by Monabi Mitra
‘There was some kind of negotiation going on between Robi and Bimal Bose. Robi was buying a flat for them somewhere, in exchange for sole control over the ancestral house. The daughter, Tara, was resisting the settlement and said that they would be cheated if they went ahead. The old lady claims not to know anything more than that.’
‘What did she have to say about the death?’
‘She too feels it was some kind of accident, if he died of drug overdose. Says that Robi was getting better and wouldn’t have killed himself. The boys in our family are strong-minded and have a will to live, she said, they wouldn’t do stupid things like suicide.’
‘Did she say anything about the servants?’
‘Not much, she doesn’t seem to know how many there are, or what they do. I don’t think she went to Robi Bose’s house too often. She said it was her daughter who went there sometimes and kept him company. I felt very sorry for her, you know. She kept saying how pretty her daughter was and how it was a shame that she hadn’t been married off, and now that she was involved in a police case, the girl would probably stay unmarried all her life. Kept pleading with us to keep her name out of the papers. I couldn’t see any picture of the girl, but the room looked nice enough, didn’t it?’
Sheena Sen had resumed her perky manner which Bikram invariably found annoying. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to get off at my house,’ said Bikram stonily. ‘Mistry will drop you off wherever you want to go.’
9
Eleven a.m., and Tollygunge police station was at its worst. A typist bashed away at a battered machine in a corner and a burly man shouted out duty rosters to groups of sleepy young constables who had just joined the force and were being relentlessly pushed from one picket to another. Other constables came and went, carrying their lunches and drinking water in dirty plastic bottles. The tea boy had begun his rounds and the day’s criminals, who would be sent to the court for proceedings, were being led out from stinking lockups. Both criminals and police guards paused to leer at Tara who, in her carefully chosen clothes, looked utterly out of place. Her father was beside her, fussing, as ever, fear coming through, once again, as bravado. Tara looked around for Bikram and her heart began to beat. It had been this way ever since the party at Nikki Kumar’s when she had first seen him. Thoughts of Bikram had taken hold of her and ruled her mind.
This particular morning, mixed feelings filled Tara. She eagerly looked forward to seeing Bikram but the thought of the interrogation filled her with unease. Since Nikki Kumar’s party, Tara had been engulfed by a range of emotions. She was filled with an intense jealousy of Nisha and Robi. Then the cousins had had another meeting which, too, ended in disaster, and then, Robi had died, filling Tara with both a sense of vindication and guilt. Here she was today, at a police station, presumably to be interrogated, and all because of some stupid things she had said to Robi at one of their last meetings. And while Tara was fearful of what might happen at the police station, she was also wary of her other, unexamined, feelings. Perhaps these feelings caused her to dress carefully and look at herself in the mirror many times before they left.
‘Mr Bikram Chatterjee asked us to come here,’ Tara’s father began. ‘Please tell him we are here, my daughter doesn’t want to be late for work.’
The duty officer ignored her father and looked Tara up and down before he replied. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Bimal Bose. Mr Chatterjee came to my house yesterday but couldn’t meet my daughter, that’s why we are here today.’
‘At what time did he ask you to come?’
‘At around twelve o’clock.’
‘And what time is it now?’
‘Well, we are a bit early, but well, we didn’t want to be late …’ Tara’s father trailed off uncomfortably.
‘Sit on that bench, and don’t disturb me.’
Then the duty officer vanished into the room in which the additional officer-in-charge conducted his business. The additional officer was having a difficult conversation with a colleague over the phone. ‘That’s your area, not mine. Oh hell, I can’t be saddled with all the bloody cases … one moment … what is it?’ he asked the duty officer irritably.
‘A young girl and her father want to talk to Chatterjee sir.’
‘Who asked them to want such things?’
‘DSP Bikram Chatterjee, Sir, at least that’s what they say.’
‘So send them to him! Why bother me?’
‘He asked them to come here.’
