THE BUTCHER OF BENARES

by MAHENDRA JAKHAR

  The medic looked and said, ‘Yes, it’s right there.’

  Hawa Singh was relieved. Going by the modus operandi, at least it was not the same killer.

  ‘You might not believe us but this is the work of Naga sadhus. They are no less tantriks than we are. They can disappear into thin air and dissolve into darkness. They are here to capture the city,’ persisted Neelambar Nath.

  Hawa Singh was looking far into the darkness. He turned to Neelambar and asked, ‘Did your guru often come out for such secret meetings?’

  ‘No, this is the only time that I saw him doing so.’

  ‘That means he could have been meeting this person on a regular basis, or at least knew him well enough to venture out in the dark to meet him.’

  ‘If it was so regular, we would have known about it. And Guruji was not scared of darkness. For us Aghoris, the good and bad, light and dark, are all part of the same sacred source.’

  Hawa Singh nodded thoughtfully, adjusting his Colt. ‘Did Swamiji have any enemies? I mean, did anyone ever threaten him or did he ever have a rift with someone?’ asked Hawa Singh.

  ‘Here, in Benares, people worshipped him. Even the Kashi Naresh doesn’t cross his path.’

  Ruby came up to Hawa Singh and said, ‘I don’t know whether I should be involved in this or not. This is an isolated case and has nothing to do with the murder of Eva. The FBI didn’t send me for this.’

  The SSP was sweating helplessly, surrounded by reporters. He was trying to answer their questions as best as he could. The best remark he could come up with was, ‘I assure you and the people of Benares that the killer will be caught.’

  Hawa Singh knew that it was not all about power, the uniform and grabbing headlines. The police all over the country were understaffed, underpaid and overworked. Still, they have to act. They have to forget everything once they are out on streets.

  It was not only about intelligence, it was about who would endure longer and stick around to the end. One needed to act, be patient and have the strength to bear pain.

  Sleepless. Loveless. Ruthless.

  The crux of the matter was that, within a short span of time, they had had to contend with more than one murder in Benares.

  Hawa Singh was forced deeper and deeper into an endless fog. He already had too much on his mind—his dying father, the memories of Kavita, the bullet that constantly worried at his brain, the murder of Eva, the many riddles of astrology, and the mysterious Bhrigu-Samhita. And now this.

  ‘It would be better that the local police handle this. We both are out of jurisdiction here,’ said Hawa Singh to Ruby.

  Ruby had a sudden idea. ‘Could it be that the swami was killed to take away the focus from Eva’s murder?’

  Hawa Singh looked at her and said, ‘It would have been better,’ replied Hawa Singh, ‘for the killer to have left Benares and disappeared till we tired of the hunt and gave up.’

  Ruby nodded in agreement.

  ‘Also, Eva’s killer left his signature in the form of the Cross, and her heart was wrenched out. The Holy Cross and the axe don’t fit together,’ said Hawa Singh.

  They did not know it at the time, but there was one factor that tied them together.

  CHAPTER 7

  The water was warm enough for comfort, and not hot enough to burn. It was dark and the fog was at ground level. The outdoor pool was lit and its bottom shone with polished tiles as Ruby Malik did her customary daily fifty laps.

  She wanted to unclog her brain, clear it of all the blood and gore. She wanted to tire herself out physically, to give her mind some rest.

  She loved the water cascading down her body as she glided ahead, knifing smoothly through the warm water of the heated swimming pool at Nadesar Palace. It was built in the nineteenth century to accommodate illustrious guests of the East India Company. The white stucco, colonnaded mansion became the residence of a maharaja before its transition into a luxury, ten-suite guesthouse, combining the traditional elegance of a colonial country-house hotel with the joys of modern gadgetry and plumbing.

  The FBI had earlier booked her in a guesthouse. The Vatican made sure that the investigative officer had all the comforts, so she could focus at ease on her work. The Vatican too was interested in finding the killer of their trusted and loyal employee at the observatory.

  It was already 11.30 pm and the fog had covered everything. Ruby was on her last few laps, almost sweating inside the warm water. Hawa Singh walked towards the pool, cutting through the curtain of fog. His hands were chilled. He couldn’t believe that Ruby was swimming in this temperature.

