THE KALI TEMPLE MURDERS
I
Now I am not claiming that this story is true, and I am not saying that this is not true.
Shortly before the train from Silchar arrives at the bustling, busy gateway named Badarpur Junction, it makes a whistle stop. This is Badarpur Ghat, a sleepy little village in the Nineteen Fifties – the time I speak of. But this had a large claim to fame – the ancient temple of the goddess Kali on the river, and right next to the railroad tracks. Ghat means a river landing, consisting generally of a few rustic steps. The temple consisted then of the shrine, a large paved courtyard, and assorted rooms to house the priests and any overnight visitors. But mostly itinerants and indigents – mostly of Bihari extraction - spent the night in these latter rooms. The temple complex sat in an aura of mystery in the light-and-shade pastiche of the woods with large, spreading trees. The goddess here was said to be ‘awakened’. This means that she is alert and attentive so that if you prayed to her, some beneficial result was likely to follow.
Kali takes on various forms. In her most benevolent form she is Kali the Preserver. Her image is generally done in white, with other soft colors. A virulent, punishing form is Kali of the Cremation Ground. She is done in black and garish red and other sinister dark colors. From her black face, a blood red tongue sticks out and droops downward a considerable distance. She has four flailing arms. In one arm she holds a broad sword dripping fresh blood. In another arm on the opposite side she holds, by the hair, a severed head dripping fresh blood, from a man she has just dispatched. The image is so disturbing that a child seeing it for the first time usually breaks out crying – and could probably be psychologically affected for the rest of his life.
The priests who worship this Kali are called kapaliks. They are most interesting individuals. Drinking country liquor (Tadi) and smoking hashish (Ganja) are generally what they do to get in the right mood to worship the goddess. They are often shabby, un-groomed, and half-clad. Their hair is matted from not having been washed, and they sport long, flowing beard. They usually wear saffron or red garb, often only around their loins. The rest of the body is bare, sinewy and hairy. All in all, these can also be disturbingly fearsome beings.
II
Sunil Majumdar was a man in his fifties, a prosperous merchant in Hailakandi, a town reached through a branch line from the Silchar-Badarpur Junction main line. He was however weak of heart and had to take great precaution in the way he lived his life. No sudden stress or excitement, no physical exertion, and no worrying. Thus when he purchased some land in Badarpur Junction, and had to actually go there himself to make the cash payment, a problem arose. Eventually it was decided that rather than undertaking the journey by train, he would travel privately in the cab of a friend’s truck that was going to the Junction shortly. Shona Miya the stout driver of the truck could also serve as his bodyguard. The money was packed neatly in 100-Rupee bills in a suitcase. Additionally, it was decided that Majumdar’s thirteen year-old son Subhash would accompany him, just for his mother’s peace of mind.
They made a rather late start, and by the time they reached Badarpur Ghat, it was already dark. To compound things, the truck broke down just about a quarter mile from the temple. The driver tinkered with the engine, and said that the problem could be easily fixed, but not before daylight. Then there was a little consultation, and it was decided that the father and the son would walk to the temple with the suitcase, where they knew they could find a safe night’s lodging. Shona Miya, being a Moslem, could not sleep in the temple, and he had to stay with the truck anyway. So he made himself comfortable in the cab of the truck.
When the pair arrived at the temple, they found two kapaliks sitting in the courtyard by the light of a hurricane lantern, and smoking hashish. Their eyes were bloodshot and they looked grotesque by the unsteady light. One had grey beard, and the other black. Subhash felt very afraid. But when the greybeard spoke, his voice was soothing and gentle, and his words were welcoming. Thus the tension dissolved, and the pair was cozily ensconced in a Spartan but warm room. The time was about nine o’clock. The sun would be up by five. So, a full eight-hour sleep seemed to be in the cards.
III
Early next morning, young Constable Ravi Gupta of the village Thana was awakened by a messenger boy from the temple. An unknown visitor had died in the temple, and the priests did not know what to do. Gupta arrived at temple almost immediately, on his bicycle. He found a man in his fifties lying dead in a tiny room. There was no sign of violence. But the man’s face bore a strange expression. This was not the usual expressionless face of a dead man.
The priests explained that this man arrived last night with his son, seeking shelter. They did not know anything more. This morning they found him dead, and the son was missing.
The Constable now sent the selfsame messenger boy to fetch the village doctor. This early in the morning he was available, and came promptly. Upon examining the body, Dr. Bagchi declared that the man had died of heart failure. There was nothing amiss here. The son probably became confused on seeing his father dead, and was roaming about in a daze. He would soon turn up. There was no police matter here in any event.
Constable Gupta was an intelligent man, and had read in great admiration the exploits of such detectives as Kiriti Roy. He sensed that there was something not quite right here, but officially there was nothing further he could do. He said he would form a search party to look for the boy. Meanwhile, keep the body covered for a couple of hours, he told the priests.
IV
Just as the Constable got on the bicycle and Dr. Bagchi did the same, Shona Miya arrived to pick up his passengers. It was not usual for a big truck to pull in in front of the temple, and so the three talked. Shona Miya was immediately shown the dead body, and he identified it. He then asked for the boy, and was told that the boy was missing. At this time, the driver asked about the suitcase. What suitcase, asked the Constable. When he heard the answer, he knew he had his mystery.
First, he matter-of-factly asked the priests about the suitcase. They said they saw nothing like that. The pair had arrived empty-handed, without any luggage. This seemed to cast suspicion on the driver. The Constable asked the driver, was it possible that the boy had something to do with money disappearing. Absolutely impossible, said Shona Miya. He knew the boy well. With that answer, the Constable felt that the driver was on the up and up.
