Point of view

Detective Domble walked into the room with some degree of nonchalance. A scenario he had witnessed multiple times before, nothing new, nothing alarming. It was the usual, a dead body,some dried blood, a strong odor, murder weapon and a missing culprit,which he would eventually hunt down, etc. He had seen this a hundred times before. It was easy or so he thought.

Only this time his eyes welled up with tears as he folded his knees and crouched on the ground…as the predator waited behind him….

Gyanban Thoughts : A short flash fiction where the hunter becomes the hunted.A simple predictable plot,the focus was in capturing the contrasting moment which transcends from nonchalance to shock.

miRage

There was a stretch of road that screamed of the vast emptiness on either side. A distant horizon was the only guiding light. Winters in the deserts of Rajasthan were particularly unforgiving. No civilization in sight, no habitation, just sand and plenty of time on their hands and some more elements that completed the perfect picture, aptly titled ‘Stranded’.

Just as the sun-set, Mohita and Mallika’s cross country journey sputtered and spattered to a screeching halt.Nothing to look forward and nothing to go back.

‘What do we do now?’Mohita the quieter one spoke out of nervousness.

‘Stop being such a sissy – when I am there, you don’t have to worry about anything’ – the bolder one retorted sharply.

Mallika got out of the car and stretched her arms as if nothing had happened, yawned and looked around with lazy elegance.Mohita followed suit , gingerly alighting the car inhaling the cooling breeze blowing across.

‘Looks like the breeze is picking up speed’ Mohita opined.

‘Now what?’

Mallika offered silence as an answer.

The sun seemed to be in a hurry to rise elsewhere, and the moon was conspicuous by his absence but the stars made their presence felt, in full glory.In the dying light of the day a distant ray of hope showed itself in the form of two headlights.

‘Ah – see there is civilization – we re not alone’ Mallika announced triumphantly.

‘B-but what if-’

‘Hush’ Mallika gestured wide-eyed.

A white Ambassador with dark tints stopped right beside them. As the window rolled down slowly, Mohita’s heart skipped a beat. There was an uneasy calm in the atmosphere that evening. Mohita looked at her watch  - it was precisely six hours since it had all begun.

A man looked out of the window, frowned his thick bushy  eyebrows and asked ‘What are you girls doing here?’

‘Can you help?’ Mallika asserted fearlessly, ignoring his question.

There was silence. 


Mohita’s heart was racing and her throat parched.

‘What help do you need?’

‘We need a ride to Bikaner’

‘Ah – that is not the direction I am headed to – I can give you a ride till the nearest railway station Deshnok Junction  - you are on your own from there’.

The girls looked at each other and then looked back at the man.

‘Open the boot – we have luggage.’ Mallika announced.

Mohita whispered – ‘ask him if he wants money?’


‘We will give him what we have – there’s not much else we can do, can we Mohita?’

Mohita nodded.

‘Give me the keys to the boot’ Mallika asked. The man switched off the car engine and gave her the key.

‘This is heavy I need help’ Mallika shouted from behind the car.She could not lift the suitcase alone.He watched her struggle,but did not get 
down, instead egged them to hurry up.

 ‘Mo – I need some help with the suitcase here’

‘Yes coming –just wait’ .Mohita opened the rear door and stuffed her belongings in the seat and helped Mallika dump the suitcase in the trunk of the car.

‘Such a jerk that man – didn’t even offer to help.’

‘Men – will always be men’ lets get going fast.

Mallika slammed the boot and went and sat beside the driver's  seat while Mohita slipped into the rear seat.

The night was rich black now, and the crystal twinkles in the sky were even more lucid as if they were trying to tell a story – just that they had no words to express. The old Ambassador started after a few hiccups. 


Mohita noticed the man looking at her through the rear-view mirror a number of times and all she could see is two blood shot eyes and a thick bushy eyebrow.

Mallika sat beside him with a clenched fist and one hand holding a metal sipper bottle. About  23 minutes into the ride, the man announced – ‘I think you should roll up the windows – there is a sandstorm up ahead.’

