The dead young woman had a trace of a lingering smile on what remained of her battered face.
“What could have made her smile?” Inspector Arvind muttered to himself rather than to his colleagues, constables Winston and Kutty. They were on the rock on which the lady’s body had been found at seven that morning.
Arvind looked around from that rock jutting out onto the river. The scene appeared rather poetic though such a thought seemed incongruous at that moment. To him, the river seemed furiously careless; swollen with the recent rains; troubled by eddies, rapids and uneven depths; after being raped and tortured by illegal sand-mining.
A hundred metres upstream, near the temple steps where there used to be wide shallow sandy bathing places, wild green growth had invaded along with impassive jagged rocks marking the route like traffic signals leading the new and unsuspecting to deadly depths. An empty sand-miners’ boat was tied to a tree there.
The green trees, the muddy river and the blue skies mirrored the false calm of the dead body.
Arvind felt, shamefully, that the body completed the scene very well – a once-beautiful lady lying on those rocks, her white sari in place quite correctly. Rather too correctly, he observed. Her right hand still clutched a betel leaf with temple offerings. A smudge of sandalwood paste could be seen on her forehead along with raw flesh and darkening blood.
“Looks like it wasn’t sexual abuse, right?” Arvind asked his colleagues. As usual, they treated it as a rhetorical question. With many years of experience between them, the two kept questions for suspects; and, expected statements and orders between colleagues.
Arvind waited for a while before continuing with his soliloquy,
“Someone left her with care. Of course, after bashing the left side of her face to pulp. She must have been facing her killer and even standing quite close. Same height probably, since the blows are from the side. To get bashed on the left, the killer must be right-handed, right?”
Winston, the baby-faced giant, hitched up his pants above his huge pot-belly and tried to suppress a yawn. The tall scrawny Kutty rubbed his pock-marked face and simultaneously scratched his groin languorously.
Feeling that it was time they chipped in, Kutty said,
“Rajappan the butcher found the body. He reported it along with the barber Sethu. This Sethu says that he was on his way to open his shop when he came across Rajappan in this area. Well, that’s what he says...”
“At seven, on a Tuesday when the barber shop is closed... and his shop is on the opposite side…?” Winston added his own suspicions. “And, Rajappan had gone to the river for a wash…wash indeed....when there are better spots near his house a kilometre upstream…”
There were two plots of land overlooking that area – one, an uninhabited rubber plantation which extended for a few acres; and the other, a small plot with a hut. There was a muddy path between the two plots and this appeared to be the only way from the rock to the main road. There was no point searching for footprints now after the whole world seemed to have trampled on that area that morning. Arvind pointed at the hut.
Winston offered, “That’s Maniyan’s hut, the rubber tapper. A real trouble-maker…we booked him once or twice for stealing rubber sheets. We should bring him in. And his wife…she is one great piece...” Kutty silenced him with a glare.
“Do you know the victim?” Arvind asked turning back towards the body.
His constables asked back together, “Don’t you know?”
Kutty tried to defuse his senior’s stare by adding, “She is…was…Prasad Master’s daughter, Bharathi.”
“Ah!” Arvind looked at the battered face once again. He had seen her at the temple once or twice. He had admired her slim curvaceous young body, with equal portions of guilt and pleasure, while he prayed to the Gods to save him from this rural posting. She had smiled at him. Her smile had seemed a trifle cold, he remembered. Arvind had even gone to her father’s house once, during his first week six months back, but he had not seen her there then.
Arvind’s mentor in college, on hearing that he was leaving for this village, had told him to meet Prasad Master, a retired teacher and ‘a great scholar’. Arvind found the teacher to be a straightforward decent human being, too. Though he was invited to visit at any time, Arvind never returned because he did not want to awaken the ghosts of his aspiration.
Arvind’s father died in an accident a few days after he enrolled for a Ph.D. in literature. Following that disaster, he had to find a job to take care of his family and he managed to enter the police force. On his record, his IQ and athletic strong body were noted as his pluses; and, his below-par height of five-eight and an inclination to ‘think too long alone’ were among the minuses. If he had had some ‘influence’ or money, he could have tried for a posting in some place other than this village police station previously manned by the two veteran constables.
