Prithviraj Desai's Blog

The Missing Wife

The crisp mountain air of Mussoorie nipped at Detective Banerjee’s cheeks as he stood facing Lala Singh, a man whose crumpled face bore the exhaustion of two sleepless nights.

“She’s been gone since Tuesday, Detective,” Lala Singh rasped, voice thick with desperation. “Rekha… my wife… vanished. I’ve called, I’ve searched—nothing. Not a trace.”

Banerjee, whose sharp eyes seldom missed a detail, took in Singh’s disheveled clothes, the tremor in his hands, and an anxious undertone in his voice that felt… almost rehearsed.

“Right, Mr. Singh,” he said quietly. “Let’s take it from the top.”

He turned to Ashok Kumar—his trusted partner, large as a mountain, kind as a monk—and gave a brief nod.
“Ashok, let’s look around the house.”

The cottage, a modest one with ivy-covered walls and a view of the hills, appeared strangely undisturbed. Inside, the stillness was unsettling. Ashok moved methodically through the rooms, careful not to miss a thing. Banerjee lingered with Singh.

“Who else lives here?” Banerjee asked.

“My son—Vikram. He’s at boarding school. We sent him back after the holiday break. And we have a maid, Kusum, and a butler—Bharat. They’ve both worked with us for years.”

Banerjee made a mental note.

In the kitchen, Kusum trembled under his questions. “Madam was always kind,” she said. “But… she’d been sad lately. Quieter.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something between her and Saab.”

Bharat, the butler, was stiffer. “They argued sometimes. About Someone, I think. She was upset often.”

In the bedroom, the bed was meticulously made. A single book lay open on the table. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. Banerjee’s instincts prickled—too perfect. Staged. Dust clung undisturbed to the windowsill. No sign of forced entry.

“When did you last see her?” Banerjee asked.

“Monday night,” Lala said. “We went to bed late. I was exhausted. She was reading. Next morning, gone.”

“Did she have enemies? Someone she feared?”

“No,” Singh said quickly. “But…” He hesitated.

“But?”

“She worked at a women’s NGO in town. There’s a man there—Rishi. Young, unmarried. I always felt there was something between them.”

Banerjee’s brow arched. “You suspected your wife of an affair?”

“I didn’t want to,” Lala muttered. “But she was… distant. They texted a lot. Laughed together. He’d even been to the house once, when I wasn’t home.”

Banerjee made another note.

The next day, Banerjee and Ashok visited the NGO. The workplace was warm, cluttered, filled with paperwork and tea cups. Rishi met them in the small break room.

“Rekha?” he asked, eyes wide. “I heard she was missing. My God, is she…?”

“We’re investigating all angles,” Banerjee said. “How close were you?”

“Close,” Rishi admitted. “But not how her husband thinks. She was like an older sister to me. She guided me when I was new, helped me grow into this role. I’d never disrespect her like that.”

“Do you have any idea where she might go? Anywhere she went when upset?”

“She once mentioned a small temple near the woods. But I doubt she’d go alone.”

Back in Mussoorie, Banerjee and Ashok interviewed the villagers. One whispered something strange.

“Lala Saab… he’s not as broken up as he acts. And I’ve seen him with another woman. Younger. Comes to town in a red Alto car. They always meet near the old post office.”

That evening, Banerjee watched from a distance. A red Alto pulled up. Lala Singh appeared minutes later. The woman—a local schoolteacher, half his age—greeted him with a smile and a hug. Banerjee clicked a photo. The mask of grief was slipping.

Back at the cottage, Banerjee sat in Rekha’s room again. He paced, replaying every statement, every gesture. Something still felt wrong.

Then he saw it: a tiny fleck of mud near the rug’s edge. Different from the dark soil around the house. Reddish. Coarse.

Ashok bent down beside him. “Not from here.”

“No. But I know where it’s from.”

He thought of the dense woods beyond the village—the old quarry, notorious for its red clay soil and treacherous terrain.

“Let’s go.”

They reached the woods by dusk. The trees grew thick, shadows stretching long across the forest floor. The air smelled of pine and wet leaves. An hour into the search, they found it.

A patch of disturbed earth, partially hidden by rocks and brambles. A rusted shovel beside it.

“Dig,” Banerjee said softly.

Ashok’s shovel struck something too soft. Too recent.

They found Rekha. Her body was pale, lifeless. Her eyes stared up, frozen in terror.

Banerjee closed his own.

He didn’t need the forensics to tell him who had done it.

Back at the cottage, Lala Singh sat in his chair, a glass of whiskey untouched before him. Banerjee entered quietly.

“We found her,” he said.

Singh looked up, startled. “Where?”

“In the quarry. Buried in the red clay.”

Silence.

“You tried to hide it. But you missed a speck on the rug.”

Lala’s mouth opened, but no words came. His eyes darted around the room like a cornered animal.

“You had a girlfriend. You were in love with another women. Rekha found out. She threatened to leave. And in your panic, you killed her.”

Singh’s face collapsed into his hands. He slid to the floor, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to… I—she said she’d take Vikram. She said she’d expose everything. I just… I snapped.”

When the police came to take him away, Vikram was already en route from school. Ashok promised to break the news gently.

That night, Banerjee stood on the porch, the mountain air colder than before. Another life extinguished. Another child orphaned. Another soul lost to desperation.

He pulled the worn Bhagavad Gita from his coat pocket and let its weight settle in his palm.

In the quiet hills of Mussoorie, justice had been done.

But not without cost.

The case was closed.
But Rekha’s eyes would haunt him for a long time to come.

The Queen’s Necklace

The telegram arrived just after our second cup of chamomile, the crisp mountain air doing little to soothe the ache in Arun Banerjee’s aging bones.

“QUEEN’S NECKLACE STOLEN. WHITE WILLOW. IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE REQUIRED. DISCRETION ESSENTIAL. CONTACT: Arun Banerjee – DARJEELING.”

“Bloody hell,” Banerjee muttered, rereading the message. I watched him closely. It had been years since he’d traded fatigues for tweed, bullets for books. Retirement in Mussoorie was supposed to be peaceful — the rustle of pines, the scent of old paperbacks, the occasional chess match by the fire. But a request from the Queen herself? That was something he could never refuse.

“The Queen’s necklace, Arun?” I asked, noting the flicker in his eyes behind the spectacles. “Quite the affair.”

“Indeed,” he replied, handing me the telegram. “It seems our quiet life is about to become considerably less so.”

He stood, already reaching for his coat and polished shoes.

“Alright, Ashok,” he said, half-smiling. “Buckle up. This is going to be a long ride. You’re about to become my shadow again.”

Within 24 hours, we arrived in Darjeeling. White Willow Manor, tucked away like some forgotten artifact, stood brooding in gothic grandeur — all turrets, gargoyles, and secrets whispered into the night.

Inspector Davies, a weary man with eyes that had seen too much, greeted us at the entrance.

“Mr. Banerjee, Dr. Kumar — thank you for coming. Her Majesty is… distressed. The necklace vanished during a private viewing after last night’s gathering. The case wasn’t broken, no alarm was triggered. It’s as if it simply disappeared.”

The Queen received us in the library. Composed, regal, but clearly unsettled.

“Mr. Banerjee,” she said, her voice calm but weighted, “this must be handled with the utmost discretion. The necklace is irreplaceable — its value is both historical and deeply personal.”

Davies led us to the display room. The reinforced glass case was pristine. The necklace, however, was gone.

“No signs of forced entry,” he said. “Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. We’ve narrowed it down to six guests. All had access, motive, and opportunity.”

He listed them:

Lord Harrington, aging aristocrat, buried in debt.Lady Beatrice, a lavish socialite with expensive tastes.Mr. Alistair Finch, a scholar and self-proclaimed guardian of the Queen’s collection.Miss Penelope Ainsworth, a historian rumored to be writing a scandalous tell-all.Mr. Edgar Croft, a powerful industrialist with alleged black-market ties.Mr. Charles, the loyal butler of White Willow for decades.

“We’ve interviewed them all,” Davies said, “but nothing solid.”

Banerjee adjusted his coat. “Then let’s begin again. Lets Start with Lord Harrington.

The suspects were colorful, each cloaked in charm, status, or distraction — but Banerjee knew that underneath the facades, someone was lying.

The interrogations continued well into the night, each more psychologically demanding than the last.

Lord Harrington

A relic of North’s faded aristocracy, Lord Harrington huffed indignantly when questioned.

“I only admired the Queen’s emeralds. It’s a harmless pastime, detective. Beauty ought to be appreciated.”

But Banerjee’s expression didn’t change. “And your fingerprints on the display case, my lord? Accidental, too?”

A flash of crimson crept up the old man’s neck. Banerjee pressed further, mentioning gambling debts, a mortgaged estate, and rumors of discreet inquiries into jewel brokers.

Harrington sputtered. “I would never sell Her Majesty’s treasures! I have pride, sir.”

“You also have debts,” Banerjee replied coolly. “And pride rarely pays them.”

Lady Beatrice

She was the picture of poise, draped in silk and pearls, her voice a gentle breeze — too gentle, Banerjee noted.

“I was with friends,” she said, dabbing her lipstick. “A late luncheon. Nothing more.”

“Your friends recall your absence,” Banerjee countered. “Ten full minutes. Plenty of time for mischief.”

Her eyes twitched, only briefly.

He leaned in. “Lavish living, fading fortune. It’s easy to imagine what someone might do to maintain appearances. Especially someone who once felt slighted by the Queen.”

Beatrice froze — then smiled, the kind of smile that hides fractures.

Mr. Alistair Finch

“Ah, the necklace,” Finch said dreamily. “A glorious piece. I’ve studied its origin extensively. It once belonged to Maharani Indira of Jaipur.”

Banerjee studied Finch’s eyes — too reverent, too hungry.

“You claimed to be reading during the theft,” Banerjee said. “Which book?”

Finch blinked. “A journal. From 1890. Discusses the East India Company’s treasure holdings.”

“Specific,” Banerjee noted. “But you were alone in the library. No alibi. You adore the necklace — perhaps too much.”

Finch smiled calmly. “Admiration is not theft, Detective.”

“No,” Banerjee agreed. “But obsession clouds lines.”