This made Mohita really nervous. The windows shades were pitch dark , with almost zero visibility outside. She thought what if this man was a monster, what if he was some sort of a serial killer – lock up strangers inside the car and rape and kill them? What if…

‘Mohita – didn’t you hear the man – just do as he says’Mallika asserted.

As the windows rolled up it was stuffy inside and a strange pungent odour emanated from the floor of the car . A stale smell, perhaps the first signs of rot setting in somewhere. Mohita was nauseous and immediately took out her deodorant and sprayed it around.

‘What’s that smell’ the man asked.

‘I don’t know  - keep driving’ – Mallika replied.

The man looked at her with a frown. He was not used to be treated like that before, not from women certainly. He chose to ignore and drove on. 


His head was starting to hurt,probably his blood pressure was high.The mood was tense inside the car as the sandstorm blew sideways swaying the car.

‘How far from the Deshnok railway station?’ Mallika asked.

‘About  20 minutes, but in this weather it might take a bit longer.’

No sooner had the man said this – Mallika’s hands began to shake vigorously as if she had a fit.

She took the metal sipper bottle and banged it on her forehead. Blood  splattered out immediately. She took aim and hit the same spot one more time – bang and it was a wide gash because this time the metal cap screws scraped the wound. She let out a loud scream. She wiped her bloodied hands on the dashboard, on the seat and then…. on the man’s shirt.

The man shivered at this madness.He was in a state of shock.His hands froze at the wheels and he jammed the brakes.The car came to a halt.In the frenzy of this madness he saw the rear view mirror.The girl in the back seat was tying herself with a rope around her neck.

‘Mallika – here pull the rope quick ’ she hissed. Gone was Mohita’s dainty whispering voice.

Mallika tugged hard at the rope  – it almost choked Mohita’s  throat. It drained the blood from her face and her eyes were bulging out.The man tried to escape – but the door was jammed. He could not open it.He banged in desperation and screamed for help but nothing went out of the car.

Mallika then took out the Swiss knife she hid in her pocket and slit her clothes and herself, ever so carefully so as not to rapture the central vein. 


She leaned over and did the same with the gasping Mohita. The man looked on motionless in horror.

‘Now  - take this knife and hold it still.’ Mallika spoke in a low trembling voice.

‘No-no, you c-cant do this – are you mad what are you doing  please leave me – take whatever you want –the man pleaded.’

Mallika looked at him with a wry smile and said – ‘you will do as I tell you – you will not use your brains lest I scrape it out.’

Mohita lunged from behind and scratched his face with her sharp nails taking out chunks of flesh on the way. The man was ravaged and brutally assaulted.

There was silence in the courtroom.

‘That man…. was me your honor–I shouldn’t be alive’ Baldevsingh Karni recounted the horror he went through in great detail.

‘I am a small town tourist operator from the Nokha village and was on my way to receive a tourist party for the Rajasthan villages tour when I met these ladies mid way you honor’.

The silence in the courtroom  was broken by the  clapping hands of the prosecutor.

‘That was a master work of art Baldev – you should try your hand in writing horror scripts for Ram Gopal Verma movies you know’ the lawyer said sarcastically.

‘It has all the ingredients of a super hit movie right there. But I am afraid you will have to wait till the next life time – your honor, this man is wasting the courts time in such fictitious misdirecting stories after such incredible amount of evidence against him.’

‘A dead body in the boot of the car – brutally chopped to pieces,face beyond recognition, and dumped in a suitcase , just by using a Swiss knife, which have his fingerprints and blood stains. As if this was not enough, he cooks up a story about two women assaulting him in the middle of no where. He also claims the women hurt themselves before inflicting pain on him – how odd is that?’

‘You have got to believe me sir – they did that deliberately to insure their protection in the event anyone else saw them ,the police chowk was just ahead of the Deshnok Railway station -as we were approaching town,– they could present themselves as victims.’ Baldev pleaded to be believed.

‘Why would some stranger suddenly want to hurt you – and that too a man of your size?

‘Where’s the motive? And more importantly where is the evidence?’

‘Your honor this is an open-shut case of a greedy tour operator who killed a man brutally in cold blood and wanted to pass on the blame ,but he got caught in his own story.’

