“Summer is over. It’s time for the rain to quench the thirst of the parched farm,” said Pradeep, the instructor of the YLAP(Young Leaders Award Programme), looking at the pale faces of the youngsters digging the organic farm at Katinge, near Mysuru.
The group of twenty high-school children had come on a four-day adventure journey, a mandatory chapter for successful programme completion, to Mysuru with four teachers/mentors of Greenmeads International School and Trailbirds, the organizers of the trip.
“Oh dear! Today is our last day here. Wish we could enjoy the rains,”Raveesh sympathized with himself digging the organic farm.
“You bet!” said Sophie throwing in a characteristic ugly pout which she used for all the ‘D’s’- denial, displeasure, duplicity, dumbness.
“Cut it out guys!” Shivam almost shouted, his bulky frame swathed in sweat which he utterly disliked. “I want to get back to my bedroom AC.” The others laughed at Shivam’s incurable infatuation for his air-conditioner.
“Let’s dig deeper,”Raveesh said just to spite Shivam and thrust his spade angrily into the portion of farmland assigned to them for the cultivation task. He was digging deeper than necessary but stopped short when he felt his spade hit something hard. He tapped again to convince himself that he was not wrong.
Was it a rock? It is smooth.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Sophie,” he told his wise friend.
Shivam rushed off to find Pradeep sir who was their guide from Trailbirds. He came to the spot quickly with Mr. Harris, the owner of the farm. The teachers and students crowded around them.
“There’s no use indulging in speculations, everyone. I think we have to alert the local authorities. Meanwhile let’s not disturb the place. Teachers can take the students back to their tents.” Harris said firmly.
The group, a bit nervous and apprehensive, travelled silently back and remained so for the rest of the day. As the pink hues spread across the skyline casting a warm glow before the grays, indicating imminent rain, took over, Pradeep sir walked into their tent.
“It’s no good news. The Inspector went with a team of cops to the farm to investigate. They have found a human skull.”
Gasps of bewilderment and some excitement rose from the group.
“The cops have called in the forensic team. They feel this may be there for a minimum of three years. Rest will be known after investigation,” Pradeep said tiredly.
“What about Harris? Did he not know? Where does he figure in all this?” Ms. Malathi, our teacher questioned the Trailbirds team.
“Harris came to India after the pandemic in 2022. He bought this farmland from the wealthy Sarpanch family in the nearby village. He claims he has no idea,” Pradeep reasoned. “Anyways, we have all been called to the local police station tomorrow, especially Raveesh, so we have to delay our trip by a week at least till the police clears us to travel back.”
Shivam called his father, Aravind Prakash, DIG- Crime Branch, Chennai around one a.m.
“ Shivam, stop your ranting please and try to sleep. Your mentors spoke to us sometime back. It is rather unfortunate. I cannot be a part of the investigation but it is good hands. No need to worry if they call you for questioning. All of you must be sincere and forthcoming to help solve this matter,” Aravind spoke firmly but kindly.
The next day, they listened nervously as Inspector Siddha spoke, “We are awaiting autopsy results. The examination may not reveal exact nature of the crime as about four years from the incident has elapsed, but a crime it is for sure. Maybe the victim was hit forcefully on the head…..”
“Sir,” Shivam interrupted, “Did you get any clue like nails or clothing while digging?”
Everyone present including Inspector Siddha laughed for the first time that day.
“Just like Aravind you are. Your father spoke to me. We are good friends. We have detained Harris for further investigation. We will let you know soon.”
Harris was let off the hook when his life record showed him to be an innocent land-owner. He had proof that he only gave it for educational purposes, he had never tilled it himself.
The YLAP group returned but the three stayed on. Shivam’s father arrived a few days later and they were seated again before Inspector Siddha.
“Aravind, the autopsy has revealed that it is a skull of a male. ” He inhaled deeply and continued, “ We have found a rusted saree pin at the same spot. We must certainly find out whose it is.”
Shivam, his father and Raveesh accompanied the policemen to the nearby village under strict instructions that the boys would not get out of the jeep. They first went to the Sarpanch’s house. The Sarpanch was dead but his son’s admitted to have sold the land to Harris. They were brought to the police station and questioned for three days. But all the efforts revealed nothing. The saree pin too remained a mystery.
“It’s hardly a clue. There are over a three thousand ladies in the vicinity. Where do we start?” Inspector Siddha looked frustrated.
“Uncle, this could also be a pin to hold the ‘burkha’ of Muslim ladies. Why don’t you narrow down your search?” Raveesh offered a smart suggestion.
The next day, after rounds of interrogation in the village, the policemen sat at a local tea shop.
Suddenly, the owner came up to them and said in a hushed voice, “Sirs, did you go to the Sarpanch’s house again?”
Siddha shook his head in denial.
The shop owner said eagerly, “The Sarpanch married a Muslim woman, much younger than him. The family almost disowned him but for his wealth. He died mysteriously about four years ago. Everyone took it as a natural death in the nearby jungles. The family never cared about his young wife. But there were rumours that she eloped with her lover….”
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Good news that ‘she’ had been caught followed soon after the boys returned to Chennai.
Whenever Raveesh started off proudly, “That last day of Summer……”, he was hit playfully by Sophie and Shivam. He yelped, “Spare my skull,” much to their amusement.
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