The Old Man's Signature

 

His eyes had observed the old man daily for the last ten days. It had been the same time every day. Tailing him right from his house at the corner of the street, Alex had his sight on the rich Parsi man’s money. The Idea had been simple.  Alex had already succeeded in robbing the old man of two cheque leaflets from the entire set of his cheque book. It had been quite an act for Alex to rob off the cheque book leaflets.

The old man, Mr Dorabji was the owner of an old but famous eatery located at the corner of college street lane at Kolkata. Though Dorabji was nearing his seventies, but his sharpness and attentiveness was at the same level of any young man. But it had been one of those occasional days when he had been absent minded and had left his cheque book inside an unlocked table drawer. It was routine for Dorabji to leave the eatery around ten thirty in the night and post that in the next one hour the staff would clean and wash the floor and close the doors. Alex had taken advantage of this and entered the eatery on a rainy night when there were hardly any staff. With the help of an insider, Alex walked near to the table where Dorabji generally sat. He had checked all the drawers for any cash of leftover money but he got hold of a cheque book. He had been confused to the use of the cheque book. That was when his friend in crime, Martin, who worked in the Restaurant gave him an idea. They tore the last two blank cheque leaflets so that Dorabji wouldn’t know that some blank cheques have been stolen off.  Alex had left that night. But since then, three weeks had passed and they still couldn’t figure out the way to forge the old man’s signature on the cheque. The plan had to be stopped as the most important act of copying the signature of the old man was yet to be implemented.

Martin had recollected that the Mr Dorabji often issued cheques to his vendors on every Friday during tea time meetings, This, he assumed to be the only time when they could see the signature. The plan was simple. Alex had arranged for a small plate which had a mirror image on its backside. It was planned that Martin would simply stand near the old  man at the time of signing the cheques and hold the plate in such manner that the mirror would face the cheque for Alex to observe the signature through the mirror. As there were no sun rays entering the restaurant, there would be no reflection of any light. No one would have any doubt on the entire act. The seating arrangement of the tables were such that it made possible to view the signatures very easily through the mirror. Alex had to be vigilant enough and sharp to observe the signature for a consecutive of four to five days.

On the first day of the act, as planned, while Mr Dorabji signed the cheques, Martin stood near to him with the plate’s backside that had a mirror facing the table on which the cheques were been signed. From the nearby table, Alex observed the enlarged signature on the mirror and took an image on his smartphone. He immediately looked at the image and it was reasonable enough to copy. The same act was repeated for the next three weeks on every Friday when Mr Dorabji sat down to issue cheques.

 Everything planned was performed successfully and Alex was successful in copying the signature of the old man. He used the two cheques which he had robbed of the old man to forge the signature on them, carefully and with in-depth concentration. The signature was a simple aggregation of the name of the old man " Dorabji" which he had studied through the image of the mirror glass attached. On the first Monday of the next week, he walked to the nearby bank like a king and deposited the bearer cheque with his name as the payee to the bank which the Mr Dorabji frequented.

On looking at the two cheques, the cashier looked up at Alex and smiled. Alex smiled back. He inspected the cheque more closely and looked into the screen of his computer.

“Why is Mr Dorabji sir’s signature on the cheque appearing as a reverse of what is stored in the bank’s records?”  Asked the cashier in a confused tone looking at the computer screen.

The smile on Alex’s face disappeared and at that very moment he realized the goof up.

Texts always appear in reverse mode in a mirror glass.

The actual signature was not the name " Dorabji", it was the reverse of the word " Dorabji.

The Bookseller of Booker Rolly Street

 

‘Don’t you have any of the modern ones?” asked the tall boy looking at the old man seated on the stone slab.

 The Old man looked up at the boy. The boy observed that the old man’s face was shrouded in a forest of wrinkles due to old age. Eyes, it seemed, perhaps was pushed in. Eyebrows had turned completely white. The head was wrapped up in a silk scarf to protect from the cold air blowing. Victor, twenty- two years old working for a private bank branch had been a regular to Booker Rolly Street since the time he had joined work. His branch office was just five minutes’ walk from Booker Rolly Street Metro station.

 Booker Rolly Street was a financial center zone situated in Southern Kolkata. The Metro station was built to cater to the needs of the sprawling financial center Zone in the vicinity. It was through this station that Victor use to pass daily to his office.  An avid reader of anything written, Victor often would be found passing his free time at the city’s street side book shops and book stalls. It was many years since the time when Victor’s grandmother had told him that if he wanted to read great books he would need to search for them. Not missing this opportunity, Victor had spotted a book seller near his daily travel point i.e. Booker Rolly Street station. It was at this point where Victor came across an old man.