‘That’s not true – why would I do that? What was my motive for killing somebody?’

‘Ah so now you do agree that there might be a chance that you were somewhere in the whole scheme of things and the woman story was all bogus- at least one point is proven here you honor.’

‘The motive was money – the police found a huge amount of cash in the back seat of the car – tightly rolled into bundles of thousand rupee notes -  talk about a healthy tip  eh Baldev?’

Baldev’s jaw dropped – he was helpless he had no defense left.

The court pronounced him guilty as charged and sentenced him to life imprisonment, ten years of which would be rigorous imprisonment with solitary confinement for six months.

A few days later,two women walked into a small restaurant near Bikaner railway station and ordered for some tea and snacks.The waiter brought two tiny cups of tea in a paper cup and snacks in a newspaper. As the last morsel of the snack went into their mouths an interesting article caught their eye.

“Shyam Singh Rathore, 40,divorced, looking for a suitable companion, homely, yet smart, traditional and modern can take care of home and assist in family business. Interested parties please post a picture and send bio data to Bikaner Times,PO Box number 2311 Bikaner - 334001.”

Just then,one of  the girl’s phone rang –a lawyer like voice on the other end of the line spoke - ‘my darlings,we have a new case…”

Gyanban Thoughts - a short twisted thriller  on  organized crime with a touch of madness!

Bakers Dozen

‘Yes, yes, yes he is a murderer!’

 ‘I remember correctly, clearly and precisely.’

 ‘I closed my bakery at 8PM sharp that Friday,and  as I switched off the lights, I heard a loud scream and went to look at the window.He hit her with the baseball bat, looked up into the light and that’s when I saw his face.’

'Are you sure Mrs.Nelson you are not missing any more details?’

‘Well not really,she wore a pink night dress,with a ribbon tied to her hair.She’d put cream everyday and arrange her bed and tuck herself in with a book, every single night. That night was no different.’

‘Mrs.Nelson, look carefully, your testimony could be tested here'.

 Mrs.Nelson looked around the courtroom; the woman was alive sitting in the audience looking directly at Mrs.Nelson.

‘How could that be? She did not have a twin I know for sure’.Mrs.Nelson blurted.

 ‘You’re right – she didn’t – so how did she get away?'

 The courtroom was in pin drop silence, the whirling fan above the judge's head made its presence felt.

‘B-But how is that possible – I saw it in front of my eyes.’

 ‘That’s because you did it Mrs.Nelson’ the lawyer said coldly.

The court ruled Mrs.Nelson guilty.

 Many years later in the federal prison Mrs.Nelson got a parole for good behaviour.

 As she stepped out of the prison,the impressed guard at the exit gate said  ‘never come back here again- I am sure you didn’t want to kill her in the first place’

 Mrs.Nelson stopped to look back and sighed  ‘I should’ve been a bit more careful – she was the unlucky thirteen’.

 Gyanban Thoughts - a short fiction - with an unusual character sketch - a lonely baker Mrs.Nelson is the serial killer with twelve prior murders hence the title Bakers Dozen was quite apt I thought. Must say the original idea came from Graham Greene's  classic Case for the Defense.I thought that was one the best short stories ever written structured around crime and providence.

image courtesy : here

Black & White

Lisa and Jovan were the ideal couple - one a top shot investment banker and the better half a master interior  designer, and three lovely children. Ofcourse there was money,luxuries and expensive vacations. Just another life of the rich and famous.




As the radio played out a commercial in the background,the last few words caught Jovan's attention - ''Here's your cance to change your black and white life into a new color" 

The kids played in the garden on a bright sunny morning. Lisa kept a watch on them through the window.

Lisa turned around and popped her head out of the kichen window and said -

'The milkshake is done -It’s a secret recepie darling in the spirit of spring -I am sure you'll love it.’


Lisa handed out the Orange and white concoction to Jovan sitting on the dining table.

‘I need to rush for a meeting’ Jovan announced while gulping down his milkshake. 

The generous mix of the two distinct colors ,yet different destinies ,bore testimony to the fifty two stabs on Jovans chest.The milkshake and blood mix plastered the walls and painted the floor. Five years and a bitter trial later,Mrs.Lisa Raymond  was convicted for murder of Mr.Jovan Raymond.




