Pictures speak a thousand words.

****

When the door opened, Maya could see nothing but darkness. She felt being pulled by snakey tendrils into an endless abyss, sucked by the force of an enormous black hole. She stood near the door frame for a solid minute before stepping a foot in the mansion. Light finally came to her eyes, though in thin rays and a meagre amount.

A man of average height with a receding grey hairline stood in front of her. Maya held back the loud gasp that was going to escape her throat. Her eyes had widened for a moment, giving away the shock.

In the man's eyes spiralled beams of black like tar swimming over burnt brown oil. The eyeballs drank away all the light and emanated a ghastly glow.

"Welcome, Maya."

His voice was deep and hoarse like the staggering edges of an unpolished tune. He moved aside to let Maya in. Slowly, the darkness went away and revealed the grand mansion, as if it was his ordinary build that kept the extraordinary illumination at bay.

There were curtains of purple and orange kantha work that kept the windows hidden. The light that was in the room came from the chandelier above that reflected it from the several lamps and candles. The entrance opened into a big assembly of sort that looked like the daalaan. There were two floors above, the uppermost one being less illuminated and having a dull appearance, much like smoke eternally inhabited the place. There was a big alpana done in the middle of the floor. There stood two more men- a tall one with fair skin and another curly haired one who shared the same dark skin tone as the older man from before.

Something twisted inside Maya's guts when she saw those two men. Their eyes were the normal brown of humans but their faces looked very pale. Even with that dark colour, the man of curls looked as if the blood had been drained out of his body. The taller one still looked decent- his paleness had a porcelain touch to it.

Ram came and put the luggage beside Maya and wiped his forehead. "This is Boro Babu," he said, pointing to the old man.

"I am Kalikacharan Das, zamindar of this village and head of the family. The one who had phoned you." He then turned towards the other two men in the room. "This is my older son Mrinjay Das." The taller one joined his hands in a namaskara. "And this is my second-oldest child, Manihar."

Maya greeted them. "Glad to meet you all."

"Would you like to freshen up before eating? I will ask Ram to show you your room."

"Yes. That will be good."

Maya relaxed when she understood she would have some time to gather herself before meeting the men again. Without any delay Ram escorted her to her room on the first floor. There was a bed, an almirah and a small table in the room. There was a tubelight too and a dirty fan. A jug of water was kept on the table.

"I have already emptied the almirah so that you can keep your belongings. Have some rest and come down for the morning meal."

Ram went away humming a song to himself. It was strange, to Maya, how this servant was dealing everyday with such mysterious masters.

Not that there was something in their appearances that troubled Maya immensely. Maybe the pallid look was a genetic thing. But why was the place so less lit up? As if they loved to dwell in darkness. Or it could be the pettiness to save on electricity.

Then they would have not curtained the windows. It is peculiar.

Maya cursed under her breath. Where the hell have I brought myself? These group of weird men and their weird home...

Maya changed into a salwaar and washed her face. Then she went downstairs. Ram was waiting there already. He took her to the dining hall. Fortunately that place wasn't covered in webs and everything was less spooky. It had a decent amount of light. At the far end of the long table sat Kalikacharan Babu. To his left the chair was empty. To his right sat Mrinjay and then Manihar.

Kalikacharan stood up on seeing Maya. The chair scratched the floor to create an unnerving high-pitched sound. Maya clenched her fists.

"I hope you like your room." Kalikacharan adjusted his specs, taking a good look at Maya.

"I do. It's comfortable."

"Please come and sit beside me."

Maya went and occupied the vacant chair on the left. An eerie silence fell in the hall that constantly clinked like a patter of incessant rain. Manihar busied himself with inspecting a knife, sometimes feeling its edges with his fingers. He stopped the task when Mrinjay elbowed him.

"You are from Calcutta, right?" Mrinjay asked, starting a conversation.

Maya didn't know if to be glad or to feel uneasy. "Yes."

"I have some friends there. They were the one to tell me about your skills and success. And I informed Baba."

Maya smiled, the corners of her lips paining at the fake effort. "Thank you. I shall try to do my work well."

"We can talk about it later, not over food, Mrinjay," Kalikacharan said.

Mrinjay coughed. "Sorry, Baba."

Manihar's head dropped back as he exhaled. From the look of it, he was getting bored. He rubbed his stomach and grumbled. "I am hungry."

"No need to wait any longer!"

It was a very chirpy voice. A woman with a toothy smile came in carrying a big thali full of food. Her back was arched a little because of the baby bump. Following her was another younger girl who refused to look up. Both of them were dressed in silk and gold.

The pregnant woman served the three men and Maya food while the other girl stood with her head hung low. Maya noticed that even these women had glassy skin. Especially the younger girl, and there was a very prominent cut that began near her collarbone and ran inside her blouse. With clumsy hands she tried to cover it up with her aanchal when Maya was caught staring.

"Please eat the food and tell us how you found it!" Manihar said.

It was a little feast. There was rice, shukto from which came a strong smell of ghee, fried brinjals, daal, a fish curry and some payesh. Maya ate and felt those were good. "I find them delicious."

"My daughter, Khirodh, cooked today." Kalikacharan gestured the girl to come forward. It was now that she looked up. "Khirodh, greet Detective Maya."

"Namaskar, memsaheb."

"Namaskar," Maya said with a mouthful of brinjals.

Khirodh chimed like a pair of anklets. "And this is Mrinjay's wife, Mrinmoyee," Kalikacharan introduced the other woman. She smiled, revealing her crooked canines.

Maya proceeded with the fish curry. It looked scrumptious at sight- rich, with a little bit of oil floating over the red gravy and pieces of coriander. She mixed the gravy with the rice and ate it. The men had been smacking their lips after tasting the fish. However, Maya felt the opposite.