 Percy, aged seventy- five, was the resident of Kolkata since his birth.  With all the records available to him, it appeared to him and also others who had known him that he had perhaps spent all his life in the city of Kolkata. Though he had ventured to the nearby districts, but pre dominantly he had spent his entire life in Kolkata. His daily life would pass by selling books on a broken pavement near Booker Rolly Street station. Percy had no family, but he knew perhaps everyone who passed via the Booker Rolly street Station.

 It was since last three months that Percy had observed a tall boy often standing near his bookstall and looking at the books and then walking away disappointingly. It was only that day when the tall boy had spoken to him for the first time. At first Percy appeared to be confused, but later he gauged at what the boy wanted.

 “What are you going to find in the modern ones?” replied Percy, as he touched his white beard.

 “Why don’t you keep the newer books?” asked Victor.

 The old man looked at his stock of books. He removed a book from the right side of the stand and handed over to Victor.

 “A history of an unknown Athlete.”

 Victor looked at the book with a confused expression due to the browning of the pages.

 “This is hundred -year- old book written by an English Athlete who had visited the city of Bombay during those years”

 Victor found it very interesting. He paid him fifty rupees and walked back to the station.

 It was some three weeks when Victor again arrived at Percy’s books stall.

 “Do you have more of such books? Damn, that book was something really special. I never knew those things about Athletes before that.”

 Percy looked at him with some suspicion. In all these years, though people did buy books from him hardly had anyone enjoyed reading an old book and returned to him asking for more.

 “Do you really want to read more?”

 Victor nodded.

 “Then come to my stall around ten thirty in the night. That’s the time I pack up.”

 Victor looked puzzled. But he was craving for more such books. He agreed and left.

 At the stroke of ten thirty, Victor arrived. He observed that Percy had packed up for the day and was busy having coffee from a stall nearby.

 “Come. Follow me,” ordered Percy.

 It was already late. Victor tried to guess what the old man was up to. Age seemed to make Percy slow. Percy walked towards the station very slowly.

 They walked into the station from the back side entrance on the west side. There were not many inhabitants in comparison to the day time crowd. They walked up to the bridge that connected the east side and west side of the station, and all this time Victor followed Percy like a small boy following an elder.

 They got down towards the east side and walked towards the end of the last platform i.e. platform no 2. At the end of the platform, Percy stopped and looked all around.  The light was dim at that end of the station.  There was a small rectangular drainage cap on the side. Percy picked it up, and whistled three times. From below, there came a middle -aged boy. Percy whispered to the boy which Victor could not understand.

 “We will have to go down” Percy said looking at Victor.

 “We would what?” shot back Victor in shock.

 “Don’t Worry I am not going to kidnap you. You are two big for being kidnapped”

 Percy slowly sat on the ground and slowly kept his feet on a circular stair which would take them below. Victor followed him in utter fear. But he was enjoying the adventure though. They slowly walked the circular stairs down for some ten minutes. Their journey was followed by a dimly lit passage upon which they arrived in a dark room.

 Suddenly the lights came on.

 What Victor saw was an astonishment which he had never experienced. All around him there were only books on every inch of the walls, there were book cases filled with books.  Up to the distance where the human eye could see, only books appeared.

 “Where are we?”

 “How about “Book Rolly”?”

 “What?” yelled Victor.

 “Come boy, I will tell you the story of one of the greatest underground Cities of that time. Book Rolly!”

 Victor looked at him in astonishment.

 “Long before this place was built into a city; there was a small city here, where you would find the world’s greatest of books which would be brought here by the Britishers. This is before the time when it was turned into an industrial area, long before independence. At that time, this station was not there. People would folk here from all around the town. Books were sold in lots to the lovers of literature.”

 “During that time, there was a British Novelist “Rolly. K.” who had shifted to India from England. He had built this city of books. It was on his name that the name had been given to this place as “ Book Rolly.” And eventually today is known as Booker Rolly Street. During that time, there was a civil unrest in this area and fearing damage, Rolly had shifted all the books below the ground level by creating book racks and shafts. It was covered by a cement like underground room, and then Post-Independence, the Britishers left and along with them, Rolly Family too left leaving behind this great underground room of books.”

 “So how did you come to know about this?”

 “I am the second generation of the Rolly Family. They did go back, but did not take me and my mother along them.”

 “Here you will find the greatest of books of those era. Never to find anywhere.”

 “So many of your books are from this left behind collection!”

 “Yes, though I take care not to bring any attention to this fact.”

 “So, why me?” asked Victor.

 “I am getting old now, I saw something in your eyes. It felt as though you would take care of this treasure after me.”

 Victor recalled what his grandmother had once told “On the streets of your search, you would find your treasure which would enlighten you for the rest of your life.”

