Decocted

by Saikat Dey

been the family’s guest who has come to give them a visit all the way from Lahore. He claimed to be one of the oldest friends of Shalini, the wife of Ali, the second son of the Professor.

  “Thank You, Dr. Alam” He entangled the fingers of both of his hands as he restarted. “The room is locked from outside. I commanded the servant to do so.” Looking at the watch, a gleeful smile lightened up on his face. “Within the next two minutes, the lights would go off.

  “Whoever has the paper- I know he or she won’t take the risk of keeping it out of their own reach- please drop it to the floor, I request you. Or else…” the smile disappeared. “I've called up a detective. If he finds out the culprit, I will sue him. Or really the government would.”

  Poor little children, who were deliberately struck with suspicion along with their guardians, among whom one certainly had the paper into their personal safe.

  “Excuse me father,” of all, Samit spoke up. “How can you? Whatever makes you so suspicious about us, your own sons and daughters?” A queering fire flicked within his innermost gut.

  The innocent words were followed by a sudden appropriate darkness before even the professor could reply. Several harsh footsteps provided a flounder of vibration in the library’s wooden floor as the children ran across from the settee to their parents. Meanwhile, the members, who were called up to the library, ruffled a sign of annoyance for the intentional power cut.

  “I severely order you to drop my belonging before the lights turn up or I have to-” the professor’s were interrupted by several moving noises. The stool, that had the photo of him with JP bumped somebody’s leg, as a result the screech urged the professor to warn them to be silent. “Keep silence or I will sue you all, I say! Be where you are and don’t dare to move!”

  The harsh words were followed by an uncustomary silence and the intriguing conclusion to it was something that caught the professor’s ears. It was an unmistakable noise of a paper being crumbled and then of a cacophony of that crumbled paper being thrown into the floor of wooden ply.

  “What was that!” he exclaimed, being aware of what he heard. But to his astonishment, no one replied as the queering silence persisted.

  “Wasn’t it the sound of a paper?”

  Dr. Alam retorted immediately, with a conscious voice. Yes, it was. But the identity was still under curtains. For it to be pulled down, the professor eagerly waited for the detective to appear.

  Uncommonly, the power came back illuminating the beautiful room with light from every site of indifference. It was the professor, who seamlessly looked everywhere for the fallen paper. Being high about the paper, he searched every corner of the giant room but to his astonishment, found none.

  Where did the paper go? Yes, he definitely heard the paper being thrown into the wooden floor but was out of sight in hunting it down.

  “All of you heard it falling down, where did that go!?” with half a heart, containing unmixed hopes, he still continued scouting but was forced to stop as the bolt to the main door was being opened.

  A tall, dark and confident faced man made his entrance, with his brown hat on one hand while the other hand was busy supporting the rucksack behind. “With all due respect,” he said, trying to find the professor’s face out from the anonymous figures. “I am Rupam.” The left hand abandoned supporting the rucksack by its strap as it felt down intentionally from a six feet height of his.

  “I heard it Rupam!” sneaking his face over the settee, he popped. “I heard the paper being thrown down into the plied floor. But is now invisible. Where can it certainly go?” Forgetting the courtesy of wishing the traveller, he threw his exclamation over him. Perhaps for a moment he was too happy for what he heard. Perhaps he was just too relieved with the thought of the paper.

  Thereafter, Rupam didn’t need an explanation to what had happened rather he made it out from the single sentence of the professor. He silently helped his hat landing into the table adjacent to the settee and folded the aviator into his chest half opened button.

  “This simply means that the bandit- whoever it is- regretted for what he did”, he claimed crossing his fingers around each other.

  “Can you kindly elaborate to what you mean, Mr…-” Kabir asserted, taking a seat in the settee.

  “Mr. Ganguly.” He perched a confident rather wry short smile. He then moved towards the third shelf and randomly picked up a voluminous novel. “Oops, I made a mistake” absurdly he said loud enough to make everyone hear. He then put back the novel to where it was and restored the wry smile as he faced back to the audience.

