Who Killed Roshni?

The perspiration on the forehead was palpable. For an umpteenth time, he changed his sleeping position that night but found it difficult to sleep. The events of the previous evening were too heavy on his mind. The man who had visited him that previous evening had not divulged much but had given an indication that he was interested in finding the accident. It’s been almost a month since that terrible accident when his truck had rammed into a Maruti 800 on the highway. For a few weeks, after the accident, he was frightened that his truck would be identified and he would be arrested but nothing had happened. The sudden turn of events was unexpected. This was the reason why he was still awake tonight while the wall clock indicated it was 3 am. It was around 3.30 that he finally dozed off.

Manoj and his wife had been married for the last five years but the joy of a child had eluded their married life. The initial euphoria of marriage had waned and had given way to a sense of desperation as far as their married life was concerned. Manoj had consulted several doctors but Reena could not conceive. It was in the seventh year of their marriage after they had returned from Khwaja’s Dargah in Ajmer, that Reena broke the news to Manoj that she was expecting. Eight months later their bundle of joy Roshni was born.

Roshni was the toast of the family, all the joy revolved around her. On her part, Roshni displayed qualities that made Manoj and Reena proud. She was ebullient and lively excelling in studies and sports. Roshni had an interest in biology and wanted to become a doctor. Manoj and Reena doted on her child and always made efforts to give her the best environment. Time flew fast for the Sharma family while Roshni became a teenager.

Roshni was preparing for the NEET examination which was scheduled for the coming Saturday. The examination center was a bit far and Manoj took leave from the office to drop Roshni at the examination center. This Saturday while Roshni prepared for the examination, her parents prayed in the nearby temple. It was almost time and Manoj started his old Maruti 800. Manoj prided his Maruti 800 and had always found ways to change the topic when friends chided him for purchasing another car. This was the same car that was a companion to his fond memories of long drives during the initial years of marriage.

The Saturday morning was quiet in terms of traffic on the highway. The four-lane highway was commissioned just a year back and had cut down traveling time. Manoj, now in the sixth decade of his life, as a habit never exceeded the speed of 60 km per hour. There was a time when he would be offended by overtaking vehicles but age has had a gradual mellowing effect. He had silently adopted the maxim ‘better late than never.

While Manoj navigated the highway keeping his car in the left lane, Roshni sat on the passenger seat delving deep into the Chemistry book. At times Manoj’s sight drifted towards her daughter but he didn’t want to disturb her. In those fleeting glimpses, Manoj realized his mind was looking at a future young doctor with a stethoscope around her neck. 

Manoj’s sight caught the sudden movement in the rearview. In that instant, he saw a truck inching towards his car from behind. The truck was at high speed. Manoj swerved his car to the left almost touching the curb. The truck was now inches away, it veered towards the right but brushed the car from behind. The car lost balance and hit the highway fence. Manoj saw the left door open on impact plunging Roshni out of the car. This was the last Manoj remembered.

Manoj was discharged from the hospital two days later after treatment for concussion and minor bruises but he was informed that the doctors could not save Roshni. Manoj wept. For days he was inconsolable as was Reena. Life became cruel. The realization that they would now have to complete their remaining lifespans with only memories of Roshni was too harsh for Manoj and Reena.

The Police lodged an FIR and also recorded Manoj’s statement but nothing happened. There were no other witnesses to this accident. Roshni’s death had no political value and thus became just a file in Police records. For a few days, the Police were receptive to Manoj’s queries but after a week even the phone calls were seldom received and rarely answered.

Manoj would regularly go to the highway and sit on the pavement where the accident had happened, gazing into oblivion. Countless times he found his mind wavering to the memory of Roshni sitting on the passenger seat while he drove the car on the highway. The highway fence still had some scars of the car hitting it but other than this the highway was unchanged. There was a regular stream of vehicles speeding on the four-lane tarmac.

It was after ten days that Manoj decided to find ways to piece together the events of that fateful day. His science background made him think analytically. He started counting the number of trucks passing through that stretch of highway between 9 am and 10 am. The last toll plaza was just three kilometers behind and the next toll plaza was fifty-five kilometers from this place. Manoj observed that eighty-three trucks passed through on this Thursday. Manoj repeated this exercise for the next few days and found that on average approximately 80 to 90 trucks passed the highway during the morning hours between 9 am and 10 am.