Miss Penelope Ainsworth

A bundle of anxious energy, she fiddled with her scarf as she spoke.

“Yes, I was… poking around,” she admitted. “Research for my biography on the Queen. I swear I meant no harm.”

Banerjee raised an eyebrow. “Snooping is one thing. Theft, quite another. Tell me — what secrets were you hoping to uncover?”

She hesitated. “There are… rumors. About affairs, inheritances. If I found proof, the publisher would double the advance.”

“And if you didn’t?” Banerjee asked.

She looked down. “I’m three months behind on rent.”

Mr. Edgar Croft

Tall, well-groomed, and impenetrably confident, Croft folded his arms.

“I’ve built factories across three continents. I don’t need to steal, Detective.”

“Need? No,” Banerjee replied. “But want? That’s a different beast. Magazines say you’ve dealt with intermediaries — collectors who don’t ask questions.”

Croft laughed. “Tabloids. Fantasies for the bored.”

“But the necklace is worth millions,” Banerjee said. “To the right buyer, it’s a passport to power. You could trade it for favors, assets, or disappearances.”

Croft’s jaw twitched — just for a second.

Mr. Charles, the Butler

Banerjee saved him for last.

Charles stood, hands clasped behind his back, voice steady. “I was in the pantry. Checking the wine inventory.”

“Alone?” Banerjee asked.

As he said stubbing out “Yes, sir.”

“No one can place you at the time of the theft,” Banerjee said. “But you know this house better than anyone. The security. The routines.”

“I’ve served this family for 40 years,” Charles said, lips tightening.

“All the more reason to question why you’d risk it all,” Banerjee replied softly.

“And one more thing Sir, I saw Lord Harrington’s grandson walking around the house like he was up-to something.”

The Queen

The library smelled of old paper, sandalwood, and control. The Queen sat poised in a high-backed armchair, the firelight brushing silver into her hair. Her expression was a portrait of composure — a monarch, not a victim.

Banerjee entered quietly, removed his hat, and gave a respectful bow.

“Your Majesty,” he began. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

She nodded once. “I want this matter resolved quickly, Mr. Banerjee. Discreetly.”

“I understand. But I must ask direct questions, even if they seem… impertinent.”

A faint smile. “I’ve faced invasions and scandals, Mr. Banerjee. I can manage questions.”

Banerjee took a seat opposite her, notebook in hand but barely used.

“Was the necklace always intended to be displayed last night?” QUEEN pauses “Originally, no. It was to remain in the private vault. But Lady Beatrice suggested it might be the perfect centerpiece for the evening. A symbol of legacy.”

“So, the decision was made spontaneously?” Banerjee asked “Within the day.”

Silence. The crackling fireplace filled the space where suspicion had just been born.

Banerjee softened his voice.

“I’m not accusing her. But if we accept that the theft required inside knowledge, then it narrows the circle dramatically. Someone either overheard you… or you were overheard.”

Her gaze shifted, just briefly, toward the tall windows. The curtains were closed — but not soundproof.

Banerjee made a note — but didn’t look down.

“I hope you’re wrong,” she said softly.

Banerjee bowed down and left the Queen alone.

After hours, Banerjee returned to the exhibit room. The police bustled about, but he ignored them. He looked again — not at the obvious, but the margins.

Then he saw it. A faint smudge outside, on the stone near the window. He called me over.

“Ashok — this mark.”

I studied it. “A shoeprint. Someone climbed the wall.”

Banerjee turned to Davies. “Any children among the guests?”

Davies frowned. “Lord Harrington’s grandson. A tall boy. Known troublemaker.”

We followed the trail outside and found a partially buried monogrammed handkerchief — “H.H.”

“Harrington’s initials,” Davies muttered.

Banerjee didn’t speak. Not yet.

We scouted the lawn further. Near the hedge, he bent down again. A cigarette butt.

“Gold Moon,” he said. “Cheap. Recently smoked.”

Davies blinked. “None of the guests—”

“One person does,” I said. “The butler.”

“This cigarette,” Banerjee said, holding it up. “Yours?”

“I occasionally indulge—”

“You were outside. Then inside. You climbed the wall, disabled the alarm. You knew the Queen’s schedule, her instructions. You left the handkerchief. A distraction.”

Charles’s mouth opened, then closed. He was caught.

“I overheard the Queen. I knew where she’d place it. After the guests left, I acted. I needed more money for survival. For my family. The bonus she gave me was gone in weeks.”

He sighed. “The boy — I paid him to eavesdrop. He didn’t know the whole plan. I left the handkerchief to point you toward him. Bought me time.”

We retrieved the necklace from a hidden compartment in his dresser.

The Queen, upon hearing the truth, nodded solemnly. “He was with us so long. I never thought—”

Back home, the hills were silent again. The air carried pine, and the past felt a world away.

Banerjee sat on the veranda, sipping his evening tea. I sat beside him, flipping through my Diary.

“So,” I said, “what tipped you off?”

He smiled faintly. “Three things. The handkerchief — too conveniently placed. The cigarette — a cheap habit the guests wouldn’t touch. And the Queen’s original story. Only someone close enough to overhear her would know where the necklace was kept.”

“And the boy?”

“A red herring,” he replied. “A pawn used by someone who knew how to manipulate appearances.”

I nodded. “Brilliant deduction.”

He chuckled. “Just another case, Ashok. Just another case.”

But I saw the gleam in his eyes. This case had stirred the embers.

As the sun dipped behind the Himalayas, casting long golden shadows across the valley, I knew one thing for certain: Arun Banerjee’s retirement would never truly be quiet.

Somewhere, mysteries waited to be solved. And he — no matter how many cups of chamomile he drank — would always be ready to answer the call.

The crisp morning air of Mussoorie bit at my cheeks as I adjusted my worn leather jacket. My friend — a retired army man — hadn’t dulled with age; if anything, his senses had only sharpened, like a well-honed blade seeking a new purpose. His name is Arun Banerjee, though most around here simply call him Mr. Banerjee. In this quiet corner of North India, he is known — unofficially — as the man you call when the police are stumped, or when things are best kept discreet.

My name is Ashok Kumar, and this is my diary — a record of the strange cases I’ve witnessed at the side of my cousin and friend, a man who dared to tread beyond reason and into the realm of intuition and imagination.

The call had come late the previous night — a trembling voice, barely audible, speaking of death, family… and a request for discretion. Old Mrs. Kapoor, the matriarch of the sprawling Kapoor household, was dead. Found in her room. Natural causes, they said. But something about the call felt off. The voice had fear in it — not just sorrow.

We parked our aging Mahindra Scorpio a little way down the winding road, choosing to approach the Kapoor residence on foot. The house was a sprawling, two-story colonial bungalow, its faded yellow walls and gabled roof bearing the weight of time. Intricate wooden carvings hinted at a bygone era of elegance. The garden, once clearly manicured with pride, was now wild — roses choked by weeds — reflecting, perhaps, the state of the family within.

As we neared the porch, a young man rushed out to meet us. He looked shaken — late twenties, tall, with nervous energy clinging to him like a second skin.

“Mr. Banerjee?” he asked, voice cracking slightly. “Thank God you’re here. I’m Rohan, Mrs. Kapoor’s grandson.”

Banerjee nodded. “Rohan. My condolences.”

He led us inside. The air was thick with incense… and grief. The living room was a mix of old-world furniture draped in white cloth, portraits of stern ancestors, and the visible chaos of a family in crisis — crumpled tissues, half-empty teacups, and unspoken questions clinging to the walls.

“The police were here earlier,” Rohan explained, gesturing toward the hallway. “They said it was a heart attack. Nothing suspicious. But… I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Banerjee’s voice was low but steady. “Tell me about Mrs. Kapoor.”

“She was… everything,” Rohan said, his voice trembling. “Strict, yes, but fair. Sharp as ever, even in her old age. She knew everything happening in the family.”

“And who all are in the household?” Banerjee asked.

Rohan sighed. “My father, Vikram — her eldest son. He runs our tea plantation, a few hours from here. He’s devastated. Then there’s my aunt Priya, her daughter, who lives here with her husband, Sanjay. And my sister, Sonali. She’s… been very quiet since it happened.”

He paused, then added, “Lately, my grandmother was talking to an advocate about her will. She said she wanted to change something. She told me that.”

We followed him down a dim corridor to Mrs. Kapoor’s room. It was spacious — a four-poster bed draped in mosquito netting, a writing desk cluttered with papers, a wall of books. The air held a faint metallic tang under the scent of incense.

“This is where they found her,” Rohan said, pointing to the bed. “She was just… lying there.”

Banerjee examined the space meticulously. The bed was made neatly. A glass of water and a half-read book sat on the bedside table. Nothing seemed out of place. Or perhaps… too in place.

“Did anyone touch anything before the police arrived?” I asked.

Rohan hesitated. “My father. He said he wanted to see what she was reading.”

I picked up the book — a well-worn copy of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. I handed it to Banerjee.

“A marvelous story,” he murmured. “Everyone dies on a secluded island… including the murderer.”

Then he turned to Rohan. “I’ll need to speak to everyone. Separately. And I need complete honesty.”

Our first interview was with Vikram, Mrs. Kapoor’s eldest son. A large man with a booming voice, he tried to appear stoic — but grief had found its way into the creases of his face.

“My mother was the heart of this family,” he said. “Her loss is… unimaginable.”

“How was her health?” Banerjee asked.

“She was frail, sure. But her mind was sharp. She took medication for her heart. The doctor said she was doing well.”

“Any enemies?”

He looked surprised. “Enemies? No. Everyone loved her.”

But a flicker in his eyes betrayed him.

Next was Priya — Mrs. Kapoor’s daughter. Petite, draped in a simple sari, her eyes red and swollen.

“She was my rock,” she said, tears flowing freely. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

“Did she ever talk to you about tensions in the family?”

Priya hesitated. “She and Vikram didn’t always agree on business. And Sanjay… her relationship with him was complicated.”

Sanjay, her husband, was smooth and practiced, confidence oozing from every word.

“I’ll cooperate fully,” he said. “Her loss has shaken us all.”

“Your relationship with her was strained, wasn’t it?” Banerjee asked.

