Posts

Breakneck Brazil

Prologue: “She was lost in the dark, dense forest. It was worse since she was sure that she wasn’t the only human soul, running, in the most lethal portion of the world’s largest tropical rainforest. Someone was following her and had been doing so for quite some time. The big-leaf mahogany tree shot through the top of the rainforest canopy. The dark brown, flaky bark of the aromatic wood gave way to a dusk-like atmosphere even when the Sun shone brightly over the tropics. Her eyes were used to the darkness by then. Anaysha Shelvankar kept running, unsure of the direction. An eerie feeling told her she would be cornered the moment she stopped. She continued running, even though her legs were about to give way. She couldn’t shout for help, for, one, there was nobody in the forest and two, it would only alert her follower and help track her down all the more easily. She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Some dead leaves crackled in the distance and fear woke up in her guts onc...
16 comments
Read more

Mishap at Mussoorie

MISHAP AT MUSSOORIE Prologue: At the cocktail hour, when the parky mountain breeze brushes against the undraped skin and the sky attains a mauve tinge, sheets of mist hide the huge mountains under them. As the mist clears, the lush green Doon Valley becomes visible and the distant snow-capped Himalayan peaks come into view. The June Sun plays over them, darkening some peaks on one side and striking a pinkish spell over some peaks on the other side. Standing in the balcony of Orchid Lodge at Lal Tibba, I could not deny that “Mussoorie is the queen of hill stations”. Watching the sun playing hide and seek behind the mountains and casting myriad tones of colours on the white canvas from the nature’s palette is no less than viewing Paradise on earth. Anaysha had locked herself up in the hotel room and I had no wish to disturb her when we were in the penultimate stage of the case. I began watching the mountains in the distance. Rain came in that long distance, pouring, in blue streaks,...
5 comments
Read more

The Case for the Vindication

April 1st, 2014 11.30 a.m. Mrs. Anaysha Shelvankar had carefully read an article on social media. Then, with the dry chuckle which was her nearest approach to a laugh, she handed her laptop to me. “For a farrago of the contemporary and the of the medieval, of the empirical and of the wildly fanciful, I think this is surely the damper,” said she. “What do you make of it, Ronit?” The article read as follows: “Rishi Pathak, a 22-year-old man from India’s Madhya Pradesh state, has recently accused his wife of drinking his blood on a regular basis, for the last three years. Although it sounds like the story of a cheap vampire movie, young Rishi swears he’s telling the truth and even bears the scars to prove it. He and his wife, Nilansha Pathak, employees in the IT Sector, got married in 2010, in Indore. A few months later, she started drawing blood from his veins, emptying the contents of the syringe into an empty glass and drinking the contents. She threatened to do t...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Scrutiny Of Gray Cells

19th July 2012 8.15 am Anaysha’s office: Mrs. Anaysha Shelvankar, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not fitful occasions when she was up all night, was seated in her high back chair in her office. I stood on the rug with a couple of cups of coffee. Her entire attention was riveted to an amber kerchief.  “When will you stop entering my office in your manky sandals?” she said. “Uh-Oh! Sorry! I was in a hurry. I couldn’t find you at the breakfast table. Anyway, here’s your coffee”, I said as I sat down facing her pensive visage.  “Tell me Ronit. What do you make of our visitor’s kerchief? Since we’ve been so infelicitous as to miss the person and have no notion of her errand, this accidental souvenir becomes of importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the person by an examination of this kerchief”, Anaysha said while she took a sip of her coffee. “How do you know our visitor is a she?” I said. “Well, I can get a smell of jasmine from this kerchief, and...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Paradox

I stood near the breakfast table, skimming through a copy of the post-mortem report. The housekeeper of a famous actor had been murdered and his body was found dumped in a sewer.  “Rigor mortis sets in after two hours of death, provided, the body is left untouched, isn’t it Ronit?” Anaysha was sitting with her back to me, and I had given her no sign of my occupation. ‘How did you know what I was already here? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head.’  ‘I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me”, Anaysha said, grinning.  “Stop behaving like Holmes. You aren’t an early riser, Mrs. Anashya Ronit Shelvankar. What is it?”  “I’m the defence lawyer of Yashpal Saxena; the actor who’s housekeeper’s body you’re examining. The accused has been granted bail. He’s coming today at 10.30 a.m.”, Anaysha said with a trembling voice.  “He was shot by a 9mm bullet on his chest and the gun matches with the one Saxena possesses. See i...
Post a Comment
Read more