‘That is all I need!’ The additional officer-in-charge mumbled something else into the phone and hung up before erupting in disbelief. ‘He was here last evening and now you say he’s going to be here again today.’
He frowned darkly at the duty officer. ‘Any fresh General Diaries this morning?’
‘Nothing much till now.’
‘That’s better. Send everyone away quietly; don’t record anything as long as he’s here in the thana, understand?’ The DSP was known to be difficult about F.I.R.s. A complaint taken down in his presence could not be left to moulder away but had to be followed up with frenetic zeal. The duty officer understood. Grumbling to himself, the officer dialled Bikram’s number and hoped bleakly that Bikram was at a briefing and had forgotten. For once, Bikram had. He had just got into office and was going through a mountain of correspondence when the phone rang. Oh hell, he thought, when the additional officer-in-charge wanted to know what was to be done with the two Boses. ‘Put them in the room in which I was yesterday, I’m coming.’ It took him half an hour to reach his destination. Tara and her father sat on hard wooden benches, waiting, as people went in and out. The atmosphere was saturated with an unspoken anxiety, the sort one encounters in doctors’ chambers.
Tara knew at once that Bikram had arrived. Chairs scraped and heels clicked as a tall, clean-limbed man, wearing a pair of sunglasses and speaking into a cell phone, went into an inner room while another man trotted behind him. Tara’s eyes devoured Bikram unashamedly; for she was sure he wouldn’t know her or care if he did. In uniform, he looked heartbreakingly handsome. She closed her eyes and imprinted him on her mind.
They were called in almost at once. Tara rose with a lurching sensation in her stomach and her eyes almost filled with tears. To think that this man, of all others, was calling her in for an interrogation! Feeling gauche and stupid, she stumbled into the room after her father and sat down, her head lowered all the while that Bikram was talking on the phone. He had motioned them in and was scribbling something on a memo pad. Then he put down the phone and said, ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
Pulling out a very crumpled piece of paper he looked at it, then at Tara, then said to Tara’s father, ‘I suppose this is your daughter, whom we missed seeing last evening. I would like to ask her some questions about Robi Bose.’
‘You have to hurry up,’ said Bimal Bose sullenly. ‘She’ll be late for work.’
‘Ah yes, Wisdom Press.’ He consulted his notes again. ‘What kind of work do you do there?’
‘She’s almost in charge of the whole office,’ began her father. ‘She goes through the books, does the …’
‘I do the editing,’ Tara interrupted. ‘I put the whole thing into shape.’ Her voice was low and controlled.
‘Do you like your work?’
He was looking at her directly now and Tara found herself gripping her fingers. With something of an effort she said, ‘Yes.’
‘Which college are you from? What subjects did you study?’
Tara replied in a calm voice.
‘So the things you studied in college help you in your work?’
‘I suppose so.’
A short uncomfortable silence ensued. Bikram wondered if he should take a chance and speak to the girl alone. Bimal Bose was bristling with anger at being dragged to a police station like a common thief. Tara sat in a state of numb despair. Somewhere, a tiny part of her had hoped that Bikram would recognize her from earlier but that hope had b
een wholly extinguished.
‘I know it must be painful for you, but could you please tell us about the last time you saw your cousin? I think you know by now that you were one of the last people to see him alive.’
‘He was fine when I saw him.’
‘At what time was that?’
‘Around 10 p.m., I think.’
‘You were in his room, I believe.’
‘Yes, he asked me to come up with him.’
‘And where were you before that?’
‘Downstairs, with the other guests.’
‘Do you often get invited to their house?’
‘Yes.’
‘For parties only, or at other times too?’
‘Why should she go only for parties?’ Bimal Bose could no longer contain himself. ‘We were close to him, his dearest relations. She went all the time.’
‘Why?’
‘To give a sick man company, of course.’
‘And what did he tell you this time?’ Bikram did not bother to acknowledge Bimal Bose’s interjections.
