Scent

Scent

A Story by SUGATA M

SCENT - the Murder mystery from the Gupta kingdom

Supratik, Chief of Police and Internal Security at Ujjain, walked rapidly up to the riverside, just as the body was being fished out. The officer supervising the operation turned around and saluted his commander immediately.
‘Bring the body out.’ Supratik instructed to his subordinate.
It was a woman, stark naked, a bit swollen but body contour was still intact, emitting fishy smell, not the usual stinks of a decomposed corpse yet, had probably remained inside the water for fewer hours.
How old would be she? Around mid-twenties, said Supratik’s rough estimation.
Supratik’s hawk eyes instantly spotted the reddish bruises around the woman’s throat. The eyes were slightly elevated and shut. Both nostrils were bit bulged out as if the woman had struggled hard to breathe till her final moments. The lips were little parted away displaying glimpse of white, velvety teeth.
Her lips were black like charcoal.
Apparently, it looked to be a case of strangulation followed by dumping the body in the Kshipra river.
The black lips were also pointing towards poisoning.
The killer was possibly not definite of her death after instilling poison, so throttled her, then pushed into water as the final resort to make sure of her death.
The killer was desperate to eliminate her. Sensed Supratik.
Few people started gathering around the lying body, buzzing to each other with bursting curiosity. Floating human bodies were not common in Kshipra river. Secondly, presence or absence of life doesn’t matter as long as hidden lust stirs people’s minds around the body of a naked, young woman.
Supratik hinted his subordinate to push the people away from the place and reverted back to his usual observatory job.
Next he looked for ornaments in the body and couldn’t find any. The killer might have got rid of them before drowning her. Ornaments are useful tools to investigate a crime like this. He knelt down before her to have a closer look, especially the fingers.
He discovered a ring tied to her left index finger. He tried to dislodge it but couldn’t, so lifted her flaccid left hand from the ground for a closer look.
He was shocked. His throat got chocked for the moment.
The central part of the ring had the royal emblem, the one carried by the members of the royal family.
Murder in the royal family itself?
Who killed this woman?
King Skandagupta was not married. His astounding apathy towards women was well-known across the country. He was passionate about fighting wars and shedding blood of his enemies. His most significant enemies were the Hunas. He spent the greater period of his life in protecting the Gupta kingdom from the ferocious Hunas.
His palace had only few women, who were aged and elderly.
Supratik found himself trapped in the web of complex thoughts.
‘What to do now, Arya Supratik?’ his subordinate Abodhut gently asked from behind.
Supratik stood up, turned to him and said, ‘transfer the body to the morgue and store under sufficient ice. Don’t cremate her before I say to do that. And…’ he whispered to his loyal lieutenant’s ear, ‘keep a close watch on the body. It shouldn’t be misplaced from the morgue at any cost.’
‘One more thing, Abodhut!’ Supratik continued. ‘There is a ring in the left index finger of the woman. Keep it a secret. Don’t disclose it to anyone except Rishav. Tell him to deploy guards in the morgue also during the night-time. Nothing should happen to the body and the ring. This is damn serious.’
Rishav was the in-charge of the city morgue and one of his close associates.
Supratik made up his mind. He has to discuss the matter with Nagesh, the prime minister of king Skandagupta. King Skanda was not in Ujjain, busy with fighting the Hunas at the western border of the kingdom. He would be back to Ujjain only after a good number of months.
Such thing never took place in Ujjain before. A royal family member, especially a young woman was strangulated to death and thrown into the river stream for hiding the evidences of murder!
Who did that and why?
The response of Nagesh surprised Supratik further.
‘I think she was the spy of the Hunas who somehow sneaked into Ujjain. You know, there are several of such spies roaming across our kingdom. She must be one of them. The royal guards caught her and killed her. It is not a big deal.’ The seventy-plus minister responded casually.
‘Arya Nagesh, how can we justify the ring in her finger with the royal emblem?’
‘She must have got it through hefty bribes to misguide the people on her true identity! Supratik, I suggest not to tire your brain on this matter. Tell your people to cremate the dead woman and focus on your job.
Supratik had no authority to argue with the prime minister who has been serving the Guptas since the reign of Skandagupta’s father Kumaragupta.
He greeted Nagesh and left his place with thoughts clouding his mind. Nagesh, for some reason or other didn’t like him to investigate the case. Why? Was she really a spy deployed by the Hunas and killed by royal guards? Or there was something else?
Who can show him the light?
Madalasa!