Before his arrival in the village, Winston and Kutty spread a rumour there that ‘Arvind’s specialty’ was ‘terrorist networks’ and that ‘he made even the crazy talk sense’. This helped in a way and the crimes had so far remained petty in the last six months and ‘catch-able if necessary’. On one lazy afternoon, the two constables found Arvind reading a book of poetry in office. From the displeasure or disgust on their faces, Arvind realized that he should consign such books to those beneath his mattress at home. He also decided that visiting Prasad Master would be inappropriate for his image in that village.
“She must have been taking this short-cut from the temple to her house.” Winston interrupted his reverie.
“If she had gone to the temple…it must have happened between 05:30 and 07:00…Who would kill at that hour? Rather careless, that…” Kutty added.
“Uncontrollable rage while killing and then care to cover her body well after the deed…Find out if she had a lover. Ask the tea-shop owner if he heard anything.” Arvind said knowing that the tea-shop is the nerve-centre of the village.
“Also, grab some of those sand-miners.” In his early days there, he had wanted to arrest the whole lot but the common sentiment in the village was ‘it helped a lot of the poor come ashore’, the ‘it’ being illegal sand-mining.
“Those temple ruffians, too…?” Kutty suggested referring to a group of unemployed disillusioned youth who treated the stage in front of the temple as their ‘hang-out’ for card-games, siesta and liquor.
Arvind nodded and added, “Maybe, even the priests…” A young woman walking alone on a deserted path from the temple....
“A thick stick or a rock must have been used to bash her face in. It must be in the river.” Winston said, scowling at the river.
“There is no point in trying to recover, is there? You two, arrange for the rest of the formalities. I will go and inform her parents, what a bloody task!” Arvind left the scene feeling that the poetry had left long back. He took stock of the area while walking past the rubber plantation to Prasad Master’s house, about five hundred metres from the scene of the crime.
Arvind’s ‘task’ at the teacher’s house was painful as expected. The mother collapsed in front of him and her youngest daughter tried to support without breaking down herself. The father lay unmoving in an arm-chair, with eyes closed and tears flowing down his sunken cheeks.
The victim’s younger brother angrily told Arvind ‘to kill the killer’. The elder sister stood quietly while listening to her husband describe to Arvind, rather profusely, about the victim’s activities that morning. When Arvind left that house, he wondered why the brother-in-law knew so much about the victim.
On his way to the police station, Arvind studied the list in his hand – he had ten people and another assorted lot in three groups, too. One of them was most likely to be the killer. Or, was it someone not on the scene at the moment?
2. Questions & Answers
On what remained of that Tuesday, Arvind and the two constables Winston and Kutty interviewed nearly all the people other than the family, allowing the family to grieve in relative peace.
They tried to interview without prejudice or any presumptions. Winston offered Rajappan the butcher stating that the person who discovered the crime usually turned out to be the perpetrator. The other two suspected that a personal grudge was blinding Winston but they did not voice their doubts. Kutty tried to sell Sethu’s name on the same grounds. Winston knew why Kutty raised the barber’s name but he kept quiet. Arvind would have preferred to put cuffs on the brother-in-law because it had to be someone close to the victim; or the sand-miners, because he hated them.
Arvind told the constables to deal with the tea-shop owner. Though he was on pleasant terms with the village-folk, he was still an outsider. He knew that even the constables filtered that which he should hear and that which he need not hear. He had realized that there was something about Rajappan and Sethu that his juniors were not telling him.
Arvind started with Maniyan, the rubber tapper, whose house was near the scene. In the police station, a sullen belligerent Maniyan informed him that he had left his house around five. He had cycled to a plantation five kilometers from his house and after completing on various plots in that area, he had tea at a nearby shop at six forty five. Then, he had started on the second phase of collecting and delivering the rubber milk. Arvind checked out this alibi and did not find anything amiss. Maniyan also told him that he did not work on the plantation next to his own plot. He had fought with the owner, he replied looking quite smug.
