Bohni-Patanga

One

We spent ten or twelve days in Patna in relative peace. Then, one day, we happened to meet Purandar Pandey. It had been about a year since Pandeyji had been transferred to Patna. Ever since we had come into contact with him during the Durga mystery, we had not met again. Pandeyji was delighted, and we were no less pleased. Pandeyji is a harbinger of deathly mysteries; and sure enough, just a day or two after meeting us, a mysterious death occurred, and—

The very death-mystery I mentioned in "Adim Ripu" I shall now record here in detail.

One evening, after dusk, we were gathered at Pandeyji’s house. There were no outsiders present—only Byomkesh, Pandeyji, and myself. With tea, roasted Kabul chickpeas, laddus from Munir, and tobacco from Gaya—this quartet as our companions—we were reminiscing about old times. The servant would appear now and then to replace the chillum of the hookah.

Ever since we had met Pandeyji, our gatherings had become almost a daily affair—sometimes at our house, sometimes at his. Today, it was at Pandeyji’s. He had invited us to dinner the next evening, promising us Kashmiri chicken korma. Our idle exile in Patna had become sweet indeed.

Though Pandeyji had been promoted upon his transfer to Patna, I noticed that his heart was not at ease. Though the flames of the Great War had died down, the air was still thick with the ashes of the pyre, and on top of that, the birth-pangs of Independence. Our reminiscences soon descended into the present, in the manner of history. Pandeyji recounted to us several recent, hair-raising true incidents. At last, he said—

“Since the time of the Great War, the number of thugs, cheats, murderers, and scoundrels in the world has increased, and with them, the work of the police has grown as well. Crimes we never imagined before are now daily occurrences. Foreign soldiers have come and taught all manner of alien villainy. Who knows how many kinds of intoxicants and poisons have entered the country? Just the other day, a most ordinary petty thief in Patna was found with a vial of medicine; upon examination, it turned out to be a deadly poison, native to South America.”

Byomkesh, removing the hookah pipe from his lips, asked in a languid tone, “What poison? Curare?”

“Yes. I see you know the name. Such a terrible poison that a single drop mixed with blood brings instant death. The vial that was found could wipe out the entire city of Patna. Just think, how many such vials have been imported.”

Byomkesh asked, “Have you found any evidence that this poison has been used anywhere?”

Byomkesh Babu, do you think the police ever hear of every case of poisoning in our country? You don’t even need a doctor’s certificate to cremate a corpse. Perhaps if someone of importance is poisoned, there’s a bit of an uproar. Even then, the family hushes it up. Yet I believe the number of