My TOI WriteIndia competition submission:
Rules:
1. The story must be set in the Gupta Age, in Ujjain (the capital of the empire in its latter half).
2. It must involve a crime. And its resolution.
3. The below passage should be present in the submission.
"Supratik, the Chief of Police and Internal Security at Ujjain, walked rapidly up to the riverside, just as the body was being fished out. The officer supervising the operation turned around and saluted his commander immediately."
NOTE: All photos are advertisements.
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Everything’s Fine!
"Supratik, the Chief of Police and Internal Security at Ujjain, walked rapidly up to the riverside, just as the body was being fished out. The officer supervising the operation turned around and saluted his commander immediately."
The Kshipra zig-zagged southwards through the entire temple town, and there was always some flesh seen in it. This time it was the dead body. It looked like one of the many pilgrims, except for the head which was submerged.
“It's not been too long in the water sir." The saffron-yellow turbaned junior officer said.
Supratik noticed the matching attire of his colleague was in order. King Namashima had passed this new order of uniform to set the city's police apart. This was his way to show off his power. After all, the king had to do something about his dwindling Kingdom.
"Good evening Shorab, take two horsemen and ride upstream and ask any of our men if they saw anything fishy." Supratik continued, "And stick to the task, I need you back tomorrow morning with a full report."
He knew Shorab too well. Shorab could extort anything out of anyone, especially money. Supratik noticed a tattoo on the underside of the upper left arm of the dead body which was now lying face down on the river bank. He took out his chalk and scribbled the inscription on his notepad – a few parchments from the royal scroll and the wooden case made-up his makeshift notepad. The markings were in Sanskrit, but he couldn't read all of it. He made two copies of it and gave one to Shorab, who had returned with two men.
He watched Shorab ride away northwards after the dead body was loaded onto a bullock cart. He knew his next stop was the royal scribe.
“I have something and need your expertise, Akshay”, Supratik said.
“Chunshu”, the holy man said.
“I’m guessing that’s his name”. Supratik said.
“Seems like it, though it has no Hindu meaning”, the scribe said.
Supratik smiled back at Akshay.
“Can’t help noticing how people’s lives in Ujjain revolve around the river’s name, Kshipra. Xunxu our dead body, my assistant Shorab, Shaxi - my wife. And you Axhay”, Supratik said. He used the k-s-h sound in deliberation.
“Haha”, Akshay continued, “For that matter even King Namaxima’s name has it”
“Nowadays it was all about the showcasing”, Supratik said.
“We had to come up with a catchy trend so that our Hindu kingdom does not deteriorate and vanish away”, Akshay said.
“Yes, the good old days of Vikramaditya”, Supratik said.
“And nowadays the Huns attacking us from the west”, Akshay said.
“And did you hear about the Jew who challenged Alexander the Great’s Kingdom – it seems if anyone attacked on one cheek, he offers the other cheek too”, Supratik said.
Both looked westwards towards the sunset beyond the river. Akshay said something above evening prayers and retired to his dark quarters. And Supratik left for his abode where Shakshi would await his arrival at home. He knew Akshay would stow away the body and pyre it at day break. The body was pretty bruised up - the river might have done that to it – probably. He knew he would have more answers when Shorab returned tomorrow.
His wife had returned from her pre-dawn bath at the river and woke him up. They exchanged pleasantries and left together for the main palace building and before he knew it he was at breakfast table laden with fruits, some fried pakoras, etc. in gold vessels. Supratik took his daily dose of pulses prepped in molasses, he wondered how the chef managed to cook for so many people that too, before day break. He calculated the number of people in his head, the morning shift of soldiers, the construction workers –some of them convicts, the peons, the maids, the clerks, etc. at least 2000 people he thought. All wouldn’t eat in golden plates, of course. He nodded his head and finished his sweetened dish. He believed it kept him more energetic. His saffron-yellow brigade had assembled in line. He addressed them as usual, “Attention!”
“At ease”, he continued, “Any new developments need to be reported to me within the hour. Any lapse in following your duties will lead to fines and dismissal.”
He knew he didn’t have to threaten his men, they would be self-motivated enough to work for their clan. Plus there was the added bonus of a well-to-do job, not including the perks. He headed for his official chamber and before he could settle down, he was greeted by Shorab.
“Good morning Sarkar”, Shorab said.
“Ah, you are back”, Supratik continued, “Tell me whether you solved the case.”
“Yes, of course”, Shorab said.
“The dead body is of a guy called Chunsu, he drives a bullock-cart daily from up north right up to Indore in the south on a need-to-hire basis.
“A local fellow, eh!” Supratik said.
“Au contraire, chief”, Shorab continued, “He’s from a Himalayan village, it seems. The tattoo is self-made. He is some kind of artist it seems.”
“Oh a learned, artist from the north. Might I dare call him a monk?” Supratik continued, “So what’s the motive of his death?”
“Unknown”, Shorab said.
“Okay and how did he land up dead in the river?” Supratik said.
“No idea”, Shorab said.
“Then how is this case solved?” Supratik said a little bit annoyed.
“We have his bullock cart with us. It was found in a funny way”, Shorab continued, “I had flagged down a bullock cart which was using cows to ferry luggage, which is illegal - right.”
“How much did you fine him?” Supratik said.
“Nothing officially”, Shorab said and winked at his senior, “He pleaded me not to take the cows into custody.”
“So I’m assuming you extorted one gold coin out of the poor bastard, since the fine is two pieces?” Supratik said.
Supratik knew Shorab had a thing for the minted gold coins which were to be used for trade and to replace the barter system.
“The poor guy also mentioned how he had not stolen the abandoned bullock cart near the river and how he was a nice man”, Shorab continued, “We found the cart by the river and it had the same inscription on the footboard. With which we knew we were on the right track.”