“Every day, God-willingly if it does not rain, I work and return to my house only at ten. Everyone knows that...” Maniyan informed implying that Arvind must be a damn fool to waste his time talking to him. He also told Arvind that he had never met the victim apart from seeing her around in the village.
Next, Arvind interviewed Maniyan’s wife at the hut. He waited near the river till he saw Maniyan leave the hut around mid-afternoon, probably for his customary tipple. Arvind introduced himself and she brought out a steel chair for him to sit. He had to struggle hard not to stare at her voluptuous body. She could be said to be pretty if not beautiful, with a small upturned nose and a delicate mouth with full pouting lips, her kohl-lined fair eyes seemed to entice. She was definitely a woman who knew her charms. She stood five steps from him, watching him like a cat.
“Where were you between five and seven yesterday morning?” Arvind blurted.
“Here.”
“Was your husband here?” he checked.
“No, he had gone for work.”
“Do you know the woman who was killed?”
“No, sir...I have seen her around, of course.” Arvind detected a hesitation and made a mental note.
“Did you see her yesterday?”
“No. I did not go near the river.”
“Did you see anyone going to the river?”
“Rajappan went there, around seven. He wanted to take bath, I think.”
“Did you see him before he went to the river?”
“Yes…”
“Where…?” He asked expectantly.
“Here.”
“Here?” Arvind stuttered.
She told him with an amused tone that Rajappan had been there with her from six till seven. Then, she offered to get Arvind a glass of tea or buttermilk. Arvind declined the offer.
“Has she come to this house?” Arvind asked.
Now, it was her turn to feel flustered. She replied, “She came here once…preached to me about morals. I gave her an earful. Who does she think she is?”
Arvind left the hut. He decided that he should talk to his juniors before he interviewed anyone else.
It was around tea-time when he got back to the police station. Winston was out trying to get some of the sand-miners.
Arvind sat on Kutty’s table and asked him, “What’s going on between Winston, Rajappan and Maniyan’s wife?”
Kutty remained quiet but seeing his boss’ tightly drawn face, he did not try to evade the question, “Nothing, sir. Rajappan succeeded where Winston failed, that’s all.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know…heard about it long back.”
“Is this common knowledge in the village?”
“I guess so.”
“And, does he know, I mean, Maniyan?”
“Of course… I suppose he gets what he wants. I think even Rajappan’s wife knows. They always get to know such things.”
Arvind was at a loss for words. He remembered what Maniyan’s wife had said about the victim, “…preached to me about morals…” Maybe, there was a gulf, created by small-town morals, between him and the villagers…
Arvind left the station and walked over to the butcher’s shop. Rajappan was cleaning the knives and the shop, and getting ready to close the shop for the day. Standing a little away from the dirty water and the stink of offal, Arvind went through his story. He did not learn anything new. Rajappan told Arvind that he did not know the dead lady personally. He refused to admit that he had been to Maniyan’s hut even after Arvind told him that Maniyan’s wife had admitted the same. Arvind asked Rajappan whether he had touched the dead body or arranged the lady’s clothes after he found the body.
Rajappan replied, “Why should I? I know a dead body when I see one. I touch only dead animals. And I don’t touch the clothes of dead women.”
Arvind went back to the station where he found Winston taking care of some paperwork. Kutty was not in the station.
Arvind stood near the constable, “Winston, why did Kutty pick out Sethu’s name?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“You don’t know, do you?” Arvind’s mood was getting darker by the minute. “Do you know how it is like to get posted far from your village for the rest of your miserable career?”
“I am not sure, sir…I mean, people say that Sethu is a homo. Kutty does not like that kind of people…”
“Was Sethu meeting someone there, near the rubber plantation?”
“There is an old shed in that rubber plantation. I have heard that lovers meet there…”
“Who is Sethu’s lover?”
“I don’t know, sir…”
“Which are the houses in that area?”
