‘Boss, this the fifth missing persons case we’ve got in the last one month,” Raghu said the moment Bhanu entered the office.

Bhanu Singha, proprietor of Cloud 9 Private Detective Agency, merely nodded as he settled behind his desk. Raghu had switched on the air conditioning, the broadband modem and his desktop computer minutes ago in anticipation of his senior partner’s arrival.

“See here, tell me what you notice,” Bhanu beckoned Raghu to the Google Maps on his computer. He had opened several windows and pinpointed some places on Calcutta’s streets with red flags.

“Well these are the places where the missing people were last seen, am I right Boss?” Raghu his sidekick was catching on fast.

“I said see not just look,” Bhanu, the former cop turned private detective, always used his assistant as a sounding board for his hunches. In his line of work, a second opinion often opened up new vistas.

“Hmmm…let me see, this is the Mudiali area. Banerjee, the bank manager, was last seen coming out of his branch on Russa Road East near Bhawani cinema.

Mrs Gupta was last seen at the Charu Market bus stop and Sarita, the college student, had crossed the Tollygunge Bridge before disappearing. I get it! Dhakuria Lake or Mudiali is common to all these vanishing acts,” Raghu looked pleased as punch.

“What about the other two? They were not in Lake area,” Bhanu was being patient with his former con turned assistant Raghu whom he had employed after a case. A grateful Raghu had become his eyes and ears in the underworld of 1990s Calcutta. After a dishonourable dismissal from the police for an unexplained custodial death of a high profile political thug, Bhanu Singha together with Raghu made a formidable team in solving the cases, which were outsourced unofficially to the Agency from Lalbazar. The two respected each other’s abilities and formed a tentative, professional friendship.

“Well Ashok Mitra the stock broker vanished near Ahiritola Street and Benu the artist last attended an exhibition at Jorashanko Thakur Bari on Rabindra Sarani,” Raghu was raking his brains but could see no pattern.

“All these disappearances took place within walking distance of metro stations. The first three near Rabindra Sarovar in Mudiali and the last two near Sovabazar Sutanati and MG Road,” Bhanu said.

“Now what Boss?” Raghu asked.
“Go through newspapers and archived online news covering the days of the disappearances,” Bhanu stood up, “I’ve to go somewhere, will return soon.”

“Ok, what are we looking for?” Raghu looked forlorn as he hated desk work. He was more at ease behind a steering wheel or while wielding a weapon.

“Metro railway news, timings, dates, days, anything unusual. Need detailed information.” Bhanu was already out.

***

It was quarter past three in the afternoon when Bhanu returned to their office in Dalhousie.

“Got something for you, Boss,” Raghu exploded the moment Bhanu entered.

“I know. Suicides and snags disrupted the metro trains on those days, right?” Bhanu went straight to his chair and opened up a webpage.

“How did you know? Where have you been? You smell awful!” Raghu kept his distance from the detective.

“Visited hospitals… Morgues to be more precise.”

“No wonder, you smell rotten. Did you find any one of them there?”

“Maybe… I found some unclaimed bodies, decomposed, mangled and unidentifiable but they had something in common.”

“Metro rail coupons in their pockets,” Raghu had hit the nail right on the head this time.

“Brilliant! Yes this is the only clue we have for now,” Bhanu was surprised at how fast Raghu’s criminal mind was catching on.

“Now what, Boss?”

“Since the subway system was started in 1984, a total of 284 suicides have been attempted. Of the 110 Metro deaths more than 70 per cent occurred in the Rabindra Sarovar Metro station in Mudiali. In fact, Metro suicides account for 39 per cent of all the suicides in the state,” Bhanu reeled off statistics from a webpage.

“I thought the Metro was running an underground transport system not a euthanasia service.”

“It is cheap and sure shot. You only need to buy a five rupee ticket for your journey to the afterlife. Plus you get 15 minutes of fame by disrupting the schedule of hundreds of commuters. For over two decades the Metro has been serving suicidal passengers with guaranteed satisfaction.”

“What is it that draws these people to the Metro tunnels? I read their files. All of them were severely depressed and upset due to various reasons. Is it that the 4000 volts electrified magnetic third rail attracts depressed souls?”

“Raghu, I don’t think all the Metro deaths are suicides. There is something amiss. And that’s what we are going to find out tonight. Meet me at 9 pm at Esplanade station,” Bhanu said before leaving the office.

***

Raghu was surprised to see Bhanu turn up in his old blue and white police uniform complete with a baton and beret at Esplanade metro station. His penchant for breaking the law with impunity endeared him to Raghu who admired this kind of criminal audacity. Bhanu was accompanied with a bearded old man in a black coat.

“Meet Dr Bhootnath Chatterjee from the National Institute of Behavioural Sciences. He is coming with us,” Bhanu said as a way of introduction. The good doctor extended his hand to the detective’s sidekick.