  He stood close to the pool, watching her move gracefully, like a smooth dolphin. He could see the contours of her body as her long legs kicked the water and her slender hands stretched ahead to touch the wall.

  Hawa Singh realized that she was fair-skinned, but still no one would call her a foreigner. She had the typical features of an Indian or a Pakistani girl. Dark black hair. Black eyes. An oval-shaped face. Overall, she had a perfect body. He could see the workouts behind it all. While he was getting bulkier, drank a lot and had a bullet lodged in his head.

  Ruby finished her fifty laps, saw Hawa Singh standing on the rim of the pool, and smiled up at him, breathing a little fast after the exertion.

  ‘Why don’t you join me?’

  Hawa Singh dipped his hand in the pool to check the temperature and said, ‘I prefer the Ganges. Are you ready for an early morning dip?’

  She climbed out saying, ‘I don’t want to freeze in the river.’

  She was wearing a sleek, backless swimsuit. She removed the cap from her head and flicked her hair. It had been a long time since he had seen a beautiful woman.

  He picked up a towel and handed it to her. ‘I wanted to discuss certain things with you.’

  Ruby wrapped the towel around herself saying, ‘Well then, let’s go to my room.’

  Hawa Singh followed her, trying not to stare. He couldn’t help but notice her beautifully shaped legs, still shining wet from the pool, and the gleam in her hair.

  Kavita had always kept her hair open, letting it dance in the wind. He had loved to play with it. All that love now gone.

  They stepped into her room. Hawa Singh was not used to seeing such luxury. He had stayed in cheap guesthouses or lodges most of his life. He had never been able to afford something like this, nor could the rest of the Delhi Police.

  Swathes of pink raw silk draped the four-poster bed. Works of art from the Maharaja’s collection were displayed on the walls. The room had original pieces of furniture to recreate the atmosphere of a bygone era. The décor of the room was intended to evoke the colours of marigold, jasmine, and the pale pink lotuses that are offered to the Ganges. Hawa Singh sat hesitatingly on one of the prized chairs, lest he break it.

  Ruby went into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open, enough for Hawa Singh to see that this room was equally a feast for the eyes—retro fittings, shining white marble and Venetian mirrors. In one of the larger mirrors, he watched, transfixed, Ruby removing her swimsuit. She dried herself and slipped on a t-shirt and shorts. As she emerged back into the bedroom, he looked away.

  ‘I’m ordering some hot coffee,’ said Ruby from near the phone. ‘Why don’t you update me on some details while we wait for it? The police did provide me with the file but I need to know more directly from you.’

  Hawa Singh nodded, realizing that, suddenly, he felt very warm. He was not used to these heated rooms. He removed his leather jacket and his Colt, placed the jacket on a side table, and quietly slipped the gun under it.

  Ruby jumped onto the bed and sat on it cross-legged, tying back her hair. ‘Okay, I’m ready, so let’s start.’

  To Hawa Singh she looked like a girl out of some television commercial. Bubbly. Chirpy. Smiley. She looked different from the confident suit-clad FBI official at the press conference. Her armour had gone.

  He controlled his thoughts and focused on narrating to her the series of e
vents that occurred right from the time he saw the body of Eva in the water. In between, Ruby was constantly taking notes. He told her that the forensics team were not able to come up with any prints. Obviously, there had been a stampede of flatfoots in Eva’s room.

  By the time he finished she had a list of pointers. ‘I don’t understand the connection between astronomy and astrology,’ she began musingly. ‘Secondly, the motive of the murder is not clear. Is it a ritual killing, part of a human sacrifice? Thirdly, where was she killed? It is clear that she was brought to the Ganges and left there.’

  To Hawa Singh she spoke like any trainee detective trying to show off her intelligence. Still, she had explored the basic question. Motive.

  ‘Well, the way I remember it, it was pretty clear that the crime scene was artificial and arranged,’ admitted Hawa Singh. ‘I mean, the way the body was left in the Ganges with the wooden stake. It was meant to call for attention.’

  Ruby looked thoughtful and said, ‘We need to find out whether it is a beginning, or an end.’

