Around seven that
morning, the passengers of the first-class compartment reported to the Railway Police
that the friendly guy in coupe C was missing and that they suspected foul play
because the unpleasant man in coupe E was absconding.
The police officer
assigned to the case had been waiting to get off the night shift at eight.
Though he looked haggard and irritable, he patiently interviewed the passengers.
He soon realized that, rather contrary to his expectations, the concerned outnumbered
those who preferred to say or know nothing.
A man of about fifty,
from coupe B, with graying sideburns and the air of a seasoned civil servant voluntarily,
and undemocratically, assumed the role of being the spokesperson for the
passengers.
‘When did you notice
that he was missing?’ the officer asked.
The spokesperson
reported, ‘At half past five, my colleague who got down at Mangalore went to coupe
C to bid farewell but found his berth empty. He informed me and we checked
around, the toilets too, but couldn’t find him.’ After a pause, the
spokesperson admitted the error in their search operation, ‘We should have
checked coupe E earlier. We knew there was no one but that man in that coupe…and
somehow we missed that coupe till seven, just before Udupi…but, when we saw
that he too was not around, we were sure that something nasty had happened to Arjun.’
‘This Arjun…is that the
man in coupe E?’ the officer asked, bleary-eyed and confused with the details.
‘Of course not, how
should I know that man’s name?’
‘So, Arjun is the one
in coupe C?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘His name is Sree,’
objected the old man from Coupe A. His wife hovered around him and the old lady
confirmed her husband’s statement with a nod.
‘That must be his nickname,’
the spokesperson dismissed the intrusion.
‘The name on his
ticket is Vishnu,’ the officer muttered, ‘but never mind that. Did you and your
colleague know this Arjun – was he also your colleague?’
‘Oh no, we met in the
first-class waiting lounge at Trivandrum.’
‘A real nice boy,’
the old man added.
‘Oh yes, a fine chap
indeed,’ the spokesperson agreed, ‘he is going to Mumbai to attend a
conference.’
‘He is going home, to
Nizamuddin,’ the old man interrupted again, his wife nodding vigorously.
‘Yes, he must be
going home after the conference, right?’ the spokesperson explained, mildly irritated
with the old couple.
‘Ah…’ the old couple
reluctantly acquiesced.
‘He is a writer, he
told us,’ the young parents in coupe F informed.
‘He does research. He
must be a technical writer,’ said the serious middle-aged lady in coupe H
before adding wistfully, ‘He lives in Bangalore…near my farmhouse on the Tumkur
road…we had planned to keep in touch.’
‘That must be
temporary accommodation…his house is near mine in Trivandrum…he gave me the
directions,’ the spokesperson said.
‘He works in a bank
in Chennai,’ a fat salesman, between frequent calls on his mobile, told the
officer without any doubt.
‘How do you know?’
the officer asked.
‘We share coupe C. We
talked a lot,’ the salesman proudly claimed superiority. He took another call
and gave an earful of expletives to the caller, probably an assistant.
‘Oh…he was such a
sweet person,’ the young parents wailed together and then added with much
venom, ‘it must be that mean guy…’
‘What mean guy?’ the
officer asked.
‘The one in coupe E…’
the passengers said together.
‘He made our baby cry,’
the young parents said.
‘Very rude man…we
smiled at him and he just walked past without even a look,’ the old man said
and his wife nodded, ‘Sree was not like that, not at all.’
‘That creep told me
to switch off my mobile,’ the salesman rejoined, ‘By the way, I saw him outside
his coupe at three…I had gone to pee, you see. And, I also saw them arguing at
Calicut. Arjun was trying to be nice and the other guy seemed very unpleasant.’
He spat out an expletive and the others mouthed it silently, in total
agreement.
‘Was Arjun there in your coupe when you went
to…pee?’ the officer asked.
‘I don’t think so…’
the salesman said, clearly disappointed that he could not be convincing on that
note.
‘Oh God, what
happened to him? He showed us the photo of his two lovely kids…twins, you
know…our baby loved him,’ the young parents said.
‘He is single…those
are his sister’s kids,’ the two American ladies in coupe H corrected, ‘we asked
him specifically how a gorgeous man like him, at thirty, is still single…that
too in India.’
‘He is married,’ the
young parents asserted.
‘He told us that his
love died in a car crash…he must have referred to her as his wife,’ the foreign
ladies did not give up.
‘She died of cancer,’
the salesman said with conviction putting that issue to rest.
‘Ah…’ they let out a collective
sigh of woe. The old couple nodded sadly, the young parents wept openly holding
their baby tightly, the spokesperson thought carefully, perhaps about regaining
control over the meeting, and the salesman took another call, this time
whispering sweetly to a lady and then chatting lovingly to kids, possibly his
wife and hopefully their kids.
The officer took down
copious notes. He had time to kill, till the next stop at Karwar. He talked to
them together and then cross-checked the details with separate interviews too.
At Karwar, the man in
Coupe C showed up. They greeted him with a loud cheer.
‘Arjun…Sree…sir,
where were you?’ the passengers and the officer asked him.
‘I was with a friend
in another compartment.’
The officer closed
his book and got off at Karwar to report that the missing person case had been solved.
The passengers
escorted their dear companion to coupe C. They shared eatables and stories till
he got off at Madgaon, and they parted with tearful farewells, vigorous nodding
and many promises to meet again.
