The Detetctive

(Interrogation room setting: A small, stuffy room, with a table, and two steel chairs on either side; dim lighting; a one-sided window on the wall with observers looking in; Detective is a short, stout man dressed in a spotless suit, his face devoid of expression; Suspect is a lanky, wiry fellow dressed in a sweatshirt and khaki pants)

Detective:      (walks in, sits down in the chair opposite suspect, places a closed file and a bottle of water on the table; he stares at the suspect without blinking)

Suspect:         (looks at the detective, his eyes shifting around)

(Few minutes pass in silence)

Suspect:         Well?

Detective:      (continues to stare, still hasn’t blinked once)

Suspect:         (fidgeting with his sleeves) Are you going to say something?

Detective:      Am I making you uncomfortable?

Suspect:         Umm…yea, a little.

Detective:      Good.

Suspect:         (blinks a few times)

Detective:      I’m sure you’ll find death row much more uncomfortable when you get sentenced for murder.

Suspect:         I didn’t…

Detective:      (raises his hand) Save it. You’re going down. This is an open-and-shut case. The D.A. says the death penalty is a lock.

Suspect:         But...

Detective:      (opening the file on the table) Let’s start with where you were on Sunday night between 7 and 9?

Suspect:         At home, watching the game.

Detective:      Anyone who can verify that?

Suspect:         (shrugs) I live alone.

Detective:      Of course you do. (flips a page in the file) You have quite an impressive record here. Robbery, vandalism, and forty seven outstanding parking tickets.

Suspect:         (slight grin) Who can afford to pay for parking in this city.

Detective:      You think this is funny?

Suspect:         (looks down at the floor)

Detective:      Two people were murdered, and you see the humorous side. I’ll make a note of that for the judge who will have to decide on your sentence.

Suspect:         (stays silent)

Detective:      I think the inmates at death row might appreciate your little comedy act. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.

Suspect:         I didn’t kill anybody.

Detective:      Looks like you started your career early. Your first robbery was at the age of twelve.

Suspect:         It’s a hard life on the streets you know. You do what you have to, you know, to survive.

Detective:      Like killing a married couple and stealing all their money?

Suspect:         No, sir. More like flipping wallets from dudes on the train.

Detective:      What did you find in their safe?

Suspect:         I don’t know anything about any safe.

Detective:      Uh-huh. (takes out a picture of a man from the file, and places it in front of suspect) Do you know this man?

Suspect:         (glances at the picture quickly, and shakes his head)

Detective:      Take another look. They call him Johnny Matzel.

Suspect:         I don’t know him.

Detective:      Sure about that?

Suspect:         Yea. (nodding his head). Yea, I’m sure.

Detective:      (slight shake of the head) For a career thief, you’re a pretty bad liar.

Suspect:         (looks at the table, saying nothing)

Detective:      (takes another picture from the file, and places it in front of suspect) This is you and Mr. Johnny standing at a street corner, clearly in animated conversation.

Suspect:         (glances at the picture, and looks away)

Detective:      Still don’t know him?

Suspect:         Alright, alright. Johnny is my…

Detective:      Drug-dealer?

Suspect:         …cousin.

Detective:      (folds his arms, and stares across)

Suspect:         Alright, I might have been using drugs a while back. Used to get them from my cousin.

Detective:      Uh-huh. Fun thanksgiving dinners you’ll must be having in your family.

Suspect:         We’re not that close.

Detective:      Since Johnny boy is your cousin, then you would know that apart from selling drugs, he has other skills.

Suspect:         We’re not really in touch. This picture must be from a while ago, right?

Detective:      Cousin Johnny is apparently a pretty good safe-cracker. A skill that would have surely come in handy for collecting the loot after killing that poor couple.

Suspect:         (raises both his hands) Look, I know nothing about that. I don’t speak to Johnny that often.

Detective:      Really?

Suspect:         I didn’t kill anybody, you have to believe me.