  “What are you up to, Mr. Galguly?” the professor asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

  “Did you follow to what I did, prof?”

  “What? Yes- you picked it up and again restored it.” He replied gesturing towards the third shelf.

  “Exactly! That’s what the bandit did, my dear prof.” he looked at the faces present in the room. Well, to his statement, everyone had a unique bemusement stuck to their faces.

  “The bandit threw the paper in the floor and as you popped up listening to the sound, he or she realised the mistake, and because of the fear of getting caught, took it back.”

  “Then, I say check their pockets. You must get it there.” He said with an unknown hint of excitement within him.

  “I am afraid to say, but no, sir, that can’t be done. I guess the bandit is not such a fool that he will keep it with him after this.” Then, his gaze fell into the subtle open window. “Well, he is a fool; or she… whoever it is. You see the window?” his index point waved towards the window.

  “He was in a hurry and forgot to put it off. Order the butler to find it in the garden and I darn it is there for sure.

  “Well, I must say, Mr. Ganguly, you are too intelligent as a detective and your eyes and brain must be credited for that.” Dr. Alam spoke up with a unified dry smile on his face as he chiselled his fingers upon each other. To his statement, the detective passed a short smile.

  “I request everyone to leave the room except the professor. If needed, I can call on you anytime. Good bye.” His meant a strong declaration as uniformly everyone left the room with no hesitation in response. It was Kabir, who deliberately murmured under his breath about the annoyance of the liable son or member, who was up to such a steal from the very own father of theirs. Both the professor and the detective listened to what he said but didn’t reply back.

  The next moment, it was the detective and the professor, who were sitting adjacent to each other- one at the settee and the other at the stool, whose broken photo was still untouched from the ground.

  “So what do you think about it, Rupam?” Rehman, with a whistling voice, asked with a satisfaction on his mind for the paper to be under his cover.

  “Well, can’t say ‘nything until the interview.” He made a dry expression out of which the professor made out the tension surpassing through him.

  “Oh, Rupam it has been so late tonight!” he turned up, looking at the RADO masterpiece that hung on his left wrist.

  “I must call the butler to address you to your room.” Followed by an instant call for the servant, Abdul was present at their service as he instructed him to address the lodger to the second floor guest room. The detective, in return, thanked his rich yet loyal hospitality as he picked up his rucksack from the ply floor and silently followed the butler to where he was taking him.

  Down into the room, the professor held the paper- rather the crumbled one- in his fist and made his way to the bedroom where he can keep the formula safely along with him.

  ʅ ʅ

  “Sir!” the harsh, frightened voice blinked in his ears. “Sir, I say get up!” the words were again repeated as Rupam struggled to open the tough shutters of his bulgy sleepy eyes. Everything seemed to remain blurred for a moment as he gained back his existence out from the sleep. It was the butler who’d been taunting him instantly in the sunny seventh hour of the morning.

  “What had happe
ned Abdu-”

  “Professor saab has unconsciously rattled down from the chair of his study. He is- is no more a-a-alive”, he interrupted with his wry moist voice that were soon to be broken into tears.

  “What-what are you saying!” he fumbled out from the sheet coverings, sneaked in the flippers and hurriedly pursued down the stairs to the first floor library, from where the room to the study had a path.

  In the library, the tall detective found the entire family under a cacophony, covering a laid body of the professor, with white decayed particles blurps that stuck on the edge of his wide lips. Further moving closer, he saw the youngest child entangled with the corpse of his father, who was lamenting along with those standing in the group. For instance, he moved to the small study and investigated with his hawk eyes. The robotic eyes came to a halt as it scanned a coffee mug at the table. He then scurried to the table, brought out the polythene gloves from the jacket pocket and held the cup in his hand. Examining closely for a minute, he then brought out a small pouch and a plastic spoon from the same jacket zip. Diligently, he poured a very small amount of the decocted coffee into the pouch and restored back everything to its position. He perfectly knew that Rehman’s coffee had something mixed in it that certainly caused him his life. It was clear that the professor was aware of the bandit, before falling out, and that before the