It was almost midnight on April 13, 2023, the quiet end of an otherwise uneventful day in Akash Nagar, a picturesque township perched high on a hilltop, reminiscent of Shiva's abode at Kailash. The township's only police station, old and weathered, stood silent under the pale moonlight. The moment the antiquated wall clock struck midnight, signaling the change of date, the station’s red telephone rang out, shattering the stillness.
Constable Lakhan Singh, who was comfortably indulging in his nightly ritual - a blissful nap - was jolted awake by the harsh ringing. It was as if an unruly child had decided to disturb his peaceful slumber. He grumbled under his breath, "What a nuisance!" but knew the sound wouldn’t stop until it was answered. With great reluctance, he abandoned his rickety wooden stool and stumbled toward the phone, lifting the receiver only to drop it just as quickly. Silence returned, but only briefly. In the stillness, it was as if the sound of the ringing still echoed through the air, refusing to fully die away.
Lakhan Singh, still groggy, resumed his seat and his cherished nap, a feat of relaxation on such an uncomfortable stool. But fate, it seemed, was determined to keep him alert that night. Before he could settle, the phone rang again, louder and more insistent. Cursing under his breath, he snatched up the receiver and answered, this time in a formal, sing-song tone: "Namaskar Sir, this is Constable Lakhan Singh. How can I help you?"
The voice on the other end was frantic, barely able to get the words out.
"Sir, I’m calling from the Daily Market Chowk. There’s been a terrible accident. A man has been hit by a lorry - he’s dead. There’s a big crowd gathering, and things are getting out of control. Please, come quickly with backup!"
Lakhan straightened, now fully alert.
"Who is this? Give me your name and address."
"Kantilal, Sir. I run the Sheela shop at the Chowk."
With that, the caller hung up. Lakhan didn’t waste a second. The lazy stupor that had weighed him down moments ago was gone. He quickly alerted the appropriate officers, and within minutes, the police jeep roared to life, speeding toward the scene.
Sub Inspector Ajay Singh arrived at the Daily Market Chowk to a chaotic scene. A large crowd had gathered, surrounding the victim’s body, which lay in a gruesome state. The man’s face was mutilated beyond recognition, his body drenched in blood, a horrific sight that made Mr Singh’s stomach churn. Stepping forward, Singh raised his voice to address the crowd.
"Everyone, please stay calm. The police will investigate this matter thoroughly. We need your cooperation. If anyone witnessed what happened, please step forward."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Faces turned to one another, but no one spoke. The tension in the air was palpable. Finally, Singh broke the silence. "Who is Kantilal?"
This time, the murmur led to movement. From the back of the crowd, a stout, middle-aged man began pushing his way forward. He was short, with a spherical belly and an oversized head crowned by a black cap, which failed to conceal the bald patch at the center. His thick, black-rimmed glasses magnified his blinking eyes. His off-white dhoti was in disarray, the loose end trailing along the ground as he hurried. His appearance was almost comical, but the gravity of the situation wiped away any hint of amusement.
As Kantilal reached Singh, he bowed repeatedly, his flustered face shining with sweat.
"Your Honour, Sir, Kantilal Makhanlal of Sheela shop at your service."
Singh sized him up with a curious smile.
"So, you’re the one who called the station?"
"Yes, Sir. That was me."
"Relax. I just need some information. You don’t need to be afraid," Singh said reassuringly. "Now, tell me what you saw."
Kantilal exhaled deeply, his voice shaking as he began.
"It was around 11:00 p.m. I was locking up the shop for the night. I saw the man standing by the road, as if he was waiting to cross. But when the lorry approached, he… he jumped right in front of it, Sir. It was like he wanted to be hit."
Singh frowned. "You were locking up the shop. Then, how could you be sure of what happened?"
"My workers were handling the locks, Sir. I was just standing outside, and I could see everything clearly from where I was."
"Did you recognize the man?"
"Yes, Sir. It was Mohan Babu, the teacher from the high school. He was a regular at my shop, always coming by with his family to buy clothes. A very kind man."
Singh’s expression hardened. "Are you sure it was Mohan Babu?"
"Yes, Sir. We even exchanged pleasantries before the accident."
Singh paused, digesting the information. "And what did you do after the accident?"
"I ran to check on him, but… he was already gone, Sir. There was no point. So I rushed back to the shop and called the police."
"Can you describe the lorry? Its size, color, anything?"
"It was green, like the ones used to transport iron ore from the mines. It was speeding."
"Did the driver stop?"
"Only for a second, Sir. He slowed down a bit but then drove off quickly."
"Did you see anyone in the vehicle?"
"Yes, Sir. Someone on the passenger side looked out. He had a large mustache, twirled at the ends, and he wore a turban, like a farmer."
"Could you recognize him if you saw him again?"
Kantilal hesitated. "I’m not sure, Sir. It was dark, and I didn’t get a good look. But the mustache and turban… that much I’m certain of."
Singh nodded. "You’ve been very helpful. Thank you, Mr. Kantilal. We may need to speak with you again."
"As you wish, Sir. Anything for the community and our dear teacher."
As Singh finished his questioning, the body was taken to the hospital for a post-mortem. There was nothing more to be found at the scene—no further clues or evidence, just a few personal belongings of Mohan Babu.
On the drive back to the police station, Singh was deep in thought. Something about the incident gnawed at him. Was it truly a suicide, as Kantilal had suggested? Why would a respected man like Mohan Babu take his own life so suddenly?
The question lingered in his mind, unsettling him as the jeep wound its way through the darkened streets of Akash Nagar.
(To Continue)