As the judge announced the verdict,she sat down in the witness box quietly, no emotion, no gesture.

‘We will appeal against the sentence or even force a retrial’the lawyer comforted.

But deep inside Lisa was enjoying every bit of limelight especially after being kept in the dark for fourteen years.

Life is not so black and white after all.      

Gyanban thoughts - this story is loosely based on the infamous Kissel murder early 2003 in Hong Kong.The theme Black and white seemed to fit in well considering the apparent and the oblivious nature of the crime and verdict.The trial was about a woman who allegedly killerd her husband after sedating him with a spiked milkshake.It was brutal,it was dark and what amazed people was how a petit frail woman managed to kill a man almost twice her size.While the story on the other side was of an abused housewife of a rich corporate honcho who live in a secluded hell under the eyewash of being a perfect couple.The jury is out.


Image courtesy: Here.

Fliegen

A famous couple had died that afternoon.

Two bullet shots were heard outside the compound.

As instructed, the seargents took the bodies upstairs and set them alight.

The world rejoiced at the fall of the Fuhrer.

Miles away from the Fuhrerbunker – Adolf Hitler & Eva boarded a millitary jet to  fly away into mystery forever.

Gyanban thoughts – Fliegen is a German word for Fly.This 55 fiction gave me something to think about when I was researching the story.Adolf Hitler’s death is known to be by a single gun shot to his right temple.Later his body was burnt along with his wife Eva Braun. The information about his death was inconsistenly released, some of which is still kept a secret.

Different versions of Hitler's fate were presented by the Soviet Union according to its political desires. In the years immediately following 1945, it maintained Hitler was not dead but had fled and was being shielded by former western allies.This worked for a time to cause western authorities some doubt. The chief of the U.S. trial counsel at Nuremberg, Thomas J. Dodd, said: "No one can say he is dead."

When President Truman asked Joseph Stalin at the Potsdam conference in August 1945 whether or not Hitler was dead, Stalin replied bluntly, 'No'. However, by 11 May 1945, the Soviets had already had Hitler's dentist Hugo Blaschke and his dential technician confirm the dental remains found were Hitler's and Eva Braun's.

But the question remains, why was information on Hitler’s death not an open text book in the first place? What could possibly be hidden? I leave it to your imagination…


information courtesy :wikipedia.

Windows Widow

The window on the second floor classy studio apartment was the only witness.

Jenny looked on morosely out of the opposite window.

Her abusive drunkard husband created yet another ruckus on the street below.

She could hear him scream deliriously "Believe me you bastards"

Another night of drama , rage and dried up tears awaited.

Just then a reckless driver screeched past her husband's right arm...

The look of shock lasted till the passing eyewitness captured her face.

It was amazing how it worked every time.

Widow Jenny D'Souza planned her Swiss vacation and Valentino,would buy a new car.

The window on the second floor classy studio apartment was the only witness.

Officer Joe Maloney,Jenny's first victim had finally found reason to live again.

Gyanban Thoughts - This quirky thriller is based on a double twist theory. In the world of crime nothing can be taken for granted,no stereotypes

can be formed,everything can be questioned.Sometimes what we see is not what actually happens in reality.

Image courtesy: here

Fell 'em

To

The Chief Editor,

Times of India.

July 4,1937

Darjeeling.

Re: the case file – The Sen-sational Murders.

Dear Sir.

I was one of the first reporters to cover, track and investigate the incident and I am the last one left after all these years. I don’t have many moons left to witness, so here is an account of what you always wanted to know. My account of the Sen-sational double murder saga. A mystery, which is still not solved – even after 19 years.

A story, which you refused to buy at the time.

X---------------------X----------------------------X------------------------X

The Ménage

It was a family of four. With a few more years to his retirement, Mr.Arun Sen had mixed feelings about his life ahead. He had made his monies over the years, but the real assets were his palatial houses in the suburbs and 40 acres of land he had inherited from his ancestors. They were the landlords.

