A Place called Home

 

The year 1850 was one of the best monsoon’s Kent had had in the recent few years. Unlike the other towns of Great Britain, Kent had become one of the many sought after places to live for. The beautiful natural lush green enclave around the town gave a never-ending beauty to the eyes of its inhabitants. The morning was misty with fog due to the continuous drizzling all along the night. The grandfather clock alarm did its routine every morning at the strike of seven, though it hardly affected the occupants of the large house. It was two years since the family was residing at the big house at the corner of the street near the Kent market and the place was a heavenly abode for the family to reside into. With two floors and four bedrooms on each floor, a separate kitchen and a separate dining hall room, it was the first of its kind experience for the members of the family. Two children, a husband and a wife, comprised the beautiful small family.

 Routines of the day would start with the wife getting up from her never ending sleep to wake-up her husband and children for the day. It was followed by the individual commitments each one of them had for the day. The husband was a writer and often used one of the bedrooms as his study in the absence of the occupants. Entire day of the wife passed by cleaning her beautiful home. The children being small, often passed the day in the house under the care of their mother, both would be four next year. This was how time had passed for them for the last two years. A small happy family in their dream home spending quality time and making memories.

 That morning, while the husband was at the window and the wife in the bedroom on the ground floor near the wardrobe cupboard, there was a knock on the front door on the ground floor. Subsequent to which, the bell which hung outside the door was also struck. It seemed as though someone had come to visit them and was at the door. The husband and wife both came out in the dining hall room. The children were in one of the bedrooms. The knock got louder. The wife looked at her husband as the husband looked tensed. The husband walked towards one of the windows which faced the front of the house. Through the transparent pink curtain, the husband looked out. Two gentlemen in black coats, round hats and polished black shoes looked expectantly towards the front door. After some time, the knocks stopped.  The husband could see that the two people after looking around walked away from the house. The rest of the day passed by in routine work. That night, the wife spoke to her husband about the morning visitor. The husband continuously looked at the ceiling without muttering any word.

Next morning, as the wife woke up from sleep, she heard some sound at the dining hall room, a sound of as if, someone turning around the house entry door latch. She ran out. As she came out into the dining room, the door latch opened and four people entered the house. A woman, a man and two children. The wife was shocked to see them. She ran inside and woke her husband up. They both came out and saw the four people that had entered the house while their children were sleeping in the bedroom. They immediately ran towards the ground floor bedroom and got their children out with them. 

“Must be the house owners!” said the husband.

The wife looked perplexed.

“So, we have to find a new house to stay again,” said the wife.

“There’s no other option dear, it seems that they would be staying here.”

The four people who had just entered, sat on the sofa in the dining room. The female among them went into the kitchen and got some water from the kitchen sink area. The four of them looked around at the house.

“It’s in the same condition as we had left it two years ago,” said one of them.

The female looked around the room, “I am unable to remember the exact position of the things, but surely everything seems fine.”

The husband, wife and the children who were standing in the corner looking at the four people, who seemed to be the original owners of the house, looked at each other. It was time for them to leave the house and look for a new one, a house which would be closed and empty but furnished.

This house was one of the best they had resided, big, luxurious and peaceful as it was away from the maddening crowd of the city.

The wife looked at the four people sitting on the sofa and said “Can’t we continue to live here with them?”

The husband looked at her and then at the four of them on the sofa “hmm, yeah, surely we can give it a try, but won’t we be breaking the rules of our world, the world of the dead ones?”

The husband, wife and the children all looked at the four people sitting on the sofa. All had a smirk on their face, a smirk of happiness, happiness of not leaving this beloved house.

The husband often carried in his pocket a local newspaper paper clipping of a three-year-old newspaper which had a small news in a corner of the front page which read “A family of four died after being hit by a truck on the road near the Kent market.”

They all lived happily thereafter, in their own space and in their own worlds, in that very same house!

 

The Forgery - The Detective Boys - Short Story 2

 

Vimal Babu was an ecstatic man when he returned home that evening. It was the first Monday of 1998 and winter was at its peak. Light evening fog had engulfed the lanes of Dhakuria. But all these didn’t matter to Vimal Babu. “What happened grandfather?” asked Ritwick with utmost interest. Vimal Babu had a wooden box in his hand which had a royal appearance.

