The police station was as silent as a crematorium.
— “Did you leave all your fear locked up in a bank locker before coming here, Napla?” Inspector Rasamay Nandi couldn't sit still any longer.
— “At least show some basic respect for the senior officer whose presence could make even dinosaurs leap out of history books to drink from the same pond as cows and tigers…”
The senior officer raised a hand to silence Rasamay. His face, like polished ebony, had turned a strange shade of purplish rage. From his heavy pot-like face came a Royal Bengal roar
— “Get what I asked for, Rasamay!”
— “See that?” said Napla, flashing his yellow-toothed grin, “That’s the difference between real men and fools. Only a man of taste recognizes an artist. Go on, carry out the senior officer’s order”
Rasamay ground his teeth.
— “I’m the fool and you’re the artist? I feel like locking you up and beating the oil out of you first.”
— “Keep that feeling in your pocket and carry out the order. It’s not much, just eight pieces of buttered toast, two double-egg omelets, and a big glass of rabri-topped milk tea. Didn’t even get breakfast today. Dragged a man out of bed at the crack of dawn to bring him to the station! Just because you're in the police, doesn’t mean you don’t need basic decency… And stop calling me Napla! It’s a matter of prestige. I’ve left behind petty thefts — I sign as Shri Nepalchandra Guchhait now. You may call me Nepalchandra, if you must shorten it.”
The senior officer dismissed his men and leaned his massive bulk over the table, whispering:
— “Before your breakfast arrives, let me tell you the whole thing. It’s a secret, can’t be said in front of everyone”
— “Figured as much,” said Nepal, running a hand through his gelled hair, a signature gesture. His hair was styled with flair, his beard and mustache well-groomed. Branded T-shirt, stylish ripped jeans, a slim gold chain peeking from his neck, probably three tolas and a half-eaten apple-brand phone poking from his pocket. No watch on his wrist, just a mantra-blessed sacred thread from his guru, Nepal’s talisman.
— “Figured it out the moment your troops dragged me out of bed during my resting time. I knew Senior Officer Pandabeshwar Roy wouldn’t be discussing Virat Kohli’s straight drives or petrol prices. Must be some magnum-sized serious issue.”
Pandabeshwar swallowed his pride. Later, he’d find a way to put this boy in his place there were lockups and polished batons aplenty at the station. But right now, danger loomed large. And his only savior sat in front of him. No point provoking him.
Still, Pandabeshwar didn’t jump to the point. Something held him back. He blurted awkwardly:
— “You’ve come up in life, Nepal!”
— “Even your language… English mixed with refined Bengali — impressive!”
— “I’m studying, sir. Higher studies.”
Pandabeshwar choked a bit, then said
— “Straight to higher? What about the lower?”
— “Felt like lower was a waste of time. Given my capacity, I didn’t need that. So went straight to higher. Nowadays all universities are open, you know… got into one!”
Pandabeshwar dared not push further. Who knows what could come next. As the saying goes, a little knowledge is dangerous! And this guy’s doing higher-lower harakiri!
Nepalchandra crossed one leg over the other, settled in and said,
— “Forget studies. While breakfast arrives, tell me about your problem.”
Good idea, thought Pandabeshwar. At least better than playing the violin in front of a bull. Discussing education with a former thief was a headache.
Looking pitiful, with his eyes dim like dying embers, Pandabeshwar spoke in a near-teary voice
— “I’m 56, Nepalchandra. Just four years left in service. Most of it spent chasing cow thefts and goat thefts in this remote village. And some petty thieves like you sorry, not you, you’re big league now, classy stuff… you’re way beyond all that.” He struggled to recover.
— “It’s fine, sir. I don’t mind. You were like my parents once, disciplining the wayward child. But now the child’s grown, playing in the big leagues, what can you do? So you dragged me in during my rest time for this?” Nepalchandra sounded annoyed.
— “Time flows like a river,” Pandabeshwar waxed poetic. “He who doesn’t see it, shame on him… You’re an educated thief now. So valuable to society!” He looked giddy with emotion.
— “I just couldn’t take it anymore. If I don’t pull off one big score, my prestige is going to die a slow death, Nepalchandra! My wife, kids, they don’t respect me. The villagers don’t care. How long can a policeman take this humiliation?”
— “I get it. Tens, twenties, fifties don’t cut it anymore. You want the pink two-thousand-rupee bundles.” Nepal nodded like a sage.
— “Not that much, even green five-hundreds will do. Just want to get a transfer back to my hometown for my last few years.” There was pleading in Pandabeshwar’s voice.
— “Hmm, all that’s fine. But I can’t hurt my own gang just to get you a promotion!... What’s in it for me?”
— “Whatever you want, Nepal. I don’t have a lot of money, but...”
— “I know.” Nepal raised a hand to stop him. “And I’m not expecting any of that from you. But… I do have a dream. And I’ll need you for it. Not now… but when the time comes, I’ll ask.”
Finishing breakfast, Nepal stood. Running fingers through his golden hair, he reassured Pandabeshwar:
— “Don’t worry. I’ll do the thinking, give me two days. Hopefully, this head will figure something out.” He tapped his forehead.
