The room below the ground floor
Police went inside so carefully like they were almost expecting bombs and shootouts.
‘Come on, he is only a stupid teacher.’
‘Yes, and murderer of more than a 50 kids barely out of their babyhood.’
‘I know. I know. But he might not like killing with a gun. Serial-killers are not like that. Don’t you see the movies?’
‘What the movies have to do with it? We are on a real mission man. One flick of eye and you are smoke. Smoke reminds me, do you have a cigarette.’
‘Yeah, but it is for after the catch. But I can’t see anyone inside,’ Policeman looked inside the window and whispered.
‘Why do you speak so slowly? You are a chicken-rat.’
‘You talk like girls.’
‘My four year old talks like this. I am not going to leave this bastard. How a person can be so feeling-less. No fear of god, law, country or own soul.’
‘Maybe he hates all these. Now stop talking and get inside.’
They opened the window with a screwdriver like rod specially prepared for such jobs and jumped inside one by one. There was nothing except a pitiful old woman. Mother of the accused was lying on the sofa watching television when police entered living room. She didn’t get up to welcome or stop them. She failed to act as an ignorant. Eyes of the mother were saying that she knew the whole story. Probably from the television, probably for a long while. Police had to find the real thing. Old woman could wait a little longer. Her turn would come soon. They put a gun on her head and asked ‘where is the teacher?’
She showed a finger down and told them the way to the basement. She told them not to hit Deep. They laughed and banged the television with .45.
‘Why you do that for?’ One police-man asked.
‘It was making so much noise,’ Another one said.
There was a smell from another world when they opened the small-door down. It was really like a door to another world. For a second everyone forget about their jobs, country, people, food, salaries and other things. They quickly closed their noses but that wasn’t enough. They saw little particles like sand-grains flying in the air. What it could be? Impossible to say right there. A whole cemetery was waiting for them below. ‘Hold-on,’ one of them said.
‘There is some noise.’
‘Like.. like crying.’
‘Get-down.’
‘Shut-up.’
‘Shhh.’
‘Sister-fucker.’
‘Shhh.’
They found three poor kids in terrible condition. Each one of them was bruised and had been hit over the head once or twice.
‘Where is Deep?’ Inspector asked them. They were not doctors or counselors. Deep’s escape could have them transferred or suspended. Getting a police job in India isn’t an easy shot. It takes great physique, health, shape, grades, stamina and bribe. But it is well worth it.
Kids told them that Deep was long gone. It was not a good news. This room was looking like an un-cleaned butcher-house. They didn’t need any more evidences. But Butcher had left already. They were seeing these three kids only because of mercy of killer. Police didn’t rescue them. Police had done nothing. It was Deep’s story. He was creating it and taking it wherever he wanted. All the twists and turns were his own. He left these kids alive to show his power only. To show his control. Or perhaps it was a gift for the law-savers so they could save their half-blown respects. But that was not enough because every inch of that basement was layered with blood. There were hand marks. There were hairs sticking on the floor. A new duster which had never been used. Deep hadn’t left much work for the police to do, so all of them were staring at each other with pressed jaws. There was only one bulb. Standing there for a long time could be dangerous for body and psyche so they left.
After sometime, a special team with masks and special torches went inside. First thing they did was removing that blue colored bulb from the socket. That thing alone sent a shiver of relaxation in each eye there. They took the samples from everything and click the photographs of skulls. Those were beautiful polished skulls arranged according to sizes and dates. Names of the skulls (when they were alive) were written above the jaw part. He had done everything professionally. Teacher like. There were registers with the names, age, father’s name, family occupation, addresses, likes, dislikes, hobbies and photographs of the victims. A separate box with snaps of disfigured bodies. A video-cassette of his dreadful acts and audio-tapes with the voices of kids shouting. Everything was in order. Everything had been left behind intentionally.
Investigation team had never seen anything worst. Unidentified filth was sticking to their hands and cloths on touching any corner of the basement.
A letter was there right at the center of the table so anyone could locate it easily. How thoughtful. One of those picked it up with clips. Just one fold so it could be opened easily. Typed for easy read, it was a note from the teacher, written in Calibri font with an acute letter format used those days for informal letters….
Respected sirs,
I am writing this letter to tell you that I am completely innocent. And someone else has done all this. haha. Really. Haha. But seriously, I surprised you guys. Didn’t I? well, take care of my dear room. It is under you now and it is so close to my heart. There are so many things you can have fun with. When you pick up anything, don’t forget to put it back on its place. Haha. Joking. You should throw my mother out and convert this place in a nice museum. That way you would make some good money. So you can try this instead of wasting your time in chasing me.
You know the third skull from the right on the second rack. Yes, his name is Dopu. Strange name. Well, he told me thanks before I transformed him in this skull. Nice boy. We should always say pay gratitude to someone’s goodness. That is what I used to teach during primary classes. And yes, if you want more things, those were in my room and under the sofa and some kitchen jars. Fuck your time if you want. There is enough spice to keep you busy for many months.
Last but not the least; don’t take care of my mother. She don’t say thanks. She doesn’t even pay attention. Let her be where she is. This is best for everyone. And now about me. Here it becomes a little out of reach case. You think, I am trying to make you angry. Yes, I am doing this. You adults make me angry. You don’t understand simple things quickly. Wish I can slap you from this letter. Haha. Tada..
Thanking you,
Teacher