An uncharacteristic calm shrouded Y.C. International School on the morning of November 14th. It was a Monday, a regular school day and yet the desolation echoing amongst the empty corridors, playgrounds and activity areas was screaming a morose cacophony.
Buses burgeoning with children coming to school were being sent back, no one was allowed on the school premises, save a few teachers.
The entire periphery of the grounds was barricaded with a good many policemen restricting almost all entry.
There was an ambulance, a cohort of police cars and many curious glances–some meddlesome, some inquisitive.
Ripe rumours of a suicide inside the school premises floated in a sibilant buzz, but there was no way of knowing what really happened, as the vacant building of Y.C. Intl. School stood in an absurd calm on a Monday morning.
Investigating officer Khar silently looked at the inconsolable woman sobbing in her husband’s embrace whose bitter bewilderment spewed like hateful lava on all those present in the principal’s office.
Mr Savik, the principal, a dignified man of almost sixty had nothing except a few repetitive words of apologies to shield himself from the parent's rage, a rage most understandable Khar thought on having found out that their only son was killed in the boy's bathroom a day before.
This entire incident held a sinister aura to it, not least because a child was murdered, but because he was murdered in his school.
‘What does this have to say about the society we live in, officer?’ a woman with a squeaky voice standing next to him had been talking to him all this while and he’d only just woken up to it.
‘This is outrageous. The parents association will drag this school to the ground’ continued the squeaky-voiced woman.
Khar didn’t feel obliged to answer her question nor indulge her conversation and he made towards the policeman who’d been waving at him.
‘Sir’ the policeman said, this is the watchman who found the kids body this morning.
‘Tell me exactly what you saw, when you saw and what you did after. Tell me in the exact sequence’ Khar spoke with a chilled matter of factness as he sized the watchman and knew the poor man for exactly what he was.
An employee, a minimum wage earning watchman who did nothing more than cast a cursory glance over the school boundaries doing his duty no doubt, but not too fastidiously.
The haggard man looked too scared to answer.
‘We’re not arresting you. The investigating officer just wants to ask you some questions, so tell him exactly what you know, alright.’ The policeman spoke politely and Khar noticed for the first time his squeaky clean shoes.
‘New recruit no doubt’ Khar observed to himself and turned to look at the watchman.
‘I don’t know anything, sir. I came this morning and went in to sign my name on the employee board’ the watchman almost murmured looking petrified ‘then went to use the ground floor bathroom in the main building and that’s when..uh...I found the ..uh..dead body, sir.
I was so scared..I..uh didn’t even touch him to check if he was alive and locked the bathroom door and ran to Mr Savik’s staff quarter. I didn’t know what to do.’
The watchman was clearly out of his depth and though afraid he looked like he really wanted to help.
‘and what time did you go to Mr Savik?’ Khar asked
‘Around 5:00 am. Mr Savik had just woken up and he immediately accompanied me.’
‘Was there anyone else on the school grounds?’ Investigating officer Khar asked.
‘Sir, the cleaning staff had just arrived, but they didn’t go into the bathroom’ the watchman spoke thoughtfully.
‘What happened after that?’ the police officer continued the query.
‘Mr. Savik..uh.. he checked the boy’s pulse and asked me to fetch his phone from his room. He locked the bathroom door, allowing no one to enter and called the police. Uh, he told me to guard the door so no one got in.’ the watchman was silent for a while and spoke again ‘A while later the police came and I was tasked with locking and guarding the school gates lest any buses, parents or teachers come in..uh..and after that, he called me’ he spoke pointing at the police officer.
‘Alright’ Khar said ‘we’ll get in touch with you again, but before you leave, tell me what were you doing yesterday between 4:00-7:00pm?’
‘Sir, I..I was home with my wife and children. My father in law is visiting us so uh..we were busy..and.. sir, I was off duty yesterday’ the watchman’s face was fast losing colour.
‘Alright,’ the policeman spoke quietly and turned to Khar.
‘Sir, his story checks out with Mr Savik’s’
‘Hmm..so I see’ spoke Khar.
‘Officer Pavil’
‘sir, just Pavil’
‘Alright, Pavil have you spoken to the watchman who was on duty yesterday?’
‘yes sir, he apparently knows nothing’
‘Well, I’d like to know all the nothing he knows’ Khar spoke softly while walking towards the boy's bathroom where the dead body was being covered and getting transferred on a stretcher.
‘Call the kids parents Pavil’ Khar said.
It was barely 7:30am, almost time for school assembly and assorted morning rituals in most schools, but this Monday morning Y.C. international school was marked by a gathering of forensics team, policemen and ‘mourning parents who were unaware that their child never left school the previous day, but thankfully no press.. yet’ Khar mused as he tried to drown the shrill shrieks of naked sorrow emanating from a mother.
‘I told the parents we’ll have to conduct an autopsy. They kept asking me how did he die.’ Dr Chattur’s voice had a clinical inflection of official nonchalance.
‘Three stab wounds with a sharp instrument’ Khar muttered while observing the parents break down in front of the ambulance.
‘You’d be interested to know Khar’ Dr Chattur spoke in his characteristic impersonal intonation ‘They were more like slashes gauged in deep on closer inspection, not exactly stab wounds done with a pointy instrument, but done with sharp-edged weapon with a blunt head.
The slashes were made for the weapon to enter the body and then the stabbing happened. Not a very clean job.’ Dr. Chattur was wiping his spectacles as he spoke
‘got a good look at the crime scene?’
‘Yes’ Khar tuned to Dr. Chattur holding up a plastic packet that had cigarette butts
‘Ooh! clues’ Dr. Chattur exclaimed.
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