Being the General Manager of a steel factory, he was provided with a nice little bungalow with well-manicured lawns as a part of the company perks. Though even at 56,he looked fit and healthy, a tall frame and stocky hands, salt n pepper hair added to his magnificently aristocratic looks.

Mrs.Aparna Sen a quite shy homemaker, slightly on the heavier side, with lovely artistic qualities managed what was her second home. She was once divorced for the very same qualities. She played the piano rather well. She came from one Bengal’s affluent families connected to royalty.

Mr.Sen’s previous wife Kajol Devi, ,had died under mysterious circumstances. As documented, she died of a severe headache. No one could quite relate to it, yet no one had any reason to disagree. She often did complain of acute migraine attacks. She bore two daughters for the Sen family, they affectionately called the elder one - Madhubala.

Madhubala was a beauty par excellence. Everything about her features seemed angelic.Beuatiful long deep eyes, near full pink lips, spotless complexion, hair neatly combed and she smelt exotic.

Madhubala, unlike her younger sister, was the brash one, albeit the quietly brash one. You would never see her scream or shout, but she would be behind most mischiefs around the neighborhood. She always capitalized on her innocent looks. Such was the dichotomy of her personality.

Years had passed after Kajol Devi’s demise, and Mr.Sen was advised to re-marry, as he had a little daughter to take care of – Madhumati. A young petit lass, very unlike her father and sister, yet at an early age she showed signs of having a strong mind of her own.

In fact the only common thing she had with her father was her height.

There was always a debate in the neighborhood about who was more beautiful. But she never cared. She had a simple philosophy in life – make the most of what you already have, rather than wait for something you may never have.

Dressing up therefore was need-based. Pastel colored sarees, a small bindi , and hair neatly tied as a bun. Though she had long hair, the bun was always neatly pinned, not even a strand would escape. She was a very presentable lady. She was quite vocal about any injustice happening in her environment. She once slept out in the portico, as Mr.Sen refused to allow a stray dog to be kept in the house.!

Kalpana, the maid, often teased that maybe Madhumati was adopted. She bore little or no resemblance to her parents. Kalpana doubled up as a maid & governess of the family and the child respectively .She had been with the Sen family for almost 7 years now and had gone on to become a loyal and trusted aide. She knew the family well, and kept the family secrets guarded from the prodding relatives.

Kalpana was on the shorter and heavier side, dark complexioned and yet had a magnetic look about her. She never married, the reasons varied, but no one knew the truth.

Madhumati and Madhubala’s maternal uncle Mahendra Lal Dutta was a frequent visitor to the Sen residence. In his mid-forties he looked every inch a spoilt landlord. A satin off-white Kurta, with a gorgeously tied Dhoti, and the shawl over his left shoulder, well oiled-back brushed hair, a thick gold chain on his neck and a classical gold watch.

With multiple tea-estates inherited, his only job was supervision and collecting taxes. His behavior on the field contradicted his looks. He was kind to the labourers,helpers and their family.

The Murder Victims

Mr. And Mrs. Sen were murdered between 10AM – 11.30AM that day.

If you took a photograph of the room the incident happened, you would be surprised about the calmness of it all. Everything else about the living room was in perfect order.

Except Mr.Sen.

He was sitting on his favorite rocking chair with his head chopped into a bloody mass. No features from his face remained cognizable. It seemed as if someone had ploughed through his head with an axe. His head was bent slightly to the right and his face had been cut by several blows .His left eyeball was cleanly split into two and was protruding from his face. The nose had been severed. Most of the cuts were within a small area extending from the eye and nose to the ear. Blood was still seeping from the wounds. There were spots of blood on the floor, on the wall above the sofa and on a picture hanging on the wall. It appeared that he had been attacked from above and behind him.

Aparna Sen, was on the second floor. She lay down on the floor between the bed and the window in the northwest corner of the house. She was stretched full length with one arm extended, as if she was trying to reach for something or someone. On her left temple ,blood clots showed signs of about eleven wounds. A thick clot of blood circled the head and shoulders on the carpet. It appeared she was hit on top and back of her skull decisively repeatedly with a sharp object at first, then probably with a blunt object.

