THE BUTCHER OF BENARES

by MAHENDRA JAKHAR

  Hawa Singh looked at the board, wondering what else he could be missing. ‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘There seemed to be some connection to study of the stars in both cases. Eva is believed to have come here to study the Bhrigu-Samhita, being an astronomer herself. While for the male victim, we still don’t know anything about him, there was the matter of the horoscope chart.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Ruby looked around from the board she was writing on.

  There was a shrill sound of a cell phone ringing. It took a while for Hawa Singh to realize it was his own. He took it out and hit the answer button and hurriedly took the call. It was his father.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’ Fauja Singh shouted down the line. ‘Are you aware that another foreigner was murdered in Benares? By the way, how’s that CID girl? And why didn’t you get me jalebis today, you good-for-nothing?’

  The barrage of questions could be heard by all in the room. ‘I’m busy with the case you’re talking about,’ Hawa Singh whispered back. ‘Don’t disturb me. I’ll call you.’

  ‘But do you even know anything about why the murders were committed?’ the old man went on relentlessly. ‘Everyone is talking about it! It seems the ghosts of our freedom fighters have come back to life and are killing all white foreigners, one by one!’ bawled Fauja Singh.

  ‘I’ll meet you in the evening,’ said Hawa Singh and cut the line. Seeing that all eyes were on him, he said embarrassedly, ‘My father. You know how fathers are.’

  The SSP paced up and down, fuming. ‘Yes, it’s all happening in Benares, in my city, the holiest of all holy places for Hindus.’

  Hawa Singh looked at Ruby and she nodded and added the point to the board.

  ‘Sir, both the places are pilgrimage sites for Hindus. First, the Ganges itself at Benares, and now the Kashi Vishwanath temple,’ said Gaya Prasad Sharma.

  ‘Thank you, Sharma,’ acknowledged Hawa Singh. He looked around at the others. ‘Have we missed anything else?’

  Ruby read out the points from the board. ‘The Holy Cross, hearts removed from bodies, bodies dumped at public places, the suggestion of ritual or sacrifice, no fingerprints, a careful planner behind it all, probably a local familiar with the city, male, physically strong, Hindu, victims white foreigners, one male and one female, astrology, astronomy, the Bhrigu-Samhita, and Hindu pilgrim sites in Benares.’

  The SSP couldn’t understand the point of the exercise. ‘Okay, we know all this, but what’s the use of it all? We are still at the same place where we began.’

  Hawa Singh cleared his throat. ‘We now have at least the profile of the killer. He has made one thing very clear, that he’ll strike again. He is clearly very determined to carry on with whatever plan he has in mind. With whatever motive.’

  ‘And what would that be?’ asked the SSP.

  ‘We don’t know. It could be his simple hatred for whites or there could be something else that is deep-seated.’

  ‘Sir, we should issue a warning to all foreigners,’ Gaya Prasad broke in.

  ‘Sharma, shut your bloody trap,’ the SSP rounded on him. ‘You want the entire city to be panic-stricken, living in abject fear of this killer? I would lose my job in a day’s time, if that happened.’

  Gaya Prasad looked at his feet, humiliated.

  ‘There is one very important thing we missed. On the bodies of both the victims, there were no signs of struggle. It seems the killer befriended them and then seized the right moment and opportunity to kill them,’ said Hawa Singh.

  ‘You mean there could be people who might have seen the killer with the victims?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Exactly. We have to hunt for this man quietly but aggressively,’ said Hawa Singh.

  The SSP gathered his thoughts and spoke in a calmer tone. ‘Do you think this killer could have a criminal record?’

  It was Ruby’s turn to speak. ‘Most serial-killers have no records of other crimes,’ she said. ‘However, like this one, they are cunning, careful, at the same time ruthless and devoid of emotion. They are focused when it comes to selecting and killing their victims. The FBI has a term for such killers—psychopaths.’

  The SSP banged his fist on the table. ‘So now we have a psychopath killer in the streets of Benares!’

  ‘These psychopaths create their own rituals. The killer here has also created his own, with the Cross and now the horoscope chart. The ritual then becomes a framework. Fortunately for us, this proves their downfall. They often get trapped in their own framework,’ said Hawa Singh. Deep inside, Hawa Singh knew that society would never be free of such lunatics, lurking in dark corners, with their dark minds.

