are wearing Brown stoles, He He He!”
We all went back to our rooms, none of us could even think of playing cards any more.
The next day passed by without any mentionable event. No news came from the police. Last night inspector Pranav searched Natavar Babu’s room; took some papers and locked it.
Sometimes I was compelled to think that how much Pranav Babu hated us, but his expressions were so polished that one would understand every hint but could say nothing.
In this case, though he knew that I had a strong alibi, but he just had to tease me.
The morning was like any other morning; everyone was indifferent; the office goers went out in time; and no one was bothered - that a man was killed, who was our neighbor; living in this building since last three years.
I went to Bhupesh Babu’s room in the evening. Ram Babu & Banamali Babu was there, all were looking very depressed. We discussed a little about the murder and about the ineffectiveness of police’s work over the tea and then returned home without even mentioning cards. As I was climbing the stairs up, suddenly this idea flashed in my mind – though inspector Pronob was smart enough, but I had a feeling that he would never be able to crack this case; Byomkesh was not in town; card sessions were also not quite happening – in such a situation, shouldn’t I write down the whole episode and have a detailed documentation! It would rather give me a chance to get busy and it might so happen that with the help of my documentation Byomkesh would crack the case when he is back!
I started writing things down the same night. Keeping every possible detail in mind, I tried very hard to maintain the right perspective. I truly didn’t want Byomkesh to pick up any loose-end of my account. I finished my writing the next afternoon. And I believed it was only my version of the story which ended, but the real story didn’t end. God only knows when & where the actual story would end! It might also be so, that the murderer’s name would never come to light. With a frustrated mind I lit a cigarette and then suddenly Byomkesh entered carrying his suitcase.
I jumped up from my chair, ‘Hey! You are back! Are you through with the work?’
Byomkesh said, ’I couldn’t even start my work dear, departments started fighting over some trivial issues and I couldn’t wait for them to finish so I told them I would be back in some time when these issues are sorted out.’
Satyavati must have heard Byomkesh’s voice from the kitchen; she came out running, wiping off her face with the loose end of her sari. Though they were not newly married, but still Satyavati’s face brightens up with an amazing light every time she unexpectedly finds Byomkesh by her side. I patiently waited till the end of the romantic scene, then told Byomkesh about the murder and handed him over my write-up. He immediately settled on his easy chair and started reading it over the special cup of hot tea made and served by Satyavati. By the evening he was through with the story and said, ‘Inspector Pronob is quite a man! Oh…How much he hates me! Let’s meet him tomorrow and for now, let’s go and meet our neighbor - Bhupesh Babu.
I could happily make out that Byomkesh was interested in the case and said, ‘let’s go, we might meet Ram Babu and Banamali Babu as well.’
We went to Bhupesh Babu’s room, Ram Babu & Banamali Babu were also there. Byomkesh didn’t need any introduction, everyone knew him. Bhupesh Babu welcomed him with all his warmth and then lit his stove to make tea.
As usual, Ram Babu was quite but Banamali Babu’s frightful eyes were moving around very carefully. Byomkesh sat on a chair and said, ‘ I was also addicted to bridge once, then Ajit taught me chess, but now I no more like any of these games.
While pouring tea leaves in the boiling water Bhupesh Babu looked at Byomkesh with a smile and recited loudly, “Now I’ll play the game of death with my own life O’ dear…!”
I was truly surprised to hear him reciting Tagore – an insurance guy and Tagore’s philosophical poetry – truly surprising!
‘Absolutely correct,’ said Byomkesh, ‘you know, after playing so much of the game of death, it’s so tough to enjoy any other simpler game.
Bhupesh Babu said, ’your’s is a different story altogether, but I also deal with death each passing day – I mean - insurance is nothing but the business of death, you see! But then again, I still enjoy playing bridge a lot.
Though Byomkesh was talking to Bhupesh Babu, but his eyes were moving on Ram Babu & Banamali Babu all the time. They were sitting quietly; perhaps they were new to this kind of a sophisticated discussion.