“There is Maniyan’s house, of course…then, Prasad Master’s house after the plantation. There are only two more houses after that before the paddy fields. One is empty, they are abroad; in the other, there is an old lady and her servant girl.”
Arvind left the station once again and walked this time in the opposite direction to the barber’s shop. When he opened the swing-door,
“The shop is closed.” Sethu said with his back to the door, sweeping the hair on the floor.
“I will take only a few minutes.”
Sethu looked up and saw Arvind in one of the mirrors. He turned around immediately, offered a chair and said, “Sorry sir, haircut or shave?”
“No, I am here about the murder.”
“Oh, that…”
Sethu told Arvind that he had gone for a morning walk and that he met Rajappan near the rubber plantation. Rajappan had looked shaken and so, Sethu had enquired if there was anything wrong with him. When Rajappan told him about the dead body, he had advised him to report it at the station. He had gone along.
“Didn’t you want to see the dead lady or go near the river?” Arvind asked.
“For what…?”
Arvind left the barber’s shop without asking Sethu about his lover or about any meeting.
Before dusk, Arvind and the two constables gathered some of the sand-miners. They had not done any sand-mining that day, they said, because of the murder, they added like a complaint.
Arvind tried to act tough and roughed up the leader, releasing old pent up anger but all he got back was the retort,
“Sir, are you trying to scare us? If you are really that bothered about what we do, why don’t you catch the big fish?” The leader laughed. “That murdered lady…she also tried the same stunt with us, threatening to finish us. As if she can…”
“But, you did finish her?”
“Sir, have you been watching too many movies? When we do not worry about you, will we worry about such small fry?” There was nothing more to get out of them.
Around six, Arvind walked to the temple alone. As usual, there were a few young men playing rummy, not even bothering to get up or hide the cash when Arvind walked up to the stage. He had seen most of them before. He knew that at least two were post-graduates like him.
The youth were just a shade better than the sand-miners when it came to insolence. Yes, they had seen the lady often at the temple. No, she was not the type they liked, they said and further added, though you seem to have liked her, sir.
Arvind asked them if they had had any confrontation with her. That bitch was itching for a bite, they replied nonchalantly, she had tried to provoke them…said she would report their stealing…or their gambling…or some other stuff.
Arvind could imagine what the other stuff could be. He also knew that youth like these lived to get into trouble, to get at least that attention from their society.
The dead lady seemed to have gone against nearly all that came on her path. Did she go fatally wrong with one of them, Arvind wondered.
Before closing for the day, he met his constables once again.
“Tomorrow, we will tackle the family. What did you get out of the tea-owner?”
Winston replied, “It’s really strange.”
Kutty added, “He told us that nobody talks about her. She must be the only one in the village about whom nobody talks.”
3. The Meaning of Her Smile
On the day after the murder, Arvind woke up at five thinking about his two initial doubts: the smile and the loving hand.
He got ready and left his rented house at around half past five. He walked to the temple. His last visit to the temple must have been a month or two earlier and the two priests looked new to the place. There were two or three ladies praying. He watched the main priest complete the main puja at that hour and while collecting the offering, he requested the main priest for five minutes of his time.
He learned that the main priest and his assistant had joined six weeks back; and, that they were just getting to know the village-folk. They had seen the murdered lady Bharathi in the temple but neither of them knew her any better. Arvind tried to probe further but the priest excused himself stating his temple duties.
Arvind approached the temple accountant-cum-officer who was giving puja chits to a lady in the temple’s office-room. The officer had a perpetual disgruntled look as if he was doing a favour to God by sitting there. Arvind gathered that the officer did not think it necessary to talk to the villagers except to collect donations.
In the temple compound, a lady was sweeping the ground. She was more accommodating. The lady stood at a ‘safe distance’ from Arvind and talked in whispers and, at all times, kept a lookout for the main priest or the officer. From the lady, Arvind learned that Bharathi, the murdered lady, used to visit regularly and that her visits were more frequent before the former priests left the place. She and the former priests used to talk a lot together, she confided. The lady regretfully conceded that she did not know why the priests decided to leave. Arvind thanked the lady and left the temple premises via the temple steps leading to the river.