Back home Manoj tried hard to find some clues from his observations but he could find no coherence. It was way past midnight while Reena slept, that Manoj got an idea. He realized that all the trucks passing through the highway were moving at more or less similar speeds. His analytical thinking prompted him to realize that the first reaction of a driver after hitting a vehicle would be to escape from the scene of the accident. This would inherently involve driving at a faster speed. Manoj found this explanation of his mind quite logical. Contemplating his inference, Manoj went to sleep.

In the morning Manoj again revived his thoughts. As much as he thought, his hypothesis became clearer. He realized he had stumbled upon a logical algorithm to trace the truck driver who had hit his car on that fateful Saturday.

Working on his hypothesis, Manoj’s next stop was the preceding toll plaza on the highway. He found that the persons manning the toll plaza were far from being classified as polite. It was even difficult to strike a conversation. After weighing options, Manoj decided to use the tried and tested method of getting things moving fast. He took out a Rs 500 bill from his purse and pushed that into the hand of the person on duty at the booth. In a few minutes, Manoj was able to get the information that he wanted. The toll plaza attendant handed him the printout of the registration numbers of heavy vehicles which passed through the toll gate on the date which Manoj had indicated.

Armed with the information which he got from the first toll plaza, Manoj went to the next toll plaza on the highway which was approximately 58 kilometers away. The attitude of the people at the toll plaza was no different, no one was willing to talk to Manoj. Here again, the tried and tested power of the money came in handy. Within fifteen minutes Manoj got the printed list of vehicle numbers that had passed through this toll gate between 10 and 11 am on the date which Manoj indicated.

That night Manoj went about methodically in analyzing the two lists which he had got from the second toll plaza. Manoj recalled that it was twenty-three minutes past ten when the accident had happened. A truck passing through the accident spot would have to travel fifty-five kilometers to reach the next toll gate. He marked the numbers of all the trucks which had passed through the first toll between 10 am and 10.30 am. On that Saturday, Manoj observed, a total of thirty-five heavy vehicles had passed through the toll within this time period. He then checked the arrival of these thirty-five vehicles at the next toll gate.

Weaving through the data Manoj observed that on average the heavy vehicles had taken fifty-two/fifty-three minutes for traversing the distance of fifty-eight kilometers between the first and second toll booths. His observation was punctuated by some figures which did not match the general trend. Manoj observed that four heavy vehicles passing through the first toll gate at around 10.10 am and 10.20 am had reached the second toll gate taking significantly less time than the average. The average time taken by these four vehicles was forty-four/forty-five minutes. Manoj jotted down the registration numbers of these four vehicles. His mind was already engrossed in permutations and combinations.

The Regional Transport Office was housed in a nondescript building within narrow streets flanked by shanties housing the makeshift offices of touts. Manoj gingerly entered the office and looked for the directions to the Assistant Regional Transport Officer. A black and white wooden board displayed the name Atul Hajela, ARTO. Manoj’s mind went into overdrive, the name Atul Hajela evoked a sense of déjà vu. It was in school some four decades back that he had a friend who had the same name. As Manoj entered the office, his gaze met that of the officer sitting on the other side of the table. Atul recognized him instantaneously.

It took another hour while the office of the RTO gave Manoj the address and names of the owners of the four vehicles which found mentioned in his list based on the time taken to complete the distance between the two toll booths. A phone call from Atul Hajela to the owners resulted in a second list with names, phone numbers, and addresses of drivers of those vehicles.

Manoj felt satisfied with the progress he had made in the last two days. The drivers of the vehicles lived in different cities. Two drivers lived in Allahabad, one in Kanpur and one in Azamgarh. Manoj realized that the next step was going to be tricky. He decided to start from Allahabad.

Jagram sweet shop was an easy location to find. The shop situated on the busy crossing was already brimming with activity when Manoj entered to look for directions to house number 245 Mumfordganj, beside the carpentry school. The owner, already indulging in a mouthful of gutka, didn’t speak but pointed to the lane beside the shop. Manoj reached the house which was the last one in the narrow lane. There was no bell so he shook the chain dangling from the doorknob so as to make a noise. It was after two such episodes that a small girl answered in an enquiring tone.