  A thought struck the SSP. ‘What about the paper found in Eva’s stomach?’ he asked Hawa Singh.

  ‘I think the killer forced her to swallow it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, it was a paper with some mantras written on it. It was the mrityunjay-yantra given to Eva by Baba Ramtirath. By making her swallow it, the killer wanted us to find it and believe that nothing could protect his victims from him,’ said Hawa Singh.

  The Benares Police had never in their history encountered such a killer. They all had read about demons and asuras in mythology, but this one beat them all.

  ‘There’s just one more thing,’ said Hawa Singh. ‘I had found some red sand in Eva’s hotel room and it seems that came from her own shoes when she visited Ramnagar Fort. The entire pathway from the main entry gate to the lobby there is covered in red sand.’

  ‘When did you go into Eva’s hotel room?’ the SSP asked.

  ‘Well, that was a long time back. Let’s not go into it,’ said Hawa Singh.

  ‘What’s happening here? Everyone has started his own investigation. Hawa Singh, this is not the way to work. I need to be informed about each and every move you plan to make.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Hawa Singh. ‘I would like to bring in Suryadev Singh and Abhay Narayan Singh for interrogation.’

  ‘Are you crazy? Have you really lost your head? You want to bring in the king of Kashi and the state minister for questioning? There will be riots in Benares,’ retorted the SSP.

  Hawa Singh tried to keep his calm. ‘On our visit to Suryadev Singh’s bungalow, we found human parts preserved in jars in a cupboard there.’

  The SSP looked at him with burning eyes. ‘You call that a visit? You sneaked in—and for that I could have lost my job!’

  Ruby broke in. ‘We saw human heads, sawed-off hands, fingers and a heart. We need to bring that heart to test if it matches with any of the two victims.’

  ‘Everyone in Benares knows about the body parts B.P Singh collected. The questioning cannot be carried out,’ shouted the SSP.

  ‘So, we just sit here and do nothing? Those are my suspects. The tunnel that I found opens onto the opposite bank of the Ganges, close to Ramnagar Fort. And when we met up with the Kashi Naresh, we saw he keeps his entire body covered—even his hands!’

  The SSP looked at Hawa Singh and Ruby with astonishment, ‘You went to question the Kashi Naresh?’

  ‘It was a friendly meeting.’

  ‘But everyone knows that the Kashi Naresh hardly meets anyone, and doesn’t come out in public. You cannot point fingers at him just because a tunnel opens close to his fort. It’s an ancient tunnel that anyone could have discovered and used. Don’t create any more problems for me!’

  By this time the reporters sitting out in the cold had become restless. They were pushing their way in towards the SSP’s office and had started shouting slogans against the SSP and the Benares Police. The SSP was forced to call them in.

  There was the usual round of questions, and half-baked answers.

  One of the reporters pointed at Singh, saying, ‘You have this officer from the Delhi crime branch who was once responsible for the death of his entire team, and also that of a reporter. He should be removed from this case.’

  This brought out a hidden rage in Hawa Singh. ‘What the hell have you guys done in life, apart
from conjuring up lies and fabricating truths? I have a bullet right here in my head. How many of you have even got a pen-prick in your hand, forget the head or the heart?’

  He got up and walked out.

  The reporters insisted Hawa Singh apologize for his behaviour. They would never stand such highhandedness from the police. And they were going to publish that the police had failed in their job to catch the killer and were now teaching the press what to do.

  The SSP sent ACP Shishir Jha after Hawa Singh.

  ‘Sir, please, the reporters are getting angry. Just apologize to them once, and this matter will be over,’ pleaded Shishir Jha.

  ‘I will never apologize to these vultures. They are here for blood and they got it,’ said Hawa Singh, as he walked away.

  The SSP himself apologized on Hawa Singh’s behalf, saying, ‘There are times when he loses his head because of the bullet lodged inside it. Grant him that consideration.’

  Soon, snacks and drinks were called in for the reporters, in a time-old effort to appease them. Later, the SSP handed out gifts. A bottle of scotch to each.