‘Nothing much,’ said Tara. ‘He, he just said that he was very tired and that he didn’t feel like eating much. A tray had been brought up for him. He asked me to move his medicine table close to him. Then he asked me to make him a glass of Horlicks.’
‘Is that all he said?’
She hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘Yes, that’s all he said.’
‘Had he been drinking?’
‘A little, yes.’
‘I suppose he was not allowed to, because of his illness.’
‘He shouldn’t have, but he did all the same. But very carefully, and only if he was excited. And after a drink he’d say things like, I don’t care what happens and a little alcohol can’t kill me. But that day, he also said that whatever would be, would be, because everything was destiny.’
‘Then what did he do?’
‘He went to the bathroom, Buro helped him, and then came back and lay down.’
‘Had the bed been made?’
Tara paused. ‘I don’t remember.’
She looked at him, and found herself looking straight into a pair of deep grey eyes. She held his gaze defiantly and, unconsciously, straightened her back and pulled her tummy in.
‘Think, please,’ he said. The eyes begged her to help him.
‘It’s all so hazy now, and I didn’t pay much attention to the bed. But I think,’ she wrinkled her brow in concentration, ‘I think he kind of sat down heavily on the bed and then lay down. No, the bed hadn’t been made. I think Buro pulled down the bedcover halfway and then draped it on him. The room was very cold because of the air conditioning. Buro was in a hurry to go back down.’
‘And so, while Buro took him to the bathroom, you were alone in the room for a while?’
‘A short while, yes.’
‘Did anyone else come in?’
‘No.’
‘And the food, his dinner, was it lying covered or was the tray open?’
‘It had a plastic cover.’
‘And did you make his Horlicks with water or with milk?’
‘Hot water. It was there in a flask by his bed.’
‘And it was on the same table as the medicines? How long had the water being lying there unattended? Did anyone see you mix the Horlicks?’
There was silence again.
‘Will you answer me, please?’
Tara looked at him again and, this time, the eyes that looked back at her seemed to be hooded and distant.
‘I didn’t mix anything with it, if that’s what you’re trying to say, least of all sleeping pills and painkillers.’
‘And who told you that Robi Bose had died from an overdose of medicine? I haven’t mentioned it.’
‘I did, of course.’ Tara’s father let go again. ‘Nisha told me about the report and warned me that the police would be swooping down on us because my daughter had been with Robi last. Don’t you understand, Robi must have taken an accidental overdose? Are you suggesting my daughter had anything to do with all this?’
‘You know, Mr Bose, your daughter’s well past thirty and can speak for herself,’ said Bikram in a casual tone. ‘If you keep interrupting I will have to ask you to sit outside.’
‘And leave her in your clutches?’ Spit sprayed from Bimal Bose’s mouth in anger and a vein on his forehead pulsed.
‘Baba, I’d like to talk to the … to him alone.’ Tara’s voice was shaking as badly as her hands, but she steadied herself as well as she could. There was a ringing in her ears and her voice seemed to come from a great distance away.
‘You, what?’
Without saying a word, Bikram rose and went to the door. ‘Come along please, Mr Bose. The sooner we finish, the better, I think, for all of us.’
It was the still calm of Bikram’s voice that perhaps convinced Tara’s father. Bimal Bose scraped back his chair noisily, cast a murderous look at his daughter, and shuffled to the door.
‘I don’t know what my father has told you, but I think you ought to know certain things.’ Tara lifted her chin fiercely. ‘Robi had had a bad time that evening. Nisha had called in about five people, two couples, really, who were very close to her, and another friend. Did she tell you this?’
Bikram nodded.
‘But she didn’t tell you that she was everybody’s woman and had had a string of affairs, and that two of the invitees had been her boyfriends. Did she tell you that?’
‘No, but I gathered as much from other sources,’ hazarded Bikram.