 Note from  the Author: The above story is complete work of Fiction.

Murder or Accident - A Detective Victor Fernandes Short Story

 

The floor was covered in a pool of blood, a sight, which would have shocked even the most fearless of humans. Clicks of photographers and the hustle of the forensics made the crime scene a busy place to be. It had been some three hours since the bullet was fired. A straight shot! Nothing less than it. Straight at the chest. The sound of the shot had alerted the neighbors and of course the other residents in the society. The dead body was down on the floor of the balcony. The dead body was that of Mr. Hiren Patel. As lifeless as one could imagine. The eye balls gave the impression of some shock or perhaps of being privy to something shocking. What intrigued the investigators was the place at which the dead body was found. A balcony, and that too of a flat that was exactly opposite to that of his own flat in the opposite building which was separated by a mere fifty feet. The flat in which the dead body was found belonged to his friend, Alex Dsouza. Of course, Alex would have been the prime suspect had it not been the manner in which the dead body was found. A bullet shot right at the chest, but the shot seemed to have come from a distance due to the impact which it made on the chest.

 It seemed Hiren was at the balcony and had been looking outside towards his own residence building when the bullet hit him. This assumption had saved Alex from getting tangled in the suspicion of the investigators. The society in which the incident took place was shocked and numbed with the incident. Such a peaceful society it was until that bullet shot was heard by many.

 Hiren Patel lived with his father, Mr. Rohan Patel and step mother, Mrs. Raksha Patel. Both were in a shock after the incident, unable to speak or react. Hiren was their only son. He had just applied for a Master of Business Administration course with one of the top-notch Management Institutes. The lead detective, the young and dynamic Victor Fernandes was in charge of the case. Though his method of investigation differed from the department’s manuals, but procedures had to be conducted and statements had to be taken. As always, his methods were straight forward and fast. Victor never liked wasting time.

 It all began with the forensics and ballistics reports. The ballistics report confirmed the characteristics of the firearm and the bullet which was found inside the body. The gun seemed to be a double barrel one based upon the bullet found and that too an ejector version. What made life difficult for Victor was of course, the fact that the type of guns mentioned in the report was hard to find in the present days. So, he made the assumption that it was evident that the gun was a collector’s edition and it would be possessed by someone in the habit of elite collections.

 The next few days were passed in examining the witnesses which were next to nil as no one had actually seen the event but had only heard the gun shot. As per majority of witnesses to the sound of the gun shot, the bullet was fired sometime around night 11.30. The question which formed in Victor's mind next was, what was Hiren doing at the Balcony at that point of time? There was no evidence of any smoking at the place where he got shot, so he wasn't smoking, he had concluded. Was he standing at the balcony and looking at his own house? Were his parents awake at that time and were lights visible from his house of residence or was Hiren expecting something to happen at that time?

 With more rounds of questioning done with the residents of other flats, it was noted that Hiren's parents were awake at that point of time and lights were visible from their house. What also baffled Victor were some statements from some of the residents of the society about the fact that things were not good between Hiren and his parents. That was the reason he was temporarily residing with his friend, Alex. There were evidences of huge fights erupting from the Patel household. This was confirmed by Hiren's parents to the investigators too.

 Some questioning with the watchman of all the buildings in the society revealed that on the same evening, Hiren had gone to his own house. Two watchmen, who had gone to meet the occupants of the flat next to Hiren's confirmed this. A geographical recce was done of the society and especially the two flats, that of Alex, the crime scene and that of Hiren’s house.

 Standing at the Balcony of the Hiren's flat which was opposite to that of Alex’s house, Victor thought that it was very simple for someone from Hiren's Balcony to shoot at Hiren. Some days later, a teenage girl who resided a floor above that of Alex told the investigators that Mr. Rohan and his wife Raksha often had big fights and often in rage, Mr. Patel would open his study cup board and take out a long gun point it towards Raksha. But he would never shoot. This was one of the reasons Hiren had left their house.

 A search was carried out at the Patel house, and after a hectic and detailed search of three hours the double barrel gun was found. It matched with that which was mentioned in the Ballistics reports. Mr. Patel and Raksha had nothing to say indeed.

 It was at this point that a revelation by Mr. Patel changed the entire scenario of the case. Mr. Patel informed that it was true that he often used the gun to frighten his wife but that would be a gun without any cartridge. He clarified that he never kept the gun loaded, and also added that no one kept such guns loaded at home

 Mr. Patel and Raksha confessed that it was that night when they had had a huge fight and like all times, Mr Patel took out the gun and threatened her, but their ill- fated destiny had other plans. In a rage, Mr Patel touched the trigger and the shot was fired, but Raksha jumped down and through the open door of the balcony, the bullet travelled out and hit Hiren. At that moment, Raksha who was down and Mr Patel who was in shock of the bullet fire, did not know that their son was hit by the same bullet who was standing on the other side balcony.

