Beauty is a curse.

****

"Maya, please eat and drink on time. Do not forget to take care of yourselves while solving this case."

Katie had been worrying endlessly in a loop since Maya had got the letter from Kalikacharan Das and decided to accept the case. Katie, even though she wished to see Maya soar high, was sceptical about such gory cases. "The rich are very fishy," she said.

"And it's my job to find out why."

Ritam helped Maya put the luggage inside the train. After wishing her a happy time ahead, the loving parents waited on the platform. The train whistled, and as smoke covered the way to the destination, Maya waved her Baba and Maa goodbye, embarking on a new adventure. Again she was going to solve a heinous crime, a sojourn in Khatra.

It was a silent train journey at night. Not many passengers were there. Maya didn't know if burglary or anything of that sort happened in train journeys, but she carried a little knife with her. Outside everything looked as black as ink brushed over a canvas, with twinkling stars pouring in inadequate light. The moon was nowhere to be seen. Skinny tall trees towered high, kissing the spooky sky a hundred times. The TT came and checked Maya's ticket, not leaving before casting back a curious glance.

"Are you a detective, as in the detective Maya?"

Maya bowed her head. "Yes, Sir."

The man took off his hat and returned the bow. "Nice to meet you. Have a safe journey. Any problems do not hesitate to come to me. I am in the next compartment."

The journey was too quiet. Maya spent the time looking at the eternal darkness outside. Soon some lights came into view and she saw the signs of civilization– little huts and heaps of straw. The ride came to a conclusion. She had reached Bankura.

Maya was a light traveller and didn't bring more than one luggage with her. Without a man it would get difficult to carry more luggage, so she just squeezed the necessary things into one big suitcase. Her face turned red with all the blood being pumped by her body. Maya had a brain but not bulky muscles. She got down the train, huffing and cursing under her breath. There were a few passengers only and all went in the same direction. She just followed the mass. In between she stopped to ask the owner of a tea stall the way towards the bus stand. The tension on her mind eased when she got to know the directions. Dragging her suitcase, she reached the bus stand.

Not everyone had yet boarded the bus. It was eleven o'clock at night, and upon inquiring she learnt the bus would start half an hour later. So she decided to stand there and keep a look around. And while her eyes roved over the silhouettes in the dark, a particular man attracted her attention.

He was literally standing out from the surroundings with his lofty height and pale colour. The man's skin appeared to be made of ivory that glowed under the faint starlight. He had a lean muscular build with broad shoulders. Maya couldn't ascertain the colour of his linen panjabi in the dark, but maybe it was sky-blue.

Maya kept staring at the man. He didn't have anything except a dirty-looking black sling bag. She wondered where he belonged. It was certain he was heading towards Khatra, just like her.

Just then, he turned his head towards her direction. With a snap Maya looked away, hurting her neck in the moment. Sweat made her hands slippery. It was such an embarrassing thing to be caught staring. After some time, she turned back to his direction, only to see him crane away his neck. Was he staring at her too, then?

A group of villagers had been sitting on a big block of stone behind. They were chatting away in the local dialect of Khatra. They all, together at once, got up and started boarding the bus. Maya followed the same. But the stairs of the bus were steep and high, and poor Maya wasn't able to pull up her heavy suitcase.

But a helping hand came.

The man from earlier touched the suitcase and looked at Maya. From close-up he looked handsome, but in a rather messy way. He was fair, very fair, with a ruddy shade on his neck that ran down to his chest. He had a rough stubble on. The man must have been very busy to not shave.

"Ma-may I help? I am going for Khatra too."

Maya nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

The man very easily pulled up the suitcase. Maya followed him inside the bus. He kept it on the upper compartment and gestured Maya to take a seat. By then, the bus had completely filled up. The man hesitated to sit beside Maya and nervously fidgeted with the handle of his bag.

"You can sit here."

Maya's words made him relax. He sat beside her, wringing his fingers. He looked very anxious.

