It had been an anxious few days for them all. Chitra had been so affected by finding out that the Swami, whom she had trusted so completely, was the one who had killed her father. She had fallen to pieces when she’d realised she had unwittingly aided him by telling him that Kaveri was supposed to meet her father at the factory at 9 p.m. Worried that Kaveri, whose fame as a detective had preceded her, would find out the truth behind the embezzlement, Swami Vaninanda had forged the typed note and sent Murali to kill Mr Sharma.

  The Swami was now trying to pin everything on Murali, claiming that he was innocent, but Murali refused to take all the blame. Murali had confessed everything to the police, handing over the altered account books and typewriter to them as evidence against the Swami. Together with the revolver which the police had taken from Murali, and the statements given by Anandi, Chitra, Ramu and Kaveri, there was ample evidence to convict both men for murder.

  Chitra had become very withdrawn for several days, feeling guilty about being the cause of her father’s death. She spoke little, crying a lot of the time. It had taken her several days – a very anxious time for Shanthi and Kumar – to come out of her depression and take interest once more in what was going on around her. But once she did, the two women sat down and spoke, and arrived at a number of decisions. Chitra looked wan and thin, but her face looked much more peaceful than any of the previous times that Kaveri had seen her.

  ‘I know now that my father loved me,’ Chitra had told Kaveri when she had come to meet her. ‘That is what brings me peace now. I thought my father transferred his affections to my stepmother and wanted to disinherit me. But my stepmother explained to me that he always put me first. It was only because he cared so much for me that he wanted to keep the factory safe for me.’ She blinked back tears. ‘He thought by marrying me to Kumar he would ensure my safety as well as the factory’s progress. I know he made some tough decisions, but he meant well. And he died loving me.’

  Kaveri had leaned forward and hugged her, meeting Shanthi’s eyes silently over Chitra’s head as Shanthi stood behind her. Perhaps the two women would never be as close as mother and daughter, but they seemed to have now united in their common cause of bringing the factory back on track, and in their love for the same man, a good man snatched from them in an unjust, untimely manner.

  ‘We have much to tell you.’ Kaveri came back to the present as Shanthi clapped her hands. All the women gathered in the room looked up expectantly. Only Kaveri smiled to herself. She knew what was coming. Chitra and Shanthi had discussed their plans with her, and Kaveri had approved, making a few additional suggestions.

  ‘First, Chitra and Kumar’s wedding has been called off.’ Shanthi looked around the room, as if daring the women to object. But they all nodded approvingly, even Lakamma, who had joined them, bringing a packet of her most special coffee to celebrate the event they were all gathered together to discuss. ‘They are not in love, and there is no need to force the wedding. Kumar can continue in the role of General Manager.’

  Chitra took up the conversation, ‘When the police searched the ashram from top to bottom, they found the account books that Kumar had given Kaveri, well hidden in the basement. Fortunately, they had not yet destroyed them. Murali has confessed to disabling her car, and to stealing the books from the car when she had the accident. He was worried that there would be something in them that would implicate the Swami. It was his foolishness, of course. The only person it would have implicated was me.’ She paused, looking uncomfortable, then pressed on. ‘We make enough profits that we should able to recoup our losses in a year, if we are careful. By next year we should be able to be in the black again.’

  ‘How will you run the factory now, with a shortage of money?’ asked Lakamma, of course.

  ‘I still have some of the jewellery that my husband bought us. And there is a lot of silver and other valuables and artwork in this house that can fetch us some money.’ Shanthi looked around the drawing room of Kaveri’s house, which was much smaller than hers. ‘In fact, our current house is far too large for two women. We plan to sell it too, buying a smaller and more manageable place like this one, and investing the money back into Sampangi Mills. This way, we can keep the mills running and pay the workers a generous wage.’

  Lakamma applauded them. ‘That is an excellent plan. After all, it is most important to get the workers back on board.’