 Mr Patel and Raksha were taken into custody for Murder. But the question which baffled Victor, was that if Mr Patel was telling the truth about the unloaded gun, then who would have put the cartridge in the gun?

 The cartridge cover inside which the bullet resides, and that had fallen from the gun was recovered from the study table drawer and sent for finger print scanning.

 With a cigar in his hand and looking up into eternity, Victor thought and thought very hard.

 He opened the report and gave a smile. He had guessed it right. The Cartridge cover had Hiren’s fingerprints. Victor associated the events of that night. That evening as the two watchmen had seen Hiren going to his house, he would have taken the two cartridges from his father's bedroom cupboard and would have loaded it into the double barrel gun. His plan was simple, the gun though old, was well maintained and a delicate and a simple touch on trigger would put out the shot.

 Victor guessed that was the reason Hiren was at the balcony at Alex's flat so that he could be a witness to the murder of his step mother. And it did happen like he planned, but the only thing that he did not foresee was that the bullet would miss his stepmother and hit him instead.

 

 

The Case of the mysterious old man - The Detective Boys - Short Story 8

 

It was one of those lazy Sunday afternoons of August 1997 at the Babu Bagan lane in Kolkata’s Dhakuria locality. The occasional wave of people getting down from the local train halting at the adjoining Dhakuria station and walking into the city brought some life to the otherwise dead afternoon. The nearby shops were closed for the routine afternoon rest. Being the month of July, the sky was overcast and it was predicted that there might be heavy rains that evening. Ritwick was busy reading his favourite Feluda Series. Sunday afternoons would be the time to spend some time with his favourite character i.e. Feluda.

It would have been the same routine Sunday afternoon, if not for an observation that Ritwick made from his room balcony. A two storey building which was diagonally on the left hand side of his house was visible from his balcony. Near the window of the second floor of that building, he could see an old man standing and looking outside. Ritwick was surprised to no ends as the same building had been locked for last five years without any one ever visiting.

The distance made it impossible for Ritwick to look more closely. Something seemed intriguing to him. The sudden appearance of an old man at that house made Ritwick wonder about the various possibilities. Was he back for some reason or was it just a nostalgic trip down memory lane? Ritwick, by now had become curious enough to know more about the old man.

That evening, Ritwick had a brief conversation with his grandfather about the old man at that neighborhood house.  Vimal Babu was initially surprised for Ritwick’s interest but later succumbed to his request. Ritwick had learned through his grandfather that the house in which he had seen the old man belonged to a gentleman named Narendra Roy who was a veteran of that area. Narendra Roy had been one of oldest residents of the Babu Bagan lane, since its inception to be accurate. Surprisingly, hardly anyone was aware about his background. Everything and every detail about Narendra Roy began from the point of his residence at the Babu Bagan Lane. Over the years, Mr Roy had developed good relations with the people in and around including Ritwick’s grandfather, Vimal Babu. It was some five years ago when something tragic had happened with Narendra Roy’s business of cloths which many believe was the reason that he had committed suicide.

“What?” was the only reaction which Ritwick could give when he came to know of Narendra Roy’s suicide.

“Yes, he had jumped in the river Ganges. That’s what the witnesses say.” said a pretty sure Vimal Babu.

The investigative mind of Ritwick started buzzing within his head.

“If Mr Roy is dead then who was that old man?” asked Ritwick to himself as he looked into the mirror.

That Night Ritwick had planned to keep a close watch on that house through a mini- binocular which his grandfather had gifted him.

The night was very quiet with drizzle making its way on the streets of Babu Bagan Lane. There were a regular chorus sounds of nocturnal insects. Human life was next to nil on the roads. Far away echoes of the occasional vehicles plying on the empty roads was heard. Little did anything happen all night until it was around morning four. A dim light could be seen by Ritwick. Initially Ritwick couldn’t understand the image but as the light got brighter, he could see a shadow. A tall shadow resembling a figure which he had seen that afternoon emerged. It seemed someone was walking down the stairs. Ritwick waited for the figure to come out.

After some seconds, the tall figure whose body was wrapped in a white blanket came out of the building stairs and walked towards the Dhakuria Station road with an umbrella in hand. Ritwick wanted to get out and follow the figure. He gave a thought. Would it be good idea considering it was morning four? Ritwick stopped thinking and picket up his jacket and shoes and opened the room door and walked by the hall room upon which he opened the house door and walked down the building. He hurriedly walked down towards Dhakuria Station. There was no sign of human life except for that figure and Ritwick himself.