Detective:      No I don’t, kid.

(Someone knocks at the door, detective gets up and exchanges a brief word with him, before returning to his seat)

Detective:      Do you want the good news first or the great news?

Suspect:         (gives a blank look)

Detective:      Alright, the good news then. You can have a family reunion in the lockup tonight.

Suspect:         (stares, with wide eyes)

Detective:      That’s right, we have dear cousin Johnny in custody here.

Suspect:         Johnny?

Detective:      Right, good ol’ Johnny. He’s in the next room, and my colleague is questioning him as we speak. In my years of experience, I have found that street-level drug dealers are notoriously weak at interrogations.

Suspect:         (looks away)

Detective:      Tell me, how long do you think before Cousin Johnny folds and spills the beans?

Suspect:         (turns back to the detective, with a glazed look)

Detective:      You and Cousin Johnny can have a nice time together on death row then. Hell, maybe you can even be cell-mates. Relive the old times and all that.

Suspect:         (runs a hand through his hair)

Detective:      (smiles) And now for the even better news. We just searched your apartment, and guess what we found?

Suspect:         (stays silent)

Detective:      Your gun. A Smith & Wesson .40 caliber little toy.

Suspect:         I have a license for that…

Detective:      Oh, do you? How sweet. Do you also have a license for murder?

Suspect:         (blinks rapidly)

Detective:      Did you know that was same caliber of bullet that was used for the murder? A ballistics report should be available soon, that should confirm that it came from your gun.

Suspect:         (fidgets with his sweatshirt)

Detective:      Look kid, let me break it down for you. We have witnesses that place you close to the scene on the night of the murder, you have no real alibi, we have your cousin in custody, and we also have your gun. It’s looking really, really bad for you. Now’s here’s what I can do for you. If you come clean now, tell us everything, we can help you cut some sort of deal.

Suspect:         (still fidgeting, his breathing rapid)

Detective:      We can give you a life sentence or even fifty years, and put notes in about your sincere cooperation. With good behavior inside, you can quite possibly get out on parole in forty years or so.

Suspect:         I didn’t do it.

Detective:      (jerks up suddenly, plants both palms on the table, and leans forward) You’re lying. I’ve already caught you lying today. You killed those people and stole their safe. And you’re busted now. We have everything we need to put you away for good.

Suspect:         You have the wrong guy.

Detective:      (shouting) Tell us what happened and cut a deal.

Suspect:         (panting, eyes blinking)

Detective:      (stands up and starts to walk around the table) Tell me, what game you were watching that day on T.V.? What was the score?

Suspect:         (looks up) Huh?

Detective:      You said you were at home on Sunday night, watching a game. What was the score?

Suspect:         (blinks) I don’t know…

Detective:      (slams his fist on the table) Answer me.

Suspect:         (stammering) The…the…Giants won 20-10.

Detective:      (leans back, smiling) The Giants didn’t even play that day. Their game was moved to Monday night. You’re lying again. What’s worse, you’re lying about your alibi.

Suspect:         (his eyes turning red, taking short, rapid breaths) I…I…

(Someone knocks on the door, says a few words to the detective and hands him a sheet of paper)

Detective:      (struts towards the suspect) Alright kid, I have here the ballistic reports confirming that the bullet came from your gun.

Suspect:         (hyperventilating, doubling over)

Detective:      (flings the sheet of paper across the table) Come clean, kid. This is your last chance…

Suspect:         (hands clutching his hair, his face contorted, shouting) Alright, alright, alright. Alright, we did it…but it was mostly Johnny’s idea, I swear to you. I’ll tell you what happened, but I just went along you know…you have to believe me, sir.

Detective:      (calmly sits down, takes a sip of water from his bottle) Start talking.

(Suspect goes on to confess; at the corner of the table lies the sheet of paper flung by the

detective, a printed memo informing all police officers of some mundane policy updates.)