He smiled, but it was thinner now. “She was… traditional. I’m more modern. We disagreed. But I respected her.”

Too polished, we thought. Too perfect.

Finally, there was Sonali — Rohan’s sister. Quiet, withdrawn, eyes filled with shadows.

“Sonali,” Banerjee said gently, “I need you to be honest. Did anything seem… off?”

She glanced around the room, her voice barely above a whisper. “Something wasn’t right. Everyone was… hiding something. I overheard my father and Sanjay arguing late one night. My father said to him that, Sanjay, you owed a large amount of debt that he wouldn’t be able to repay it in his lifetime.” She paused, swallowing hard. “And then… I saw my aunt Priya. It was past midnight. She was sneaking into Grandmother’s room. She didn’t know I was watching.”

There it was — a crack in the façade.

We spent the rest of the day piecing things together. The tea business was failing. Vikram was in debt, and Mrs. Kapoor had refused to rescue him. Priya was gambling away her inheritance. Sanjay was desperate for wealth and status and… Mrs. Kapoor had known all of it.

That night, the house was quiet. We returned to her room. Banerjee examined the glass of water again. At the bottom — a faint residue. He collected a sample.

The lab report arrived the next morning.

The water contained a powerful cardiac stimulant. The very drug prescribed to her — but in a much higher dose.

Banerjee gathered the family in the living room.

“I know how Mrs. Kapoor died,” he said. “She was murdered.”

A gasp. Then silence. Then chaos.

“The drug was hers — but someone increased the dosage. It was no accident. The question is — who did it?”

Banerjee laid out the motives: Vikram’s debt. Priya’s gambling. Sanjay’s ambition.

Then he turned to Rohan.

“You called me. Why?”

Rohan swallowed. “I found this in her desk.” He pulled out a crumpled letter — a note to her lawyer. Mrs. Kapoor had intended to change her will — cutting out Vikram and Priya, leaving everything to Rohan and Sonali.

The room erupted. Accusations flew. But Banerjee was watching Sanjay.

He hadn’t said a word.

“Sanjay,” Banerjee said, his voice suddenly sharp. “You knew about the will, didn’t you?”

Sanjay stammered. “I… I only knew we had our differences…”

“You killed her. Because she was going to destroy your future.”

The silence was crushing. Then — Sanjay broke. He confessed. He had overheard her on the phone with her lawyer. In desperation, he had slipped the overdose into her water, hoping it would look natural.

The police took him away.

The Kapoor family was left in ruins — shredded by betrayal.

As we drove down from the hills, the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of fire.

The case was closed, the truth uncovered. But the weight of it lingered. In a family bound by blood and tradition, the deadliest poison had been betrayal.

Banerjee stared out the window. “It doesn’t take courage to kill,” he said softly. “It takes courage to live. Sanjay had no courage.”

And so, in the quiet hills of Mussoorie, my friend Mr. Banerjee had solved the mysterious death of Mrs. Kapoor.

When my sun goes down
And no one is around
The world makes me de-crown
And I am lost in my own town.

You made me realise how the world works
And I know even you have been with jerks
Need you to clear out my fog
Like the way princess Tiana kissed, to make him prince out of Frog.

I don’t have words to explain
Don’t know if we ever gonna walk the same again
I lost the track of my pain
Don’t want anything to go in vein.

You holding my hand was unexpected
Looked like heaven has sent you to get connected
My choices in my life got me affected
But the walk on the beach, all my worries were suspended.

Am sorry I turned out to be a tyrant

Am sorry I made you believe in things I did wrong

Sorry for the times

It looked like a perfect love

Am sorry to your trust

That I never knew I lost

Am sorry for my words

I should have never said it but

Why speak out loud

When you don’t understand love

Why even try

If you can’t love ?

Saying I love you and shit

I guess I have to take it back

Am sorry for the circle

Called breaking up and love

Am sorry I just realized it

Maybe you should have not picked my call

Am sorry I hid your number

Too deep in my skull

Copy-write work of :-

©Oluku Emomotimi Sunday ( OES ), Bayelsa State, Nigeria

Chandrakumar Raj Chaturan was enjoying his morning tea in a five-star resort in Darjeeling. He was on a break. Just as he was reading the daily, someone splashed water on it making it wet. He could sniff the chlorine. ‘For god’s sake Dung Dung it is just 5ft. You cannot dive from there.’ Wearing the swimming spectacles he was looking like an owl. Dung Dung apologised. As Chandra continued reading; one of the resort staff came rushing towards him. ‘Sir, I believe there is one policeman wanting to meet you. He is in the porch.’ ‘Oh! Dear! Tell him I am sorry. I am on a break.’ ‘Sir, I am sorry but he has mentioned last night someone murdered a wealthy businessman.’ ‘Oh! Yea?’ ‘And his name is Mr Alfred D’souza.’ Chandra was astonished. ‘Come again?’

Soon Chandra and the policeman were in a police car, pacing towards the crime scene. Alfred D’souza was Chandra’s school acquaintance. But shortly he dropped the school and changed the centre from Shimla to Darjeeling.

As they arrived at the crime scene, Chandra entered the mansion. ‘Thank you Chandra for coming. I am inspector Roger Arien. I am sorry to annoy you on your holiday. But we need your help in this situation.’ ‘Alright tell me about it.’ ‘Sir, we picked up a phone call at around 4:00 AM today. The house Butler Mr Michael Lad made the call. When we investigated the body we found two gun shot wounds. The time of death is around 3:00 AM.’ ‘Any clues?’ asks Chandra ‘Nothing special, sir. But I would suggest you sir, please start with interrogation. There are lots of DIFFERENT statements.’ With a confused expression policeman said the words different. ‘Different?’ Chandra couldn’t pick up what he was struggling to convey. ‘Yes sir. And they’re all contradicting and extremely puzzling.’ ‘Hmmm! Who all are there in the mansion?’ ‘Mrs Abigail D’souza victim’s spouse, Ms Sonia D’souza victim’s daughter, Mr Roy D’souza victim’s son and Mr Michael Lad the butler.’ ‘Alright. Let’s see what you mean by different statements. But before we start the investigation, I wish to see where the victim was found dead.’ ‘Here sir, in the living room. But there are stains of blood on the bed which is making us assume they murdered him there and later the murderer got him in the living room. The body is sent for the autopsy. I assume that is fine.’ ‘Yes, no problem.’ Chandra scanned the living room. ‘Hmmm can I look at the victim’s bed room?’ ‘Sure sir.’ And they call the butler to show the way. He took them in his room. As he was investigating, he opened the closet. He noticed a book on which ‘Biopic of Alfred D’Souza’ was printed. He further noticed a pillow which was torn. Some clothes were jumbled up immensely. ‘Was there anything stolen?’ ‘No sir. We questioned the butler. He maintains this place tidy. He said the victim never used to keep any valuable in his closet.’ ‘Hmmm. Let’s interrogate the family members.’

I

Chandra visits the victim’s wife. She was in the guest room. He felt as if the room was in use for a long time. ‘Mrs D’souza, I am apologetic for your loss. We are here to help you. And don’t worry we will find the person who murdered your spouse.’ ‘You don’t have to sir.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Chandra couldn’t figure out why she declared that. ‘Because,’ She took a pause and answered, ‘it is me who murdered him.’ Chandra’s eyebrows raised in confusion. ‘But why ma’am?’ ‘I hated him a lot. I realised he had a relationship with his best friend’s wife. It was a month ago when my husband requested his friend, Mr Adam French, an author by profession, to pen a biography on him. I don’t know why he requested to do that. Maybe because god chose to disclose his character. One day he was so drained that while Adam was collecting notes, he confessed that he had an intimate relationship with his wife. Adam was then furious. They were both fighting, and I overheard them. From that day onwards he never visited our home.’ ‘Hmmm.’ ‘How did you murder him?’ ‘I shot him.’ ‘How many times?’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ ‘How many times?’ ‘What do you mean how many times?’ ‘If you had killed him, you should know how many times you fired the bullets.’ ‘You can find out on his body how many times I shot him.’ ‘But yet?’ ‘Once I suppose.’ ‘Hmmm! And what was the time?’ ‘It was before 4:00 AM.’ ‘Yes we know that. But any specific time?’ ‘I don’t recall.’ ‘Then what you did?’ ‘I dragged the body to the living room and went back to sleep.’ ‘And where is the gun?’ ‘I threw it out.’ ‘Where?’ ‘From this window.’ Detective told the policeman to send someone to investigate down. ‘Hmmm. I presume you are an unusually poor murderer Mrs D’souza.’ ‘Maybe.’ ‘But I guess we should take everybody’s statements. It is crucial to have the correct person behind the bars and because of that we need to have everybody’s statements. Let’s go inspector to the next member of the family.’ They leave the guest room. ‘Inspector, I now realised what you meant by DIFFERENT statements.’ And inspector and Chandra went to interrogate his son Roy D’souza.

II

‘So what do you have to say about your father’s death?’ ‘Detective, I don’t know who murdered my dad but I guarantee you, he was the greatest father in the world.’ ‘Hmmm Yes, he was remarkable at his soul. But your mother informed me he had a relationship with his best friend’s wife?’ ‘She is a cheat. My father will never do such a thing.’ ‘What were you doing last night?’ ‘I arrived home from the office at around 8:00 PM. I was extremely drained. So, I went to bed by 10:00PM. I woke up at dawn 4:00AM when I heard our butler calling out everybody’s names. I went downstairs and saw dad lying down on the floor wrapped in a cloth. And police were inspecting the body. After that I saw everybody rushing out from their room.’ ‘Who do you think must have murdered your father?’ ‘I cannot say. He had too many rivals.’ ‘Like?’ ‘His own wife, his friend, and a lot of business rivals.’ ‘Can you name the people from his business?’ ‘I don’t know the names, sir. But I know he had.’ ‘Do you think they could murder your dad?’ ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe.’ ‘Who inherits his property?’ His son was mute. ‘Boy? Answer me.’ ‘I am the one.’ ‘You’re the only one?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And your sister?’ ‘He did not give her any split. She was supposed to marry a guy who was a security guard. My father did not appreciate it. So he did not keep her name in his will.’ ‘Hmmm.’ ‘And when your father had a business why there was a need for you to do a job?’ ‘That is what my father used to like about me. I wanted to stand on my feet.’ ‘what an excellent thought. Alright, thank you son. If we need anything we come back again.’ Inspector and detective leaves the room.