There appeared no signs of any robbery or break-in, as the ease with which the corpses lay, bore no testimony of any scuffle. The coat hanger was occupied with Mr.Sen’s overcoat. The home slippers were ready to be worn. The ease of posture of the corpse indicated he was in a relaxed mood, probably asleep when this happened. No jewelry was stolen, no cupboard was ransacked, everything was left undisturbed.

(Had to be an insider, I thought)

The Murder Weapon

Generally accepted fact was a wooden axe with a blunt back. The depth of the hits on Mr.Sen’s face was a sharp reminder that the blades were new. The dent on the back of Mr.Sen’s skull was reflective of the blunt back of the axe. It would have required great strength to crack the skull so decisively.

The blood on Mr.Sen’s body was dark and had coagulated.

But the sharp piercings were unexplained. No one heard anything around the neighborhood. So the possibility of a gunshot was not relevant. Neither was any bullet shrapnel found.

There were no other clues on the crime scene to lead the way to the actual murder weapon. All was but speculation.

The sketch of the murderer was becoming evident. It had to be someone with strong forearms, someone taller than 5 feet 8 inches (Mr.Sen’s height),someone known to the family, and possibly holds a personal grudge. A very deep one at that.Comiting such a heinous act needed some amount of planning, as the crime scene did not look like a hit-n-run case. It was a plan well thought through and executed ruthlessly.

The actual murder weapon was never found.

The Motive.

To commit such a terrible crime needed to have a massive motive. Without the real motive this act of ruthlessness could not have been carried out. It also points to the fact that the motive was not something that might have built up over night. It must be simmering for a long time. And on that fateful day, it just might have snapped.

The strong motivation also pointed at a strong will. Even when someone has an adrenalin rush one is quite aware of his or her actions. Besides the rush does not last long.So what happened after the killer’s initial adrenalin died? How did the murderer sustain it to commit a double murder?

Sometimes motivations dwindle as one see’s gore and blood. It has a strong reversible impact on the brain and sanity pushes in, reality pushes in, and perhaps remorse kicks in.However, in this case, none of that was evident.

The Malefactor

Let us review the and consider all of the people alive as suspects.

Kalpana – she was the closest to the family, knew their secrets and had access to them at all times. However, she was just 5 feet 2 inches tall. Reaching for Mr.Sen’s face would have been an ardent task. Needless to say Mr.Sen was more powerful and strong as well. He could have easily defended her off.

Mahendra Lal Dutta – the uncle fit the bill of strong and tall. He would easily over power someone of the stature of Mr.Sen. Besides working in the tea-estates would have gotten him access to cutters and axes for sure.However,what he lacked – was motive. Money was certainly not the issue, his sister was married happily into a good family and Mr.Sen treated his wife well. So there was no element of getting back or revenge.

Madhubala – was the softer of the two sisters. She was brought up comfortably, she was well taken care of by the family, and even if she were to be married off, she would inherit 50% of Mr.Sen’s property – so in the list of suspects she was probably the lowest count. On the flip side, she was always the mischievous one. She was secretive about all the pranks played. And there lies the difference as well. Pranks and crime are two different genres altogether.

Madhumati –The younger daughter of the family, she was always the vocal one against any injustice. By the look of it – there was no injustice happening within the family, else it would have been brought up earlier. The only suspicion comes from the fact that she was as tall as her father, had access to the family and some motive comes from the fact that she did not like the stepmother. But this argument is defeated by the fact that Mr.Sen, her father was killed as brutally as her step mother.

The Menology

The sequence of events occurred in the following order.

At about 11.10 am Kalpana , who was cleaning the attic on the third floor heard a loud scream –

‘Kalpana come down right now’ screamed Madhumati.

‘What’s the matter’ Kalpana retorted startled.

‘Father is dead. Someone’s come in and killed him’. Madhumati shouted.

When Kalpana hurried downstairs, she found Madhumati standing at the back door.

Madhumati stopped her from going into the living room –

"Don't go in there. Go and get the doctor. Run.".

Kalpana ran across the street to their neighbor and family physician, Dr.Bardhan who was out on house-calls, so she informed Mrs.Bardhan and ran back to the house.

