Facade of Truth

Pallabh sat in the rearmost seat of a moderately occupied bus. He had his eyes closed.



“Did you take the ticket?”



Pallabh slowly opened his eyes and pulled out a hastily folded ticket from the chest pocket and showed it to the conductor.



The conductor nodded his head and went ahead.



Pallabh put the ticket back and pulled out a small notepad from the same pocket.



It was 1994 and Pallabh had been a crime reporter for a newspaper for the last four years. The earning was modest and there were some useful perks. The work that had to be put into the profession was enormous, but Pallabh was prepared for it right from the time he had decided to pursue Mass Communication in his university years.



Pallabh flipped the pages of the notepad. He had gone to meet a shopkeeper earlier that day who had agreed to talk about a money extraction racket operating in the area, but he had a change of mind and he refused to say anything regarding the matter when Pallabh met him.



“He must be afraid for his shop and his life,” said Pallabh’s source who had gone to the area to deliver some goods one day and heard of the racket



“I am not paying you for this one, your last tip also bore no positive results,” said Pallabh on the phone, “do you have anything else?”



“I have heard a rumour”



“What rumour?”



“A man claims his father was responsible for a series of robberies and he had decided to come ahead with it, now that his father is not present in this world”



Pallabh thought for a while and said, “anything else?”



“This is all I have now,” said the source



Pallabh didn’t want to travel far that day. His uncle and aunt were visiting in the evening; hence, he decided to follow this rumour which was half an hour of bus ride away.



Pallabh got off the bus and walked reading the house numbers while he looked for the one he wanted. He found it.



There was nothing odd about the house in any manner, it was recently painted and the potted plants outside were green with flowers. There was a car standing in the open garage area.



A man was cleaning the car when he noticed Pallabh standing. He stopped and came to Pallabh.



Pallabh stood wondering what he should say.



“I am Pallabh, I am a news reporter. I heard there was a robber living in the area and you might have some information about him,” said Pallabh



The man looked at Pallabh for a moment and then he said, “Can I see some identification?”



Pallabh showed his press card to the man. The man took out his specs from his pocket and wore them to read.



“All right, come in. I was wondering when one of you would show up,” said the man as he walked towards the house door, then he stopped and said, “I am Varen Bhamra.”



Pallabh walked in the house with Varen and sat on a chair. He observed that quite a good amount of wealth had been spent on the house.



Varen disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a glass of juice and then he sat on another chair across the coffee table. 



“So, what do you want to know?” asked Varen



“This person, the robber.. he was…”



“My father, yes, Sadhan Bhamra, replied Varen”



Pallabh took notes in his notepad and then asked, “How many robberies are we talking about here?”



“Seven,” Varen replied



“.. and you have always known he was a robber”  asked Pallabh



“No, not until he was on his deathbed”



“What kind of robberies were these?”



“Breaking into the house and stealing things,” replied Varen



“All of them?”



“Yes.. all of them”



“What was his actual profession?” asked Pallabh



“He was salesman for a car company,” replied Varen



“Maybe that is how he found people to rob”



“Maybe”



“What exactly did he say at his deathbed?”



Varen rubbed the back of his head with his right hand and said, “He said ‘Listen Varen all of this wealth that we have, much of it has come from things that I stole from seven well planned and executed robberies. You will not find proof of any robberies as all the things I had stolen have been sold off and the money has been systematically invested. No one else knows of it.’”



“He didn’t tell you what he invested the amount in?”



“No, he didn’t.”



Pallabh flipped the page of the notepad and started writing again, “Have you told the police yet?”



“I told them, they are working on it. But this is something that happened more than 30-35 years ago, it might take time”



“I don’t think they will find anything, this might just become one of the pending cases,” said Pallabh, “you were suspicious of me, why?”



“A family came by claiming my father robbed them and asked for money and then I don’t know whom he might have been associated with”



Pallabh looked at his notes and said, “there is no proof of anything and not much depth to the story.. let’s see if anything can be written out ofthis”



“Well, that’s all there is to it I am afraid. He didn’t say a lot,” said Varen



“Maybe he didn’t want to burden you much with it,” said Pallabh



Pallabh got up and walked to the door and stepped outside then he turned to Varen, “Well it was nice meeting you, if you come across anything else regarding the matter then call me on my number”



Pallabh took out his visiting card and handed it to Varen and then he asked out of curiosity, “Do you live alone now?”



“No, I lived with my wife, but she left,” said Varen



“Oh! The news of her father-in-law’s robberies must have been hard on her,” said Pallabh



“Yes, it was. But I think what bothered her the most was that I was doing the same,” said Varen



Pallabh was struck with confusion as he stared at Varen’s face.



“It was nice meeting you too..” Varen said as he closed the door and Pallabh stood in silence

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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