  Hawa Singh was peeling away the layers of the mystery one by one. He believed that there are marks left at the scene of every crime. It’s left to you to find them.

  ‘The Naga sadhus and the Aghoris are right now our prime suspects,’ he continued, still lost in his train of thoughts. ‘They are the ones who go in for tantric rituals and sacrifices, and consider themselves to be the controllers of life and death.’

  The coffee arrived and Ruby got up to serve it in what looked like, to Hawa Singh, expensive cups. He was afraid that if he broke one, he’d have to pay for it.

  ‘What do you think about the murder of Aghori Baba?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘It could be a case of gaining power in their circle. I mean, one of them could have killed him to take his position.’

  ‘In that case, Neelambar is the person to gain. He was the second-in-command,’ reasoned Ruby.

  ‘Forensics have found thumbprints on the handle of the axe. They will lead us to the killer.’

  Ruby spoke her thoughts out aloud. ‘You think Eva ever met this Tailanga Swami?’

  Hawa Singh looked stunned at this new perspective. ‘We could look into that! In fact, we need to find all the places that Eva visited here, all the people she met in Benares.’

  He suddenly remembered, took out the small piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Ruby. ‘This was what I found in Eva’s hotel room. I have checked the telephone numbers. One of them is the private number of the king of Benares.’

  Ruby looked surprised. ‘The king of Benares! They still have a king here?’

  ‘He is a figurehead, actually. Monarchy was dissolved post-Independence. The current “king”, or “Kashi Naresh” as he is called, is Maharaj Abhay Narayan Singh. He is a descendant of a highly orthodox Brahmin family. Even today, the Kashi Naresh is deeply revered by the people of Benares. The people here consider him an incarnation of Lord Shiva. He is also the chief cultural patron and an essential part of all religious celebrations,’ explained Hawa Singh.

  ‘Here, everyone seems more mysterious than the last person,’ exclaimed Ruby.

  Hawa Singh gingerly replaced his porcelain cup on the table. He rubbed his scalp uncomfortably as the indoor heating went to his head.

  Ruby looked at him curiously. ‘Is it really true that you have a bullet lodged near the brain?’

  He nodded silently.

  ‘Man, that’s crazy. Does it hurt?’

  Another nod, followed by a dry ‘Can we get on with our work?’

  Ruby sat down on a cushion resembling a marigold. She looked like a goddess, sitting amidst its velvet petals.

  ‘Right, then,’ Hawa Singh continued, ‘the second number I checked is the mobile number of Suryadev Singh, minister of state for social development. He happens to be notorious.’

  At Ruby’s questioning look, Hawa Singh elaborated, ‘Suryadev Singh, approximately fifty-five years old, is the son of B.P. Singh, the most powerful coal mafioso during the late ’70s and ’80s, just after the nationalization of mines in Bihar and the Jharkhand region. When all mines were taken over by the government, B.P. Singh began to run parallel mines illegally. Many other small coal mafia gangs followed suit.’

  Ruby was all ears. ‘So now, the mafia thickens the plot. Go on.’

  ‘Due to intense rivalry with other gangs, the rising violence, killings, and political turmoil, B.P. Singh sent his son, Suryadev Singh, to London to study. Suryadev studied in London and throughout was well aware of his father’s activities.

  ‘Suryadev acquired a fine taste in wine, women and photography. It is said that he still loves to develop black-and-white pictures in his personal darkroom. After he graduated, he came back to Bihar to work for his father. Suryadev had high ambitions and wanted to transform the illegal activities into a legal business empire. He went from one minister to the other for a permit to take over the mines. They simply refused. Suryadev grew utterly bitter with the government, beginning to believe his father had been right all along. It was power that ruled.

  ‘There were other rival gangs that targeted B.P. Singh’s business and their fleet of trucks. To neutralize them, Suryadev went underground to live with the workers. There he posed as a poverty-stricken labourer and learnt everything about how men could be sold as slaves, about illegal mines, and about those working against his father. He successfully put an end to all the rival gangs. Except for one gangster, Hassan Ansari, who succeeded in killing Suryadev’s father in a shootout between their gangs.