Arvind followed the path that Bharathi had taken. He knew that police sniffer dogs had been used on that path but without any success. He reached the rock where the lady was found. He looked at the area more carefully. He realized that if the killer had taken the muddy path past Maniyan’s hut, the killer would have been seen by someone.
As he looked around, he realized that a person familiar with the place had another route too. Though treacherous and dangerous, a person familiar with the place could go downstream by hopping onto the rocks that dotted the river at irregular intervals.
Arvind nervously took that path. He knew that he would meet a watery and bloody death if he made a slight mistake in any jump. It seemed to take ages for him but he knew that it would be less arduous for a local. At each rock, he inspected the area for any clue or evidence. He got lucky on the eleventh rock.
He found a handkerchief snagged in a wedge on that rock. There were a few red smudges on that as if blood had been wiped. He slipped it into a plastic cover. When he was about fifty metres from the murder site, he realized that the next step was onto a plot and that it was that of Prasad Master.
“Was it someone from this house or someone from outside?” Arvind asked himself.
It was then close to half past seven. He went to Prasad Master’s house. It appeared empty. The policeman had expected the usual lot of morning relatives and friends or at least the arrangements for the last rites.
He knocked at the door. After some time, the two daughters came to the door together. The elder one told him that their parents had gone to a hospital and that father had not been well. They did not invite him inside. Arvind tried to ask a few questions but did not get anything substantial from them. Arvind felt, rather angrily, that Bharathi must have done all the talking in that house.
The son-in-law then appeared and invited Arvind to step inside. Arvind curtly told the son-in-law to come to the station, at half past eight, along with Bharathi’s brother.
Arvind walked to the station, thinking about all that he had heard so far. Kutty and Winston were there at the station and he told them that he wanted to tackle the son alone. Meanwhile, he wanted the son-in-law to sweat it out waiting at the station.
The son and the son-in-law reported at the station ten minutes before the scheduled time. The son appeared nervous rather than angry that morning. He tried to look at Arvind eye-to-eye. Involuntarily, he kept biting and chewing his lower lip.
“Sethu mentioned your meeting – at what time did you two meet?” Arvind decided to bluff with the opening hand.
“What?” the son pretended as if he had not heard properly. Arvind remained silent, tapping his fingers on the table as if to indicate that he was losing patience. He stopped smiling and started scowling. He remembered that the ragging in his college hostel had been quite similar.
“At six thirty,” the son whispered.
“And, your sister Bharathi knew about it…and she did not like your relationship…” Arvind was hoping that his second bluff would hold, too.
“Sethu should not have told you that,” the young man was on the verge of crying, “after all, she is dead. It is not nice to talk ill of the dead.”
“Did she threaten to expose you two?”
“Yes, but we promised not to meet ever again. That was supposed to be our last meeting.”
“But, the two of you killed her, instead.”
“No! That is not true. You are like the rest of them, aren’t you? For you, our kind should be the killers, the evil ones?” the young man was ready to sob.
Arvind did not bother to correct the young man. He proceeded to get the details about the meeting in the plantation. Then, he kept the son waiting in his office, went to the outer office. He gave Winston the details and told him to corroborate with Sethu’s version. Make Sethu give his version, Arvind told Winston and the latter nodded.
Arvind then returned to his office and questioned the young man about his sisters. He enquired if Bharathi had had any lover. The young man replied that she did not even have close friends. Arvind asked him if the other two sisters were also similar to Bharathi. They are totally different, not so bold or outgoing, the young man said.
Arvind tried to ask about his brother-in-law but he felt that the guard was up. And, though he tried to break the defenses, the young man did not utter anything worth noting about his brother-in-law and sisters. Winston returned and indicated to Arvind with a nod that Sethu’s version matched well. Arvind let the young man leave. He made the son-in-law wait for another hour before calling him in.