Suresh was in his early forties, he ushered Manoj into a makeshift tin-roofed room that had two rickety chairs and a cot. From the look, Manoj could understand that his host seldom hosted any unknown visitors. Suresh had no idea why an unknown person had sought his attention by paying a visit. Manoj did not take long to come to the point. He discreetly asked Suresh whether he remembered driving his truck on NH 19 about fifteen days back. Suresh smiled fleetingly, he told Manoj that he has been driving his truck almost every day and frequently takes NH 19. The look on Suresh’s face was genuine. Manoj could not sense any attempt to conceal any event.

The conversation meandered further and Manoj could not hide his real reason for the visit. He confided to Suresh that he was trying to find the truck which rammed his car on that fateful Saturday morning resulting in the death of his daughter. The look on Suresh’s face changed, he became animated. He told Manoj that he remembers the sad event which he witnessed while he was passing NH 19. He told that after passing a few kilometers from the toll booth, he had seen in the far distance a truck suddenly changing lanes and then an accident with a white small car. He told Manoj that he accelerated his vehicle to catch the truck which had caused the accident but the other truck was driving at high speed. He continued to chase the speeding truck for the next forty minutes but could not overtake. It was on the next toll booth that he lost sight of the truck in front. Suresh confided that he felt sorry for the car which met with the accident.

The old city of Allahabad was bustling with activity with petty traders while Manoj snaked his way through the dingy lanes and bylanes. It took Manoj a good fifteen minutes to reach the house of Jameel. He met Jameel in front of his house. Jameel looked apprehensive. Manoj framed the same questions to Jameel as he had put before Suresh. Jameel did remember driving through NH 19 on that Saturday morning. He told Manoj that, in fact, after that date, he became ill and had not taken out his truck. Jameel told Manoj that on that day he was not feeling well and had given the driving to his nephew who worked as a cleaner in the truck. Jameel told Manoj that he especially remembers that day because, despite his repeated warnings, his nephew had speeded the truck overtaking all other vehicles. He remained ignorant of any accident on the way while he went through the distance between the two toll booths.

The area of Gwaltoli just adjacent to the Civil Lines in Kanpur housed a slum that had developed on the embankment parallel to the defunct Lal Imli railway line. Manoj found Deepak alone in his dingy room which had barely enough space for a cot. Deepak was in his late fifties but displayed a countenance much beyond his age. As Manoj stood in front of the door the stench of smoke from cheap cigarettes reached his nose, Deepak rose from the cot and moved out making a gesture to talk to Manoj in the lane which provided the only free space. Manoj was ready with his questions. Deepak listened to Manoj with an abstract look. He said that he had no specific memory of driving his truck at a fast speed between the two toll booths. He had also not seen any accident that day on the highway.

The village of Walidpur in Azamgarh was a quiet hamlet on the banks of the river Tons. The makeshift bazaar was in full bloom when Manoj reached the tea stall where Sabir was sitting with a few friends. Sabir was taken by surprise when Manoj introduced himself as an insurance agent. Sabir had no idea why any stranger would be interested in talking to him. He was a man of meager means driving a truck for earning a living. When Manoj opened further enquiring about his journey through the NH 19 on that fateful Saturday, Sabir heaved a sigh. Sabir told Manoj that while he was passing through the first toll booth he had received a phone call from his wife who was full-time pregnant. She had informed him that she had started labor and needed to go to the hospital. Sabir had driven as fast as possible to reach his place. With a faint smile, Sabir said that he had been blessed with a baby boy. Manoj left.

Back home, Manoj pieced together the information he had gathered in the last few days. At least one driver had confided to have seen the accident, however, his observations provided no clue to the identity of the driver who drove that truck that hit the car. It was reasonable to assume that Jameel’s nephew, who was not a professional driver, may have hit his car. Deepak could be an equal suspect, he looked to be harboring a few addictions and portrayed a dicey character. Even Sabir may be a suspect who could be using his wife as an alibi. Manoj was lost in thought, he needed to understand the psychology of a criminal to get to the culprit.

