The Community Home

 Once on the street, Sundarbabu asked, “Whose house is that, Jayanta?”

“That’s a community home.”

“I’ve heard of community pujas, what on earth is a community home?”

“It’s a mess. Clerks stay in there, students do, businessmen do, and some other kinds of people do too.”

“But the mess must have a manager?”

“Of course it does. I believe his name is Surenbabu. I know him by sight.

“Well, he is the one I need first.”

Jayanta shook his head and said, “No, making Surenbabu’s acquaintance can wait. I first want to visit the room that is bang opposite my first-floor room. It’s a mess, so entry is not forbidden to anyone. All clues will be lost if we are late. Come. Come, Manik.”

              The three of them entered the mess, and after climbing a flight of dirty stairs, reached the first floor. Three or four men stared at Sundarbabu’s uniform of course, but no one said anything.

              Jayanta pointed at a room and said, “The arrow was most likely shot from that room.”

              But the room was locked from the outside.

              Just then, a short, plump, dark man anxiously rushed out and said, “Nomoshkar Jayantababu, what makes you grace us with your presence all of a sudden?”

              Instead of answering the question, Jayanta turned towards Sundarbabu and said, “This is the manager of the mess - Surenbabu.”

              Sundarbabu glared at Suren and gave him the once over with his policeman’s gaze. Suren shrank back in fear.

              Jayanta asked, “Who stays in this room?”

              Suren said, “Sir, an association lease it. The National Service Association.”

              Jayanta said in a surprised tone, “Is there an association in this building?”

              “Sir, it wasn’t there earlier. The National Service Association leased the room just about fifteen days ago.”

              “How many members does the association have?”

              “I don’t know. But every evening, ten to fifteen people gather here. Sometimes there are one or two women as well. I can’t say what they discuss among themselves, but they frequently order for tea and snacks. Then at around ten or eleven o’ clock they all lock the door and leave.”

              “Don’t any of them visit in the morning?”

              “Not in the morning, not at mid-morning, not in the afternoon. Their meetings start after dusk.”

              “You know for certain that none of them have entered the room this morning?”

              “How can I swear on it? I am one person; I have to be all over the place on multiple errands. But I have never seen anyone from the association visit in the morning.”

              Jayanta said nothing more and went to the outside balcony. Three of the windows of the locked room were on that side – out of those, one was open. From there, he glanced once towards his own house. His personal room on the first floor was clearly visible. Then he turned around and peered into the room in the mess from the open window.

              Most of what was inside the room could be viewed from the outside. There wasn’t much furniture. A wooden cot covered with a dhurrie on one side, and a round table in the centre around which were a few chairs – that was about it.

              One more thing caught Jayanta’s eye. He smiled a little and said, “Surenbabu, can you come here once?”

              “Yes sir, what were you saying?”

              “You said, no one from the association visits in the morning?”

              “Yes sir, as far as I know.”

              “Come closer to the window and look inside.”

              Suren did as he was told. He was huddled in anticipation of some unknown danger.

              Jayanta said, “Can you see what is kept on the round table?”

              “Yes. An ashtray.”

              “And …?”

              “How strange! There’s smoke curling out of the ashtray!”

(to be continued)

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