As they came out of the room, the inspector asked Chandra, ‘Detective, I am confused with this case. As you interrogate further, you get weirder statements.’ Chandra replies, ‘Let’s find out. Where is Sonia’s room?’

III

Chandra said politely, ‘Hello madam, extremely apologetic for your loss. We had questions for you. Hope you will cooperate.’ When Chandra saw in her eyes, he could figure out she was crying all day. ‘Before you ask anything I want to say something.’ ‘Yes madam, please.’ There was a silence in the room for a moment. And she finally breaks the silence. ‘I killed my father.’ ‘What?’ Chandra again was in a disastrous jolt. He thought, ‘what has happened to this family?’ ‘You killed him?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But why?’ ‘He was a demon. He had treated me cruelly for a long time. He used to like his son, my brother, more than me.’ ‘So from when did he start behaving cruel to you?’ ‘From the day I was born. When he knew it was a girl, he left me and my mother alone in the hospital. It was my grandmother who took care of us.’ ‘You have a grandmother?’ ‘Had. She passed away like four months ago.’ ‘Sorry to hear that.’ ‘So how did you kill him?’ ‘Last night when everyone was sleeping, I went in the kitchen to drink water. I saw Mr Micheal, our butler. I opened the fridge and asked him what father was doing? He said he is in deep sleep and Didn’t want anyone to disturb him. As he left the kitchen, I thought to myself this is an excellent opportunity. I knew he was very drunk and wouldn’t get up. He and his friend Adam were drinking the whole evening.’ ‘Adam was here last evening?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But your mom said he never visited the house after they had a fight.’ ‘But he was there. He had come to submit the biopic to my father.’ ‘Hmmm! Then what happened?’ ‘I took a knife from the kitchen went to his room and stabbed him hard. I was so nervous I went in my bedroom running. Whole night I was crying. Then in the morning, there was chaos. I could hear my brother crying. I knew what had happened.’ ‘What was the time you killed him?’ ‘It was around 2:30AM in the morning.’ ‘Hmmm. Alright can we come repeatedly to interrogate you if we need?’ ‘Huh? Aren’t you going to arrest me?’ ‘Not so shortly. But definitely I will arrest the person who killed your father.’ ‘What do you mean by that? I am the one who killed him.’ There was turmoil on her face. Chandra just gives her a smile and leaves. As they come out, the policeman says, ‘I told you sir. This case is extremely confusing.’ ‘Tell someone to arrest his friend, the writer.’ Chandra gave an order. ‘The police are already on their way sir.’ ‘Good. Now I need the butler.’

IV

‘Mr Micheal Lad. What you have to say about the murder.’ ‘I woke up at 4:00AM and went out to prepare the breakfast. I saw sir lying on the ground in the living room with a cloth on his body.’ ‘You saw him in the living room?’ ‘Yes sir. I thought he slept there. But then I remembered, he was sleeping in his room. Don’t know how he got there.’ ‘Do you suspect anybody?’ ‘The daughter came in the kitchen and she was the only one awake, sir.’ ‘What was the time?’ ‘I think it was around 1:30. She came in the kitchen to drink water. Then I went to sleep.’ ‘Do you suspect anyone else?’ ‘Maybe the writer sir, they had a fight like a month ago.’ ‘Hmmm. And why the clothes in the cupboard are messed up?’ ‘I did not get time sir to make them proper.’ ‘Ok. Thank you. If we need anything we will come to you.’ ‘Sure sir.’

V

As the police got Mr Adam to the police station, the detective, and the rest of the team rushed there.

As Adam saw the detective and a police man coming towards him, he joined his hands and shouted. ‘Yes sir, I confess, I did it.’ ‘You did what?’ ‘I murdered him. I am sorry. But he deserved it.’ ‘What?’ Chandra had no clue what was going on. But he kept his calm on his face. ‘You killed him?’ ‘Yes sir. I was so angry on him. He had an affair with my wife. When I asked my wife she said if wasn’t mutual. She never wanted to. I was so angry. My wife never told me because she knew I would get angry. That day I completed his biopic and went to meet him. He was drunk. I got the opportunity. I asked him whether I can come in. He said okay and offered me a drink. Then I waited for the right moment and mixed poison in his drink, and left the place.’ ‘What was the time?’ ‘It was 10:00PM.’ ‘Hmmm.’ Policeman took him away.

After getting all the statements, the policeman asked the detective. ‘So what do you think about this case?’ ‘Yes indeed it is extremely confusing.’

Just then the constable comes in and hands the postmortem report. ‘Tell me officer.’ asks Chandra. ‘Detective, the cause of death is what we thought. Two gun shots.’ ‘And was there any poison found in the body?’ ‘No sir. No poison.’ ‘What about the bullets?’ asked Chandra. ‘What about them, Detective?’ ‘Are they from different guns?’ ‘Let me check, No sir, they are from the same gun.’ ‘Did you find the gun?’ ‘yes, It was in the cupboard.’ ‘Hmmm! Interesting.’ ‘Just give me three days and I will give you the murderer officer.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘I am.’ With confidence on his face, Chandra left the police station.

After three days, the detective calls everyone to the police station. Everyone gathered. The son, daughter, wife, butler and the writer. ‘So what do you think Chandra? Who must have killed him?’

‘I know’, and he slammed the biopic on the table. ‘In this biopic it is revealed who is the killer. But before that, let’s review what had happened that day.’

There are two things that happened. One, some interesting events and second, not so important ones. Lets first see the interesting ones first.

‘Mr Adam French comes home at 6:00pm and leaves the house at 10:00pm. They were drinking. He mixes the poison in his glass. But Alfred doesn’t drink it. Because there were no traces of poison in his body. Most probably Mr Alfred threw the alcohol out.

Then as per the Butler, he saw his daughter at 1:30AM in the kitchen.

The daughter says she killed her father soon after taking the knife from the kitchen and it was at 2:30pm. I don’t think the distance between the bedroom and the kitchen is far. Anyway, there were no traces of the wound made by a knife on his body. That suggests Ms Sonia D’souza stabbed something else. She also mentioned that she was very nervous. The moment she stabbed she went running to her room. And we found a torn pillow in the cupboard. This suggests she must have stabbed a pillow.

Next, his wife doesn’t remember the time when she fired the gun. In my opinion, every murderer keeps a track of the time. They always need to keep it so that they should know the action of the other people in the house. She said she shot only one bullet, but we found two on his body. Let’s assume you shot one bullet and the other one was shot by someone else, but both the bullets came from a single gun. Again you said you kept the body in the living room and left it the way it was. But according to the butler and Mr Roy, the body was wrapped in a cloth. You did not mention about it. To be more specific, the gun was found in the Mr Alfred’s cupboard and not outside your window.’

‘These are some interesting facts. Now let’s move on to those which are uninteresting ones. Why uninteresting? It is because these are some small details which are unnoticeable. Most of the people neglect these points.’ The Policeman was waiting for Chandra to disclose the name of the murderer. He liked the way he had reasoned out systematically.

‘If Alfred was killed in the bedroom which is because we got stains of blood on the bed, then why the murderer got him to the living room? And to top it all he was covered with a cloth when the Butler saw him. Why he would do that? Did he want to hide something by putting the cloth?’

‘Yes! He wanted to hide something.’ Everyone was shocked. Policeman asked ‘what do you mean he wanted to hide?’ ‘let me explain. Don’t worry; I will reveal the name of the murderer soon.’

He paused a moment and said, ‘A person who did not want the family members to know that Alfred was dead due to two gun shots. Because he knew that, the night he was killed, there were many others who tried to kill him, but were unsuccessful. So if they don’t know how he was killed, they would confess easily in front of the police that they committed the murder. The person knows the family very close.’

‘But then we could have just removed the cloth and seen the dead body.’ asked the son. ‘And that’s exactly why the murderer called the police first, and then the family members. Am I right Mr Michael Lad?’

‘What? What nonsense is this? You said the murderer is mentioned in the biopic. Then how you can blame me?’

‘Correct! It is mentioned that Mrs Elizabeth D’souza, Mother of Alfred, used to pay school fees of Michael’s grandson. And because of that he had promised her to serve the family till his death. But when she passed away Mr Alfred Stopped it and this made Michael very angry. That was the first time you raised your voice on Mr Alfred.’

Everyone was astonished.

‘Yes. I had made a deal with Mrs. Elizabeth that I will serve my entire life to this family and in return they will pay the school fees of my grandson. But when she passed away Mr Alfred stopped it. I asked him why he was doing it. He just wanted to have fun with that money. Then I requested him to at least increase my payment. He refused. I was very angry.

The night when I killed him, I saw Mr Adam mixing poison is Alfred’s drink and then he left the place. When Alfred came back he saw Adam had left. He did not drink that glass because he wanted to read his biopic. At around 1:30, he went to sleep. I wanted to kill him at that moment but Sonia came in the kitchen and asked about Mr Alfred. I told her he was in deep sleep. I knew she also wanted to kill her father. I had overheard her speaking to her boyfriend the previous day. But I was in doubt. I did not know if she really meant it. But then I saw her take a knife from the kitchen and going to her room. When she came out, I saw there was no blood on the knife. But she was nervous. She went in her room. I was confused. I went in the Alfred’s bedroom and saw she had stabbed a pillow. Just then I got a sound from the toilet. Alfred was in there. I quickly hid next to the bed and waited for him to go to sleep again. At around 3:00am I saw his gun lying on the table. I was so furious. Two people tried to kill him but they weren’t successful. So much luck this person had. Then I took his gun kept a pillow near the nozzle and fired two bullets.

‘Interesting.’ The police officer asks, ‘But then why Mrs D’souza lie.’ ‘Oh that’s a very interesting point. Ma’am, will you explain it, or you are too tired and want me to explain them.’ ‘Yes I lied. I had a doubt that Adam must have killed him. When I knew my husband had an affair with his best friend’s wife I got a way to take revenge, by having an affair with Adam. But then he was so good I fell in love with him. And took the blame on me.’ ‘That’s right’ Policeman was still confused. ‘But detective, how did you know about it?’ Chandra replied, ‘Mr Adam had come to visit Mr Alfred on the day of murder and both were happened to be enemies recently but this information Mrs D’souza tried to hid it from me.’

