Sir Edmond Peregrine Perry, a man as formidable as a fortress and as sharp as a hawk's talon, achieved knighthood from the highest echelons of the British Empire at a mere 25 years of age. Rumors swirled like autumn leaves that Sir Peregrine Perry was so close to Her Majesty the Queen herself, that even her corgis obeyed his commands. Now, at the ripe age of 45, handsome Sir Perry is about as cheerful as a funeral director at a clown convention, finding little joy in the happiness of others. Of course, this stoic demeanor and no-nonsense attitude made him the prime candidate when it came to his  deployment in Calcutta to take over the unfinished tasks of the young officer Paul Davidson, who, according to Peregrine, was a soft man.

After the Chattagram incident, where Officer Paul Davidson had chased the Krantikari culprit like a hunting hyena, managing to bring him down in a showdown of epic proportions, the British police found themselves scratching their heads like perplexed puppies. Despite the lifeless body of Satyakirth lying at their feet, Davidson had vanished into thin air like a magician's assistant, without a single clue.

Eight agonizing days crawled by like snails in a marathon until, under special consideration, Peregrine was summoned to take the reins of the case. The mystery of Officer Paul Davidson's disappearing act and the recovery of the elusive ammunition awaited his keen eye and ironclad determination.

Mighty Peregrine, however, had one vice, the ancient and primal vice of character: women! Especially beautiful, brown-skinned beauties. He would spend his nights prowling the forbidden lanes of Sobhabajaar, where he'd immerse himself in the sophisticated pleasures of life: music and fine wine. His handsome features and soft smile were a facade, a deceptive mask behind which lurked the ruthless sadist. Many young women had fallen prey to his charm, unaware of the darkness that lay beneath his veneer of niceness. Those who didn't know his true self would affectionately call him ParryBabu or even PiyariBabu.

So, that particular morning Parry Babu was busy pacing in front of his own personal blackboard attached to the wall inside his private quarter turned office. He despised wearing the British uniform and sitting on the station chair, but what he loved was the job, the job that gave him the power to play mind games with masters, and win... Every time!

"Sir, he hasn't been doing anything unusual the past two days. Just the mess and then hospital, and then back to the mess, and then... "

Peregrine raised his hand to stop the Bengali police constable who was ever too eager to please him since his arrival. Peregrine had learned the local Bangla dialect, and on occasions took pride in communicating in the same with his local subordinates. In accented Bengali, he spoke thoughtfully.

"Mess and Hospital, Hospital and Mess, isn't it, Bipin? Or, is he too astute to outsmart your vigilance?"

"Anywhere else?" Asked Sergeant Desmond.

"Umm... One Kochuri shop, a street-side one... Small.. Insignificant." Bipin added. "All the junior doctors and students go there."

"Do you?" Peregrine asked nonchalantly.

"Sometimes... But, no, apart from that, he's been to nowhere."

"Nowhere?" Peregrine pressed.

"No... No Sir... I've been on him since he left his village, exactly as you had asked. But the boy seemed as straight as a pole." Bipin nodded his head a little too much to ascertain his observation. But Peregrine didn't seem convinced. He took a chalk from the table and moved closer to the blackboard, circling around a name: 'BATAKRISHNA'.

"This one is a deep-water fish, Bipin Babu, one that promises the thrill of the chase." He chuckled and then turned towards Sergeant Desmond, the officer assisting Paul Davidson, and gave him a quizzical look.

"So Serge, let's run it over again." He demanded. "The Krantikari woman who died, how was this man related to her again?"

"They were betrothed to be married." Sergeant Desmond swallowed, repeating this line probably the 50th time that day, and he definitely knew the next set of questions.

"Betrothed, but arranged. And there lies his alibi, but again, he accompanied her on the train journey." Peregrine was speaking as if from memory.
"And then she ditched him halfway and he continued with his journey... Hm." He scratched his chin and narrowed his sharp blue eyes.
"But why didn't he stop her? Or question her? Or... " He huffed and looked at Desmond once again.
"Imagine that your betrothed runs away, would you not want to stop her, or even inform your family of this unexpected interruption, given his family arranged it!" His carved brows frowned further, "lest you are already aware of her plan, lest, you are her confidant."

A crude smile laced his lips and Sergeant Desmond, not sure how to react, just nodded his head to show his affirmation. Peregrine continued further.
"And again, how is that Mukherjee lady related to him?"

Desmond looked up with a confused expression. This question was new, not in the syllabus, but he knew the answer anyway.
"They were be- betrothed, for a very short time though, but her father broke the engagement, or so does the report say, sire."

"Father, that's Neelmoni Mukherjee, a trusted confidant of the British Empire, why do you think he'd break the engagement with this man? He's handsome, and affluent, or so I hear." He remarked thoughtfully, "unless he suspected the boy's association with the notorious Krantikaris."

"Could be." Desmond nodded, sinking down into the chair as this ordeal looked a little tedious to him now.

"And this Batakrishna boy was the one who compelled Officer Davidson to derail his raid to some village near Chittagao?"

