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“ssenetiloP,” he said. “ssenetiloP, ecneidebO.”
“ytlayoL, ecnegilletnI,” Rahel said.
“ysetruoC.”
“ycneiciffE.”
To his credit, Inspector Thomas Mathew remained calm. He
sensed the growing incoherence in the children. He noted the
dilated pupils. He had seen it all before… the human mind‟s
escape valve. Its way of managing trauma. He made allowances for
that, and couched his questions cleverly. Innocuously. Between
When is your birthday, Mon? and What‟s your favorite color, Mol?
Gradually, in a fractured, disjointed fashion, things began to
fall into place. His men had briefed him about the pots and pans.
The grass mat. The impossible-to-forget toys. They began to make
sense now. Inspector Thomas Mathew was not amused. He sent a
jeep for Baby Kochamma. He made sure that the children were not
in the room when she arrived. He didn‟t greet her
“Have a seat,” he said.
Baby Kochamma sensed that something was terribly wrong.
“Have you found them? Is everything all right?” “Nothing is all
right,” the Inspector assured her. From the look in his eyes and the
tone of his voice, Baby Kochamma realized that she was dealing
with a different person this time. Not the accommodating police
officer of their previous meeting. She lowered herself into a chair.
Inspector Thomas Mathew didn‟t mince his words.
The Kottayam Police had acted on the basis of an F.I.R. filed
by her. The Paravan had been caught. Unfortunately he had been
badly injured in the encounter and in all likelihood would not live
through the night. But now the children said that they had gone of
their own volition. Their boat had capsized and the English child
had drowned by accident. Which left the police saddled with the
Death in Custody of a technically innocent man. True, he was a
Paravan. True, he had misbehaved. But these were troubled times
and technically, as per the law, he was an innocent man. There was
no case.
“Attempted rape?” Baby Kochamma suggested weakly.