  Hawa Singh tried to shake off his anger, and focus his thoughts on the killer. He would have to find other ways to get to Suryadev Singh and Kashi Naresh.

  He decided to meet Pandit Shri Vishnu Shastri, the third person whose number was written down by Eva.

  It was the word ‘Sparrow’ that still harrowed him.

  CHAPTER 13

  There was a certain restlessness and hunger inside him that he had not felt for a long time. The earlier pain—in his head and in his heart—had taken over all his faculties, and he had drifted listlessly from one case to the other. This particular case had given him a new lease of life. It was as if the very gods had pulled him to their land, and through death, were trying to revive him. He was filled with a purpose—to hunt the killer down.

  He wanted to be in sync with him, the way he thought, the way he planned and the way he acted on those plans. But this killer was not giving him any leverage. Hawa Singh hoped he was not clutching at straws.

  The killer was still just an idea, a shadow that disappeared into the fog, leaving no trace behind. He was playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek. He was playing God—a destructive God.

  The FBI taught its recruits that most serial-killers were apprehended when they wanted to be caught—and only then. They had laughed in the faces of the greatest of detectives and investigating officers. Hawa Singh didn’t want to see that laughing face. He wanted to make its owner cry. He wanted to make him run. Run for his life.

  Hawa Singh and Ruby Malik entered the sprawling campus of Benares Hindu University. They had come to meet Pandit Vishnu Shastri, one of the greatest scholars of Vedic astrology and Vedic mathematics.

  BHU, Benares Hindu University, is one of the largest residential universities in Asia, with over 20,000 students. The university’s main campus is spread over 1,300 acres and was built on land donated by the Kashi Naresh, the king of Benares.

  There were many colleges in BHU but, right now, Hawa Singh was interested only in Sanskrit Vidya Dharma Vijnan Sankaya, one of the few colleges in the country teaching both astrology and the Vedas.

  It was established in 1918 by the great Pandit Madan Mohan Malviyaji in order to realize the chief goal of this university, that is, to preserve and promote the studies of ancient Indian shastras, the Sanskrit language and culture, with the intention to bring about a fruitful dialogue between the East and the West. The Vedic texts taught here are in keeping with the traditional methods of hermeneutics as well as oral-cum-written tradition.

  When they asked to meet Pandit Shastri, one of the students guided Hawa Singh and Ruby to the library, Shastri’s choice of place, where he could sit enveloped by books and manuscripts. He loved the smell of old paper and ink emanating all around him from ancient scrolls and books. It was while sitting here that he made horoscopes for the country’s top politicians, businessmen and actors. When it came to astrology, Shastri was the man to go to.

  Pandit Vishnu Shastri was sitting with a pile of books and manuscripts in front of him. He looked about fifty-five years old and had a round, somewhat pockmarked, face. His moustache was thick and long, and his peppered hair gleamed with desi ghee. He wore a crisp kurta and white dhoti. There was a holy thread tied around his right wrist and a silver wristband with ‘Om’ inscribed on it.

  He was lost in his calculations when Hawa Singh and Ruby approached him. They introduced themselves and Shastri asked them to sit.

  Hawa Singh told him that he had found his personal number written on a piece of paper found in Eva’s room, and about the dead woman’s interest in astrology. He also told him about the second murder, in which a horoscope chart had featured, drawn on the victim’s chest.

  Pandit Vishnu Shastri looked thoughtful before he spoke. ‘I remember that girl coming to me. She wanted to see the original manuscript of the Bhrigu-Samhita and some books on the history of Benares,’ he said softly, reminiscently.

  ‘You must have read about her murder in the papers. Why didn’t you approach the police?’ asked Hawa Singh

  ‘I meet hundreds of people who come to consult me, just like that girl, or now you. I have also been travelling a lot over the last few days,’ he said, as if absolving himself of blame.

  Ruby listened quietly, her expert eyes focused on the grand Pandit Vishnu Shastri. She could see he cherished the moments when people came to consult him. In this digital age, the number of people interested in Vedic texts or mathematics had lessened. She asked him, ‘Why do you think she was murdered?’

