IT WAS 10 O’CLOCK AT night when Rajangam came to Thimmampettai in search of his quarry, Nandagopal. Five feet eleven inches tall, with a pea-sized mole on his left eyebrow, Nandagopal was a man capable of running deftly, weaving in and out of obstacles, and shaking off his pursuers.
Rajangam, a CB-CID official, who had been tracking Nandagopal through Kovalam, Pondicherry and Bengaluru for 15 days, had received a tip-off that the man had gone to Thimmampettai. He had now come there in hot pursuit.
Warrants of arrest for Nandagopal in four cases were pending in judicial courts. For a man declared a ‘terrorist’. They related to the torching of a police station, a bomb blast that destroyed an electric transformer, sabotage of a railway track, and making country bombs.
Rajangam would turn 40 in January. He had never got the promotion he had been expecting for the past few years—if he got it, he wouldn’t need to do any more footwork. He could work from an air-conditioned room in an office and use the department car. He need only order his subordinates to do the dirty work.
But till his service ended and he retired, this unravelling of crimes and catching of criminals would never cease. For people never get tired of climbing the social ladder and accumulating wealth, they keep committing heinous acts. So he would forever be turning the pages of the crime register and hunting down wrongdoers.
What was happening to this country?
Why were criminals bombing places?
この記事は The Indian Quarterly の April - June 2020 版に掲載されています。
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この記事は The Indian Quarterly の April - June 2020 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
The Image-Maker
Sukumar Ray’s most vivid images were saved for his classics of nonsense verse, but his singular eye, writes Nabarupa Bhattacharjee, found its earliest expression in photography
The Nawab's Last Sigh
Rudely awakened by the fact of independent India, an aristocrat in Meerut clung to his past. Now, he tells Sunaina Kumar, all he has left are his memories of a glorious age.
The Guest
Vaiyavan is the nom de plume of MSP Murugesan. Born in 1936, he did sundry jobs before obtaining postgraduate degrees by correspondence and then served as an English and Tamil teacher till his retirement in 1996. His writing career began in 1956. Multifaceted and prolific, he has to his credit a long list of short story collections, novels, plays, literary essays, poems and children’s stories. He has won several awards including Tamil Nadu government awards for best book on culture (1982) and best science book (1992) and the Malcolm Adiseshiah award for active participation in neo-literacy activities (1996). In his short stories and novels, Vaiyavan revels in a zest for life. Humaneness is the hallmark of his work, as the pain and pleasure, trials and tribulations of people in different rungs of society are described in minute detail. —CGR
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The Unknown Soldier
One man wondered and worried about his disappeared brother all his life.His granddaughter continued the search. Preksha Sharma resurrects a man and his story
The Art Scene
For the new kid on the block, it certainly has pedigree. The Centre for Con-temporary Art, housed within Delhi’s Bikaner House complex, finally opened its portals to welcome art aficionados during this year’s edition of the India Art Fair. Nature Morte was invited to stage the centre’s much-awaited inaugural show, an opportunity the gallery found too irresistible to pass up. The ambitious exhibition it mounted, The Idea of the Acrobat, occupied both floors of the recently renovated building and brought together the works of a dozen well known artists in a multitude of media. The line-up included Bharti Kher, Atul Dodiya, Dayanita Singh, Shilpa Gupta, Ayesha Singh, Khyentse Norbu and LN Tallur to name but a few.
Long, Long Ago
Arundhuti Dasgupta and Utkarsh Patel recount obscure creation myths from around the world, many echoing each other
Family Business
AT THE DINDUKKAL BUS DEPOT, the abortionist pushed her way through the crowd thronging the bus and finally managed to board it. She placed her travel bag beside her on the seat, calling out to her niece to hurry up. The young woman renewed her efforts to break free of the tangle of limbs and claim the seat reserved for her.
A Goan Childhood
Fragments of memory of a time long gone, from a life lived far away. By Selma Carvalho