As he neared the figure, Ritwick hid behind a building near the right side of a lane and observed in detail. The figure wrapped in a blanket walked upon the stairs which led to station platform. He waited for some time. After about ten minutes, two more males joined the figure.

Something clicked in his mind. Some months ago, he had seen a similar figure who resembled one of the other male persons who had joined. Ritwick thought hard.

“Yes, that shop from which sounds would occur. The mystery of Closed of Shop,” whispered Ritwick to himself. He recollected he had seen the same figure and in the same blanket but he couldn’t gauge the reason of the old man joining the group.

“Was that old man Narendra Roy?”

Ritwick could sense that perhaps there was something wrong. He immediately returned back home. All night Ritwick thought about the events of that day.

Next day, Ritwick walked towards the two storey house which was diagonally opposite to his. Dhakuria Girls high schools was near to that building. The building seemed completely empty and all door and windows seemed closed.

He took a stone in his hand and threw at one of the windows and ran behind a small wall of one of the houses and observed the windows. There was no reaction from inside the house for some time, but after he could see a face, a face he recognized very well. Ritwick had a smile on his face.

That evening three people were caught from that house. One of them was the owner of the shop from where the tunnel to the national bank had been unearthed some months ago during the mysterious case of the sounds from the closed shop. The owner was a resident of the area and knew about the Narendra Roy’s suicide. In fact, coincidentally the owner of the shop had disappeared the same year in which Narendra Roy had committed suicide. The owner had somehow managed to get into the building and along with him he had got two more people, one of them was that old man whom Ritwick had seen from his house.

It was later revealed that the trio were planning a massive local robbery in and around the area.

The case of the mysterious old man was satisfactorily solved by Ritwick. 

 

The Moving House

 

It had only been five days since Arlando Mazroni had come to the beautiful and picturesque city of Balanga which was the capital of the province of Bataan located in Philippines. Arlando Mazroni had long awaited his opportunity to visit the city due to its beautiful locales which acquaintances back in Spain had on numerous occasions referred to. Arlando Mazroni was a researcher who was on his mission to discover the various hidden cultures from around the world and report back to the newspaper with which he had contracted upon. During the previous five years, he had discovered quite a number of hidden cultures of different countries from around the world which he had reported back to the Spanish newspaper. However, his purpose of visit to Bataan was more of a holiday than for any business purpose. Friends and family had suggested that he should be taking a small vacation away from work. Out of all the places which Arlando had listed, Philippines and especially Bataan had interested him the most.

 One of the reasons that Arlando was really looking forward to his visit was that Balanga, the capital city of Bataan, was famous for its clay work and in fact the name “Balanga” stood for “Clay pot” in ancient Kapampangan language. Arlando had been looking forward to some great story on ancient clay works. 

 The city of Balanga which was founded since 1712, was a city that had depended upon agricultural activities since its inception. It had also intrigued Arlando that just merely seven years ago in 1898, the three hundred year colonial rule of Spain had ended in the whole of Philippines. He was eager to see the legacy of Spain which was left behind in this country and particularly in the city of Balanga.

 Arlando Mazroni was born to a conservative Spanish parents. His entire schooling and teen life was spent within the confines of the country. Neither did his parents and nor did Arlando had ever imagined that the shy boy who would take his own time to get comfortable with strangers would one day travel the world to discover new, unknown and hidden cultures. Cultures had often attracted Arlando since childhood. He would often get intrigued by anything new and unseen and if it would turn out to be something non- Spanish, the same would be a jackpot for him.

 It was during his late teens, when he had landed on an unofficial contract to be part of an expedition to an African jungle where he had impressed upon the organizers with his insights into cultural analysis. The organizers had referred him to a Spanish newspaper, which in turn had provided him with a bundle of opportunities to bring in new stories. There was no looking back for him since then. A tall lanky fellow, with a hint of beard on a fair skin, and hair which fell on to his shoulders, made up Arlando’s appearance when he had visited the City of Balanga.

 Not more than a mere 7500 people   resided in the city Balanga in the year 1905. A person by the name of A. Mendoza was the mayor of the city at that point of time and it was with the help of Mendoza that Arlando had secured uninterrupted access to the various regions and places in the city.

 One of the more interesting places for Arlando was the Balanga cathedral where he had spent quite a bit of time since he had arrived. It was during this time itself, when, during a visit to one of the rural villages near Balanga, that Arlando had observed some unusual activities taking place especially during the nights.