— “Of course! A golden boy’s diamond mind, if you put your mind to it, you could solve the India-China border issue. And this is just Pandabeshwar’s promotion” The officer jiggled his belly, shook his large, saggy head and expressed overwhelming gratitude.
The station remained silent, still. Even a pin-drop could be heard.
Breaking that silence again, it was Inspector Rasamay Nandi who spoke first:
— “Did you ever imagine, a mighty officer like our senior whose presence could make not only tigers and cows but even diplodocus and streptococcus descend from the history books to drink from this village pond…”
Pandabeshwar didn’t interrupt today. On his pot-shaped face danced all six seasons, sometimes the scorching summer, sometimes gentle monsoon calm, sometimes autumn’s teasing breeze, or spring’s southern air. His eyes flickered between fierce scorn and childlike innocence.
Inspector Rasamay Nandi, undeterred, continued with double the enthusiasm,
"How on earth did you even dream of messing with such a high-ranking officer, Napla? Did you even once think about whom you were going up against? You looted Narahari Samanta’s warehouse in broad daylight and managed to escape. The entire police force of this Chhakaradanga police station couldn’t even touch a hair on your head only because of a lack of evidence. You think we’ll forget that humiliation so easily?"
The person being addressed looked a little worse for wear. His ripped jeans were even more tattered, his shirt was caked in dust and dirt. While fleeing, the white sneakers on his feet had torn apart, and his left big toe was bleeding painfully, walking without a limp was impossible. Two ants were climbing up his spine beneath his vest, but he couldn’t swat them away, his hands were cuffed. The dust had blended with the golden shine of his hair, giving him a shade that oddly matched his now disheveled look.
And yet, Nepalchandra spoke. Even in this battered state, the boy had guts that had to be acknowledged. Anyone else would’ve been quieter than a mosquito’s flutter.
“You didn’t do the right thing, sir,” said Nepalchandra. “I had a lot of respect for you. Not anymore.”
Pandabeshwar was silent for a moment.
This kid!
Then, from deep within his bulky chest, came a raspy, wheezing laugh that shook the entire station.
"You absolute fool! You rat, you baboon, you dullard, you blockhead!" he shouted, and broke into another fit of laughter.
It seemed he was delighted with his choice of insults.
— "So this is your higher studies, is it? You couldn’t even understand something so simple that day at the station, I gave you a veiled threat hidden behind a polite request. But no, you thought Pandabeshwar Roy needed you to climb the ladder of promotion! Utter nonsense!"
Nepal now deeply regretted bringing Shadbhuj Chaturvedi into the gang. Every bone in his body ached, thanks to Shadbhuj’s handiwork. The man had appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be an expert in the art of robbery, and based on just his words and looks, Nepal had been swayed into believing him to be a top-tier player.
This is what they mean by: “When doom approaches, intellect departs.”
Nepalchandra had planned the rural bank heist meticulously. The cash would arrive Friday. The bank would be closed on Saturday and Sunday, so the money would remain in the vault. The plan was flawless. Friday night was their target. The gang reached the spot. The collapsible gate was locked, shutters locked on both sides. Shadbhuj Chaturvedi broke in easily. He even lifted the shutter himself. Nepal couldn’t help admiring his skill. He mentally patted himself on the back for bringing such a “jewel” into the team.
Then they entered. When they turned on the lights, it was all clear.
Sitting on the manager’s chair was none other than Pandabeshwar himself, with his full team.
Nepal’s men pulled out their revolvers. But none of them had bullets. Shadbhuj had emptied them in advance with his sleight of hand.
At some point, he had even replaced the old padlock on the collapsible gate with a new one no one had noticed.
Not a single bullet was fired. No blood was shed. The whole gang was caught.
Now all that remained was to bring the cash out of the vault, seal the case with a perfect narrative, and get it processed just right.
On Monday morning, the formalities began for handing over the six-member robbery gang into judicial custody under the supervision of Shadbhuj Chaturvedi.
But Saturday and Sunday had been hard on Pandabeshwar.
He’d had to grind these six like sugarcane to extract oil they had been part of major heists. He needed to know where the money had been hidden.
That’s why the vehicle from headquarters arrived to transport the six to jail. Shadbhuj was accompanying them. The six prisoners in handcuffs looked like drenched crows. One by one, they boarded the vehicle.
Just before Nepalchandra stepped in, Pandabeshwar placed a hand on his shoulder.
— “No matter how big or small the crime, in the eyes of the law, all are criminals. Only one identity… Criminal. Keep up your studies. You’ll have time in jail. Think about your life”
Nepalchandra kept his head down and listened. Pandabeshwar gently placed a hand on his head and said,
“I heard about your dream from Shadbhuj. You want to study, become a police officer. Become a good human being. What could bring more joy than that? There’s a saying in English — Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future. We all have a right to the light of this world. Especially those who’ve known darkness…
When you’re out after serving your time, I’ll be there to recommend your application to the police. Don’t worry.”
As the prison van pulled away, a strange satisfaction spread across Pandabeshwar Roy’s heart for Nepalchandra.
The joy of promotion felt utterly insignificant in comparison.