“And what did you do of this dead man’s cart?” Supratik said.
“Oh, that we sold for four gold coins”, Shorab said.
He handed over 4 gold coins to the chief who in turn handed them over to another guard who would at the end of the day submit the entire day’s fines to the palace treasury. King Namashima had made it all about the fines. Everything was penalized with fines - even murder for that matter. Supratik did not agree on most of the policies, especially the last part. How could murderers get away with just a fine? The King and all his hands worked to fill the treasury. Maybe King Vikramaditya had distributed too many gold coins after his prayers at the temple. The treasury head did not disclose much, but once had said, “It’s all about numbers and the liquidity of those numbers.”
Supratik had nodded his head. He was a mere executor of the plans laid by the ruling class. He liked it that way. He was good at it too.
“Tell me where did you find Chunshu’s cart?” Supratik continued, “And then you go rest.”
Supratik and four men on horseback rode towards the riverbank identified by Shorab. Supratik with his vast experience was certain this was murder. The marks on Chunshu’s body were too definitive to be river water and its flow related. Supratik first rounded up the cow herd who had bribed Shorab so as to not miss the location of the abandoned cart. At the pointed out location, he and five of them moved in concentric circles looked for evidence of a tussle - which was easier said than done. On the fifth round, they came across a temple hidden from view off the river bank. The resident pundit who dwelled in the foliage denied seeing anything – yet, in the name of the King – was made to be part of the search party.
The seven of them walked side-by side at arm’s length – the search continued.
“Which way to the village”, Surpatik said.
He had spied a clearing opposite the temple was where the temple burnt its waste - in a pit – and it was in regular use. The holy man who had no choice but to look away from his search area and point eastwards. Again, as they turned away from the north towards the south for the fifth time, they found a few bushes beaten up, a branch of a low-lying tree was broken too. Supratik told everyone to stay still. He studied the area and then pointed towards the village.
“Take us through the main road”, Supratik told the pundit.
They treaded back to the temple. Beyond the pit which was filled with debris of clay pots, was the disguised entrance to the village. They had missed it - their focus on the gutter which had formed of the waste which then disappeared off the riverbank – the path curved into a clearing. After a few minutes, they all stood in the centre of the clearing where a dozen or so houses were spread-out. They were the centre of attention.
“They’ve come to take a census”, the local pundit said, as he had been directed to.
Five men were at the hutment at the time, the rest had gone to bear food for the rest. One of the men had a black eye. He was taken into custody. The colony was told to report to the palace court for further details in regards to why he was arrested. No one came in for the young man the next day. He would have to work-off the bail amount of one gold coin with a fifteen days of government labour.
“Plus you will have to return to jail if any nuisances are reported”, the judge decreed.
Two days into his sentence he was brought in front of the superintendent.
“Do you know why you are being held”, Supratik said.
He then went on to explain the bullock-cart driver being found in the Kshipra.
“Well, the other day, five men came back from the farms. This guy with the tattoo you showed me agreed to bring them back to our settlement in his cart. There was an argument when he did not get the bullock-cart into the town centre but let the men get off at the river bank. He accompanied them into the village and then left on foot after getting paid.
That’s all I know”, the accused said.
“Do you want to tell me how you got the wound?” Supratik said.
“This is an accident while manning the plough”, Shobam said.
“Gather twenty men and get these five men into custody”, Supratik said.
Shobam was stowed away. The overnight operation was a success. Eight men were held in different cells; they had rounded-up whoever worked on the farms. All were cross-questioned one-on-one.
Supratik felt this was a one to be solved by the King himself. All were present in the next day’s durbar. King Namashima, his wife, the fan-coolies, the courtesans, the nine accused and soldiers as per shift. They had been joined by the village senior who represented the nine men.
“The gist of the findings from the interrogation is this”, Supratik continued, “Five days ago, five of these farmers hailed a bullock-cart to their village. This was providence that they got a Buddhist driver. He bade his ancestors from Sikander’s army. He mocked our Gupta Empire, speaking against the sovereign gold coin and stood for the barter-system. This because his father lost his handful of carts to the gold-coin. The barter system obviously gave his father’s business less baggage to pull. Chunshu was a renegade, an artist with the pipe and believed to have divine being in himself – this is another accused’s point of view. He ate meat, observed no fasts for no Gods and so by the time they had arrived at their village, the deceased had gotten onto everyone’s nerves. And the last straw was when he refused to take his cart over the garbage filled stream into the village, which according to one of the accused, is the highlight of getting a cart - to avoid the dirt. Also the court would like to know, that the gutter is man-made emanating from a nearby temple’s waste area”
The entire court looked in silence at all the suspects.
“They invited him into the village to barter some opium where they gheraoed him and beat him up to a pulp”, Supratik said.
“Mob-lynching, hmmm”, King Namashima said.
“The next we will hear one mob fighting another mob, which is other words can be called as a war”, one of the courtesans said.
“He was very much alive when he fled our village”, the village elder continued, “We went to get hold of the cart, but it was gone.”
“Manslaughter. They are fined 2 gold coins per person .The five who beat up the driver. The remaining are free to go. Also fine the pundit for littering. Next case please”, the order was delivered by the King.
There were hushed discussions around the chamber. No one said anything in reply. All knew the accused could pay the fine by working it off for four fortnights on one of the construction sites, if they couldn’t pay – one fortnight’s work per sovereign.
“Any return arguments by anyone”, one of the courtesans continued. “No return arguments by anyone that means we can proceed Sire.”
Supratik smile was content at the entire proceedings of the episode. He visualized the pundit cleaning up the path leading to the village.
--- THE END ---
Length of blog: 2500 words.
Genre: Political Satire
Please rate out of 5 stars (no half stars please).
Kinda created a historic picture. Well written
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