Archive was dimly lit with few thin stream of late summer sun peeping through the cracked windows. The building was silent on a very mundane Sunday except for a not so mundane meeting ongoing in the fifth floor. Archive stood at extreme left, one had to cross cafeteria and library before reaching to the end of the corridor. Then one must turn left again to a comparatively thinner alley which would take approximately fifty seconds for a normal paced person to reach archive. The building was itself around hundred and fifty. Archive was even elder. It hold a lot more secret than the present people of city of joy, Kolkata had ever known.
The large wooden door cried as it was pushed apart slowly. A pair of stout shoe clicked the marble floor rhythmically walking straight along the aisle. Her shadow gradually became longer as she reached to the shelf at the end of the passage. Stopping infront of a series of racks, she searched something intensely. She flipped the documents, shuffled the piles making as less chaos as possible before discovering the right one. She pulled it out, a shabby, dusty file. After gazing at it with a pair of bright eyes she reached to a table at the corner. Before anything else, she kneeled forward and pushed the window wide open. A gush of wind came inside messing her hairs. She tucked them behind her ear and dragged a wooden chair to sit.
She slapped the file to free the dusts and blew it few times. Taking a deep breath she looked at it. The title written, ‘Anand Pandey, June 1992’ with bold black and a footnote stating ‘The curious case of Anand Pandey, investigator : Prashanta Basu’
She opened the lid and paused for a bit. Victim laid with its body cut into several parts, on the very first page. She searched her pocket for the cellphone and grabbed it. Scrolling through it, she tapped on a picture that she took five days ago at Metiaburuz. A different victim laid with nine piece of its body, each of them heavily tortured. His face unrecognisable. She placed her phone beside the document and observed them together. Both of them died in a same way, one in 1992 and another in 2020.
Grabbing the papers she ran through each details attentively.
The murderer was never found back then. Instead, a letter was left at the door of inspector Basu, stating to forget if Anand Pandey was ever alive; written pretty short and direct, with no extra poetry. The letter was written using paper cuttings from ‘The Statesman’ and office glue. Anand Pandey was a tan marchent primarily working from Topsia. His business was running quite well and there wasn't any rivalry issue that might took his life, as far as the record showed. Rolling her eyes she leaned back. Her efforts were almost wasted as she found only two similarities between the two cases. First, both of them died somewhere else and their bodies were found somewhere far from it. Second, both the bodies had exactly nine pieces. Third, the person died recently was around sixty and if Anand Pandey were alive, they would had been of same age.
A history repeating itself?
With a deep sigh she looked outside from the window, biting her lips. Suddenly she jolted and checked her wrist watch. Ten minutes were almost over and the meeting upstairs was to end at any time. She quickly took pictures of the case history and tucked the file where it belonged before rushing toward the exit, running on her toes.
“Raghubir?” She whispered reaching to the guard at the end of the corridor and took out a two thousand rupees.
“I need to come again.” She said.
“Five thousands next time.” The middle aged man stoically uttered before putting the money in his pocket. She delivered a scornful glance and stormed away through the backdoor.
Coming out from the huge building, she took a footpath. Suddenly her phone buzzed.
“Hello Sir!”
“Did you make it?” a manly voice asked from the other side.
She nodded, “Yes”, somewhat proudly.
The voice chuckled, “Since when police Headquarters became so casual for a trespasser! No wonder Bengal is fucked up!”
She avoided any answer.
After a pause, he spoke again, “Well, I'm quite impressed. Come to my office tomorrow at sharp eight.”
"Yes Sir." She replied and kept her phone back to her pocket.
Monsoon was yet to come but the weather was cloudy. She took few deep breath, smelling the weather before walked faster to reach the metro Station. Already huge drops of water started pouring down. The station wasn't crowded, party due to Sunday and a largely due to the ongoing pandemic. It made her eyes spark. She took a corner seat at the almost empty metro and put her earphones on, diving into old pops.
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To be continued
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