“Hi doctor. Nice to meet you… Ouch!” Raghu yanked back his bleeding palm.
“Sorry my marriage ring is twisted and has a jagged edge. Here, take this,” Dr Chatterjee offered his clean white hanky to Raghu who looked daggers at him. Only the presence of the Boss prevented him from punching the old man in the face.

While they waited for the train to arrive, the doctor handed over a pair of tinted spectacles to Bhanu. He put on a similar pair himself. There was an old silver watch like instrument hanging from his neck, which Raghu thought looked like an ancient chronometer.

“I admire the fact you’ve managed to leave the life of crime behind you. You must be a really brave man. Tell me what was the worst crime you committed? Do you hate yourself for it now,” the doctor began to molly coddle Raghu.

In a daze Raghu began to speak in a low tone to the psychiatrist whose hallucinogenic drug had begun to take effect on him rapidly. He narrated how he accidently killed an innocent man in the course of an armed robbery and how the man’s child was left crying on the street beside the dead body. The child’s crying face haunted him in his dreams even now. Often he had thought of ending his life as a punishment.

“It’s working. He is pretty suicidal now,” the doctor nudged Bhanu. His special compass was whirring now that they had alighted at the Rabindra Sarovar metro station.

“Do you see her?” Bhanu drew the doctor’s attention to a thin girl in a diaphanous blue frock standing at the edge of the platform and staring soulfully at Raghu who was tearfully maudlin in self-grief.

“Yes, she is not really visible to everyone. You can see her courtesy my special spectacles, which can sense spirits,” Dr Chatterjee explained.

“Spirits? You mean she is a ghost?” Bhanu was in disbelief.

Before the doctor could reply, a train came hurtling down the tunnel. Raghu leapt up and paced ahead to the edge of the platform. He would have thrown himself onto the tracks had not Bhanu and the doctor brought him down in a swift rugby tackle. Still he banged his head on the granite surface of the platform and passed out.

Thanks to Bhanu’s cop masquerade, they had little trouble in removing an unconscious Raghu from the station on the pretext of arresting him for attempt to commit suicide under Section 309 of the IPC. When he came around after an hour, Raghu had a feeling of lightheadedness. The doctor had administered a potent restorative shot to revive him.

“Hope you’re feeling better now?” Bhanu offered Raghu a glass of chilled water.

“Yes, what happened to me?”

“You tell us. You saw something, someone…,” Dr Chatterjee was patient but persuasive.

“I saw the little girl whose father I had accidently shot. She looked so sad. I felt so guilty. I wanted to help her. I wanted to be with her,” Raghu said in a monotone.

“Have you felt like this before?” the doctor probed.

“I can’t forget her but keep her memories in check. But today I felt her presence very strongly down there in the tunnel. It was as if she came alive before me and I have never felt so bad,” Raghu was still benumbed.

“How do you explain it doctor?” Bhanu asked.

“When we have happy feelings, certain chemicals like dopamine and serotonin are released in our body. They heighten ecstasy and boost the immune system, create positive energy,” explained Dr Chatterjee.

“The opposite happens when we are severely depressed and sad, the body and mind’s immune system breaks down and negative forces are drawn to us,” Bhanu picked up the line of thought.

“But why did I see the girl, she was definitely not there,” Raghu was alert now.

“We saw her too, with the help of my new psychic spectacles. She was a projection of your thoughts, your fear and pent up guilt,” Dr Chatterjee said.

“Then why didn’t I see her before?” Raghu was still not convinced.

“I’m not sure but I guess the caverns of Metro Railways are a perfect medium for projection of depressed images cast out by sick minds,” Dr Chatterjee conjectured.

“I’ve gone through the latest reports by Nasa, which has discovered hidden portals in the Earth’s magnetic field. Rabindra Sarovar Metro falls in what Nasa calls an X-point or electron diffusion region,” Bhanu said.

“Unbelievable!” Raghu was not convinced.

“The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco is another X-point. More than 1,300 people committed suicide by jumping off it since its construction in 1937,” Bhanu said.

“An old city like Calcutta is full of historic debris. Stressed and depressed people who are empathic and in a heightened emotional state go round the bend when they find themselves in such electron diffusion regions,” Dr Chatterjee caught on the drift.

“Today Rabindra Sarovar Metro station is dubbed a haunted place. Many people who board the last train have had weird experiences and reported seeing ghastly shadows during late evenings,” Bhanu said.

“Okay, so what do we write in our report to Lalbazar?” Raghu was getting confused by all this psychic and scientific jargon.

“People who are dead are beyond us but I would like to interview the ones who attempted but failed. Installation of platform screen doors, which open up only when the train arrives, may curb the suicide rate. Also, Dr Chatterjee’s psychic lens filters should be fitted on the CCTV cameras inside the stations,” Bhanu Singha was precise.