Policeman was speechless. He was stunned how Chandra analysed all the minute details from the statements to solve this case.

Adam French and Sonia D’souza you are under arrest for attempt to murder. Mr Michael lad, you are charged with the murder of your boss.

THE END

Chandrakumar Raj Chaturan, a well-known detective from Shimla, was having his evening cup of tea. He usually stays home on Saturday evenings watching the beautiful sun going down between the chilly mountains. He was an expert in his field of detective. He was tall, had a bulgy tummy, probably because of addiction to sugar, and had a pointy nose.

His butler, Mr Dung Dung, came running from hall followed by the daughter of the most well-known social activist in town, Mr David Albuquerque.

“Sorry sir, I tried to stop her but she refused to wait in the hall and..” As Dung Dung tried to explain himself why he was unable to stop her, Chandrakumar told him to be at ease.

Ms Albuquerque, wiping her tears from her cheeks said, “my father didn’t get a heart attack. He was murdered.” “What?” Chandra did not know what she was speaking. She continued “I saw a man that night. He jumped over the fence and ran away.”

Thursday evening Chandra received the news that famous personality of Shimla, Mr. David, was dead due to cardiac arrest. He also prayed for his soul but today, hearing the twist, he couldn’t believe himself. Giving her assurance that the murderer will soon be behind the bars, Chandra decides to visit her place for interrogation.

All were present in the hall. Mrs Denial Albuquerque, wife of the deceased, Sonia Albuquerque, daughter of the deceased, Patricia Socorita, maid of the house, Roger Pegasus, a friend of the deceased and Ronan, the gardener.

He asks for the permission whether he can examine his bedroom. The maid shows him the bedroom of Mr David. Chandra does a quick scan. On the table, there was a stack of magnets. “Why these magnets here?” “Oh! sir used to play with them. But wait a minute, there were altogether six pieces. And now there are only four. Two must have been misplaced.” He opens the curtains and the sun rays enlightens the room. He looks out and he sees a beautiful garden. “Who discovered the body?” asked Chandra. “I found our madam sleeping on the couch. I woke her up and then she went upstairs to freshen up. She couldn’t open the bedroom door as it was locked from inside. So, madam got the duplicate key and opened it. And that’s how….” “I got it. And the windows were closed?” “We keep them close all the time.”

Chandra visits the police station and asks for the police report. He scans the report thoroughly and finds that the cause of the death was a heart attack and the time of the death was between 1:30 to 2:00 AM. He went through the report thoroughly. The man had been given two injections and the marks of it are left on his body. But no contamination of any poison was found. He soon leaves the place.

Next day he tries to interrogate one by one.

I

First, he tries to speak with Mrs Albuquerqe. “I don’t know why you are saying that he was murdered. I cannot believe my ears. But if that is so then I want you to find that culprit as soon as possible.” Giving assurance to her, Chandra continues. “When was the last time you saw him?” “I saw him when I had gone to sleep. It was around 11:30. He was snoring that time. After that, I was still awake. I couldn’t get sleep. Because that morning, my husband had told me that he is in big trouble. I tried to ask him but he did not say any word. You see as a social activist, he always used to describe other people problems as it was his own. I heard this sentence from him many times. So I did not pay much attention to it. But when he had said he is not feeling alright at around 2:00 PM, this was kind of concerning. We called our daughter from the hospital and she gave him an injection. But he had no improvement. So then we called Pegasus and he gave him some medicines. He was feeling ok. But I was worried and I didn’t get sleep. At night around 1:00 AM, I went down and turned on the TV and poured some wine for me. After two or three glasses, I hardly remembered anything. Next day I was woken up by my maid and I was still on the couch. I went upstairs to freshen up but the bedroom door was locked. So, I got the duplicate key and opened the door and found my husband lying on the bed dead.” A tear came down running from her cheeks. “I am sorry. “Any stranger paid him a visit last week or any other day?” “I don’t really think so.” “You daughter said she saw someone jumping over the fence? What do you have to say about that?” “My daughter has a very bad eyesight. She has -6.0 vision. And when she had slept she would have probably removed the glasses. How can she see someone?” “Was there any fight he had with?” “I don’t think so, but yes, Ronan had raised his voice a few days back. I don’t know the exact reason. He never told me.” “Thank you, Madam.”

II

Chandra then interrogated Ms Albuquerque. “Can you tell me what was the time you saw your father last?” I think, at the dinner.” “What you did after that?” “As I finished my dinner I came up in my room. I was reading my novel and then I fell asleep. I don’t know what had happened next.” “You said you saw someone outside. Who you think he must be?” “I have the least idea, sir. But I am damn sure he is the one who killed my father. I saw him, he jumped over the fence and went out. I cannot be wrong.” “But your mother said you wear glasses and it has a very high vision number? Were you wearing them at night too?” She was speechless for a second. “I don’t know sir, I don’t remember. I must have taken them off. But I saw the man. I am sure.” “Did he had an enemy?” “I am not sure sir, but that day he wasn’t feeling well. I came home from the hospital after I got a call from my mother. I am working in Nirmaya Hospital as an assistant to Dr Pegasus.” “The same person who is your father’s friend? ” “Yes, I came home and checked on him. His body was warm so I gave him a paracetamol injection. But after an hour his condition was worsening so we called Uncle Pegasus.” “Alright, thank you.”

III

Chandra did not even spare the housemaid. “Can you tell me what time it was when you had seen your boss?” “Around 2:00 AM. I heard a noise. I went out to check and I saw sir had just entered his room. And Ronan’s room lights were on.” Chandra was a bit shocked. “You mean to say the gardener was awake?” “Yes, sir.” “Ok, and was there any stranger who had come to visit him?” “No sir, I don’t think so.” “Thank you.”

It was late and Chandra decided to interrogate the gardener next day.

Next day…

Before interrogating further, Chandra gets a good news from the police. He visits the police station and finds out that there were footsteps of a person found in the garden. That morning the gardener spotted them and informed the police. They were the marks of formal shoes. After a thorough investigation, the police found that the footsteps were of Ronan himself.

IV

The gardener was bit nervous. “Why are you nervous my dear?” “I am not the one who killed him, sir.” “That I am going to decide. Now tell me why you were awake at 2:00 that night.” “Sir I had woken up to drink water.” “To drink water? What do you have to say about those shoe marks?” “I have no idea, sir. I found some shoe marks and I told the police. But after that, I came to know they were mine.” “But don’t you wear shoes while working in the garden?” “I do sir, but those shoe marks are different. These shoe marks are from the formals which I wear to Sunday church. And now they are missing too. I am very scared sir, I haven’t killed my boss” “Don’t worry, the innocent will be spared. Tell me, was there any fight between you and your boss?” “Not fight sir, but yeah, I tried to raise my voice when he was not releasing my payment. Accidentally I forgot to water the plants and his favourite plant was dead. And so he had put a stop on my salary. I went to him to ask about it but he refused to give me.” “Ok, and did you hear any noise at night?” “no, sir. I was half sleepy. I drank water and soon went to sleep.” “What time you slept?” “Around 2:15.” “Was there any stranger who came to this place?” And even the gardener said the same that there was no stranger came to the house.

V

Chandra visited the Nirmaya Hospital to meet Mr Pegasus. “For how many years you know Mr Albuquerque?” “Oh! I know him from the time I came to this town. I came to this hospital around five years ago. That time when I had no shelter Mr Albuquerque gave me a home. He did a great favour on me.” “Do you know about any quarrels or fights that took place with him?” “Not at all sir, he was just a good man. And he was a gentleman. I hardly remember any enemy he had in the past. At least not when I was his friend.” Just then Nurse Patricia entered the cabin. “Doctor I have updated the stock, but there are some things missing from the shelves from Thursday night. Cotton, Band-Aid, Syringes.” Dr Leela must have taken them.” “And sir what about the Xray, are you going to check it now?” “Dear just give me a moment. I am bit busy here.” “Ok Doctor. And she leaves. Chandra politely said, “I think I am wasting your time.” “Not at all, sir. I know his death was by a heart attack, but when you said it was a murder, I didn’t want to be the person who is not cooperative.” “That’s very kind of you. One last question, when you had seen Mr Albuquerque?” “The day he got an attack, I mean murder, whatever. In the morning Denial called me. He was not feeling good, so I went for a check-up at around 4:00 in the evening. I found his pressure was bit high, so I gave him Angiotensin. That’s it.” “Thank you, doctor.”

After reviewing everyone’s opinions, Chandra called everyone at the police station. Denial, Sonia, Patricia Socorita, Roger Pegasus and Ronan. He tries to evaluate everyone’s statements and concluded.

At 2:00 PM Mr Albuquerque was not feeling good so he told his wife to call a doctor.

At 3:00 PM his daughter arrived at the house to check his father. She gave him an injection but his health was worsening. So they called Pegasus.

At 4:00 PM Mr Pegasus arrived at home for a checkup and left the place at around 6:00 giving Albuquerque some tablets and an injection.

By 10:00 David was on the dinner table.

By 11:00 David went in the room to sleep.

By 11:30 Mrs Albuquerque joined him.

At 1:00 Mrs Albuquerque went out to watch TV as she was not getting sleep. She turned on the TV and poured wine into her glass. She did not remember after two glasses as she slept on the couch.

At 2:00 the maid saw Mr Albuquerque going in his room. He must have probably come down to wake up Mrs Albuquerque. She did not get up so he went back.

But at 2:30 Sonia had seen someone jumping over the fence. She was reading the novel and she fell asleep.

Now above statements do not match up with what I have found while interrogating. The two missing piece of the magnet in the bedroom has made me understand lots of other things.

It is a murder.

We also checked the footprints of the mystery person which was pointing towards the gardener but the pair of shoes are missing. Further, the post-mortem report says the murder took place around 1:30 to 2:00 and Madam Patricia saw David at 2:00.

