PART 1
The full moon shone clear and bright on this wintry evening in Samudrapur. No, it was not situated near a sea. This merry little village was segregated from all the bigger towns around it and life here went on as it had been going for...well, almost as long as anyone here could remember. None needed to go anywhere as the produce of this place was enough to maintain itself. I was on a holiday recluse with my friend in a dusty inn in this pretty place. I here narrate an interesting little episode after which my life changed entirely and I have been living in Samudrapur ever since.
By and by, the sky darkened, and the moon brightened proportionately. It seemed majestic before the tiny twinkling stars. And again, the moon was as full as could be.
Night had fallen. Every child was asleep and every adult, usually a farmer, winding up for a good night's sleep. Drowsy nightcapped silhouttes appeared on the curtains before each light went out. Soon, it became dark. That is, dark inside the houses, for a silvery blue light flooded the fields outside.
My friend Rumkin ("Rummy") Sinha walked with me; we were strolling the village streets. We were not used to sleeping at this hour, like the farmers. Moreover, that stupid ass had a strange sense of adventure, and he thought that there was only one very interesting place in the village. He told me that there was just one place where one was supposed to find activity at this hour in the village - the graveyard.
PART 2
So here we were, standing behind some laurel trees near the graveyard, looking around for God knows what. Suddenly, Rummy pushed me into some thorny bushes, and crouched beside. I was going to shout, but then I saw one of the farmers we had met at the inn, John Patel, digging the former sarpanch's grave. That old chap (the sarpanch) had died only today, and we had witnessed his burial ceremony (everybody was Christian here. The name of Samudrapur was Harpershire 20 years back) this evening, hardly an hour ago.
Before I could stop him, Rummy launched out of the bushes, heading straight for John Patel.
"Hey, John, what do you think you're doing? Robbing the sarpanch's wallet - grave robbing? Eh, what? Look behind? What's behind me?
"Aaaah! Sarpanch!"
Sarpanch: "I called John to take me outta there. It was rather stuffy."
"How're you sir...."
"I was deliberately attempted murder upon. I knew they were gonna bury ma alive. John, my loyal man, knew this. Now, I'm gonna murder those wretches!"
"Uh, who...?"
"I'll tell y'all later. Come to ma house first, both of you!"
John Patel quietly followed. I did not show myself. My friend walked with them.
PART 3
So, as I said, I followed them at a distance. I did so as I did not trust the sarpanch. He probably was a Trojan Horse sent to this village by the state government and had been infamous among the villagers from the start. I had talked to many villagers in my spare time. You see, I was the smart one, if I may say so, and Rummy was the impulsive one. We approached a very dark alley. Only quietness reigned here. My friend was the only one making appreciable noise among the threesome in front of me.
By and by, we came to a (comparatively) large, dark house. All the curtains were drawn and there was no sign of life. This was the 'late' sarpanch's house. The board containing the Sarpanch's name and address had splashed over it in capital red letters "FOR SALE". He had never had a family - just have a dozen servants; so the house was uninhabited now.
The 'dead' sarpanch's step in the front garden recalled the words 'haunted house' to me. Rummy spoke loudly, "Great reptiles! How're you going to get into your house now, Sarpanch?" As in reply, the Sarpanch strode up to a front window on the left, tapped its bottom a few times. Then did the same with more vigour. We heard a clicking sound. The sarpanch quietly held up the pane and spoke hoarsely, as if a cough was round the corner in his mouth, "Get in". This increased my suspicions about the Sarpanch. Had he predicted all that had happenend to him? Rummy glanced casually in my direction, helped the sarpanch climb up, got inside in a flash like a monkey, then lent a hand to John so he could join them. I stayed in some raspberry shrubbery five feet from the window. The window being a large one, I could observe all that went inside. I believe it was four feet from the ground.
The sarpanch lit a single candle. He did not want anybody to know that he was there.
I crounched out in the cold, shivering away. The candle's light gave me little solace. The dew forming around me, and I wished I was in bed.
Suddenly, the clouds moved on, and the moon was unclad and bright. It was a gibbous one. I saw clearly the outline of each face in the room, pale against the moonlight. They were talking in whisper sand I could not make out everything they said. I crept a couple of feet closer, into the shadow of a deodar tree. Rummy was the only one who occassionally got loud, probably to let me hear.
The moon was hid again and the garden was cloaked with darkness. The sounds of the night gave background music to the plot those three were weaving inside the room.
PART 4
Among the still black bushes, I watched the room. The air was getting colder and dawn was close. Now I understood the Sarpanch's plan. What they had decided was this: Rummy and John would enter the new sarpanch, Bhowan Roha's house, on some petition regarding the farmers' cruelty toward birds and insects. Meanwhile, the former sarpanch would make a public appearance in the center of the village. He would move the people to anger with words chosen like a true politician, then lead a mob to the new sarpanch's house and destroy him. The former sarpanch spoke these words with such passion that I was shocked.
I crept back to the inn. Rummy joined me soon after, and we formed our own plans in whispers. We both thought that the former sarpanch was getting too violent, and we agreed to bring both sarpanchs down. They both were crooks, anyway.
PART 5
There was a fog the next day. No native of Samudrapur had a clock, so everyone's estimate of time differed, with their daily actions. There was this uneasy atmosphere of being on an alien planet.
At 7 o'clock (by my watch), Rummy and I put on our jackets, and set out to meet the new sarpanch, Bhowan, face to face.