The Bus

“It’s Diwali time, it’s Diwali time.” Sanjeev squealed, as he bounced around his room from corner to corner. His little white teeth were displayed in a permanent grin. His cheeks were flushed red.

“It’s Diwali time.” He raced into his parent’s room. Papa sat on the bed, glancing up briefly, before going back to his newspaper. Mumma sat next to the dresser, combing her hair. She turned to her seven-year-old son and smiled.

The festival of Diwali always got him excited. The entire city lit up with an amazing diversity of diyas and lights, of all sizes, shapes and colors. The fridge in every home was stocked with fancy sweets and mithai.

Sanjeev loved the lights and the mithai, but neither were his favorite part of the great Indian festival.

“Diwali is tomorrow.” Papa interjected, folding his newspaper.

“I know that, Papa.” Sanjeev replied, still skipping around. “But, today we go to buy the firecrackers.”

He beamed at his mother. Her eyes met his in a knowing gaze.

“When are we leaving? When are we leaving?” Sanjeev demanded.

“In ten minutes.” Mumma told him.

“Yayyy,” Sanjeev roared his approval. “How are we going? Are we taking the bus?”

“Yes.”

“Yayyy…is it going to be the big red double-decker bus, Mumma? “

“Yes, beta, we’ll take the double decker.”

“I love that bus. Can we sit on the top level, Mumma?”

“Yes, beta, we can sit wherever you want.”

Sanjeev went to his room and brought out his red toy bus. It was a tiny replica of the double-decker buses that adorned the streets of Mumbai.

He came back into his parent’s room, singing, “Wheels on the bus go round and round; wheels on the bus go round and round…”

Mumma grinned at him. Sanjeev rolled his toy bus on the floor.

“You know which crackers I’m getting this time? I’ll get the Ashoka Zamin Chakras, you know the ones that go on for extra-long, and give colored sparks.”

Mumma put her comb down and started putting on makeup. “Okay, now let Mumma get ready. You also go put on your shoes.”

“I love those ones, Mumma. Also, this time I’ll get the Peacock rockets, you know the big ones that go really high and burst into a rainbow. Those are soooo awesome. Can I get those rockets, Ma? The big ones this time?”

“First, go put on your shoes.”

“You know Rahul was telling me about this new cracker called Phoenix Comets. He said they are like square blocks that jump up in the air, spin round and round and give amazing sparks. And you know, after they stop, you think they are done, and then suddenly they start spinning again.”

“Can I get those ones also, ma?” The sparks in Sanjeev’s eyes also appeared to be spinning round and round.

“Yes, beta,” Mumma smiled. “We’ll get the cool new crackers also. Now, will you put on your shoes quickly?”

Sanjeev dashed off to his room, and returned within the blink of an eye, with his shoes on. He entered the room mid-sentence. “…go round and round. Wheels on the bus go round and round…”

Mumma started walking towards the door, with Sanjeev trailing at her heels. “We’ll be back by lunch time.” She called out to her husband, as she stepped out of the house.

“Wheels on the bus go round and round.” Sanjeev continued to sing. “It’s Diwali time, its Diwali time.”

Mumma took his hand as they walked down the slope leading to the street. Their place was part of a cozy residential society, located in the heart of South ‘Bombay’ or ‘SoBo’ as the kids had started calling it. There had been some unseasonal rain last night, and the ground was still wet. Small puddles formed in the ever-present potholes that littered their streets.

The bus stop was right at the bottom of the slope. As they came nearer to the stop, she saw the red frame of Bus No. 132 already stationed there.

“Let’s move quickly, the bus is here.” Mumma said, and increased their pace of walking. The next bus would be half an hour later.

They just reached the bus stop when the bus engine revved into life. The big wheels started to roll forward.

“Hold on a minute.” Mumma shouted. But, those double-deckers only had an entrance at the back, and the driver probably didn’t hear her.