"Is anything worrying you?"

He was taken aback. He shook his head. "No, I mean... "

"You look very stressed."

The man heaved a sigh. "I am a doctor. Actually, I had come to main Bankura to see an old patient of mine. He is very sick– has a severe infection in his intestine. I, unfortunately, won't be able to treat it. He needs to go to the city."

The bus geared up and started.

"Will he not live?" Maya asked.

The man let out an exasperated sigh again. "I don't think so. They cannot afford such a costly treatment. And the man chugs down wine to ease his pain, not knowing it's just going to worsen his condition. I have prescribed some drugs to reduce the pain, but it's just going to do that."

Maya sympathised with the doctor. The man was suffering from the tinge of guilt that accompanied professional failure. Often doctors built a connection with their old patients, a familiarity that reached familial love. To see such a patient near the clutches of death would be disheartening, however clear may be the truth of life to a doctor. Death punished and liberated everyone.

"What do you do?" the man asked.

"Huh?"

The man gulped. "No, it's fine, like... I was just being curious."

"No no! It's okay." Maya smiled. "I am a journalist and a newbie poet."

The man's eyes glimmered. "A poet? Amazing! Creative souls are hard to find." The mention of poetry increased his spirits. He extended his hand which Maya shook. "My name is Raktim. Raktim Roy. I live in Khatra."

"And I am Maya. I am going to Khatra."

"Maya, you say?"

"Yes."

"You are a journalist?"

"Yes... "

The man nodded to himself, eyeing her subtly. "Don't know why, but your name sounds similar to something I had read somewhere."

"Probably read my article."

"Yes, probably."

"By the way, how long is this journey going to take?"

"We will reach by five in the dawn," Raktim said after checking his wristwatch. "I have to travel often because of my job. There are many patients that I have to see in Bankura."

"I was born and brought up in Calcutta. My father is a retired police officer."

The man gasped. "Oh my, that's such a mighty title to hold. He must be very brave."

"Indeed, he is!"

Maya considered the idea of asking the man about his family, but rejected the thought. It would have appeared rude or nosy. Anyways, the man didn't seem to be a very talkative person. He sat like a stiff statue, not daring to move his body even an inch. He was a big man and Maya assumed that he wanted to give her enough space to sit freely. And she was glad that he was being a gentleman.

"Do you know about the Das–"

Maya looked in his direction while framing the question, only to find him long asleep. When did he even fall asleep? She saw that most of the passengers were, barring a select few like her, already dozed off. The fairy of slumber missed Maya's eyes, so she steered her attention outside, watching the line of trees stand like watchers of the night. Thick verdure covered both sides of the road. She wondered if a tiger or some other animal would jump out of the bushes. They were, after all, creatures of the night.

Maya had a wish to visit certain hills and tourist spots in Khatra. She had heard there were some famous spots where the shooting of movies took place. Ah, she prayed she would have the time, but considering that it was the death of the son of a well-to-do family, she intuitively knew time would be tight packed.

As the night deepened, Maya's eyelids got heavier. She struggled to keep them open. As a bunch of trees passed by and blinking fireflies flaunted the charm of bioluminescence, Maya too went to the land of sleep.

****

The very first rays of sunlight fell over Maya's closed eyes. A cool breeze that reminded Maya of wet grass came with the news of Khatra's arrival. The sky was a faint blue, much like Raktim's attire, still not having embraced the sunshine entirely. The nights were somehow longer in this part of the world.

Maya rubbed her eyes and yawned. Beside her Raktim was already up. He was having a banana. He offered her one too when he saw she was awoke.

"How far?"

"Half an hour at the most," Raktim replied.

"So we are near."

Khatra was abundant with trees. More than huts she saw greenery. They had already crossed the forest which was situated at the outskirts of Khatra, at the foot of the enormous hills.

"Are you here to cover the news of Abhinoy Das?" Raktim asked.