The curry had no salt. It tasted bland.

How come are they enjoying this so much? The only answer - they loved their sister too much to hurt her. There was no sign of displeasure on their face. Maya asked for some salt and had the rest of the rice. Then, it was time for dessert- payesh. Would there be no sweetness in this dish? Maya smirked. She took a spoonful of the pudding and tasted it. As expected, it had no sugar.

And yet the brothers and Kalikacharan Babu ate it like they were served the flavours of swarga.

Asking for sugar would have been a little too odd, and Maya wanted to observe whatever was happening. So she forced herself to finish the bowl of payesh.

****

Maya had been staring at the slow-moving fan in her room and thinking about the events that occurred during the meal when a knock at the door made her sprang up. She opened it to find Kalikacharan Babu.

"Oh yes, we need to talk."

"Before we do, I would like to show you the portraits. This would tell you about our heritage."

Kalikacharan took Maya upstairs, in the second floor, the one ill-lit and subdued. No lights were turned on in this floor, and on closer inspection Maya found no tube lights or bulbs to be there on the walls or the ceiling. Kalikacharan manoeuvred with an oil lamp in his hand. In the dreary silence it was the clomping of their sandals and the thudding of Kalikacharan's staff that broke the quietude.

They reached a section where the walls were all decorated with portraits. Some of them had lost their lustre and glory due to time as dirt and spiders ate away at the paints. Kalikacharan Babu began from the extreme left. "This is my great grandfather, the one who with his sweat and wisdom built this zamindari. His name was Rudrapratap Das. He was an ardent devotee of Kalika, and he created the Kali temple in our village."

Maya smiled when she heard there was a Kali temple here too. All would be well where She resided.

The portrait was made when Rudrapratap Das had succumbed to old age. There were wrinkles on his face, hair as white as fresh snow and cheeks sullen. Still, his eyes glowed with spirit and determination, and he had a smile which could only be described as proud.

Kalikacharan moved on to the next portrait. "This is his son, my grandfather." He skipped the introduction part of it. "He was a good heir."

"What was his name?" Maya asked.

"Umm, I used to call him Dadu. He died when I was around ten years old."

Kalikacharan avoided the question. Maya knew the time was not right to press him further, so let it be.

Kalikacharan now stood in front of a gigantic portrait. The man had dark skin like Kalikacharan, though he looked very youthful in the painting, with curly black hair, red lips and the same translucent skin. His hands and legs were slim.

"This is my father, Benoy Das. He was one of the most handsome men of his time, and powerful even. He took the zamindari to its zenith and expanded our trade. He left a good foundation for me to work on."

Beside this portrait was another one of a lady. She had the same common physical features of the family- lacklustre skin, piercing gaze- just that she boasted of an uncommon pair of feline green eyes and reddish hair. "This is my mother, Uttama Devi."

The next portrait was of Kalikacharan himself with a little boy on his lap. "This is me, as you can see. That boy on my lap is the younger Mrinjay. This was taken when he was eight years old."

Kalikacharan turned back and headed towards the stairs. Maya didn't, because there was still a portrait left. Someone had scraped off the painting with something sharp and smudged the face of the lady.

"This last portrait belongs to whom?" Maya asked aloud.

"No one of importance. That is already destroyed," Kalikacharan answered. "One doesn't care much about the portraits of women. They are inferior."

The words hit Maya like a boulder. Didn't Kalikacharan see she was a woman too and that he was taking her help?

With one last glance at the portrait she climbed down the stairs after Kalikacharan. He now took her to his room on the ground floor.

The room was decorated with pattachitra paintings of Kalighat depicting the unique style of the city, hanging on the pale yellow walls. It narrated tales from the epics Ramayana and Mahabharata, and also the deeds of Mahakali. The room also had bronze figurines of dancing girls and terracotta horses from Bishnupur. Overall, it looked like the abode of a zamindar.

Kalikacharan sat on his bed and Maya on a wicker chair.

"So now, to the murder." Maya crossed her hands and reclined back on the chair.

Kalikacharan fidgeted with the ends of his uttariya. "I couldn't see the body. The death hurt me a lot as a Father."

"I-I understand." Maya squinted. "But from whatever you heard, it can be concluded as a murder right?"

"Mrinjay had seen the body. He told me it was in a horrible condition, torn to shreds. No one can do that to himself."

"Yes. I had read some of it in the newspaper, though the details were scanty. So a third person is to be suspected."

"He was my youngest son. He had the features of my mother- green eyes and reddish brown hair- and that reminded me of her. Abhinoy was a knowledgeable man who often worked as a priest. He was the pride of the house."

Maya heaved a sigh. "I am sorry for your loss. I will find out who did this. Give me time."

"Take all that you need." Kalikacharan wiped his eyes. "Just give me justice."

"I have a question."

"Ask away."

"Do you have any enemies?"

Kalikacharan chuckled. "A zamindar has many rivals, many enemies."

"Do you doubt someone specific?"

"My main doubt comes from the fact that I don't know who is powerful enough to carry out such an act as killing my son. That infuriates and scares me at the same time." Kalikacharan's voice turned throaty. "Killing us is not an easy task."

Maya raised a brow. "You don't have security."

"But we have name and fame. Our reach is unfathomable."

"Then the murderer has too."

Kalikacharan flinched at her words. "Maybe you are right. I don't know what to think. Just, just find out who did this."

"I shall take my leave, Kalikacharan Babu. Good night."

"Good night."

Maya's mind and body both were too exhausted. As soon as she touched the velvety bed of the zamindar house, she fell asleep.