  Shastri looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘How would I know?’ he asked back. ‘She was beautiful, and because she was a foreigner, anyone could have tried to take advantage of her.’

  Hawa Singh gathered that Shastri was not aware of the details of the murders. He changed the subject. ‘What is so special about this Bhrigu-Samhita that so many of these foreigners want to study it?’

  This was a subject that made the eyes of this master of his trade glow. Empowered with his knowledge, he said, ‘Bhrigu-Samhita was originally a massive database of the birth charts of millions and trillions of human beings. It deals with their life spans, their major achievements, as well as their losses. It also reveals a person’s previous incarnations, and the ones to come. A permutation of more than forty-five million horoscope charts can be drawn from the calculations given in the book.’

  ‘So where is the original manuscript?’ asked Ruby.

  Shastri smiled and said, ‘Through the many invasions the country has witnessed, it seems to have been lost or taken away by the conquerors. In fact, the most unfortunate event was the destruction of the Nalanda university library by the then Muslim rulers, where several thousands of the horoscopes compiled by Maharishi Bhrigu had been stored. It is said that the library was so vast that, when it was set on fire, it burnt for more than three months. Now only a few fragments of the original horoscopes of Bhrigu-Samhita are left to the Brahmin community, which are now scattered over India.’

  It didn’t add up, thought Hawa Singh. If the killer was after the original manuscript of the Bhrigu-Samhita, why would he murder a foreigner who herself knew nothing of it? Or was he trying to safeguard the original manuscript? But then, the greatest of Sanskrit scholars, and the Kashi Naresh himself, were not privy to its secrets. There were no answers, only more questions.

  Hawa Singh took out a piece of paper and put it on the table. On it he had copied the horoscope chart drawn on the victim’s body. He showed it to Shastri, saying, ‘The killer drew this on the chest of his last victim. I know it’s a horoscope chart, but please read it and tell us what it says.’

  Shastri put on a pair of thick glasses and examined the chart with care. ‘You know that a horoscope is drawn based on one’s date of birth, time of birth and place of birth. By using these, the astrologers draw the positions of the planets, the zodiac and dashas. Astrologers looking at these planets, signs and house
placements in your chart can read your personality, as well as life events and possibilities—both the good and the bad. They can even determine when the events will occur.’

  ‘So what do you see in this chart?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘I see only death,’ he said, looking up. ‘I need to do a reverse calculation to get the dates and times. Just give me some time.’

  With that Shastri got busy with his calculations. ‘The killer was using Vedic mathematics and astrology to leave his signature,’ reflected Hawa Singh and Ruby to themselves. It took a few minutes for Shastri to complete the calculations. ‘I don’t understand this,’ he admitted. ‘This horoscope shows that the person concerned would die on the coming 30 January. It also says this person will be killed in a mysterious way,’ Shastri said.

  ‘The killer has left a message for us that he will kill again on the 30th. Can you see if this person is a man or a woman?’ Hawa Singh asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, that cannot be gauged from this chart.’

  Ruby almost shouted, ‘Does this chart belong to a foreigner?’

  Shastri looked again at the chart and said, ‘Well, I can’t say whether he or she is a foreigner, but definitely not of this holy land, Benares.’

  ‘Are you sure about the date, 30 January?’ Hawa Singh asked.

  ‘My calculations are based on Vedic mathematics. They can never go wrong,’ said Shastri austerely.

  ‘We were right in thinking that the killer would strike again,’ Ruby whispered, almost to herself. ‘He had already chosen his target and drawn the horoscope chart of his next victim. We’ll have to stop him this time.’

  ‘Can you stop death?’ Shastri snapped.

  Hawa Singh and Ruby looked at him in bafflement. ‘We can definitely stop the killer,’ said Hawa Singh determinedly.

  They picked up the piece of paper and were ready to leave when something struck Hawa Singh. ‘One more thing,’ he said, turning back to the professor. ‘Does the word ‘‘Sparrow” mean anything to you?’

  ‘Sparrow,’ Shastri said reflectively, ‘well, there is a Sparrow’s Research and Analysis Wing for Mental Health here. In fact, it is funded by the royal family of Benares.’