“If the person was Mr Albuquerque then he must have entered into his room and just then he must have got a cardiac arrest. But if it’s not him, then it must be the murderer. When Denial left the room to watch tv, the room was unlocked. The murderer must have entered in, killed Mr Davis and locked the room with the magnet. But he saw Mr Ronan’s room light were on and so he must have gone back to the bedroom to hide. At around 2:15 he came out and jumped over the fence when Sonia saw him. And yes my dear while reading the novel if you happen to fall asleep you probably must have worn glasses because you did not get time to remove them. The day the footprints were discovered were of Mr Ronan’s shoes. But on the day of the murder, I had checked the garden and I did not find any footsteps. So they were deliberately made the next day and they used Ronan’s shoes so that all the doubts should go on him. Moving forward, as per the report the person has two marks of injection.one was given by Sonia and the other one must have been given by Pegasus. But as per Denial, Pegasus never gave an injection. So the injection was given to make a person have a heart attack. But again the report says there was no poison found the injection. That means there is only one answer to this. The injection was empty. Yes, injection filled with air can cause severe damage to health, which gave rise to cardiac arrest. Who is that person? The only person who knows to give the injection and who has authority to take the injection from the hospital without anyone seeing him. And yes Doctor Pegasus I did ask Dr Leena if she took any formations from the shelves. she denied it. You took the injection from the shelves right?”

Mr Pegasus was in a shock.

“You killed him. But you had help from a person inside. Because the windows closed all the time. He can enter only through the main entrance.”

And the person who opened the main door was Mrs Albuquerque. Isn’t it?

“You came down at 1:00 and opened the door. And then calmly turned on the TV so that no one can hear any noises. When you opened the door of your bedroom, without checking on your husband how you came to know he was dead? Am I right?”

Inspector asked in a deep tone. “Is it correct?” Mrs Albuquerque said “Yes, but it’s not my fault. David had no time for me. All day he was telling me sad stories of the people. I wanted love. Five years ago I met Mr Pegasus. We had a good bond but David got a doubt. So, Pegasus left the house. After that we tried to meet often at public places but we were scared. So we came up with this plan. But Chandra had to spoil it.”

“I am sorry madam if I did anything wrong.”

And as Chandra promised, both the culprits were behind the bars.

The wind from the window was blowing in his face as Raghav, an engineer, was travelling from Santacruz to Borivali in the local train. A young boy, aged 32, was sad and alone. The grown beard and uncut hair were making him look untidy.

He was returning home from a counselling session. Dr. Samantha, a young woman with grey eyes and a mole on the cheek, was amongst the top ten best Psychiatrists in Mumbai and she was an expert in dealing with depression. She herself is a divorcee, but yes, people had considered her the best. As Raghav was looking outside the window, he could smell the sadness of Mumbai city. He was wondering, what the city had done to him.

Five years ago, Raghav had received a letter from the HNSD Company, a leading engineering company in making home security devices. He had come from his native place, Pune. Soon he was called for the interview and then within a week he had the appointment letter in his hand. He joined the company as a junior engineer and by looking at his performance he got promoted as the senior engineer in no time. With his package of 24 Lakhs per year, Two BHK flat and a car, Raghav was very happy and soon started receiving marriage proposals. His mother wanted him to get married soon. So she forced him to get married.

The best wedding hall was booked. His wife, Aashlesha, was as beautiful as a swan and she was well educated too. After the marriage they both came to Mumbai and Raghav was managing his office and the house pretty well. His life was all set. So they decided to have a baby.

The Train made a loud noise, as if emergency brakes were applied. The train came to a halt and Raghav could hear a voice, which every Mumbaikar knew, of the lady giving announcements in the local train, “pudhil station… Borivali, agala station… Borivali, next station… Borivali.”

Raghav’s mother came happily to the hospital to see her first grandchild, a baby girl. Soon she was discharged from the hospital and they got her to their flat. Aashlesha left her job to take care of their daughter

He got down from the train and took an auto. It was dark. ‘Eksar road’, and the driver turned his meter down.

Raghav opened the door of his flat and turned the lights on. He kept his day bag on the couch. He freshened up, turned the TV on, poured some whiskey in the glass and tried to enjoy the idiot box. After some time he dozed off on the couch. He had no work the next day as it was a Sunday.

Next morning, the phone was vibrating. He woke up and saw 13 missed calls and 2 new messages. It was from his psychiatrist Dr. Samantha Shah. “Hey, it’s already 10:00am. The session will start in half and hour. Where are you?” Raghav quickly replied her back. “On the way”, and he rushed to take a shower. Dr. Samantha had arranged a session for her clients in Borivali. Raghav took a quick shower and rushed down to take a rickshaw. He told him the address and the driver made a U-turn and went towards the venue.

Aashlesha got down at Chatrapati Terminus. It was night, and she had come back from her hometown. She and their daughter had gone to stay there for a week. As she came out of the station, she called Raghav.

Raghav gets a call while he was driving. He was on the way to the station. He picks up the call, ‘hey I am on my way. Where are you?’ Aashlesha replied ‘I am already outside the station. Come slowly.’ ‘Oh. You reached so soon?’ ‘Yeah! I told the driver to drive fast because my husband cannot live without me it seems’ ‘Oh! Is it? ’‘Hahaha! You have no Idea about women empowerment’ and they both laugh together. Just then, Aashlesha hears some nuisance behind. She tells her husband to be on the phone.

As she turns back to see what was the matter, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Her heart started palpitating very fast. She was petrified. Fear made the wind feel cold. She saw that a man was chased down by some goons and he was all socked in blood. The goons had big swords in their hands. As the man was running towards her, her heart started beating rapidly. Raghav was calling her loudly on phone but she had no clued what to do. ‘Aashlesha, what’s the matter? What happened? What is the noise all about?’ But she was stunned.

The man who was socked in the blood stopped near her. ‘Please save me. These goons are after me and my wife.’ Aashlesha, with a kid, had no idea what to do next. She was speechless and scared. But she tried to ask him ‘where is your wife?’ and the man replied. ‘I am sorry, I want to save them.’ He turned towards the goons which were at a 5 feet distant now. ‘Don’t kill me, and my wife and the kid’. The goons thought that the woman who was with him, was his wife and they run their swords all over them.

Soon the station was filled with pool of blood. A man, a woman and a kid were massacred. Raghav was on the phone listening to his wife’s cry. She kept on saying ‘Raghav! Help me out!’ As he reached the station he saw his wife and his daughter were dead. He sat near them and cried loudly.

‘Oh Saabji, Chalo aagayi aapki building’ and Raghav woke up from the sleep. The night was actually haunting him in every second of his life. He remembered he had told his wife not come home at night. But she was stubborn. He paid the fare and saw Dr. Samantha’s white swift parked outside. He went inside the building. He reads the notice ‘Session on 1st floor’. As he climbed, he saw Dr. Samantha was standing near the entrance, welcoming everyone. As she saw Raghav her face was slightly joyous. She came and shook his hand. Whenever they used to meet out for a coffee, Samantha used to give him a tight hug. But here, she had to keep it professional.

The session started and a lecturer started with his motivational speech. He was speaking about how to gather motivation and move on with life. Tragedies do happen. But that doesn’t mean one should lose his hope. Everyone should know that it could have been worse. And lots of other stories. As Raghav was listening to it, he was feeling good.

After the lecture, Dr. Samantha delivered a vote of thanks, and all departed.

Raghav was sitting idle on his bench. When everyone left, Samantha came and sat besides him. She took his hand and with a soft tone asked, ‘Are you ok, Raghav?’ And Raghav looked at her face. She saw his eyes were watery. Slowly he nodded saying, ‘Yes.’

And he took his bag, got up from the bench and was about to leave. But Samantha intervenes ‘you are coming tomorrow for the session to clinic, no?’But Raghav did not respond to her. She got up from her bench and grabbed his hand. ‘Are you even listening? I know you used to love your wife. But she is long gone. Look around you. There are several other people who still love you. Take for example your mother. She is dying to talk to you but you are not even bothered to receive her call.’ Raghav’s face turned red. He knew something which he had told Samantha several times. But she had refused to believe it. Raghav’s depression was more because of that one assumption and that is why he had left talking to his mother. Raghav believed that his mother was involved in killing of his wife. He politely replied. ‘I have told you several times that she is the one who killed my wife. And you want me to talk to her now?’ ‘She is not. She didn’t kill you wife. Trust me.’ ‘She wanted a boy. I know when my wife was pregnant she kept on saying this. And when we got a girl, she was furious.’ ‘No! You are just assuming this. You mother were much happier than you,’ Samantha tried to convince him But he was just not ready to listen to her. ‘The person who used to love me the most is gone.’ She tried a bit more ‘I am there.’ But he left the place. Samantha took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

It was night and Raghav was sitting on his couch with a glass of whiskey in his hand and watching TV.

Indravadhan Sarabhai was making fun of Roshesh and his mom Maya was supporting her son. It had all started because Maya tried to make fun of her daughter-in-law, Monisha. Sahil was sitting on the couch. One of the best daily soap Sarabhai vs Sarabhai was available on the Youtube.

As he was watching, he was feeling a bit relaxed. Once upon a time, the whole nation used to enjoy this show.

‘Son, I am going to buy some clothes for my grandson’ ‘Mom c’mon we don’t even know who it’s going be.’ ‘You don’t know anything about pregnancy. I can see that it’s going to be a baby boy.’

Raghav opened his eyes. He saw that the TV was on. He remembered the scene when his mom was insisting that they will have a baby boy. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. He got puzzled thinking who might be at this hour. He opened the door and he was a bit shocked. It was Dr. Samantha, in her hot black mini black skirt and a deep cowl neck top.

She did not ask whether she can come in. She just pushed Raghav and entered his house. Raghav couldn’t remove the eyes from her though he was trying to. But Samantha did not ask for any permission and straight away kissed him. Even Raghav couldn’t believe what was happening. After the short love session, Samantha said, ‘I had to do this. Since there was a gap to your physical needs, you were depressed. I am sorry I had to do without your permission but if I had asked you, you would have denied.’ Raghav gave her a smile. He said thank you.

After several months passed, Raghav was doing pretty well in his work. He was well shaved and groomed.