The name struck him like thunder.
She was one of the many maids of the royal palace. Madalasa had natural liking for him though Supratik, didn’t cross the boundary of a typical friendliness so far.
Madalasa was not only pretty but intelligent and alert.
Supratik went back home, took bath, ate lunch and enjoyed a nap. He made the plan to meet Madalasa during evening when she generally comes back home from the royal palace after her work.
He dressed up little special in the evening.
Madalasa was both surprised and happy by his unexpected visit, ‘Arya Supratik, it is such a pleasure to meet you.’ She exclaimed.
Supratik got into the main point straightway. ‘Madalasa, would you mind if I ask you to go out with me tonight?’
Free dating and mixing was common and socially accepted in the Gupta regime.
Madalasa looked exorbitantly happy and agreed without a second thought.
Supratik held her hand and started chatting freely while strolling on the busy roads of Ujjain. They looked like any other love-birds.
Ujjain had a vibrant night-life. The roads remained crowded this time with people from different parts of country and outside like Tibet, Shyam, China and Sumatra. The roadside shops, especially wine-houses, brothels and gambling dens remained open till late night. Except sporadic incidences of thefts and robberies Ujjain was peaceful under the strict administration of King Skandagupta who was equally alert and careful about internal security alongside combating the constant threats of the Hunas at the borders.
After moving around here and there rather aimlessly Spupratik brought her at his destination.
‘Arya Supratik, why you have brought me to the morgue?’ Madalasa asked him in deep surprise.
‘Don’t worry Madalasa. I want to show you a dead-body which is kept inside the morgue. We will leave the morgue after that.’ Supratik instructed the on-duty guard to open the gate of the morgue.
Madalasa was feeling nervous and scared. Whose dead body, Arya Supratik wanted her to see? Any one known to her? Or close to her? Near dear ones?
The guard of the morgue ushered them to the ice-packed body with a burning lamp in his hand and uncovered the face of the dead woman.
Supratik felt Madalasa was trembling. He held her tight. He understood that it was not at all a comfortable situation for her.
‘Don’t be scared Madalasa. Look at her face carefully. Do you know this woman? Have you ever met her in the royal palace?’ He asked her gently.
Madalasa bent down a bit and looked at the face of the dead woman and the next moment she fainted in Supratik’s arms after murmuring ‘Oh my God!’
Supratik immediately took her out of the morgue in an open place, laid her carefully down on the ground and told the guard to get some water. She regained consciousness after he sprinkled water on her face for some time.
‘Are you feeling alright?’ Supratik asked her a bit worriedly.
‘Yes, I am.’ Madalasa got up from the ground. ‘Arya Supratik, you took me out only for the sake of identifying the dead woman in the morgue?’
‘Do you know this woman, Madalasa?’
‘Yes, I know her. I still can’t believe that she is dead.’
‘Who is she?’
Madalasa looked at him with vacant eyes and all of a sudden started sobbing.
‘Madalasa, for God’s sake, tell me, who is she? I need to know that before I get the body cremated. Did she belong to the royal family? Did you see her in the royal palace?’
‘Arya Supratik, her name was Ratta. She was the princess of Bitanka kingdom which is located along our Western border. Bitanka provides regular taxes to the Guptas in exchange of security and protection against the invasion of the Hunas. Few months back the Hunas killed their king and captured Bitanka. Princess Ratta managed to escape from her kingdom with some of her close associates and reached Ujjain to finally seek shelter and protection under our king. King Skanda ensured proper living arrangement for her inside the royal palace. I was appointed by the king himself to look after the princess, so knew of her in details.’ Madalasa took an abrupt pause, probably to take adequate breath against her choking emotions.
‘What happened after that?’
‘Ratta was a stunning beauty, highly sensual and seductive. Our king, who never fell for a woman in his fifty-five years of life got trapped into Ratta’s attraction exactly the way insects are sucked into the burning fire. He even decided to marry her.’ Madalasa stopped again. She was fast re-arranging her flow of thoughts.
Supratik was shocked. King Skandagupta wanted to marry her? The same man who vowed to remain free from marital bliss and protect his kingdom from the Hunas? The warrior king broke his own pledge and was preparing for marriage?
‘Had he married her?’ he asked Madalasa, rather impatiently, this time.
‘No,’ replied Madalasa. ‘Ratta put a condition to him. Skandagupta has to recapture her father’s lost kingdom and avenge her father’s killing. Then only she would marry him.’