 One night when Arlando had just finished his dinner and was resting on a cot outside his guest house, he had heard some sounds which seemed to be some footsteps of a group of people. Unable to see anyone, he went inside the house and looked through the window of the first floor. It appeared as though he looked into oblivion.  Through the never ending expanse of trees and greenery, Arlando saw something which he could never have imagined. From the point where he stood, he could see an entire bamboo house moving slowly all by itself. It just moved so slow, that it appeared as if a human was walking. To the eye, the house seemed to know the road as it smoothly continued with its journey. Shocked with what he had just seen, Arlando couldn’t wait to get out. He wanted to follow the movement.  A bamboo house moving on its own was something which he couldn’t have even imagined in his dreams either. He quickly took his bag and walked hurriedly along with a fire lit stick. He walked hurriedly though the green bushes not fearing for the deadly animals. After some twenty minutes, he had arrived at a vantage point from where he could see the entire act taking place. It was something which had left Arlando speechless.

 A group of fifteen people carried the bamboo house and were walking slowly. The Bamboo house was made of bamboo sticks and nipa leaves. Arlando observed that the Bamboo poles were tied length wise and diagonally below the bamboo house and people had gone under those Bamboo poles and had picked up the house on their shoulders together.

 As those fifteen people were involved in this act, the entire weight of the bamboo house which was not that heavy was shared by the fifteen people. A confused Arlando just watched from his vantage point. He had observed that there were also three other persons who didn’t carry the bamboo house but were walking along with the group. He drew the image of the entire act in his mind so that he could document the same as soon as he would return to his cottage.

 As the group of people continued with their journey, Arlando followed them all night and for the early part of the next afternoon, until they came to a spot where they placed the Bamboo house. Arlando had taken care of not exposing himself to them. He hid in the nearby bushes and watched every act of that group.

 During the afternoon, food was served to those fifteen people by those extra three persons one of whom was a female. After the pleasantries, the group of fifteen left the place and started their journey back.  Arlando stood where he was all along. He was hungry for some time due to which he decided that he should perhaps return back to his cottage.

 Over the next three days, Arlando had written a story on what he had observed. It still intrigued him as to why would a group of people carry a bamboo house on their back and walk all along. During the next fortnight, Arlando had observed similar activities. Sometimes he would observe some ten to fifteen houses been lifted and moved all along. It perhaps seemed to Arlando that the act could have been some sought of festival.

 On his arrival back to the city of Balanga, Arlando met up with the mayor and inquired about the strange activities which he had observed in the rural village. During an evening get together, the mayor introduced him to one of his British friends by the name of Mr. Elliot.  It was a much known fact that Mr. Elliot had settled down in the city of Balanga since the time the Spanish had left. He was a writer and an author who had written some great books on various countries and on their history since inception.

 “It is known as ‘Bayanihan’ here,” explained Elliot.

 “A very old culture here indeed, and a very unique one. Something which we may not find in the new world.”

 “What’s the significance of this culture?” asked Arlando curiously.

 “You see, whenever someone moves from one town to the other one, not only does he takes his belongings, he also takes along his house.  The local town people, especially men lend a hand to the family to help them to move to a new location. In short, not only the family’s belongings are moved but also the family’s entire house is transferred to a new location”

 “By the people, you mean to say” inquired Arlando.

 “Yes, of course. That’s the significance of the culture. They all move together and it signifies unity.”

 “It’s beautiful to know that something like this exists.”

 “Sure. This concept of the Filipinos gives an example to the world about helping fellow humans especially in the times of need without expecting anything in return.”

 Arlando was touched. He had never imagined that a simple causal vacation would end up for him in coming across something as beautiful and divine as this aspect of the Filipino culture.

 Two months later, a Spanish newspaper had published an article on an ancient culture by the name of “Bayanihan”. Though he wasn’t sure how many of the readers would have come across the article but surely Arlando was a happy and content man for bringing something beautiful and graceful to the eyes of the world through his writing.

The Company

 

The meeting was finally over after seven continuous hours of discussions and negotiations. The Rudolf India Cloth company’s majority shares was transferred to Patel cloth manufacturers. The owner of Patel Cloth manufacturers, Hemant Bhai, finally had a smile on his face. The entire transaction had finally concluded after months of planning and negotiations. The Patel Cloth Manufactures now held 65% of shareholding in Rudolf India Cloth Company.

Back then, during the latter part of the nineteenth century, in the year 1883, a small cotton cloth manufacturing unit had been started in the town of Surat, a town located in western India. Surat, at that point of time was a town which fell under the jurisdiction of the Bombay Presidency Municipality.

 The small cloth manufacturing unit was founded by a person named Janaklal Patel. Initially, the unit manufactured cloth material and distributed within the local market, but as time passed by and the news about the good quality of the cloth spread, orders had started to come from the other provinces of Calcutta and Madras Presidencies.

