Sukanto: Shayan---
Shayantika: Y-yes? Tell me…
Sukanto: It-it’s late. Kakima will be worried… Let me drop you home.
Later in the evening, when the rain clouds disappeared, making way for the stars to fill the inky-black sky, Mrs Bhattacharjee mustered courage and stepped into her son’s study to talk.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Baba…?
Sukanto: What maa?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Just need to talk. Can I?
Sukanto: What happened?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Are you still in touch with that girl?
Sukanto: Yes. I am.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Why?
Sukanto: I love her.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: And…Kalpana?
Sukanto: She’s my wife.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: But you are cheating on them -- both.
Sukanto: They know about each other.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Oh…
Sukanto: You look surprised?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Shayantika can never replace Kalpana. I think you are doing her wrong by giving her hope.
Sukanto: You like Kalpana, don’t you? Your chosen bride for your wayward son!
Mrs Bhattacharjee: You remind me of your baba…You…are laughing?
Sukanto: It’s funny how you twist your words to suit your intentions. When you hate something in me, you find a likeness with baba! But have you ever considered this? I could have inherited the bad from you, maa?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: You are weaving a cobweb around you Sukanto. Make sure you know your way out of this.
Sukanto: And what about your cobwebs? Let me stay in my hell, maa. You have done enough for me already.
A week later, on a sultry night, when Sukanto was out to meet Shayantika, a jittery Jewel stepped into the Blue room to speak to his chotoma – Mrs Bhattacharjee.
Jewel: Proloy wanted to know, if I-I was interested… in business?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Proloy…?
Jewel: Y-yes. He came to meet me in the morning. He said, he could help me.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Strange, he never said a thing to me about this!
Jewel: He said, he wanted to discuss with me first.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Okay. So why are you telling me?
Jewel: Chotoma, how can I not? I value your opinion.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Understand one thing. I will say this clearly and for the last time, you are not getting any money from me. Go to court, if you want, but be assured my boy: you won’t get a penny.
Jewel: I don’t understand why you won’t honour kaka’s wish?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: I have my reasons, which I shall not discuss with you.
Jewel: But---
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Jewel. Let’s not discuss this again. Please.
Jewel: Alright, chotoma. But you must know, I’ve no family, other than the Bhattacharjees. I hardly have any memory of my parents and I, I… never went back to them.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: What do you mean?
Jewel: I, I think you are being…cruel.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: You are asking me to be cruel by demanding money!
Jewel: I am asking you to pay me for the labour that I have put in for thirty years, single-mindedly.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: What about food, shelter, clothing and the home schooling that we gave you? Should we charge you for that too? Will you be able to pay us for that? Will you be able to return the kindness, baba?
Jewel: D-don’t cry chotoma…I will make sure the gas cylinders are delivered tomorrow... And-and…ask Malati to dust the rooms.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Jewel…
Jewel: Yes?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Please don’t talk to Proloy again.
Jewel: Why chotoma?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: You know why, baba.
After talking to Jewel, Mrs Bhattacharjee couldn’t sleep. So she decided to catch up with her friend Proloy, in the wee hours of the morning.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: He won’t get that money, Proloy. How impertinent of him to even ask? And use…your name?
Proloy: He used my name, Sagota?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Yes.
Proloy: Hmm… Be careful, Sagota. That boy is smart.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: He gets me anxious---
Proloy: Why?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: He doesn’t look like us, speaks a different tongue... And these days, he argues with me!
Proloy: Come on, Sagota…He speaks Bangla now. Sukanto doesn’t look like you either… He argues with you too.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: But he resembles his father.
Proloy: Is that enough, Sagota?
A week before his death, Sukanto met Rudro Choudhury (aka Rudro kaku) his late father’s friend and employee. It was late in the evening and the sixty year old man was about to call it a day. He locked his room carefully and walked towards the lift, ready to leave the hotel, when he heard footsteps nearby.
Sukanto: Kaku can we talk?
Rudro Kaku: When did you come…?
Sukanto: Five minutes back. If you don’t mind can we---
Rudro Kaku: Okay…Where do you want to talk?