“You know what this is, Ritwick?” Vimal Babu showed the box in his hand to Ritwick

“Ahh, don’t bother thinking. I will tell you”

“These are vintage Indian One-rupee coins. I got it from an antique collector. I had been looking out for these for a long time.” Vimal Babu opened the box and showed them to Ritwick. They seemed extremely antique and historical. A mere look at those gave goose bumps to Ritwick.

“Can I touch them?” asked Ritwick.

Ritwick took some of the coins in his own hand and observed carefully. He observed that the coins were made of Silver. The reverse of the coins had “East India Company” engraved upon them.

“To which period do these belong, grandfather?”

Vimal Babu took out a piece of paper and looked into it.

“In between 1835 and 1862.”

Ritwick was in awe of the coins. For the next few days, Ritwick would often ask Vimal Babu for the coins to see them. He had even invited Deep Das to his house to show the collection.

“These are terrific, Ritwick!”  Deep Das had remarked upon first seeing them.

 Ritwick  asked his grandfather about the person who had sold him the antiques. Vimal Babu informed that the person had been an antique trader who had a shop in the nearby Gol Park locality.

His name was Roy. People often referred to him as Mr. Roy. Roy was quite famous in and around the Gol Park, Dhakuria and Gariahaat localities for his antique collection as he had regular customers from these areas.

Ritwick couldn’t resist his excitement. He along with Deep Das visited Mr Roy that evening. On arrival at the shop, Ritwick was fascinated looking at Roy’s collections at his small shop.

“Do you have more ancient Indian coins like the ones which you had given to Vimal Babu?”

“Yes, I surely have.” Roy had been happy as it seemed he had more customers.

He showed them some. Ritwick and Deep Das looked at them with outmost of interest.

“To which period do these belong, uncle?” asked Deep Das.

“These belong to the period 1936 to 1938.”

“Ohh, and whose face’s image is engraved on the reverse of this coin?”

Roy looked at it. “Ahh, this is King Edward VIII.”

Ritwick looked at it closely.

“Interesting!” remarked Ritwick casually.

That evening when back home, Ritwick looked at Vimal Babu's coins again. He looked closely at them with the help of his grandfather’s reading lens.

In the night he performed an experiment on the coin which brought Ritwick’s suspicion to reality. He informed about it to Vimal Babu after which Vimal Babu himself was surprised.

Next morning, Vimal Babu, Ritwick and Deep Das went to Mr Roy’s shop.

“I want to return these coins” remarked Vimal Babu to Roy.

“May I ask you, sir, what made you conclude upon this action?”

“These are all fake. These are not the actual antique ones. These are only the forged ones.” Answered Vimal Babu.

“And what makes you say that sir?”

Ritwick couldn’t control more. “I will let you know, uncle.” All this while Deep Das couldn’t really understand anything that had been taking place.

“You see, first of all, the coins which you gave to my grandfather are not the actual ones. Now you would want to know how? You had informed my grandfather that these coins belonged to the period in between 1835 and 1862. Right?”

“Right!” answered Roy.

“It cannot be, Uncle. Do you know about the coinage act of 1835 that was brought in by the East India Company?”

“I have some idea about it,” said Roy.

“Then you will also know that the coins which had been minted from 1835 onwards weighed approximately 11.66 grams.”

Roy was stumped out.

“And your coin weighs 13.50 grams, Mr Roy.”

Deep Das looked at Ritwick in shock. He couldn’t actually believe that the coins were fake ones.

Roy knew he was caught.

All this while, a stranger was standing near Ritwick in the disguise of looking at the collections. He was actually one among the local police. Vimal Babu returned the coins and took back his money. The local police representative took over the questioning as Vimal Babu, Ritwick and Deep Das left. They had brought the local police representative along with them to the shop.

As they walked back, Deep Das looked at Ritwick in confusion.

“How did you know that he was fake?”

Ritwick looked back at Deep Das. “Remember that day when we had gone to that shop and Mr Roy had shown us some coins.”

“Yes, but everything was fine that day, wasn’t it?”

“Mr Roy had said that the face which was engraved on reverse of that coin was of King Edward VIII.”

“Yeah, so?”

“My dear innocent Deep, unlike others, King Edward VIII had never been engraved on any Indian coins minted by British. He had bluffed and thank God I had done my homework before I went to his shop. That bluff made me cautious against Mr Roy, that’s why I checked the coins that night.”

As they walked by the Dhakuria Bridge, Deep Das, like always was  awe struck by his friend, Ritwick.