At about 11:15 a.m. the police station, about four hundred yards from the house, received a message to rush to the Sen residence.

In the meanwhile, the neighbor to the North, Mrs. Anamika Chatterjee, saw that something distressful was happening at the Sen household. She called across to Madhumati, who was at the back entrance of the house and asked if anything was wrong.

Madhumati responded by saying, ‘please come over! Someone has killed Baba!"

‘Where is ma? Mrs.Chatterjee queried.

‘I don’t know’ Madhumati replied.

‘I had sent Kalpana to get Dr.Bardhan – but he is unavailable’ Madhumati continued after a second.

‘Ok I will send Govardhan, to look for a doctor and find some help. I’ll be there right away. Then she turned around to look for the domestic help to apprise him of the new task at hand.

At about 11.30 – Dr. Bardhan arrived.

He examined the body and asked for a towel to cover the face and a sheet to cover the body. Kalpana was back by then and Madhumati was standing right beside Mrs.Chatterjee in the living room.

‘Please call Madhubala and ask her to reach out to her mother calmly and let her know that Mr.Sen has met with an unfortunate accident.’ Dr.Bardhan announced calmly.

‘Dr.Bardhan didi,has gone out of the house for some work - but Kalpana – why don’t you go upstairs and call Ma – I think I heard her coming down.’ Madhumati suggested.

Kalpana refused to go up – so Mrs.Chatterjee volunteered. Reluctantly Kalpana followed her footsteps. No sooner they had reached the second floor ,Mrs.Chatterjee let out a shriek. Mrs.Sen’s body lay on the floor in a pool of blood.

‘There’s another one’ she gasped.

Madhumati said ‘Dr.Bardhan, it’s Mrs.Sen – you need to see if she has a chance.’

11.45 a.m.

The reporters and the police arrived.

The police investigation began in earnest. Officer Manik Nath asked Madhumati if there were any hatchets in the house.

"Yes, she said. "They are everywhere. – Kalpana why don’t you show them to Manik babu’.

Manik and Kalpana went down to the basement and found four hatchets, one with dried blood and hair on it — cow's blood and hair, as it was later determined — a second rusty claw-headed hatchet, and two that were dusty. One of these was without a handle and covered in ashes. The break appeared to be recent.

About this time, Mahendra Lal returned, strolling into the backyard, picking some pears and eating them. Totally caught by surprise ,shock and despair he broke down crying and sat in the opposite corner of the living room.

The officers queried both Mahendra Lal and Madhumati about their whereabouts from 10.00 am to 11.30 am separately.

‘I was invited for lunch by Mr.Sen today. I spent the mornings with my usual rounds at the tea estate.’

So who do you think did it ? Uncle Mahendra, Kalpana or someone else? asked the officer to Madhumati.

‘I don’t know – father was not the type to have enemies.’

‘And what about your mother?’

‘My stepmother – Mrs.Sen had an argument with someone a few weeks ago’ Madhumati shot back at the officer.

It was almost 3 p.m. and Madhubala had still not returned that afternoon. Something quite unusual. She would never be out so late. The day ended with the bodies being removed for funeral and many onlookers gathered right outside the house speculating the various suspects.

The house was quiet but not quite empty.

A little later in the evening, Mrs.Chatterjee from the balcony overlooking the backyard of the Sen household – saw Madhubala in the kitchen….near the stove, burning a dress.

‘I looked out of the window and waved to Mrs.Chatterjee.’

~ M.

July 4,1956.Darjeeling.

Gyanban Thoughts - this story is losely based on the Borden family murders.The research has been done from Wikipedia and embeded research crime libraries.This fictional tale is laced with the real story and the case is still unresolved.The main accused ,the younger sister was charged with three murders, one of her father, one of her mother and strangely one for both of them ! She was acquitted.The prosecution could not prove conclusively who had actually all the critical factors behind a crime, like motive,ability,intent and plan. thought I have figured out who it could be and how it was done - I will keep it for another story.

The title Fell em - could be read as Fell M, or to fell (axe) or kill them.

I'd love to hear your point of view and see if you figured who done it?

image courtesy :desktopnexus.com