“Why didn’t you go with your father-in-law to the hospital?” Arvind asked the son-in-law.
“Father told me to stay with the girls.”
“Of the three, Bharathi seems to have been your favourite.” Arvind was fishing with meager bait, he knew.
“What are you talking about?”
“I have heard that you were more close to her than your own wife.” Arvind lied.
“That’s nonsense. You are new to this place. You should believe only half of what you hear.” The son-in-law sounded agitated.
“So, there is a half-truth in what I said. Tell me, did she accuse you of abusing her or the younger one?”
“Who told you that? It is not true. Ask my wife or the younger one. They will tell you that I treat my wife’s sisters like my own sisters.”
“But, she did accuse you?”
The son-in-law looked at Arvind desperately, hesitating, probably thinking about the right answer to get out of the mess. Finally, he said, “Yes.”
Arvind spent the rest of the morning questioning, trying to get more but the son-in-law’s story was similar to the others.
Bharathi the accuser; and in this case, Arvind was not sure whether the accusation was a lie or true. He also knew that it was impossible to know the truth. People do not reveal such truth and worse, such accusation sticks and stinks; like shit on one’s sole.
The son-in-law had a perfect alibi – he was in the house with the others, he tried to argue. But, without outsiders to confirm, the alibi did not amount to much. Around one, Arvind let the son-in-law leave after asking the final question,
“Was she a pleasant character?”
“She could smile…I will never forget her smile.” The son-in-law said with a smirk.
Arvind did not leave for lunch. When Winston and Kutty poked their head in to check on their boss, they found him staring blankly at a wall. They decided to let him be and attended to other work.
At half past four, Arvind told them that he was going to Prasad Master’s house. He left after telling them that he understood the smile and the loving hand. That was the motive and the clue, he said. Kutty and Winston did not tell their boss what was on their mind; that it was a waste of time to dwell on such crap.
When he got to the house, it still looked deserted. Arvind knocked on the door. It took a while before the youngest daughter came to the door. She told him that her father was lying inside. He went with her to an inner room which served as the dining area. A bed shared the space with the dining table and chairs.
Prasad Master was lying on that bed, staring outside. On seeing the policeman, he tried to get up. His wife came into the room from the kitchen and helped him. The two daughters stood near the door to the kitchen. The son and son-in-law were not there.
“Yesterday, he fainted and his fever got worse,” the wife explained. She gave a sob and went back to the kitchen. The daughters followed her.
“Poor woman…she still can’t call it by the right name…cancer.” He told Arvind that he had been diagnosed with cancer a few weeks back. Then, he asked Arvind if they could get Bharathi’s body soon. Arvind told him that it might take a day or two.
Though he had met the scholar only once before Arvind felt a deep affection for the other. He did not know how to start.
From his pocket, he brought out the only evidence, the plastic cover containing the handkerchief, and placed it next to Prasad Master’s hand. The teacher looked at for a while before saying,
“Ah! You have found that. Where did you find it?” Arvind described the location. Instead of asking questions, he remained silent. Like a student waiting for a class to start.
“When I got to know that I had cancer, I knew I had very little time to correct the problem. One who creates an evil has the responsibility to destroy that, too.”
The teacher paused to drink water.
“Wherever she went, whoever she met, she tried to destroy them with her set of morals and her righteous indignation. I do not know if she realized the kind of havoc she was causing all around her. In her family, in the village, in the temple, everywhere…”
He continued with a choked voice,
“When she was born and she smiled for the first time, I was the happiest man alive…I never realized that I would feel like the most cursed man…to see her remove the smile from others…as if, only she had the right…to smile.”
Arvind knew that he could lose the only evidence very easily. But, he also knew that he would not and that the scholar before him would not allow him to do so.
“Do you know what she did when I confronted her on that rock? She smiled. Do you know the meaning of that smile?”
Prasad Master looked at Arvind, laughed mirthlessly and quoted words which Arvind recognized from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein,
“You are my creator, but I am your master—obey!”
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