‘Robi and I had a fight some days before over some property matters. We made up, and went out to a party together, but after that I had vowed never to speak to him or see him again. That evening, however, he rang me up in office and begged me to visit him once. I refused, of course, but Robi pleaded so hard that I relented. I told him I was not going to sign any papers but he said that wasn’t why he wanted me over. He said he was lonely and feeling out of sorts.’ Tara paused. ‘In a way, I often feel like that so I, well, I understood him. I said yes. I got in around 8 p.m., and Nisha seemed very surprised to see me. For once, Robi hadn’t taken her permission for something.’ Tara smiled bitterly. ‘In fact, now that I think back, she was actually very displeased to see me. Her face clouded over, and she went up, before I could, to shout at him, I think. When Robi came down at a quarter past eight or so, I could tell they had been having a row. But strangely enough, Robi did not try to get rid of me. He was extra sweet, in fact, and kept flattering me and saying nice things and then looking back at Nisha as if to say, see, I can have my way too. In a way, my presence was there to prove a point—that he was still the lord and master of the house.’
‘And then?’
Tara shrugged her shoulders. ‘And then nothing! The guests came in and I sat around for a bit. Robi kept plying me with snacks, and since I figured that I probably wasn’t being invited to stay for dinner, and since I had told Ma that I would not eat at home, Robi and I gorged on the snacks. But he soon began to get very tired, I could sense that, and the other guests kept on looking at the clock, as if they wanted us out of the way. At about 9.45 p.m. or so, Nisha said the driver could drop me before going off duty. That was when Robi wanted to go up.’ Tara stopped. ‘Buro helped him. I went up too, because I was feeling a bit humiliated at the way Nisha had treated me that evening, like I was a drag or something, and I wanted to tell Robi not to keep calling me like this when his wife didn’t want it.’
‘And did you say that?’
Tara shook her head.
‘Why not?’
‘Buro was there, and Robi lay down, and I didn’t want to say anything before Buro. He’s Nisha’s spy. Then Robi asked me to mix the Horlicks for him and move the table close, and I did, and then, he looked so pale and droopy that I didn’t want to start another scene. I was tired, myself. So I left.’
‘Did you see Buro giving him his medicine?’
‘No, I didn’t wait that long. I just turned arou
nd and came down and let myself out of the house. The driver had the car ready and I left. That’s the whole story.’
‘I asked your father the other day, but he wouldn’t give me a direct answer. Was there any trouble over property between the two families?’
‘I don’t know why my father wouldn’t tell you, since practically the whole world knows. Robi and I hated each other over that house. It’s a beautiful piece of property and will probably fetch a lot of money. And Nisha’s after that money. Robi worked around my father and tried to make me agree to sign off our claim on that house by offering to buy us a shabby two-bedroom worker’s flat.’
‘So with no deal struck, your father is still a part owner. Would you like to make your claim felt?’
‘We might.’
‘Have you discussed it with Nisha Bose?’
‘I will, when I have the time.’
‘Does your father feel the same way as you do?’
‘He doesn’t, but I’ve made it quite plain that if he comes to an agreement with Nisha without my consent, I will move out and have nothing more to do with him. He says he doesn’t care, but I know he does. He’s scared of neighbourhood scandal. Besides, whom will he rage at and bully?’
Bikram, doodling all this while, was listening intently. His apparent reverie was interrupted by his ringing cell phone. It was an impersonal sort of a ring and Tara found herself wishing that he had personalized it somehow. She immediately felt ashamed: her infatuation was getting out of hand.
‘Hello … yes … no, I’m not in office … half an hour, I think, is there anything special … right, I’ll be there.’
Then the grey eyes were on her again. ‘Did they have any children?’
Tara shook her head. ‘She didn’t have the time, I suppose.’
‘And did you … like Robi Bose?’ The question was a murmur but Tara understood its subtext.
‘No, I did not,’ she said composedly, ‘but I didn’t spike his drinks either. Robi was being punished enough by her and all the others in her enamelled set. It must have been terrible to hear her laughing and enjoying herself while he sat upstairs with his useless body and a bedpan.’