Bhupesh Babu brought tea and cream cracker biscuits on a tray for all of us, picking up a biscuit Byomkesh said, ‘you are also a very different kind of a person, as bridge is an intellectual game, mostly intelligent people gets attracted to it. Some people play bridge to forget the pains of life – actually many years back I heard of a person who played bridge to forget the painful loss of his only child.’
Three pairs of eyes moved towards Byomkesh ’s face from different directions as if they were all driven by a single machine; no one uttered a word but kept looking at Byomkesh’s face silently. And the room got filled with solid silence.
After finishing the tea Byomkesh took out his handkerchief, wiped his face and then broke the silence, ‘I actually went to Katak, and just arrived today and came to know about Natavar Naskar’s murder from Ajit. A murder in the same building, where I live! I was so intrigued I thought it should be a good idea to meet you all and talk.
Bhupesh Babu said, ‘then I would certainly say – the murder had at least one good after effect that you came to my room, HA HA...! I didn’t knew Natavar Naskar, never seen him actually, but Ram Babu and Banamali Babu knew him a bit I believe.’
Byomkesh looked at Ram Babu, who was trying to keep his serious face intact but I somehow could see a shade of fear on it. He cleared his throat twice but didn’t say a word. Byomkesh turned towards Banamali Babu and asked, ‘you must have known Natavar Naskar for long, how was he as a person? Banamali exclaimed, ‘What! Oh yes! He was a good man, but…’
Ram Babu suddenly cut him short; perhaps he had collected himself by the time and decided to act – we didn’t know him closely. He was our neighbor when we were in Dhaka and that’s how we knew him.
When did you leave Dhaka?
Ram Babu thought for a while and said, ‘5-6 years back, around the time of partition we came to Kolkata’.
Both of you were working in the same company over there as well?
‘Yes!’, said Banamali Babu, ‘Have you heard of Godfrey Brown – a British Multinational Company we were….’
Before he could finish Ram Babu again interrupted, this time he suddenly stood up and said, ‘Banamali ! We have to visit Narayan Babu at 7, do you remember? Okay gentlemen, we have to leave now.’
As they were going out, I found Byomkesh watching each of their moves thoroughly.
Bhupesh Babu was smiling silently, after a while he said, ‘Byomkesh Babu, your questions are apparently so simple but Ram Babu possibly had taken offence.’
Byomkesh said,’Why? Why would he take offence, I don’t understand! Do you have any clue?’
Bhupesh Babu moved his head from left to right, ‘No! I know nothing, though around that time I was also in Dhaka but I didn’t know them.’
So when the partition and communal riot started you were also in Dhaka? Asked Byomkesh
Yes, a year before partition I got transferred there and came back when the fire of the communal riot broke out.
For sometime silence prevailed in the room. Byomkesh lit a cigarette, Bhupesh Babu looked at him and said, ‘Byomkesh Babu, the story of this person you were telling us, who used to play bridge to forget the pain of losing his son, was that a true story?’
Byomkesh said, ‘yes! It was a true story, a pretty old one; I heard it when I was in college. But why do you want to know this?’
Bhupesh Babu didn’t answer, but got up; walked towards the wooden drawer; took out a photograph and gave it to Byomkesh. I could also see a photograph of a nine/ten year old boy, very good looking and very cute.
‘My Son!’ Bhupesh Babu uttered very softly. Byomkesh forcefully took his eyes off the photograph to look at Bhupesh Babu’s face and exclaimed,’Son …. !’
‘Yes my son! Who died sometime back.’
The black day when communal riot started in Dhaka, he went to school but only to never return.
Byomkesh uttered through the solid silence, ‘your wife…?’
‘She also died; she had a rather weak heart; couldn’t take the pain. But I lived – neither could I die, nor could I take the pain of the loss. It’s been time; I should have forgotten everything by this time, but no…! It never happened that way….I work, I play bridge, I talk to people, I laugh, but I just can’t forget it Byomkesh. Would you know about any medicine which would help me forgetting this painful memory…?’
Byomkesh took a deep breath and said, ‘the only medicine for this is time Bhupesh Babu.’
Read the last part of this story
in the next issue of megher khata....
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