Sukanto: Here in your room…
Rudro Kaku: Let me open it then. Locked it just now…
Sukanto: It will take only a few minutes.
Rudro Kaku: Do you want tea? Or Pepsi? You like--
Sukanto: No, no…I’m fine. So… how are things here?
Rudro Kaku: We are not making any profit. Not in debt. No loss either. But---
Sukanto: Let’s sit tight for some time, just ride it through and the market will get better… ki kaku?
Rudro Kaku: Sit tight for how long Sukanto?
Sukanto: A year or two---
Rudro Kaku: In that case will it be prudent to open a hotel in Jampui hills?
Sukanto: Where did you hear that?
Rudro Kaku: I’ve ears and eyes around.
Sukanto: Hm…tell me why not? We just need to shell out a couple of lakhs. It will definitely pay us in the long run.
Rudro Kaku: A couple of lakhs will not be enough. L-let’s talk about this in the… morning? I promised my daughter that I will be home early.
Sukanto: Sure. I want to go home too. Just think about it…The investment isn’t large and Jampui could be a hot spot for tourists.
Rudro Kaku: I’ve been in this business for forty years, even before you were born. We started this business together—your baba and I. We made it what it is today. Yes, your father was the captain, but I was his rudder.
Sukanto: I know that. But I’m requesting you to consider. Please…
Rudro Kaku: Opening a hotel in a new place is a risky proposition. Several factors need to be considered. It’s not like… renovating a house.
Sukanto: Ok, let’s chat in the morning. Shona must be waiting. How is she? She came to our home during Saraswati pujo last year.
Rudro Kaku: She is fine, busy with her exams. Good night Sukanto.
Sukanto: Good nigh kaku.
The Search Continues
8 NOVEMBER, 2015
POLICE STATION, AGARTALA
Superintendent of Police Mr Roy and forensic scientist in disguise -- Atanu catch up on the progress and challenges of the Sukanto Bhattacharjee murder case.
Mr Roy: I am misusing my power! Am I? Forcing an over-qualified forensic guy to solve what looks like an open and shut case. But thirty years spent with sick minds tells me otherwise. Let me retire with my head held high. Feel alive and fearless, one last time…?
Atanu: Yes, sir?
Mr Roy: What do you think?
Atanu: I think they all have the motive. Unfortunately, they are all capable of committing the crime.
Mr Roy: Are you sure?
Atanu: Yes.
Mr Roy: I called Sukanto’s mother to ask for her permission to conduct an internal autopsy. She wasn’t too happy to let us cut her son… Understandable. But, no foul play inside. CHF, Atanu.
Atanu: Congestive heart failure. Sukan
to died of natural causes?
Mr Roy: Apparently so. Just like his father. His father was double his age though, when he passed away. What about that note he left behind? He certainly was not happy with them. And there is his girlfriend, the doctor?
Atanu: Yes, I have spoken to her. She is capable of killing him, just like the rest. If he was murdered.
Mr Roy: Great! We are back to square one!
Atanu: When did he die?
Mr Roy: At around 1 AM or one or two hours after.
Atanu: Strange, no one noticed a death in the house, until the next day.
Mr Roy: They informed us at around 7AM.
Atanu: Sir? I need to tell you something.
Mr Roy: Yes, Atanu?
Atanu: I will rejoin on 2nd January. Will be leaving for Delhi on the 1st.
Mr Roy: Okay. But till then, can you talk to them?
Atanu: Right sir.
Mr Roy: Also can you finish your detailed report by 30th December?
Atanu: Sure, will do sir. One more thing, sir. Sukanto disappeared during Durga puja.
Mr Roy: That’s three days prior to his death. Who told you that?
Atanu: The maid, Malati. She helps with the kitchen work, goes to Bhattacharjee Bari for a few hours in the morning. There’s one more maid called Joba. She goes in the evening to help Mrs Bhattacharjee. Joba is the silent one, doesn’t speak much. Malati chatters.