 Within a period of two years, the unit made handsome profits and with more investments from third parties, it turned into a professionally managed company by the name of “National Cotton Company.” Janaklal was a visionary and his vision was to expand the operations to the foreign lands.

 It was during that time when the second phase of Industrial Revolution was on its peak in Europe. Having already had its impact on the European market, the Industrial Revolution had changed the manner of manufacturing all over Europe. An Industry which had been impacted the most was the cloth manufacturing industry. Due to increased usage of new machinery, the cost of cloth manufactured in Europe and London had gone up which resulted in increased imports from other countries where in the cost was lower due to low labor cost. Janaklal with the help of one of his acquaintances had got hold of some orders to be exported to Great Britain. This changed the fortune of the company to unbelievable levels.

 Within the next five years National Cotton Company prospered to newer levels. Janaklal also involved his son, Madhav in his business. As years went by, Janaklal backed out from daily operations and Madhav took over. By 1920, Janaklal had passed away due to an epidemic which had impacted the whole of the city.  Madhav now was the sole holder of the company. No matter how diligent he had been, Madhav lacked the business skills of his father. Over the next ten years, as the Indian Independence movement got into its strongest phase, orders dried up. It was during this time, when an England based business man had visited India on a pleasure trip.

 Through his friends in Bombay, he had come to know of the National Cotton Company. It had been the same company which supplied the cloth to his father’s cotton company in England. He travelled to Surat where the main office was located. Over the next three weeks, he sealed the deal to purchase the loss-making company and make it an India unit for his England based company. The company purchased was renamed as Rudolf India Cloth Company in 1942. Madhav and his family shifted base to Bombay and started their own small shop of trading materials.

 Back to the present, Hemant Bhai who had just turned Forty-five was a very satisfied man. He had made his most ambitious purchase until then. Purchasing an Indian Unit of an England based company in 1972 was no joke. Sipping his of tea and looking over the Arabian Sea from his plush office cabin, Hemant Bhai looked back into his journey from his college days.

 Hemant Bhai had always been an intelligent negotiator since his college days. Whether it would be a household item or any item, he had excellent negotiating skills which people around him had experienced. Since his college days, he had been inclined to be a businessman rather than being in service. Along with his friends, he had founded a small-scale manufacturing unit at Masjid Bunder locality in Bombay in 1949 at the young age of twenty-two. Though the start had been difficult, due to the fact that India had attained independence just two years ago, he had an advantage of low local competition.

 Through his local contacts, orders were secured slowly and steadily and profits were made. With the help of few of his relatives and acquaintances, he had managed to obtain loans from some of the well-known banks. The business flourished and Hemant Bhai got rich. The Companies Act was introduced in 1956 and the Income Tax Act was introduced in 1961. The entire company was turned into a professionally managed enterprise which complied with all laws and regulations. The good returns ensured that the bankers would be happy and would increase their working capital finance. By the time Hemant Bhai turned Forty, he made a calculation that it was time for some acquisitions which would bring in the enhanced synergy effect into his company.

Out of the list which was presented to Hemant Bhai, he chose a Company named Rudolf India Cloth Company. Rudolf India Cloth Company, though being reasonably cash rich, of late were running into losses for the last five years. Due to the same, the foreign office at London, was looking for a party to which it could sell. Thus, over a period of five years the negotiations and discussions took place and finally the sixty five percent transfer was concluded in 1972. Now, Patel Cloth Manufacturer were the majority shareholders of Rudolf India Cloth Company.

 In the last of the forms which he had to sign that day, there was a column for his and his father’s name to which he wrote “Hemant Madhav Patel” and father’s name as “Madhav Janaklal Patel.”

 It had been years since he had seen the very building which his father and grandfather had made out of their sweat. It was time to go back to the company which was once known as “National Cotton Company”.

 It was time to go home.

The Jewellery Box - The Detective Boys: Short Story 7

 

The Monsoon of 1997 had arrived and Kolkata was receiving a good rainfall. The climate had become pleasant. Indeed, people were very happy and the overall mood of the city was good considering that the good monsoon had brought relief from the extreme heat. Dhakuria and in particular the Babu Bagan Lane was no different. Water was flowing down the lanes in and around the Babu Bagan Lane. It was water all around but the drains were working efficiently and there was no water logging on any side of the Babu Bagan Lane, except near the Dhakuria Girl’s High School.

The neighborhood was surprised to see some water getting accumulated on that side of the drain which generally worked well in draining the rain water. It seemed as if there was some obstruction in the drain line. By afternoon the problem escalated and water started to get accumulated on the corner of the road.

By the evening the rains had stopped but the water near the school remained still and the drain seemed to have been obstructed by some heavy items of garbage. The rains arrived by late evening again.