In recent times, the Wheeler Book Shop in Civil Lines, Allahabad had significantly lost its sheen. Once a rendezvous of intellectuals, the book shop now had but a few visitors. As Manoj entered the shop on that Monday morning, he felt a tryst with knowledge. The soft voice of Mehdi Hasan ghazal playing somewhere added to the ambiance. After leafing through countless books, Manoj hit upon the book he was looking for, he purchased Investigative Psychology by David Canter and walked out of the book shop.

The next few days Manoj devoted his time to reading the book he had bought from Wheeler Book shop. The book provided him with an understanding of the thought process of a criminal. Manoj came up with a plan.

He opened the gallery of his mobile phone and scrolled through the photographs of the accident which he had obtained from the police records. There were gruesome pictures of Roshni in blood with the overturned car. With tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat, Manoj selected two pictures of the accident site and attached them through WhatsApp to four mobile numbers.

Suresh was getting ready to take out his truck for another arduous day in which he would be traveling six hundred kilometers passing through NH 19. His daughter had prepared a frugal breakfast. He glanced at his mobile phone. There was a WhatsApp message from an unknown number. Suresh saw the message, there were two photographs of an accident in the message. His mind raced to the memory of the gory accident he had witnessed approximately one month back while traveling through NH 19. The sight of the teenage girl lying in blood made him feel sick. He remembered how he had chased the speeding truck for about fifty kilometers but had lost sight at the next toll booth. He had no idea why this message was sent to him. He decided to ignore it but then, at second thought, decided to send a ‘weeping’ emoji as a reply. The day had not started on a good note.

Jameel was sitting in the waiting area of a doctor’s clinic for his turn when he got a notification. He glanced at the WhatsApp message from an unknown number. He could not make out any sense of the two photographs except that the sight of the blood-stained girl was difficult to look at. At that moment the reception called out his name and Jameel walked into the doctor’s chamber.

This evening Deepak had invited a few friends to his shanty. It was a fun-filled evening with country liquor and non-vegetarian food on offer. Deepak had overeaten and then slept under the influence of alcohol. Deepak saw the WhatsApp message the next day at 10 am. At the first sight his groggy eyes could not make out the details but a few moments later he realized the gravity of the message. Someone had sent to him the photographs of the accident which happened approximately a month back when he was driving his truck on NH 19.

Deepak felt jittery. He knew someone was on his trail and had identified him. He remembered the visit of that unknown person some two weeks back who was enquiring about the accident. Fear engulfed Deepak, he knew he had little time. He fished out some money from the overhead box and bolted his shack. He took the bus and reached his village.

Sabir too got the message but had no idea why he had received this message. He deleted the message without any second thought.

The weeping emoji from Suresh was enough to convince Manoj that Suresh was telling the truth. Now only three suspects needed to be investigated. Manoj decided to visit Deepak, Jameel, and Sabir.

Manoj went to Azamgarh and met Sabir in the village bazaar. Sabir was buying vegetables. He recognized Manoj and enquired about his wellbeing inviting him to come to his house for a cup of tea. Manoj moved on. He took the train to Allahabad. He reached Jamil’s house in the congested Shahganj area. Jameel’s teenage son informed that Jameel had gone to a doctor. Jameel came back in an hour, he looked ill. After a brief conversation, Manoj could sense that Jameel was not perturbed at seeing him again. Manoj moved on. He took the evening train to Kanpur.

Manoj reached Deepak’s room beside the railway track in the morning. The narrow lane was bustling with activity. A sweetmeat shop selling breakfast items was crowded with customers. Manoj reached the end of the lane where he had met Deepak. The room was locked. He asked a few passersby about Deepak. Somebody told him that Deepak had not come home for the last three or four days. No one had any idea about his whereabouts.

Two days later, with all the investigative evidence, Manoj visited the office of the Senior Superintendent of Police. Fortunately, the officer was an alumnus of Allahabad University and turned out to be a hostel mate of Manoj’s elder brother in the Muir hostel. Within days the police arrested Deepak. A forensic examination of his truck revealed traces of paint of the Maruti 800 car on the front. The forensic report also observed evidence of dents on the left side of the front bumper.

Deepak confessed to having been drunk while he drove his truck on the NH 19 on that Saturday morning. The sessions judge took cognizance of the crime and sentenced Deepak under IPC section 80.