Maya didn't know if to answer truthfully or not. Khatra being a small village maybe they would be meeting many times since she was going to stay here. Also, he was a native of the place, so maybe he could help her.

She was going to speak the truth when she observed that he had turned more pallid than usual. Did her silence affect him?

"Actually I am here to investigate his case."

Raktim's whole stance turned hard as a stone. His ebony eyes, fathomless yet so innocent, became more distant, as if lost in seeking the horizon.

"Oh. I see." He lowered his voice. "Are you going to stay in the zamindar house?"

"Yes."

The signs of displeasure were visible on Raktim's face for a small time, but they morphed into neutrality, the one of the dangerous kind which was too arduous to decrypt. The rest ten minutes of journey they remained quiet. When the time came to board down the bus, Raktim handled Maya's suitcase without her even asking to. The two waited near a little pan shop.

"Will anyone come to take you?"

"They should. A servant was supposed to arrive."

"Oh!"

Raktim paused. He squinted and peered at the distance. Then all of a sudden he began waving his hand. "Over here!" he shouted. A bald man with a big round belly came running towards them. He was dressed in brown pants and a crimson shirt which ended just at his navel. He came and joined his hands in a namaskara.

"How are you Raktim Babu? Gone to check another patient?"

"Yes, but I don't think he is going to live."

The man clicked his tongue. "Oh! What a misfortune." He turned to Maya. "Memsaheb, did you accompany–" He scratched his head. "Oh wait! Are you Maya?"

"Yes. Are you from the Das family?"

"Yes! Boro Babu asked me to take you. Here, give me your luggage."

Raktim handed over the luggage to the servant and the three went to the rickshaw stand.

"Babu, you and memsaheb get on one. I am taking the luggage and boarding another."

Raktim and Maya got on one rickshaw and the servant got on another with the luggage.

"What is his name? You know him?"

"Hmm, he is Ram. He is the housekeeper of the Das. Has been working there for over two decades."

It clicked Maya then and there that this Ram was thus a heap of secrets. He had spent his youth knowing the trials and tribulations of the Das family.

After what felt like an eternity of keeping the lips sealed and sharing a ride with an awkward, rigid-looking man, the rickshaw stopped outside an enormous house. If she was awestruck by the ancient style of Sundar Babu's house back in Devipuram, now the whole thing made her feel like she had been bamboozled. This thing in front of her now was what mesmerising.

It was a monstrosity in size, too big to house even a joint family. The walls of the house were pale white in colour like marble. It opened into a garden which also had a fountain with a gorgeous looking statue of a woman, resembling aquarius, pouring over water. There were primly cut shrubs and decorative flowers whose softness Maya's hands itched to feel. She got down the rickshaw and also did Ram, both staring at the house. It had big green windows equivalent to the size of a door, like the ones she used to see in North Calcutta.

"I shall go home," Raktim said. "Ram, you know it right?"

Ram bowed. "No one will know that you had come." He turned to Maya. "Memsaheb, just a request, don't tell Boro Babu, I mean Kalikacharan Babu, that you have come the whole way with Raktim."

Maya wanted to go slow with the men and their hidden motives. "Alright."

Raktim waved them goodbye and left in the rickshaw.

"Memsaheb, let's go."

Ram opened the gates. Maya stepped inside the premises of the mansion after Ram.

Perhaps, as an ominous indication from above, her heart pounded inside her chest. Her footsteps felt heavy, much like the air around that filled her lungs. The beauty and charm of the place couldn't fool Maya that something was wrong.

Danger, like a phantom, lingered in the ambience. It wasn't visible. But it could be tasted at the tip of the tongue.

Ram pulled the bell. Maya took a deep breath. There was no going back.

All of a sudden, her mind instructed her to scrutinise Ram. His arms and neck, specifically. Those were adorned with marks, some faint and some vanishing.

The door opened with a creak. Darkness, like a group of bats escaping out of a cave, made its way towards Maya.

Darkness that was to become a part of her life.