Mr Roy: Right. We’ve spoken to both. That Malati was singing a different tune, earlier. The other one was silent with us, too.
Atanu: I got chatting with Malati about how I cook pulao during Durga puja for family and friends every year. She said, each year on Nobomi, pulao is cooked in Bhattacharjee Bari too, along with other delicacies. And how much Sukanto loved pulao. But this year he wasn’t there so Mrs Bhattacharjee didn’t cook any. He was back only on Dashami.
Mr Roy: Interesting.
Atanu: Luckily, I’ve been able to move around Bhattacharjee Bari with ease. Mrs Bhattacharjee remembers me, even though I was not part of Sukanto’s regular group and must have visited Bhattacharjee Bari, once… or twice at the most.
Mr Roy: Good memory. How old were you, then?
Atanu: Teenage—must have been thirteen or fourteen.
Mr Roy: What about the rest? Have they opened up to you?
Atanu: Kalpana, Jewel and Shayantika, they are anxious and shaken by his death. They simply need a patient listener. I’ve been a good one so far. Being a professional helps.
Mr Roy: Good. How are they coping with his death?
Atanu: Not too well, I’m afraid. They don’t talk much with each other. Kalpana, Mrs Bhattacharjee, Jewel—they live in their own tiny islands. I am waiting for an opportunity to see them collide… or bond.
Mr Roy: They haven’t collided yet? Strange. Death in a family rattles a home -- more than an earthquake. But you’ve given me a lead…
Atanu: I don’t know. You’ll have to find out. Also Mrs Bhattacharjee sent a letter on behalf of Proloy. Looks like Proloy is visiting his family in Midnapore.
Mr Roy: Is that so?
Atanu: Yes, sir.
Mr Roy: Nice handwriting, like that of a poet?
Atanu: He appears to have the heart of a poet.
Mr Roy: Not that of a killer?
Atanu: Poets are known to have killed too, sometimes quite brutally… or ended their lives.
Mr Roy: Have you asked them where they were on that night?
Atanu: Haven’t you, sir?
Mr Roy: Yes. But you asking them could be different and fruitful.
Atanu: I don’t want them to get suspicious. They see me as a therapist who is helping them because he loved his childhood friend. They don’t know that I record their conversations for research and investigation.
Mr Roy: But you need to ask them. It could change the direction of our search.
Atanu: It could also make them defensive and suspicious…
Mr Roy: Hmm…
Atanu: Alright. I’ll ask.
Mr Roy: Thank you.
8 NOVEMBER, 2015
POLICE STATION, AGARTALA
Later, over lunch SP Roy and Inspector Malakar catch up.
Mr Roy: You look tired?
Malakar: Last night I was sitting with my son, he has mathematics today, sir.
Mr Roy: Which class?
Malakar: Class twelve. Mita needs rest too. She is up almost every night monitoring him. Too many distractions these days. TV is the last thing on their minds. Their mobile phone is enough.
Mr Roy: Right, right. I’ve put the responsibility of monitoring my daughter on my wife. We hardly have the time. Also we’re running against time on the Sukanto Bhattacharjee case.
Malakar: I spoke to Milli Saha, neighbour and friend of Mrs Bhattacharjee. She says, he was very well-mannered and nice. And his mother always praised him. Like her son could do no wrong, make no mistakes. One afternoon when she went to visit, she says: Sagota di was talking to someone. That afternoon, Jewel was out so their maid Malati had opened the gate. She says, Sagota di didn’t recognize her, or even look at her. She kept staring at the wall, talking to someone. There was no one else in the room. She called a couple of times but was too afraid to touch her. After standing there for some time, she left. Later in the evening, she called Mrs Bhattacharjee. It seems she spoke to her normally. Never once mentioning her visit.
Mr Roy: Hmm… What was Mrs Bhattacharjee talking about?
Malakar: She doesn’t remember. She was shocked, sir.
Mr Roy: What about Rudro Choudhury? Did you get anything on him?