It was sometime around mid-night twelve thirty, when two men holding an umbrella walked towards the spot of dispute. It was drizzling so they didn’t find it difficult to walk towards the drain. At the same moment, an old man from the house nearby watched outside on the road in surprise. He didn’t raise any alarm but watched closely. He was unable to watch the face of two men but they seemed to be mid heighted around five feet five inches.  The old man observed that one of the two jumped into the drain and removed a rectangular box which seemed to be made of steel due to its shine. Once they collected the box, both left. The old man kept looking through the window until the men disappeared into oblivion.

To the surprise of the neighborhood, when it rained heavily next morning there was no more accumulation at the spot of dispute. The old man who had seen the events of last night understood that the blockage was due to the steel box which was removed last night, but the question remained what did the steel box contain.

The phone rang at Ritwick’s house and his grandfather picked it up. Upon hearing the call, he had only one thing to say, “Ritwick, it seems there is a new case for you.”

That evening the old man who was a witness to the removal of the steel box explained in detail what he had observed.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” commented Deep Das.

Ritwick could understand that the steel box surely would have contained something valuable. He and Deep Das inspected the spot of dispute. There was no obstruction at that time and the drain seemed to be clear of any heavy material.

It was only later he was informed about an event which had occurred on the night day before yesterday i.e. the day before one on which the heavy rainfall took place.  Ms. Banerjee who was coming from a late night movie had watched the event from her car which had just entered her house’s parking lot.

“Two men had been running furiously with a box of steel while three more had been chasing them. While on the run, it seemed as if they just threw the steel box inside the drain near the high school on the left side.” Said Ms. Banerjee.

“I was thinking for the last two days about the box but couldn’t gather the guts to go near the drain on that side to see it.” She continued.

Ritwick listened to her with utmost interest.

“Did you see their face?”

“No, I couldn’t as I was on one side and was just getting out of the garage area.”

“And what about the ones chasing them?”

“They seemed to be the ones who have a general store near the station.”

Next morning, Ritwick and Deep Das made a visit to all general stores located near the Dhakuria Railway station, both on west side and east side. It was the fourth shop, named Janata general stores, where they found what they wanted.

“Yes, we were chasing those two.” Replied the owner whose name was Naresh Kumar.

“Those two were working at our shop for the last two months. They had come to Kolkata from some distant suburb. That night as I was about to close the shop, I observed that my steel box in which I stored my family Jewellery was missing. When I started to look for it, my eyes went over the   duo who were about to run out of shop. I screamed but they ran and behind them I and two others from nearby shop ran. We couldn’t catch them and neither did we get the steel box back.”

“Did you file police complain?” asked Deep Das.

“No,”

Ritwick was surprised but didn’t show his reaction.

“Do you have any photographs of the two people?”

“Not actually. We trusted them so didn’t bother for the legal formalities.”

Ritwick and Deep Das inquired with the nearby shops about the two bandits who had run away. That evening Ritwick took Ms Banerjee to Janata General Stores and informed her about theft at the shop. Ms Banerjee seemed puzzled looking at the shop.

“What happened Ms. Banerjee?”

Ms Banerjee informed Ritwick about her concerns. Ritwick finally had a smile on his face.

Like always, Ritwick informed his grandfather about all the events and the likely outcome of the case. His grandfather was quick getting in touch with the local police head.

It was indeed a puzzle and would have remained if Ms Banerjee wouldn’t have made an important observation that night.

That night when she was coming out of the garage, she had seen Naresh Kumar standing at a corner of the lane where the two robbers were running towards. The three of them who were chasing had given up the chase and went back while the two thieves went straight to Naresh Kumar and informed him about the events. The time when the robbery had taken place, Naresh Kumar was not at the shop but was at the Babu Bagan Lane entrance. He had lied to Ritwick and Deep Das about his whereabouts on the day of the theft.

Ritwick figured out that the next day after the robbery, while it was raining all day, they couldn’t have collected the box so they returned that night and took it back and gave it to Naresh Kumar.

“Why would Naresh Kumar steal his own Jewellery?

“That way he wouldn’t have to share it with his brothers and that was the reason he didn’t make an official complaint.”

“How did you know that Naresh Kumar was involved?” asked an even more perplexed Deep Das.

“Firstly. Ms Banerjee had identified him of being near the spot of the dispute and it seemed too coincidental of him being there, other than being an active participant in the plan. Secondly, he didn’t give us much information about the two thieves and also the fact that when I inquired with the nearby shops, they had informed me that on the evening of robbery, Naresh Kumar and the two thieves were in deep discussion, perhaps discussing the plan.”

Deep Das could only compliment Ritwick’s sharpness and associating skills.

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