‘Bholenath is the greatest game theorist.’ This was the first line in the diary of Prof Dinanath, Rohan held in his hands.  He raised his head to look at the corpse lying on the floor with eyes closed in peaceful meditation of death. A number 2319 was inscribed on its forehead in blood. No more game theory for him anymore, he said to himself while slipping the diary inside his shirt discreetly.

He looked around. Two policemen were rummaging through the materials in the office with their bare hands. They would pick up things one by one, think for a while, write something in their diary and then put it down. The curtains were closed. Rohan wondered if this office had any tryst with sunlight apart from the dark shadows which filtered through the curtains. He heard footsteps coming towards the office and the door open at his back.

‘Why haven’t you pulled off the curtains?’ It was the Assistant Commissioner of Police (East Mumbai) instructing the policemen. Both of them rushed to carry out the order, almost colliding in the process.  A speck of dust rose from the curtains as they were pulled aside. Rather it was more than a speck of dust. It would be apt to say a goldmine of dust had been dug. Rohan covered his nose with his handkerchief.  A senior professor had accompanied the SP as they scrutinised the office.

‘Did you guys check properly?’ The ACP asked the juniors. They nodded in a yes.

‘Did you find any evidence, specially a diary?’

They answered a no in unison. Rohan gave a small tap to the diary to see if it was still there. The ACP turned to the senior professor.

‘We can’t say anything yet. I would need to look at the forensic tests and ask the experts before I can give you any answer. Till then we will seal the office so that nobody else can enter the crime scene.’ The senior professor nodded in silence. Rohan looked at the bare hands of the policemen who had touched every possible object in the office and who now were wiping them off. It occurred to him that it could be their first encounter with a murder.

‘Let’s go,’ said the ACP. The senior professor accompanied them to the car whereas Rohan went back to his office. He hid the diary in his drawer and picked up his notes to teach the Game Theory class for second year Business Program (MBA) students of the Mumbai management institute.

*

A large crowd was gathered outside the school premises in the Jhumro hillocks region of Bokaro district in India. They were curious to know what is going on inside the school office, where a team of doctors and policemen had arrived. Inside the office, a doctor held the wrist of the corpse to ascertain its death. The number 2319 was inscribed on the forehead of the corpse, Prof. Rameshwar.

‘Yes he is dead.’ She said.

A group of youngsters cut through the crowd to enter the office.

‘So it is true.’ One of them said to the others.

‘Who are you? How did you enter the school?’ A policeman screamed at them.

‘We are journalists. We are spending our holidays at a nearby forest resort where we heard the news of death. And yes we entered on our foot.’ Others giggled as Lavie showed her Identity card to the Police Officer. On looking at it, he was confused at what to do. He returned back to his place and let the journalists be.

‘Is it a murder?’ Lavie asked the lady who held the corpse. The lady looked up. Her eyes were expressionless as if she dealt with dead corpse on a daily basis. A slow murmur spread around those present. One of the villagers shouted

‘Baba was killed by the police, we know it.’

‘What rubbish are you speaking, you dirty man? I will imprison you if you put a wrong allegation,’ replied the policeman.

‘The government is responsible for it. We need answers,’ shouted another.

The policeman stood up and charged towards the man who had spoken. He caught his collar, ‘if anyone of you utters a word here, he is going to the policestation with me.’ He tapped his lathi on the man’s forehead. After that there was pin drop silence in the room.

 ‘We don’t know yet. He died at his home. His body is being sent for post-mortem.’ The police officer said. ‘The reports would make it clear.’

‘Can we take a picture?’ Nobody said anything so Lavie stepped forward and clicked one.

‘The jeep has arrived.’ A villager came running into the office. ‘We should take him to the hospital,’ the policeman ran outside to call some people who carried the corpse out of the room.

*

Next day it was in the news. Two prominent academicians were found dead under similar circumstances at the same time. Local newspapers in Mumbai and Bokaro carried it in great detail. Most of the national newspapers devoted little space on their inside pages to it. Only one national newspaper, ’The Indian Express’, printed a picture of the dead body along with a detailed report. But the news garnered publicity in a few days when people got to know the details of the victims. Many voices were raised against the murders in both print and digital medium. Experts rued about the state of affairs in the country where the ruling party had stifled the voice of academicians who do not toe it’s line of ideology.

A prominent news channel was having a debate on Prime time about the murders. There were two guests – one an academician from the management school of Prof. Dinanath and the other a spokesperson for the ruling government.

‘The atmosphere in our country is not conducive for academicians who work honestly and speak their minds,’ said the Professor.

‘Do you want to support the allegation?’ asked the anchor to the politician.

‘This is entirely false. The academicians in this country have numerous channels to voice their opinions. And they are doing so freely. There are no restrictions imposed,’ he said.

‘But why do you think both the professors should commit suicide?’ the anchor asked the professor.

‘We cannot see any reason for his suicide. I cannot speak for the climate expert but Prof. Dinanath of our institute was doing path breaking work. He was very well known in academic circles internationally. There is absolutely no reason we can see for his suicide. In fact, I do not think it is suicide. The conditions in our country are getting worse for free and bold research work. His death may be an attempt to silence the free voices.’

The politician spoke after this.

‘Nobody is silencing a free voice in this country. He was free to voice his opinion and he did so,’ the politician shrugged his shoulders after completing his statement. The anchor took over.

‘But why would somebody dying by suicide imprint a number on his forehead? And how come the same number is imprinted on the forehead of both the professors even though it is hardly possible that they have met each other?’ asked the anchor to both the speakers.

‘That is the question which needs to be answered by the investigative agencies,’ said the professor with fingers pointing towards the camera.

‘We have evidence that both the professors met at an International conference in Europe. The number could have some meaning to both the academicians, we do not know about it yet. Or it could just be a matter of coincidence that the numbers are the same.’

‘This is far fetched sir.’ Said the news anchor in an assertive tone.

‘That’s what I say,’ added the professor.

‘But it is possible,’ replied the minister.