Malakar: Spoke to him, a couple of times. First time, he hardly said much. Only answered my questions, with a yes or no and a few words in between. He lives with his wife and daughter near Shibnagar, in his ancestral home. Everyone in the area knows them and they are liked and respected. And…he didn’t go to Bhattacharjee Bari that evening. His wife and daughter did.
Mr Roy: I think my wife knows his wife, they studied in Tulshibati. School mates. Should we get Atanu to speak to him?
Malakar: I doubt he will open up in front of him, sir. He is an old suspicious man, loyal to the Bhattacharjees. I also spoke to the hotel staff and the jewellery showroom manager. They all liked his father. Still holds him in high regard. They said nothing bad about Sukanto either. But a young chef who has been working in their hotel for eight years, felt that his father always listened patiently.
Mr Roy: And he didn’t?
Malakar: Seems so, sir.
9 NOVEMBER, 2015
Atanu continues his investigation. He’s a regular at Bhattacharjee Bari now.
Atanu: How are you doing?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: I, I…can’t sleep. It’s been days since my child left me. I know I can take medicines. But I don’t want to sleep. And…then wake up. Wake up to what? An empty house?
Atanu: Your daughter in law is here--
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Yes, she is around. But I don’t care. I can hardly feel… Not even my hands…
I wonder if his soul is around, watching us? Jewel arranged everything for his shradho. Whatever he said, I did. Paid whatever he asked me to. Of what use is money… or anything. Even shradho. I fed people who are indifferent to my pain. I paid a priest who came to earn money and offered prayers to a god, who I doubt – exists.
It’s all a sham, Atanu.
Atanu: You remember that evening? You know, the one before he--
Mrs Bhattacharjee: That evening? I see it, oitto… Right there. We did our Satya Narayan puja. Bhattacharjee Bari was filled with people – our neighbours, relatives – almost fifty people came down to have prasad. And Malati – she carried food in large bowls and my big shoppers for her family, later, when the guests left and the house was empty, again. Malati worked really hard. Helped me and Jewel, like every year.
We do this puja once a year, in a grand way. How can god be so cruel? I worship Him and he snatches my child away...
Atanu: Don’t think of it th
at way…
Mrs Bhattacharjee: You think I have turned mad?
Atanu: I don’t think anything like--
Mrs Bhattacharjee: No, no, I know. Don’t explain. Think what you like. But you don’t know a mother’s pain. You can never understand unless you face it. And I hope everyone in this world goes through that pain. Why me, why should I suffer alone? Let there be some semblance of fairness in this world.
Y-y-you came to our Satyanarayan puja, once? Taina… Atanu?
Atanu: I may have.
Mrs Bhattacharjee: You were a young boy.
Atanu: Maybe… Do you remember what happened that evening?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Everyone left around 9.30. And we started to clean up. Major cleaning you know, after puja. Everything gets so dirty. So damn dirty. Smudges, dark ones, everywhere, on our lovely cream coloured tiles. People have such dirty feet. We cleaned till 11 or 12, I think that night. I wanted the house to be clean before we went to sleep. I hate seeing a dirty house in the morning.
I didn’t really check on Sukanto. I was so tired. I remember asking Kalpana to take shinni for Sukanto. He loves shinni. Sukanto likes it the way I make it. He would never eat shinni anywhere else. I use coconut water to mix the ingredients, my little secret.
Atanu: Did he eat shinni prasad?
Mrs Bhattacharjee: Yes. Because I remember asking Kalpana to take it to his room. Not sure if she took it, she must have. No, no she did, even Jewel saw her and so did Malati.
He ate shinni that night. He didn’t eat any dinner. Neither did I. It was late and we were tired. We all ate prasad for dinner. I slept at around 1 am, found it difficult to sleep. Blame it on my tingling nerves.
This is what happens, when I talk too much. Words and events play in my mind long after it’s all over. Actually, we live in silence. We don’t talk much to each other in our house; we are mostly on our own. So on a day like this when there’s a lot of talk and activity, I find it difficult to calm my mind. I remember drinking a lot of water that night. And yes, I did wake up twice to go to the toilet.
Wants and Desires: A Psychological Thriller Page 6