1: Murder on the Chandigarh Shatabdi

This story, a 'flash fiction' written i n 500 words, was the first Inspector Kalra story. It won a prize at a Caferati writing contest judged by the likes of Samit Basu(ahem! ahem!).

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‘Throat cut, and torso partially missing.’ Observed Inspector Kalra.
‘Should we get him to a hospital?’ asked the girl on 7C.
Inspector Kalra ignored her suggestion. Never take a woman seriously, he’d say – unless she’s holding .45 to your head and counting to ten in Chinese. It had happened to him once, and involved Thai drug lords and mistaken identity. A birthmark on his bald pate had saved him at ‘ba’.
He examined the corpse’s head minutely, failing to note a birthmark of any sort.
Hard luck, old boy.
‘We need a doctor to determine the hour of death.’ He told the TTE. ‘See if there’s a doctor in the house.’
‘I have. My brother-in-law.’
‘I mean a doctor on this train at this point of time.’
The TTE looked confused.
‘Just call for a doctor.’ The inspector repeated, with finality.
Doctors, please come to C3. Police is waiting for you. The TTE announced.
Inspector Kalra muttered Punjabi swear-words under his breath forgotten since Bhatinda Arts College. He took over the PA system.
This is inspector Kalra. We have a murder case in C3 that needs medical examination.
‘I’m a doctor’ a pinkish-white man popped out of the adjoining vestibule
The inspector pointed to the rapidly decomposing cadaver.
‘Did you try resuscitation?’ asked the doctor, after perfunctorily testing for breath.
‘A little pointless without his left lung, don’t you think?’ the Inspector answered.
‘Yes, yes naturally. Just checking. I am Doctor Pendse, by the way. My brother-in-law is a TTE on this train.’
‘He spoke of your existence. But didn’t say you were here.’
‘Oh? He told me that you did not believe I was a doctor.’
‘Why would we do that?’
‘Precisely what I wanted to see for myself. The time of death is between 0130 and 0830 hours.’ The doctor declared. ‘I was surprised when he said that. And annoyed.’
‘Between 0130 and 0830? Surely you can do better than that.’ Inspector Kalra fumed.
‘Give or take a couple of hours. Annoyed, because we have more homeopaths here than in any other country’
‘Give or take a couple of hours?’ The inspector choked. ‘That would give him a chance of being alive even now. And,’ he added in afterthought ’…You are a homeopath?’
The doctor stiffened.
‘Homeopathy is a very precise science.’ He defended.
The TTE had returned, grinning widely.
‘My brother-in-law.’ He explained. ‘Has studied in UK.’
‘Ukraine.’ The subject corrected honestly. ‘I studied at the Gari Kasparov School of Homeopathy at Novgorod.’
‘You people are no good.’ Despaired Inspector Kalra. ‘I’m stepping outside for a smoke.’
He asked for a light from the odd gentleman with a bloody machete who had been standing next to him all along.
The gentleman started and fled somewhere in the general direction of Chandigarh.
‘Ha! Didn’t have a ticket.’ The TTE surmised.
‘Nervous chap. Orpheus Mortica twice a day, and no onions.’ Observed Doctor Pendse.
‘Would you be having a light on you?’ Inspector Kalra asked.