  ‘Suryadev tracked down Hassan Ansari and killed him. He then resolved to carry on with his father’s work, taking over the entire illegal coal business. Many top engineers, officers of the government-owned Coal India Ltd, worked for him. He was generous and was prompt with his payments. All the ministers and bureaucrats were very happy with him.

  ‘In fact, Suryadev turned out to be more lethal and cold-blooded than his father. He was not interested in the workers or their lives. He was interested in coal and the money that coal brought him. A well-read, intelligent man turned to the world of crime.’

  Ruby looked impressed. ‘You seem to have done a whole lot of work on this coal guy.’

  ‘Two years back,’ Hawa Singh resumed, ‘I was assigned to look into the death of a mining inspector whose body was found in a goods train carrying coal from the mines of Jharkhand to Delhi. Everyone knew that it was Suryadev who had got him killed. We got the hit-men. They were nothing but hired hands that would kill anyone for a few thousand rupees. There was nothing that connected them to Suryadev Singh. He doesn’t leave any traces or tracks that can lead anyone to him.’

  ‘So now he is a respectable politician in your country and he can’t be touched?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘As he gained more and more power and wealth, Suryadev looked for higher things to gain respect in society. So he decided to contest the elections instead of funding the morons that he used to do. He even married a local girl to gain the loyalty of the people.’

  ‘Why would such a big shot murder a girl like Eva?’ asked Ruby.

  Hawa Singh returned to his coffee, although it had turned cold. ‘Suryadev loves to throw lavish parties. He gets girls, scotch and wine from different parts of the world. He has a son, Prashant Singh, who is known to abduct young girls, rape them and throw them on the road. Yet, no charges have ever been filed against him.’

  ‘But the autopsy confirmed that there was no sign of sexual violence on Eva’s body,’ put in Ruby. ‘In fact, there were no signs of even a struggle.’

  ‘Her killer could be Suryadev Singh himself. He is a big sympathizer of many Hindu fundamentalist groups and funds many of their activities. Also, Eva had access to his personal number.’

  Ruby held her face in her hands. ‘What the hell was she doing with all these men?’

  ‘There is another one,’ Hawa Singh went on. ‘I checked on the third number that was struck off with the same pen. Maybe Eva herself cut it out. Fo
r what reason, we don’t know yet.’

  Ruby looked at Hawa Singh attentively, her eyes suddenly shining bright.

  Hawa Singh looked at her, ‘What?’

  ‘I am listening to you, carry on.’

  ‘So this third number connected me to Pandit Vishnu Shashtri, a professor of Sanskrit at Benares Hindu University. He is also one of the prominent astrologers of Benares.’

  Ruby got up excitedly, ‘He must be Eva’s connect with astrology. We need to meet up with him.’

  ‘We’ll be meeting all three of them. They are high on our list. There is something more.’

  ‘What, more numbers?’ she asked.

  ‘No, it’s a bird.’

  ‘Bird?’

  ‘Underneath these numbers she wrote a word, “SPARROW”.’

  CHAPTER 8

  The nightmare slipped in under cover of fog and found its way to him. It clutched him with its strong arms and dragged him into black fear.

  Hawa Singh saw himself running, in a direction he couldn’t tell, with blood from his head filling his nostrils. He was gasping for air. He couldn’t see anything. But the sounds came loud and clear.

  ‘Singh, Singh!’ he heard Kavita cry out to him.

  He was running, tearing through the darkness with his head pounding. He heard the gunshots.

  Silence.

  Darkness.

  A sudden shiver woke him up. There was a sharp pain in his head. Images of Kavita floated in front of his eyes. He had to force himself to shut them and cut her off. She would never die for him. She was still there, smiling and laughing, narrating her experiences to him with girlish enthusiasm—and then stealing a quick kiss.

  Love. You couldn’t find it these days. It’s extinct.

  He looked around and found himself on a couch in Ruby’s room. He checked his watch: it was 5.30 am. He saw Ruby curled up between the silken sheets, fast asleep. He picked up his jacket, tucked in his Colt and was ready to leave.

  Something pulled him back to Ruby. He went to her and moved a few strands of hair away from her face. She smiled in her sleep. He bent closer, and as if in sudden reflex, Ruby opened her eyes. She clutched the hand he had placed on her cheek, and fell contentedly back to sleep.