Mumma put Sanjeev ahead of her and lifted him onto the bus.

“Hold onto something, beta.” She yelled.

Sanjeev went silent with this sudden surge of activity. He followed his mother’s instructions and grabbed a hand-rail near the entrance.

The bus picked up some speed. The fumes of its diesel engine made their way to Sanjeev’s nostrils, mixing with the smell of recent rainfall. He winced, and looked to his mother.

Mumma grabbed a handle on the entrance with one hand and ran with quick strides, alongside the bus. She lifted her right foot and put it on the platform, inside the bus entrance. Her other leg was still outside, on the ground.

Sanjeev looked into his mother’s eyes and registered a look of panic.

Mumma’s tried to swing her left leg into the bus. But, the bus jerked ahead, and she couldn’t hold her footing.

“Shit,” Mumma shouted. The bus began to gain more speed.

Mumma skidded her left foot against the ground, still holding onto the hand-rail. Her right foot wobbled on the platform.

Sanjeev stared at his mother, with a knot building inside his stomach. He moved his hand towards Mumma.

The bus shot ahead again. Mumma’s right leg, which was inside the bus, was thrown off balance. Her hand left the handle, flailing in the air.

Sanjeev’s heart nearly stopped beating. He saw his mother’s fear-stricken eyes right in front of him. His arm remained outstretched, but it was too far from her.

“Aaaararghh.” Mumma screamed. In a flash, she was airborne. Her body hurled forward and landed with a thud face-first, a foot ahead of the rear entrance of the bus. Her arms and legs spread out in every direction.

The rear wheel of the bus went round and round over Mumma’s leg, pressing it against the ground.

“Yaaaarrrghhhh,” Mumma screeched louder than Sanjeev had ever heard anyone scream in his life. All the color drained from his face.

The bus jolted to a stop. Sanjeev was thrown forward, along with many other passengers. He fell to the floor, but immediately picked himself up, and jumped out of the bus.

A crowd had gathered around the fallen body of Mumma. Sanjeev ran to her side. The bus driver also made his way there.

Mumma lay on her back, her eyes half-closed, wailing loudly. Her left arm reached for the wounded leg.

Sanjeev’s face remained white as snow. He head was spinning, his vision blurring.

The crowd began to yell things.

“What should we do?”

“Call the police.”

“Let’s take her to a hospital first.”

“Did you see what happened?”

“It’s her leg. The bus ran over it.”

“Wasn’t there a kid with her?”

A young woman bent down and massaged Mumma’s leg. “Does it hurt?”

“Where do you live, madam?” Somebody shouted.

“Which hospital should we take her to?”

“Where’s the boy who was with her?”

Mumma opened one eye, and pointed towards Sanjeev, who stood like a statue. Strong arms grabbed his shoulders.

“What’s your name, beta?”

“Are you her son?”

“Where do you live?”

Sanjeev opened his mouth to say something, but no words seemed to come out.

The arms that held him shook him gently. Sanjeev blinked and saw a pair of soft eyes looking at him. The Good Samaritan was a middle-aged man, who pulled Sanjeev aside, and patted him on the head. “Don’t worry, beta. It’ll be alright.”

“She’s my Mumma.” Sanjeev blurted. “She’s my Mumma.”

“Ok, good.” The man nodded. “Can you tell me where you’ll live?”

“Shyam….Shyam…Shyam Niwas.” Sanjeev gestured up the slope.

“Good. What’s your name, beta?”

“Sanjeev.”

The man looked up the slope. “Wait here a minute, Sanjeev. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

He spoke to a few of the others who were gathered on the scene. Within moments, he returned to Sanjeev. “Is there anybody at home right now?”

Sanjeev nodded. “Papa is there.”

“Ok, good. Now, let’s go to your house and get your Papa. Can we do that, Sanjeev?”

Sanjeev stared at his Mumma. An ambulance with its flashing lights had appeared and was parked nearby. She was being lifted onto a stretcher.