One fine morning, he was travelling to his work. Just then he gets a call from police station. The police tells him and he just couldn’t believe his ears. He had never thought that he would receive such great news. He was happy yet sad. He was confused. He called Samantha and said. “Hey! I just got a call from police station and they said… ’ After hearing the news, even Samantha couldn’t believe it. ‘Wow! What a wonderful day.’ The police had called to inform that they have captured the goons who were responsible for the death of his wife and child. After giving her the news he quickly disconnects the call and went to the police station. There were three people who were arrested. Police told him that these are the guys. Raghav asked the inspector ‘Did they confess why they killed my wife?’ and inspector replied ‘Yes, they did’ and police shared the information. ‘They said that one women had come to them, gave the money and told them to kill…’ and police went on telling about it. After they were done, Raghav felt a shock throughout his body. He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of the inspector. He felt a terror in his body. His heart started palpitating. Police still were searching who the woman was, but as per the description given by the police, Raghav knew who the culprit was. He stood in silent and said noting. He asked the permission to leave. Police assured him that they will catch the women, but Raghav knew who she was. He left the station and went to a shop to buy a sharp knife. He takes a rickshaw and tells him to go to Dr. Samantha’s place. As he reached he goes to her office. She was sitting alone. As she saw him she smiles hugs him tightly. ‘So! Did they tell you who the culprit is?’ Raghav replies ‘Yes! They said a woman is responsible and they also gave me a depiction. They don’t know who she is but I know.’ Raghav shows her the knife. Looking at it she gets very scared. ‘Look Raghav. I know what you are thinking. You think the culprit is women and I know you must have concluded that it is your mother. But that is wrong. You cannot think like that. And secondly you cannot take your revenge by killing your mother. Tell the police about this and let them handle it. Let them see. You don’t take law in your hand.’ Raghav still had a red face. ‘No! You are wrong. The description I got from the police is far different.’ With confusion on face, Samantha asks ‘What description?’ and Raghav without wasting anytime, takes the sharp knife and stabs it in her stomach. The blood was all over. He takes it out and again stabs her. Samantha was on the ground, dead. He sits beside her and remembers her story about her husband which she had shared long ago.

Samantha: ‘I left my husband because he was a cheat. He had a wife and a kid, and he did this behind my back.’

Raghav remembers the description given by Police: ‘A woman had approached them. She had told them that her husband has a wife and a kid. She wants them to get killed. They will be coming on the CST station. She is young, has grey eyes and a mole on the right cheek. She had come in white swift but these people don’t know the car number.

Raghav knew who the culprit was and now he had taken the perfect revenge.

The End

It was Sunday and Arun Mehta, a well know psychiatrist from Mumbai City, was busy helping his wife, Shweta, in packing her luggage. The 40-year-old doctor was 6 ft tall, dark and handsome. His masculine cuts were visible through a tight blue t-shirt. 

Shweta was going to attend a marriage ceremony in her native village in Rajasthan. Her flight was at 7:00 in the evening. By 5:00 they were at the airport, departing very sadly. 

Arun couldn’t attend the function because he had a lot of patients to attend to. At least this was the reason he had given to his wife.

Shweta was a traditional Marwari girl, who wore a simple saree with minimal accessories and makeup always. Her father was a famous global spice producer and seller based in Rajasthan, with an annual turnover of over 600 crore rupees. And she was the only child, the only heir.

Arun and Shweta fell in love when she was pursuing her engineering degree in Mumbai. They had met through a social networking site. 

After Shweta left, Arun came back to his car and called his secretary, Aliya. She was 25 years old, 5’7 ft tall, fair, and had an hourglass figure. She used to wear high street fashion clothes, carry a Michael Kors bag, wear Dior sunglasses and Jimmy Choo stilettos, all these, and many more, were gifted by Arun.

‘Hey! My wife left. Want to join me for dinner?’

‘Won’t she be back?’ She knew that his wife wouldn’t be coming back soon but still she wanted her boss to explain her everything one more time. She wanted that man to say that he wants her, again and again.

‘Oh! Don’t worry about her. I am not into her, you know that. I want you. C’mon please.’

‘hahaha I was just kidding. I am already ready.’

‘Ok. I am reaching in half an hour.’

Arun drove till her apartment in Bandra and called her up. She cut the call and came down soon. As she was walking towards the car, Arun couldn’t take his eyes of her. 

She had worn a black mini bodycon dress with a deep neck, a black velvet choker and red 7-inch high stilettos, all gifted by him. The red lipstick and the brown highlights in her hair were perfectly complementing her look. That figure-hugging dress was revealing her body shape, 36DD-28-40. She got into the car, hugged Arun, and they headed towards his home for some wine and dine. After dinner, things turned steamy, they had a lusty love making session. 

Their relationship was somehow perfectly in equilibrium. They both were in a win-win situation. She used to get expensive gifts, and he used to get his sexual desires fulfilled.

Next day Arun woke up with the sound of the doorbell. He saw that Aliya was gone. He came to the door and peeped through the keyhole. There were three people outside- maid, milk man (who also delivered newspaper) and sweeper (who also collected garbage). 

With a sulked face, Arun opened the door. He collected the milk packets and the newspapers, and emptied the dustbin in the sweeper’s basket. The maid entered, and she started doing her chores. 

He picked his phone and called Aliya. 

‘Good morning sir!’

‘Where are you?’

‘I am reaching the clinic in another 15 mins.’ 

‘Okay I’ll be there soon. Hope you have worn something hot.’

‘Why don’t you come and see for yourself?’ She disconnects the call. And Arun was already imagining about the next love making session. 

After an hour he was in his car, stuck in a traffic jam at a signal, when his phone rings. It was his wife.

‘Hi Sweetheart.’

‘Hey, how are you? Busy?’

‘Absolutely not. For you, I am always free my love.’

‘Hehehe is it? Listen I am out with dad, and my phone isn’t working properly, that’s why I couldn’t call you once my flight landed. So if you want to call me then you can call on my dad’s number.’

‘Yes sure honey, i got it.’

‘Okay!’ After a small chitchat, they hung up. 

He reached his clinic, and parked his car outside. As he was about to enter the clinic, he gets a call. It was an unknown number.

He picks up.

‘Hello! Dr Arun Mehta!’

The voice was strong and heavy. 

‘Yes, who is this?’

‘This is your death speaking.’

‘Who?’

‘Listen to me you bastard. Betraying your wife is not good. Yesterday your wife wasn’t home and you brought a woman in your house.’

Listening to this, Arun was paralysed for a moment. He did not know what to say.

‘Who is this? Look mister, I have no idea what the hell you are talking about.’

‘You know everything what I am talking about.’

Arun disconnected the call and ran to his clinic. Aliya greeted him but in return he gave her an angry look, and called her inside his cabin.

‘Listen Aliya, whatever is happening between us is by mutual consent. You are giving me sex and in return, I am giving you a life you could only dream about. Why the hell you had to tell others about this?’

Aliya had no clue what her boss was talking about. 

‘Sir. What are you saying? Are you gone crazy? Why will I tell this to anyone?’

‘Then who is blackmailing me? I got a call from an unknown number. He knows about us.’

‘I have no idea, sir. Believe me.’

‘Okay. Reschedule all of today’s appointments. Tell them I’m busy.’

After some time, Arun’s phone rang again and he picks up.

‘Do not try to call the police. Because if you do so, I will send all the photographs of you and that lady to your wife.’

‘No, I haven’t called the police. What do you want?’

‘If you want me to keep my mouth shut then you will have to pay a price.’

‘Tell me how much? 50 thousand? One lakh?’

‘Hahahaa!’ He gave a sinister laugh and continued ‘I want One Crore.’

‘What the hell? One crore? Are you serious?’

‘Yes, I am very much serious.’

‘Listen moron, I don’t have that much money with me.’

‘You have. And don’t fool around with me. If you do so I will send the photogr…’

‘No, wait! Listen! I can pay you 50 lakhs. But don’t send the photographs. Please.’

‘Fine. But if you do anything stupid then I will double it. And I am not mad. Don’t try to trace my phone. A person who is demanding One crore is not ordinary. So just keep it simple.’

‘Yes, I understand’ and he disconnects the call.

Arun was very scared. He calls his secretary in his cabin.

‘I know this is one of your pranks. Tell him not to call me.’ 

‘I swear, I am not doing anything.’

‘Then who is it?’

Arun felt a surge of anxiety. But still, he went to the bank. Returned some fixed deposit slips, and withdrew some savings money. He also had some black money in his flat. He arranged 50 lakhs by night, and was waiting for the call.

At 12:00am sharp, he gets a call. 

‘Are you ready with the money?’

‘Yes. Tell me where should I come to give you?’

‘Tomorrow, at 3:00 pm, at Madh Fort. Come on the rear side and take the stairs from the left. At the top, there will be a sign, keep the bag and leave the place. Take the stairs to the right when you leave. Come alone and don’t try to call the police.’ 

‘Yes sure. But what is the guarantee that after giving you the money you will keep your mouth shut?’

‘Do you have any other option than trusting me?’

And he disconnects the call. 

The whole night he was thinking about who that person could be. Just then he remembers that Aliya had planned a 7 day vacation with her fiancé, and she had given the application long before. His doubt on Aliya was just getting stronger.

For a moment, the thought of his wife and all his wealth. All the luxuries he was enjoying, was because of his wife. Even the apartment he was staying in was a gift from his father in law. 

Next day he woke up and called his secretary as usual. She said she was in the clinic waiting for him. 

He reaches the Madh fort with the money. He reaches the top of of the fort from the rear taking the stairs to the left. He sees a piece of paper, with ‘Keep the bag here’ written on it. There was no one around. He keeps the bag filled with money and climbs down taking the stairs to the right. He drives back to the clinic as fast as possible. 

On the way, he called his wife. The moment she picked the call, she said, ‘Hi honey’, and he was relieved. The person had not sent the photographs to his wife. They had a small conversation and soon Arun reached his clinic.

After reaching the clinic, he takes Aliya’s phone just to check if she had got any message. But he found nothing. He kept a watch on her the next three days, but there was no difference in her behaviour.

After a week, his wife was back home. He still had no idea who that man was. He was now sure it wasn’t Aliya. He was suspecting his wife.

