The next day, Bakshi received yet another phone call regarding the Kamla Agarwal case, but this time it was from a man. “My wife has been making some wild allegations against Mukta Agarwal on telephone,” said a phlegmy voice. “Please ignore them.”
“Identify yourself first.” The cop pressed the record button on his telephone and then looked at the crime chart on the wall. It showed that two suicides, one murder, and three burglaries had occurred that week. Not enough work for a proactive police officer like Bakshi.
“My name is Anand Bansal, I’m Ashok Agarwal’s brother-in-law.”
“Your profession?”
“I run a courier service from Atta Market, NOIDA.”
After he had collected the address and telephone number of Anand Bansal, Bakshi threatened that he’d file a case against the man’s wife for making unsubstantiated allegations against Mukta Agarwal and interfering with a police investigation. When Anand seemed sufficiently brow-beaten, Bakshi suggested they could settle the matter at 6:30 that evening — not at the police station, but in the Sector 9 park, near Sangam Cinema.
That evening, Bakshi not only collected ten thousand rupees from Anand Bansal to exonerate his wife from a police case — enough money to splurge on drinks and kebabs for a week — he also gathered a few nuggets on Mukta Agarwal that Ram Bhaj, his dogsbody, had failed to unearth. Nugget no. 1: Anand, who hailed from Meerut, was Mukta’s former lover, and it was he who had persuaded Kamla to get Ashok married to his old flame. He’d wanted to see the poor shopkeeper’s daughter happy and well-settled, but he had no idea that Ashok was a “nonfunctional male” or that his mother would be so hard on the poor girl. Nugget no. 2: Even though she’d denounced Mukta as barren, Kamla had let Anand know in a roundabout way that for the noble cause of perpetuating the Agarwal clan, she wouldn’t mind if her virile son-in-law, who had already fathered three healthy children, inseminated Mukta, as long as it remained a family secret. While Anand was willing to oblige his mother-in-law, Mukta rejected her former lover’s advances. Nugget no. 3: Savitri, Anand’s wife, hated Mukta because she knew about her husband’s premarital affair with the woman. Anand had no idea why his wife would allege foul play in her mother’s death, other than a perverse wish to see her enemy incarcerated in a dark Tihar cell.
As Bakshi’s visits to Safdarjung Hospital and Malai Mandir hadn’t unearthed any substantial evidence, he was inclined to believe that Mukta had no hand in Kamla’s death. Nonetheless, he couldn’t get his mind off the woman, particularly after the new masala that Anand had provided about her. Ah, those lucky bastards, Rakesh and Anand, he thought wistfully.
On a chilly December afternoon, Bakshi pressed the bell of quarter no. 761 for the second time. He was clutching a slim gray police file. Mukta saw him through the peephole and rearranged her shawl to cover her bosom before opening the door.
“How are you, Mrs. Agarwal?” asked Bakshi. He stepped in without waiting for an invitation.
“I am fine, inspector saab,” Mukta said, edging away from the path of the hulking policeman to avoid any accidental contact.
“You haven’t told us the truth, Mrs. Agarwal,” Bakshi said, settling down on a sofa.
“What truth are you talking about?”
“You had a very strained relationship with your mother-in-law.”
“That’s not true. We had a few saas-bahu spats in the past, but in the end we got along fine.”
Bakshi guffawed and shook a few grains of paan masala into his mouth. The tang of lime and tobacco often fired his imagination. “A mongoose waltzing with a snake, huh?” he said with a sly wink. The inspector then tensed his facial muscles to look serious and slightly intimidating. “You haven’t told me the true story, Mukta Agarwal.”
“I told you everything I saw,” Mukta maintained.
Bakshi held up his file, frowning. “Here I’ve got statements from three witnesses who saw you from the circular path that goes around the base of the temple. They identified you and your mother-in-law from the photographs.” Bakshi studied his suspect’s face to assess the effect of his words before opening his file. “Here we have Mrs. Natarajan of Saket telling us that she saw you arguing with the old lady.”
“That’s not true... We didn’t have any arguments that evening.”
“And here’s Mr. Nair, our second witness from Moti Bagh, who saw you smiling while Kamla was still tumbling down the stairs and shrieking.”
“That’s totally absurd! I’m not mad, inspector.”
“Of course you aren’t; you just couldn’t help rejoicing the death of a person you hated. You are a clever woman, Mukta Agarwaclass="underline" You foiled three attempts on your life.”
Mukta gave a start at this sudden disclosure which she had thought was known only to Neela, her best friend in the neighborhood.
“I can see that slimy spy of yours has filled your ears with rumors,” she said, recovering quickly. “We have neighbors with old scores to settle with the Agarwals. Why don’t you talk with my husband about this?”
“Let’s forget the poor babu for the time being.” Bakshi flipped through his papers and then looked up as he located the next piece of incriminating evidence against Mukta. “The temple management claims they keep the stairs clean by hiring a dozen sweepers. The banana peel that Kamla slipped on has to be a figment of your imagination.”
“I haven’t invented the banana peel, inspector saab,” Mukta said. “How could the management expect to keep the staircases clean with a few sweepers when thousands of visitors are going up and down the stairs throughout the day? Many of them are from the villages and don’t even know where to throw their garbage.”
Bakshi ignored the rebuttal and looked sharply at Mukta. She no doubt had a point, but he wasn’t going to allow her to debate her innocence. “You have a motive, Mukta Agarwal. You planned to eliminate your mother-in-law because she would not tolerate her bahu having an affair with a neighborhood boy and bringing shame to the family. Well, you got your chance when you accompanied Kamla to Malai Mandir, and you acted fast, like a pro. It just took one good push of your strong arms to get rid of your enemy.” Having proclaimed his verdict, the inspector now indulged in his hobby of the month, ogling Mukta Agarwal’s bosom.
“May I have a look at those statements?” Mukta said.
Bakshi shook his head. “Your lawyer can see them when we produce them as evidence before a judge.”
“So you’re dragging me to court?” Dodging a murderous mother-in-law was certainly easier than coping with a vindictive policeman, Mukta thought.
Bakshi nodded. “The Patiala House criminal courts. In the meantime, we’ll have to arrest you, Mukta Agarwal. Here’s the warrant.” The inspector brandished a smudgy printed form made impressive with several signatures and rubber stamps. So, the inspector had come well-prepared for a real showdown. This must be the handiwork of Savitri, she mused. The inspector now took out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and dangled them before her eyes. Mukta visualized the shocked women of Sector 7, even her best friend Neela, watching her from their verandas and balconies as the inspector frog-marched her to his jeep, her head bowed in shame.
“I have to inform my husband,” she said, flicking away a teardrop from the corner of her eye.
“Of course. But before you do that, I can offer you an option to postpone your arrest.”
The inspector’s eyes were contemplating her thirty-eight-inch bust. Mukta got his drift. She was not surprised since she remembered that even on his first visit he had ogled her with his piggy eyes. He could in fact be blackmailing her with a few incriminating documents collected from dubious sources. But she knew she was powerless against him. Neither Ashok, her husband, nor Anand, her ex-lover, would come forward to get her off the hook. If only Rakesh, the bold, sinewy jawan, were by her side. He alone had the guts to call the inspector’s bluff.