“Mumma,” Sanjeev yelled. “Mumma.”

But Mumma didn’t hear him. Her eyes were closed. Soft moans continued to come out of her mouth.

“Don’t worry, beta.” The Good Samaritan told him. “They’re taking her to Breach Candy Hospital. She’ll be properly taken care of. “

Sanjeev stood there, breathing heavily. He began to feel dizzy.

Strong arms gripped him again. “Sanjeev, you must take me to your Papa and tell him what happened.”

Sanjeev nodded and started walking up the slope, along with the Good Samaritan.

He raced into his house. “Papa, papa, where are you?”

The Good Samaritan waited near the door, while Sanjeev found his father. Sanjeev jumped to his Papa and hugged him.

Papa looked alarmed. “What happened?”

Sanjeev looked down at the floor, trembling. “Mumma…Mumma…”

Papa put an arm on his son’s shoulder. “Where is Mumma?”

Sanjeev’s eyes had a glazed look. “The bus…we were running for the bus….and…we were late…and…”

Sanjeev felt his body shaking.

“Don’t worry, Sanjeev.” Papa said, but his eyes grew wider and wider. “Just tell me what happened.”

“I got into the bus, but Mumma couldn’t….” Sanjeev babbled on. “Mumma was running and running…and trying to get on the bus…but she fell down…and then…and then…the bus drove on her leg.”

Papa took a deep breath and exhaled. “Where is she now?”

“They took her to the hospital…the man with me knows…”

Papa let go of Sanjeev and went to meet the Good Samaritan, who succinctly explained what he knew and informed him that his wife was at Breach Candy Hospital.

Papa took it all in, and his face appeared calm. “It’s lucky that Breach Candy Hospital is right across the street at least.” While he was talking, he was buttoning his shirt, and putting on his shoes.

“Sanjeev, I’m going to the hospital where Mumma is, you stay at home till I…”

“No.” Sanjeev cut him off. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Sanjeev, you don’t need to…”

“I’m coming.” Sanjeev had a defiant look in his eyes.

Papa shrugged. “Let’s go then.”

Breach Candy Hospital was full of hustle and bustle. Doctors in white suits walked with clipboards in their hands, and black stethoscopes around their necks. Nurses in blue scrubs, went from room to room, doing their rounds.

Papa insisted that Sanjeev remained in the waiting area while he went to find out what was happening. Sanjeev sat on a wooden bench, observing the constant movement around him. Families gathered in and around every room, with grave faces. A pungent, medicinal odor filled the air, and was making him nauseas. He hated the smell of hospitals.

Sanjeev’s mind conjured up images of the big red bus, and of his Mumma falling under it. He could still hear her screams inside his head. He rocked his body back and forth, without realizing it.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was really only twenty minutes, Papa emerged back outside. Sanjeev stopped rocking, and sat bolt upright in his seat.

Papa slowly walked over to him. “Mumma’s going to be fine. Her leg is fractured, but the doctors say it will heal soon.”

Sanjeev nodded, holding his breath.

Papa put his arm around him. “Everything is going to be alright, beta.”

Sanjeev nodded again. The screams still rang out in his head.

“Mumma’s sleeping now.” Papa said. “You go on home and have dinner. I’ll come and get you in some time.”

Sanjeev looked at his Papa, whose serene look comforted him.

“I’ll see you soon, beta. We can talk to Mumma tomorrow, after she wakes up.”

Sanjeev gradually rose to his feet. He walked out of the hospital, and onto the street. He felt a cold numbness had gripped his body. He entered his room, feeling light-headed.

The red toy bus lying on the floor caught his eye.

‘Wheels on the bus go round and round…’ He heard the tune in his head.

Sanjeev picked up the toy bus, and stared at it. He took it to the kitchen, opened the garbage can, and threw it inside. He slammed the lid shut.

‘Wheels on the bus go round and round…’