"Um... His brother actually. They happen to be friends from London, Sire." Desmond responded promptly.

"Ah, the elder brother, but we can't touch him, can we? He's an influential man, I'm told." He let out a sharp sigh with a sarcastic smile. "But not for long, Serge, as when you pull the ear, the head follows." He took a round around the large wooden table and then sat down on the decorated couch with a glass of half-drunk Scotch.
"I have reasons to believe that this Batakrishna is a crucial part of this huge conspiracy plan, and under the hideout, he's still aiding and associating with the Krantikaris." He took a noisy sip from the glass and closed his eyes. "And if my instincts are to be trusted, this boy is our key to getting back the hijacked ammunition that we lost at Chittagao."

"But Sire, this boy has an alibi, he wasn't present in Chattagram during the heist..."

"But," Peregrine stopped him, "But he was there at a hospital that's half an hour away from the incident spot, 10 minutes if he'd be traveling in that expensive motorbike of his."

Desmond had seen Batakrishna's condition that night first hand, he wanted to counter, but then his better judgment stopped him from engaging in any war of words with this formidable investigator seated in front of him. He too wanted to be in his good books, but in his heart, he knew what he saw... That fractured skull, bruised ribs... That was not a condition to aid in any raid, let alone be the mastermind.

Peregrine, however, was thoughtful, plotting in his head the next move.
"But Serge, the elder brother would move mountains to protect this boy, would he not?"

"Not under the present scenario, nope." Desmond smiled. "Batakrishna has sent a legal notice to his brother over a property dispute, demanding money." Desmond recollected.
"Quite a scandal you see Sire, the younger Roy Choudhary sent a legal notice to his brother's office via his sworn opponent Barrister Lalmohan... And it was... Well... " Desmond nodded his head relishing the scandalous scene that his colleagues had encountered at the Alipore Judge court premises just the day before.

"Interesting...!" Peregrine smirked.

"Um... So what now, Sire?" He just asked, and to this, Peregrine made a chuckling sound and scribbled some letters.

"Continue the watch... A little closely I'd say. And the fish would definitely come out for his share of bait." He smirked again.

....................................

That particular afternoon when the sun streamed through the expansive windows of the grandiose square hall of the revered Calcutta Medical College, casting elongated shadows that danced across the polished marble floors, it looked like orchestrated performers... Senior doctors marched purposefully to their designated wards, their white coats billowing behind them like sails caught in a tempestuous sea, while junior doctors scurried in their wake, their footsteps like a hurried beats. Worried patient parties huddled together, their anxious murmurs blending with the constant hum of activity. Even the administrative members of the hospital seemed to be swept up in the whirlwind of busyness, their faces etched with determination as they tackled the day's tasks.

Amidst this orchestrated chaos, the canteen buzzed with activity, akin to a beehive teeming with industrious inhabitants. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the tantalizing scent of spices, creating a sensory feast that enveloped the room. Plates clattered, chairs scraped against the tiled floor, and voices melded into a cacophony of sound, creating a vibrant backdrop to the bustling scene, and  in it's backdrop sat Doctor Batakrishna Roy Choudhary. His stout frame appeared to be slightly leaner than usual, with a smattering of stubble adorning his chin like tiny sentinels guarding his weary visage. Despite the fatigue that was so evident into his features, there was an air of quiet resolve about him, like a seasoned warrior preparing for battle. Batakrishna looked wary, may be more mental than physical this time, thought Nakul. He too was seated beside him, fiddling an earthen cup with half filled tea in it, awaiting the next set of instructions from his mentor. Batakrishna was writing a letter, and a half eaten plate of sandwich lay in front of him on the table.

"Haven't you been eating, Batuk Da?" Nakul couldn't bear to see his idol in such a depleted state.
"Batuk Da, seriously, eat and rest, you look unwell!" Concern dripped from his voice like honey.

Batakrishna didn't lift his gaze, merely offering a wan smile.
"I've been eating and sleeping all my life, Nakul. Maybe for once I should focus on other aspects of life... Like fighting for the cause that I believe in," his voice softened to a gentle murmur, "fighting for the freedom of my country."

Nakul heard him and nudged the steel plate closer.
"Eat and then do whatever you want."

Batakrishna sensed the warmth in Nakul's tone and glanced up from the letter.
"How can I, Nakul, how can I?" He sighed deeply, emotion thickening his throat. He picked up a slice of sandwich, holding it up to the light as if scrutinizing it.
"How can this food pass through my throat when I know Dada isn't eating, Bondita isn't eating... And Kaka..."

"Boro Jamidar Babu doesn't know, Batuk Da, not yet. Barrister Babu didn't tell him."

Batuk nodded.
"This was necessary, Nakul, this family feud, this distraction." He folded the letter neatly and capped the fountain pen. "I feel so terrible, so so..."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Batuk Da. I'm sure if Barrister Babu knows the truth, he'd stand by you." Nakul's hand found Batuk's shoulder, radiating compassion, prompting Batuk to bury his face in his palm to collect himself.