There was a possibility that she must have come to know about his and Aliya’s relationship and to teach him a lesson she must have played this game. But he couldn’t confront her directly. What if she knew nothing? And so, he kept his mouth shut.

Week past, and it was a Sunday. Arun woke up late, shweta had gone out for brunch with her friends. The doorbell rang. He peeped through the keyhole, there were three people- maid, milk man and sweeper. He opened the door, took the newspapers and the milk packets, and emptied the dustbin. The maid entered the house and headed straight to the kitchen. He kept the milk in the fridge and sat on the couch reading the newspaper.

Suddenly something struck his mind. He raised his eyebrows in a shock. He stood up and quickly opened the main door. There was no one. He ran downstairs. He looked around, children were playing, and some old men were sitting on the benches, a few ladies were jogging, and just outside the colony gate, there were two boys sorting the garbage.

 He walked towards them, hold a boy by his collar, and asked him in furiously..

 ‘Who are you?’ They got scared.

‘Sabji, he is the new guy. What happened? If he has done something wrong then please forgive him’ and they joined their hands.

 ‘Where is the other guy?’

 ‘Other guy?’

 ‘There was another man who used come for garbage collection in the D block.’

 ‘Don’t know sir, he went back to his village 15 days back. He never told any reason.’

 ‘Bloody hell.’

Exactly 15 days back, Arun had left the bag filled with 50lakhs at the Madh Fort. 

And Arun remembered further that, after the love session he had put the protection, bill of the food, and wine bottle in the dustbin.

Also, the day when his wife was leaving, she had told him that she would be going to Rajasthan for a couple of days to meet her father.

And Arun understood the scenario. The sweeper had no photographs, neither he was  sure about what and for how long he was seeing Aliya. But he spoke as if he knew everything, and took 50lakhs and escaped.

 

 

                           …The End…

Diwali vacations were over, Meena Parmar, a student of International School of Management, was on the way to Mumbai from her native village, Abusar in Rajasthan. Her college was at Vashi and it was one of the best B schools in India. She was entering the final semester and was all excited. She was tall, slim, fair and ambitious. She was excellent in studies. Her friends, Preeti and Sharva, were equally smart.

Her friends, Preeti and Sharva, were staying in a PG, while she was staying in the College Hostel. She could occupy the hostel room only for three semesters, that was the hostel rule. She had requested her friend’s landlady but she had refused on account of lack of space.

During vacations, she was busy on phone and laptop to find her a cheap home in Mumbai. Just before the end of her holidays, she had found an apartment which was very cheap, but far away from her college.

Finally, she reached Mumbai, in the afternoon at 2 pm. She had already had her lunch, packed by the mother. She came out of the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, took a taxi and gave the driver the address of her new home. After approximately three hours, she finally reached Titwala, outside her new building.

It was a three storey, five decades old building, covered in mold. It seemed as if nobody stayed here. It had developed cracks due to lack of maintenance and it also appeared as if it hadn’t been painted for many many years.

Meena removed her luggage from the taxi and paid the driver. She was standing outside the building when she heard someone.

“Hello Madam, New to the building, please come!” It was the security guard, Rama.

“Yes, I am Mr Devendra Bharadwaj’s new tenant. I had called him yesterday. Let me call him now.”

“No need madam, the keys are with me.”

“Oh, that’s great! So you are going to show me the flat?”

“Yes, madam. Please, this way.”

And soon they were on the second floor. The security guard opened the door of her flat. It was a very small studio apartment; it had just one kitchen, bathroom and a room (bedroom cum living room). The dull yellow paint was chipping off, there was mold on the ceiling and a musty odour.

Meena opened all the windows, to let some fresh air come in, and checked every nook and corner. She checked the water in the bathroom, and it was flowing smoothly. She then checked the kitchen, there were a gas stove, a fridge and a few utensils. In the living room, there was a table, cupboard and a sofa, which she could also convert into a bed.

After she was done with her inspection, she thanked Rama for getting her luggage and gave him Rs.100 as a tip. He left the place feeling very happy. Meena locked the main door.

The rest of the day she spent unpacking and arranging things in her apartment. It was night, and she thought of making Maggi, which she had got from home. After she was done with the dinner, she unpacked the last bag. It contained an Ouija board and other stuff required for evocation, which was her favourite hobby. She had learnt it from her grandmother when she was very young. Her grandmother was a well-known exorcist in her village.

She removed each item carefully and placed it on the ground. As she had no other work to do, she thought of doing Evocation. She drew a circle with rangoli colours, placed eight burning candles on its circumference, and an old wooden doll in the middle. Never in her life, she was successful but she kept trying. She hoped to summon a spirit at least once in her lifetime.

She closed her eyes and began chanting the mantras. After some time, she started to drag the doll towards herself. As she was dragging it, she slowly opened her eyes and stared at the doll. The staring is called the point of contact. You have to stare at it with full concentration and invoke. If you lose concentration then you have to do it all over again.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. Knock! Knock!! knock!!! Meena gets scared and starts palpitating in fear. She slowly starts walking towards the door and peeps through the keyhole. She was relieved and unlocks the door in confidence. It was Rama.

“Madam, my shift will be done by 9:00 pm. He is Suresh (pointing towards Suresh), the security guard for the night shift. Hope I haven’t disturbed you.”

Meena just gave a smile and closed the door.

It was morning. She had a good night sleep. She quickly freshened up and was ready to leave for college. It was her first day of the last semester. As she opened the main door, there was a lady sweeping outside her flat. She looked at Meena and introduced herself as Mrs Amruta Shinde, she was her neighbour. Meena introduced herself as well.

As she was coming down the stairs, there were some old people having a chitchat. An old man pointed at Meena, and everyone started staring at her. She tried to smile at them but they were still staring at her with no expression on their faces.

She had to walk to the taxi stand, although she manages to get a taxi quickly. After a two hour journey, she had finally reached college. Preeti and Sharva were already present in the class, busy chatting with each other. Meena goes and hugs them, and starts telling about her vacation in Rajasthan and describes her new apartment in Mumbai. The professor entered the class and the first lecture began, with everyone paying full attention. Soon all the lectures were done, and it was time to go back home.

Before going home, She does some grocery shopping. It was late when she got back, also tired, she tells Rama to carry the bags. As she reached the second floor, she meets Harshad Joshi and his whole family standing near their door, opposite to hers, as if waiting for Meena to return. They smile at her and introduce themselves.

“Hi! My name is Harman and she is my wife, Hazel and this is our daughter, Harpreet (pointing out). We live in the opposite flat. We know that you are new to this building. If you need any help, let us know.” And these words were music to Meena’s ears. Who doesn’t want friendly neighbours?

She unlocked the door, and rewarded Rama as usual and told him to find a maid for her. After she was done with her dinner, she thought of going for a walk. As she got down from the building, she saw the gates were closed. As she pushed the gate to open, it was locked. There was a rusty chain with a lock. She looked out for Rama but he wasn’t to be seen. She went back to her flat. She peeped for the last time from the window, no sign of Rama.

Next day, it was Preeti’s birthday but she seemed very pale. Meena knew the reason but still asks her.

Preeti’s mother had passed away on her eighth birthday. She missed her badly and had once requested Meena to do Evocation and call her mother, but she had refused. She had never been successful and that was the only reason.

“Why are you low?”

“You know the reason.”

“C’mon Preeti, I told you many times that I have never been successful”

“But you could at least try. And you had only said that the ghosts never appear in front of you without a reason. It is my birthday today, the same day my mother dies.”

Since it was her birthday and she was requesting so much, Meena gives in. Preeti was very excited.

“Oh! Thank you, Meena. So, when are we doing it?”

“In the evening, at my place. Let’s also call Sharva.”

It was evening, and they were in Meena’s apartment, waiting to connect with Preeti’s mother.

“Should we start?”

“Yes”

Meena sets up the Ouija board at the centre. Then all three of them sit on the floor praying, repeating the prayer after Meena. Then Meena removes the doll and places it in the centre. She then lights the candles and switches off the lights. As she was dragging the doll she was concentrating on one point and trying to call Preeti’s mom. Preeti and Sharva were holding each other’s hand. And then she finishes her mantras and touches the doll to the circle.

Within a second, all the candles’ flame goes out, and soon the whole building’s lights go out. There was a slow breeze and the moonlight just enters from the window. There was complete silence. And suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. All get scared.

Meena gets up and goes near the door. She looks through the keyhole, there was no one outside. She signals Sharva and Preeti that there is no one. And then there was another knock. Meena gets frightened. She unlocks the door and opens it slowly. There was complete darkness.

Meena asks “hello, who is it?”

Suddenly Sharva screams. Meena turns back and sees Rama was inside their room. All three were shocked looking at him. Half of his face was burned and they could see his skull.

Preeti, crying, points out at the door. Meena turns back, and all the old men, who were staring at Meena the other day, were standing at the door. There were blood stains on their clothes. All were horror-struck. Meena tries to stay calm but she loses her calmness when she sees Ms Shinde and Joshi family covered in blood.

Meena, Preeti and Sharva try to run from the flat. They go downstairs but the gate was locked. They try to open the gate but Rama knocks them down by hitting a wooden stick on their head. They fall on the floor, unconscious.

Meena wakes up next day, there was no one. She searches for Preeti and Sharva. She sees that the gates were still locked. At a distant, she sees a man. He was walking very fast and was coming near her. As he gets near, she recognises him, it was Rama. He looked good, no burns and blood.

But still she gets petrified and she runs for her life. As she enters the building, she sees the Joshi family. She looks at them but even they looked fine. There was no blood. They smile at her but she runs towards the stairs.

As she reached the second floor, she sees Sharva and Preeti entering her apartment. She shouts, but they don’t respond as if they didn’t hear her. She enters her apartment and gets shocked.

She sees her own body, lying dead on the floor beside that of Preeti and Sharva. She turns back and sees Rama standing near the door.

She then remembers, when she had come for the first time, there was no one in the building. But when she did Evocation for the first time, from the next day, she started seeing all the people in the building.

Rama cuts her thoughts in between.

“Madam, You were successful in your first attempt of Evocation here. I had come to the door, remember?”