He then asked Dr. Bagchi to examine the body again, with a fine tooth comb this time. The doctor readily agreed and proceeded conscientiously to do so. Two things emerged. The dead man’s mouth smelled of Tadi, and probably also faintly of hashish. The doctor whispered this finding to the Constable. The Constable took the driver to one side, and asked if Sunil Majumdar was a smoking, drinking man. Absolutely not, said the driver. He also told the Constable about Majumdar’s precarious heart condition, which precluded this type of indulgence anyway.
V
Now Constable Gupta felt a little bit like Kiriti Roy, and with some little satisfaction, he set about thinking, a la the great detective. And this thinking led him to a conclusion which made him extremely agitated. He took the messenger boy aside, and asked him to go to the village and round up some strong men and bring them here. He asked also that they bring some strong rope. The boy left. He then told the priests that he had sent the boy to form a party to look for missing Subhash.
In about half-an-hour, several muscular villagers, armed with sticks and iron rods arrived. Constable Gupta quickly explained to them what had transpired thus far. Then he said: “Something must have terrified the boy at night, and he fled. But he could not have gone anywhere in the dark. I think the boy is still here. I think he is up on that banyan tree right now, watching us. I want you all to protect him as I ask him to come down.”
When they all looked up into the thick leaves carefully, they found the boy clinging to a horizontal branch, motionless. After repeated assurances, he came down – somewhat dazed. The Constable, with the help of the villagers, tied the two priests to the trunk of the same tree, and asked the villagers to guard them. He then asked the boy to sit on the back rack of his bicycle, and started for the Thana, where also his living quarters were. His wife would revive the boy with some warm, sugared milk and bread. Then he would tell his story.
VI
A while after the guests were shown to the room, Greybeard returned and most endearingly invited Majumdar to join them for a little chitchat in the courtyard. Majumdar – although tired and mindful of his own frailty - could not bring himself decline his kind host’s request, and joined them. Then he was offered the chilam (hashish burner), and a mug of Tadi. Majumdar told them that he never smoked or drank. But they kept telling him that this was a holy ritual, and would do him much good. He relented, and partook of both. Then he became most garrulous. He told them about his heart condition. He told them how the doctors had said that any sudden shock would kill him for sure. He drank more and smoked more and became more garrulous. He bragged about his suitcase stuffed with 100 Rupee bills. Then he passed out. The priests gently carried him to his room, and placed him on his bed. They told the son that the father just needed to sleep it off. They told the son to go to sleep.
Subhash was very confused by his father’s behavior that night. All this was so uncharacteristic. He could not sleep. Then, he heard voices. Hushed, whispered, conspiratorial voices. The greybeard and the blackbeard were speaking somewhere nearby, but he could not make out what they were saying. Then he heard the word suitcase, and knew something bad was in the making. He tried to awaken his father, without any luck. He thought long and hard. Finally, he decided on a course of action. He would escape and bring help in the form of the brawny Shona Miya.
Stealthily, he made his way out of the room, across the courtyard, and into the woods. Then suddenly he heard a blood-curdling scream: “Mujhe bachao, mujhe bachao” – “Save me, save me” from somewhere in the far darkened corner of the courtyard. Then everything went silent. He froze. He hid behind the huge trunk of the banyan tree. He saw greybeard come out into the courtyard. He turned the hurricane lantern way down, taking the light down to the threshold of visibility. Greybeard then went to his father’s room and banged loudly on the door several times, and left. A little later, his father woke up, and came outside the door to see what was going on. What the boy saw next left him catatonic with fear.
From out of the far dark corner of the courtyard, and into the very dim light of the lantern, appeared Kali of the Cremation Ground. Her four arms were flailing. As she came closer, he could see the broad sword in a right arm shine, dripping blood. He saw his father see this sight, clutch the chest, and struggle to remain standing. Then a left arm came in view. From the hand dangled, by the hair, a freshly severed human head. The father collapsed.
Kali went back to the corner whence she came, and disappeared. After several minutes, greybeard and blackbeard came out together, and examined his father. They seemed satisfied. They dragged him inside the room. Then they started looking for the son from room to room, the same broad sword in blackbeard’s hand, raised in a striking stance. Something gave the boy enough strength to silently climb up the tree, and cling to a branch, and pray.
VII
The severed head was never found. But a few days later, the headless body of an itinerant indigent who often used to sleep in the temple washed up about a mile down the river. A search of the temple grounds produced the suitcase with all the money, and also items of disguise. Especially, bamboo sticks fastened together that could be fastened to the body to create the impression of arms in a nearly dark environment. A small blood-soaked burlap was also found. It had been wrapped around the flowing beard to fashion the tongue.
For a long time after this, passengers traveling from Silchar to Badarpur Junction, especially by the night train, would be all too keenly aware of a power of this place. Some strange fear would grip them as the train would pass by the temple. Those who became soporific in the train’s motion tried to stay wide awake lest something should happen to them in sleep. Others hugged themselves tightly with their own arms. All conversation died down. Everyone avoided looking out into the night, and looking at one another. It is almost as though something had entered the train compartment.
Everyone would be relieved when the rows of the garish lights of the refinery near Badarpur Junction would come into view. More and more lights would appear, until the train would pull into the brightly lit, clamoring, crowded station. Dazzling light and loud noise had never been so welcome.
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