  Mrs Reddy spoke up, looking worried. ‘I can understand why Chitra does not want to marry Kumar. But under the terms of the will, won’t she lose access to her inheritance?’

  Chitra smiled at Mrs Reddy. ‘Yes. In a few days, once it has been a month since my father’s death, I will lose all my inheritance and the house and factory go to my stepmother.’

  ‘And once it is mine, I will draw up a deed giving half of it back to Chitra.’ Shanthi gave them all a mischievous grin. ‘But enough talk about us. Let us get to the matter that brought us all here today.’

  The women gathered in the living room looked at the banner commemorating the event they were there to celebrate. Mrs Reddy and Mrs Ismail sat on the love seat in the corner, their heads close together, painting the final touches to a large banner that said ‘Shanthi Women’s Home’. Anandi sat with Mala and Narsamma on another sofa, embroidering another banner.

  Bhargavi didn’t know quite what to make of this mixed group of women. She had accepted the women’s club meetings at their home only because she felt that Kaveri was doing a good deed by teaching women of the ‘lower’ classes. But to have these women sit on the sofas with them, eating the same food, from the same plates, acting like their equals? She pulled a face.

  Shanthi nudged her, whispering in her ear, ‘The world is changing, akka. Learn to move with the change. Leave behind your absurd prejudices. See how wrong you were to think that dogs are dirty, messy creatures? How much affection you would have missed out on, if you had clung to those beliefs.’ Bhargavi’s face softened as she caressed one of Putta’s large ears. The Ugliest Dog was now lying on her feet. As Shanthi spoke, he let out a deep sigh, settling his head comfortably in Bhargavi’s lap and settling in for a comfortable snooze.

  Kaveri looked at her mother-in-law with affection. She had come a long way in the past few weeks, and so had their relationship. When Kaveri had first moved to Bangalore, she had been terrified of her mother-in-law’s disapproval. But now, when she sometimes found Bhargavi turning to her for her opinion, she felt more included. It made her nice, to feel so valued.

  ‘He helps me sleep better at night,’ Bhargavi admitted. ‘After my husband’s death last year, I could not sleep at all. I started at every noise. Putta has ruined most of my slippers, but he sleeps on my bed at night, and I don’t feel quite so alone.’

  Uma aunty gave her an understanding nod. ‘I used to feel alone too, when my husband passed away. But now my grandson sleeps with me, and I sleep better for the company.’

  Kaveri’s thoughts immediately went to Ramu. Even though a week had passed since she had been trapped in the Swami’s temple, he still held her tightly at night. She could not imagine sleeping without him now. And yet, just a few months ago, she had been used to sleeping all by herself in a large bed that had once held her and her older sisters before they had got married and left, and she hadn’t felt the slightest bit alone.

  Anandi laughed, as did Mala. ‘We are the opposite. We sleep better now that our men are no longer with us.’

  They were all so different from each other, Kaveri thought, gazing around the room. And yet, similar at the core. The events of the past few days and months had forged a close bond between them. Closer than most sisters, her women’s group.

  ‘What are your plans for the Women’s Home?’ Mrs Ismail asked Shanthi, looking up with a satisfied smile as she showed them the completed banner.

  ‘All the women are addicted to cocaine,’ Shanthi explained. ‘Ramu and the doctors at the hospital have designed a programme to wean them off the drug, by tapering down their doses. We have set up a tennis court in the open ground, and they do a daily round of pranayama and yoga, followed by a series of sessions with their racquets and balls. The exercise, fresh air and good food are slowly making a difference. Many of them seem more alert, less anxious than they were just a week back, when we first saw them.’

  ‘What will happen to them once they are weaned off the drug?’

  ‘Kaveri and I had many conversations about this. She told me about her friend and classmate Ambujakshi. Though a child bride like Kalyanamma and Coffeepudi Lakamma, unlike them she was not able to get her family’s support to rebuild her life. I reached out to Kalyanamma, and she managed to trace Ambujakshi.’