I went up to the door and knocked. It was opened by a surly looking, hefty bald man.
"Who're you? Did da sarpanch call you?"
I replied: "No, I only wanted to talk to Mr. Bhowan about some important private matter."
Baldy looked in I heard some angry whispers.
Then opening the door with a more open countenance, "Of course, sir. Please be seated. Mr. Bhowan will meet you."
He did not show me anywhere to sit, so I went in and lighted upon a comfortable-looking sofa. Rummy went for the rocking chair by the cupboard.
Bhowan, who was already sitting on the sofa, told us to begin. Now, we wanted to save this man from a certain and painful death, but to punish him at the same time.
I cordially began, "The weather is bad, isn't it?....eheheh......I will get straight to the point. The fact is, Lt. Bhargav (the old sarpanch) is very angry."
"He wants to lynch ya", unnecessarily added Rummy.
"What are you talking about? That man is dead," he retorted.
"Don't you tell me that you did not try to murder him!" I shot back.
"I - did - not - murder anyone, ever," he spoke.
His words sounded like truth. I looked at Rummy questioningly. He still seemed determined to question the sarpanch. I felt my fears turning to reality. We had allowed a crook to stage his death, and then promised to help them.
He hurriedly spoke, "Listen to me carefully, Mr. Bhowan. I believe, the Lieutenant, for some reason, probably to win sympathy votes, staged his death yesterday, to have you framed for murder. John Patel might be his accomplice. He plans to have you killed today and then to regain his post. But what...." I could not finish the sentence. At this point, the door slamed open, and Lt. Bhargav took a step in. He fired three shots at Bhowan, who immediately fell back, dead. The Lieutenant smiled at us,"You're late, Mr. Rumkin. I thought ya had a rendezvous with John at ma bunglow." Rummy couldn't muster enough energy to shout,"Great reptiles! I forgot!". He just kept sitting there, looking like a duck.
Lt. Bhargav spoke, "You two better get outta here. The mob will destroy ya when they find that ya've killed there victim before his public trial. Good luck!".
He then exit through the door, locking it as well. There weren't any big windows in the room, and he knew it. We were like trapped pigeons.
PART 6
Rummy, busy as a bee, scampered to find a back door. I knew he wouldn't find that. The Lieutenant was no idiot. Wait - the Lieutenant! It was he who had entered just now, wasn't it? He looked somewhat strange. It was as if...it was a chance in a hundred, but it could potentially save us. I motioned to Rummy to follow me, then ran upstairs, from where I could distinctly hear the cries of an angry mob but could not see them due to the fog. I told Rummy to keep quiet and let me handle things.
"You'll only get in the way, you know." This was enough to make him calm. He was a proud individual, I knew that.
I ran up to the window. There was a slight drizzle now; I could see its silver spikes through the fog. I squinted to see through all that. Black shapes jumping, shouting, moving towards us. I waited for them to come closer, then screamed with all my might, "You have been used! You are fools!" That arrested their attention. They became quieter, and almost walked in silence to the house. Then they saw me. They began to question each other about what was happening. No one knew. Then they again looked at me.
I waited, then shouted, "Has anyone seen John Patel, the farmer?"
Nothing. Glares from Lt. Bhargav, who was sitting on horseback, at the back of the crowd. I continued, "John is here! The coward has murdered the sarpanch, and is now sitting on his horse, behind all of you!" Whispers, then turning heads, then angry words and shouts. The crowd began to trickle towards John. John whipped out his pistol and fired at me. I fell down and all went black. His convulsive face is all that I can remember.
EPILOGUE
When I opened my eyes, I saw a fire burning nearby, in a neat little chula. I blinked. It burnt bright and content. I grew more cheerful. As my vision cleared, I watched my inn's bedroom materialize around me. I tried to stand up, but was pushed back down by an unseen force. That was Rummy. He was smiling all over. His face had a warmth greater then that of the fire. He had probably given up on me ever regaining consciousness.
I was surpised to know that it had been 5 days since I had fallen unconscious. The bullet had been close to the heart, but I had been operated upon by the village surgeon immediately. He had found some difficulty in taking the bullet out, and I had been ordered a month's bedrest, if I survived. He told me that I was right, and John had been pulling the strings all the time. He was in the state prison now, for a lifetime, as it were. He had just escaped getting lynched by the mob; had been tried for two murders (of both the sarpanches), and had been dealt punishment two days after I had taken the bullet.
"Boy, you wouldn't believe who the next sarpanch is," he said shaking my hand gently, if he was capable of doing that. Before I could open my mouth to reply, "It's you! The villagers believe in you, and they decided this as soon as you had been declared alive, near that fatal windowsill. They think that you are some genius, who could take care of their village's development and the like." He snickered. I smiled feebly and repied, "Sarpanch or no sarpanch, I just don't want such an adventure ever again during my political career!"
Thus, I set up my own little house in Samudrapur, where I have been living since. I live a retired life, and since there aren't many politicians around, I have been allowed to remain sarpanch all this time.
However, Rummy was longing for some adventure, and the village games aren't enough for him. The idiot has now left the village, and is living near Mumbai, the great metropolis, as a private detective.
We meet sometimes, share bittersweet memories over a glass of orange juice (that's all Rummy drinks except water), and talk about his difficult cases. I sometimes lend him a hand, and have compiled a list of his successful cases for future use. I shall publish them in a separate book someday.
END