"Dada can't know, Nakul, not now. No one can know... This is dangerous, death or even worse, Kalapani, and I don't want any of my family members involved if I'm tried in the British court."

"Hm," Nakul murmured, and even amidst the cacophony of the canteen, there was a palpable silence, a silence that resounded only in their ears.

"How is Boudi?" Batakrishna inquired, and Nakul's gaze fell.

"Crying."

"Has she been eating?"

"No," Nakul shook his head solemnly.

A sharp pang stabbed at Batuk's heart, intensifying his headache. He pressed his fingers to his temples and sat in silence until it was Nakul's turn to speak.

"How is Mira Didi... I mean Boudidi?" Nakul asked, and Batuk nodded.

"Good... She's good."

"Change the mess, Batuk Da. That place isn't suitable for you. That one-roomed attic is smaller than your bathroom." Nakul's voice brimmed with eagerness.
"You are a Jamindar for heavens sake!"

"And Satyakirth, a king. Trust me on this Nakul, if he could at one point, so can I, given that my status of upbringing is nothing compared to his royal luxuries."

Nakul tried to smile.
"Agreed, but you have a wife now Batuk da, change that Goddam boys' mess."

Batuk gave in and let out a chuckle.
"Change and go where?"

"Anywhere but there. There's no kitchen even. No wonder you haven't been eating, and I'm sure Boudidi hasn't been cooking either." Concern tinged Nakul's voice, laced with warmth. "Also, have you considered that she might need a bigger place for herself..." Nakul's words suddenly faltered, his cheeks flushing. "You know how women are."

Batuk chuckled.
"Seems like you know a lot about women, don't you now!" He rubbed his nose, taking a deep breath as if shedding the weight from his heart.
"Don't worry, your Boudidi never complains about anything. And you know what's the best part, Nakul?" Batuk sighed, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Mira hasn't said a word since we left."

"What?" Nakul frowned in disbelief.

"Yes. She's silent, and I might not have encouraged her to speak either." Batuk shrugged, toying with the fountain pen unmindfully as Nakul continued to stare at him in incredulous disbelief.

"Batuk Da, you left your home for her, you love her for what I believe, then why aren't you speaking? And if that's the case, why are you even here and not with her now?" Nakul blurted out, unable to contain his thoughts.
"Speak, Batuk Da, speak... Remember what Barrister Babu always says, 'Words,' " he paused, " 'right words' only have the power to resolve all wars in the world."

"And what about the war raging within one's heart and mind? What did your Barrister Babu say about that?" Batuk countered, and Nakul fell silent, his expression tinged with sadness.

"But seriously, Batuk Da, change that godforsaken mess. Mira Boudidi might be the only woman staying there. Shift to a decent place near this college, I'll find one for you."

"And where will the money come from?" Batuk inquired.

"From the 50 thousand that Barrister Dada will give you as your share. Isn't that the amount you quoted in the demand notice?"

Batuk cut him off.
"No. Never. That money is not for my personal use, Nakul, it's for..." His jaw clenched suddenly, and Nakul couldn't miss the fire burning in his eyes. He regarded him with awe.

"Fine, then take this." Nakul pressed a fifty-rupee note into Batuk's hand. "Bhargavi gave this to me for you."

"She already gave me a hundred," Batuk sighed. "And where is she getting all this from?"

"I don't know. She mentioned some mathematics competition prize or something. She's in school now, I dropped her off with Boro Jamidar Babu last Monday."

Batuk nodded fondly. "Fine, find me a place. We'll move," he decided.

By then, two British police officers had entered the canteen in full uniform, their eyes flicking over Batakrishna from a distance.

Batakrishna stood.
"What a subtle way of surveillance, those morons!" He chuckled, and Nakul pursed his lips. "Don't stay here for long or they might scribe you in their list of suspicions, and you know we can't afford that."

"Morons indeed," Nakul agreed, as he too got up from his seat, chuckling softly at Batuk's words.
"By the way, Batuk Da, one more thing..." He hesitated, then continued, "That lady, um... Raimoti Debi, she was asking about something."

Batuk settled back down. "Such as?"

"Well, you probably left your finger rings and other items before leaving, and she was particularly interested in a silver ring with a blue stone on it. She seemed quite insistent."

"That's white gold, and sapphire," Batuk clarified. "What was she asking?"

"She wanted to know where you got it from and how long you've had it in your possession, among other things. I told her I'd inquire when I saw you." Nakul paused, "She seemed quite anxious."

Batuk's suddenly mirrored Raimoti's anxiety.
"Nakul, I may have forgotten something urgent. How could I?" His tone shifted into a self-directed monologue as he swiftly retrieved another blank sheet of paper and began to write. "Give this to her, and tell her not all is lost."

Nakul glimpsed the letter and smiled. "And about the ring, tell her it belonged to Kaka, and she should ask him instead."

But Nakul had already caught the infectious cheerfulness, his smile widening.
"I will, Batuk Da, I definitely will," he promised.

*don't forget to comment your thoughts on this chapter*