  Kaveri looked at her eagerly. She had been so attached to Ambu, who was her dearest friend in school. ‘You have heard from Ambu?’

  ‘I not only heard from her – I convinced her to take up the job.’ Shanthi smiled at her.

  ‘The job?’ Mrs Reddy looked up from her banner.

  ‘Yes, Kaveri gave me an excellent idea. We will set up a training school for these women. Ambujakshi will be the first teacher, and once they have learned how to read and write, we will employ them in our mills. Lakamma has also offered to hire some of the women we train in her coffee factory, and Kalyanamma is in need of more women journalists. It will take time, but with their support, we can help these women become independent and self-sufficient.’ Shanthi beamed.

  ‘Inspector Ismail also gave me some good news today,’ Kaveri said. ‘The government has seized the Swami’s ashram, but are willing to give it on lease to a charitable cause. He has convinced them to give it to Shanthi, to use for the Women’s Home. So the women can continue to live where they are, but in improved conditions. And even better, I have received a reward from the British government for breaking the cocaine smuggling ring. Ten thousand rupees! I am giving it to the Women’s Home, of course. With this, they can build more rooms to house more women, get them better beds and clothes and the other things they need, and do so much more. Perhaps they can even take in some small boys.’ She frowned, thinking of the raggedy-looking, half-starved boys she had seen catching rats. ‘There are so many hungry boys in the city. They need education and training as well, so they can get jobs and help feed their families, just like these women.’

  Shanthi got up, holding a glass of lime juice in her hand. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea.’ She raised her glass. ‘I propose a toast. To Mrs Kaveri Murthy, the best detective in Bangalore.’

  She went to her purse, pulled out a box wrapped in colourful red paper and handed it to Kaveri. The women crowded around Kaveri as she opened it. Inside, in an ornate silver frame, was a hand-painted photograph of Kaveri which Shanthi had persuaded her to have taken in the Picture House, the brand new studio on Brigade Road. The photographer, a young man who had seemed quite taken with the social cache he would get for having photographed Bangalore’s famous woman detective, had placed Kaveri in a silver-painted chair, one knee crossed regally over the other, her foot resting on a velvet footstool. She wore a blue velvet blouse paired with a pale green French chiffon sari with blue sequins embroidered at the shoulder. The photograph showcased Bangalore’s first lady detective to perfection, wearing her signature magnifying glass earrings and chain, and holding her magnifying glass in one hand as she gazed keenly out of the frame.

  The women clapped and cheered. The Ugliest Dog woke, joining the celebrations with enthusiasm by contributing a long, loud series of barks.

  ‘Thank you, but the real credit should be shared between all of us,’ Kaveri said, as the women looked at her expectantly. ‘To the Bangalore Detectives Club.’ She gestured to them all as they clinked their glasses together.

  ‘I propose the last toast,’ Bhargavi spoke up unexpectedly, and they stared at her in surprise. ‘To the next case!’

  Kaveri’s Dictionary

  ajji–

  grandmother

  akka–

  older sister, honorific used to address an older woman

  almirah–

  cupboard

  ammaavare–

  mother, honorific used to address an older woman

  anna–

  older brother, honorific used to address an older man

  annas–

  unit of currency – in British India, 16 annas equalled one rupee

  appa–

  father

  apsara–

  celestial Indian spirits famed for their beauty

  ashram–

  hermitage

  avallaki–

  parboiled, flattened rice

  athe–

  mother-in-law

  ayyo–

  flexible exclamation used to express shock, grief, disapproval, pity or allied emotions

  barfi–

  solid, dense Indian sweet, usually served in rectangular or diamond shapes

  bhayandanguli–

  colloquial, someone who is easily scared

  bidi–

  hand-wrolled cigarette

  chee–

  expression of disgust

  dharma–

  duty

  grahana–

  eclipse

  hundi–

  money box for cash offered by devotees, usually found in temples

  idli–

  savoury steamed cake made from a batter of fermented rice and lentils, traditionally eaten for breakfast

  jamkhana–

  hand woven cotton rug used as a carpet

  kamblihula–

  small bristly caterpillar that, when touched, causes intense itching

  kalarippayattu–

  ancient Indian martial art from Kerala, believed to be thousands of years old

  laddu–

  round sweet

  lathi–

  large, heavy stick

  lungi–

  loose piece of unstitched cloth worn around the waist by men

  namaskara–

  respectful greeting

  paan–

  betel nut leaf, with various additions, commonly eaten after meals

  pallu–

  the loose end of a sari, usually draped over the shoulder

  panchanga–

  Indian calendar which follows Indian systems of timekeeping. Used by many households to ascertain dates and times and dates of religious significance to Hindus

  payasa–

  Indian sweet

  pranayama–

  Indian breathing technique used in yoga

  purdah–

  head covering for women, seclusion of women

  prasada–

  sacred offering given to devotees

  pravachna–

  religious exposition

  pudi–

  powder

  puja–

  Hindu rituals of worship

  rangoli–

  a common household art, in which geometric patterns are drawn on the floor in front of a house every morning, using rice powder or chalk – considered auspicious, bringing good luck to the home

  rava–

  semolina, coarsely ground wheat

  sambhar–

  sour and spicy lentil dish with vegetables

  saaru–

  sour and spicy watery dish made with lentils

  swami–

  honorific title of a holy man or woman

  thumba–

  extremely

  tiffin–

  light meal of snacks

  uppittu–

  savoury breakfast dish made from semolina – broken wheat

  vada–

  savoury fried snack

  yakshagana–

  traditional street theatre art form of south India, with performers wearing colourful costumes with masks and elaborate face makeup

  Kaveri’s Adventures in the Kitchen

  Recipes for a mid-afternoon meeting of The Bangalore Detectives Club

  No meeting of The Bangalore Detectives Club is complete without food – lots of food. The women usually prefer to meet in the afternoon, once their household responsibilities are complete, and they can relax in the company of friends. Here is a typical menu that you might find them having, if you were to drop by Kaveri’s house at about 3 p.m. during a meeting of the Club.

  1. South Indian filter coffee

  Every meeting begins and concludes with servings of hot, strong south Indian coffee. Coffee is usually passed around in small tumblers placed inside dabaras (flat-bottomed circular bowls). In Kaveri’s times, these vessels were usually made of brass or silver, but today aluminium and steel are used. You can serve filter coffee in small cups or glasses, if those are easy at hand – but this is strong, so it’s advisable not to serve it in a large mug. You might find yourself trying to climb the walls!

  South Indian filter coffee is traditionally made in an Indian coffee press, which can be purchased in most Indian shops located overseas. This press, made of steel or brass, looks similar to a French Press or Aero Press. It consists of two long chambers that fit tightly together. The bottom of the upper chamber has a series of small holes. The powder is loosely packed into the top chamber. After pouring in boiling water, the chamber is closed with a tight fitting lid. There is no plunger – the water percolates into the bottom chamber, passing through the mix of coffee powder and chicory under its own weight. It is then mixed with boiled, frothing milk.

  A South Indian coffee filter should be available in most Indian shops located overseas. But it takes a bit of experience to know how much coffee powder to add, and how tightly to pack it in the top chamber. An easier way to make it is using a regular French Press, or Aero Press. South Indian coffee powder usually contains anywhere from 10-20% chicory, but you can use pure coffee powder if you prefer. Use the press to make a strong decoction. Fill a small cup or tumbler about one-third of the way with decoction. Then take a small vessel of milk, and heat it until boiling. Pour the hot milk into the tumbler. Then pour the coffee-milk mix in a thin stream into a second tumbler, holding the first one as high as you can manage without spilling coffee all over the counter. Repeat this a few times, until the coffee is covered with a nice coating of froth. Vegans can use oat milk as a substitute.

 

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