‘That’s why King Skanda had so hurriedly left Ujjain to fight with the Hunas. Now I can understand.’ Said Supratik. ‘then who had killed Ratta? Anyone from inside the palace or some strangers? And why she got killed?’
‘I beg your apology, Arya Supratik. I can’t utter anyone’s name. I am an insignificant maid of the royal palace. My life would be in danger if any internal truth is revealed through me.’ Madalasa pleaded in folded hands and tearful eyes. ‘Please Arya, let me go.’
Supratik sank in deep thoughts. If Madalasa is right then Nagesh, whatever he had said about this woman earlier was nothing but pure lies. Why he told such lies about the would-be queen of Skandagupta?
Had the prime minister himself played the key role to eliminate Ratta? That would be hard to believe as loyalty of Nagesh had always remained unquestionable. King Skanda himself held high respect for him.
But everything is possible under the sun as long as humans couldn’t keep their vices under control.
They didn’t exchange a word between them on the way back her home.
When he was about to leave her at her home Madalasa told Supratik something that never came to his mind before. ‘Arya Supratik, there are few big shots in Ujjain who don’t want our king Skanda to get married and bring the next generations of the Guptas. Those people have alleged links with the Hunas. They want to dethrone Skanda and take over our kingdom with the help of the Hunas. I heard that several times in the royal palace, even from the mouth of princess Ratta.’
When Supratik returned home he was surprised to see his subordinate Abodhut waiting for him.
‘You are here? At this point of night? What happens, Abodhut?’
‘Our king’s life is in danger, Arya Supratik! We caught a spy who was crossing the border of Ujjain. We recovered a letter from him.’
‘What the letter said?’
‘I already got it for you, Arya.’ Abodhut handed over the letter to Supratik. The letter was a one-line instruction given to some unnamed people. ‘Kill the king inside the battle-field whenever you get the chance.’ Said the letter.
The instruction was most likely given to a few of the commanders accompanying King Skanda in the present battle-ground. Thought Supratik.
But who was the master-mind behind the entire conspiracy against the king and his kingdom?
‘Has the spy told you anything?’ He asked Abodhut.
‘No Arya, we tried. But he is dumb. His tongue is already removed.’
It was a common custom to deploy people on espionage after cutting their tongues and making them totally dumb.
The hand-writing in the letter looked very familiar. Supratik’s suspicion became stronger.
‘Abodhut, I have to immediately rush to the battle-ground to alert the king and protect his life from the assassins who might be very well part of our own army. Carry out my responsibilities till I come back to Ujjain. I will visit our prime minster Nagesh right now, brief him about the spy and the letter he was carrying and then leave Ujjain for the battle-ground. Keep my movement a complete secret by all means.’
Supratik took his best horse from the stable. A long journey is ahead.
When he reached the palace of Nagesh the guard told him that the minister is relaxing tonight at his riverside bungalow.
Nagesh was a long widower. He, time to time, used to spend nights at his riverside residence to enjoy company of his selected women.
When Supratik reached there he couldn’t find a light in the place. The old minister probably slept off.
But he must wake him up. He had several questions to ask the minister, directly, to know the truth from him. The first question would be, why the hand-writing of the letter resembled with minister’s own hand-writing that he was so far well familiar with.
Supratik lit up his lamp and entered the house. He was surprised to see the door of the minster’s bedroom still open. He rushed inside lifting the lamp.
He saw the minster lying on bed spreading his legs and hands rather abnormally. Supratik came closer to him.
His breath stopped.
He could see the butt of the knife which had pierced through the minister’s left side of the chest fully. The bed was filled with streaks of blood. The popped up eyes and protruding tongue of the minister pointed out that he was already a dead person.
The main suspect of the royal conspiracy, himself is no more.
But who killed him?
Supratik did thorough search of the room. He couldn’t find any one. The night-guard was also missing, probably gone out to meet his love-interest.
There were no other suspicious things in the house except……………………………………………..
Supratik left the place.
The murder of the prime minster will be the prime news of tomorrow. Abodhut will be here to handle that while he will move to the battle-ground to ensure king’s safety.
On the way Supratik stopped in front of a small house, got down from his horse and gently knocked the door. The door opened after few minutes. A lady appeared at the door with a small, shaking lamp in the hand.
‘Arya Supratik? Is it you? At such odd hours of the night?’
Supratik looked at her straight with a queer smile and said, ‘You know well why I am here. Don’t you?’
‘Are you joking with me, Arya?’
‘Tell me, you killed the prime minister, right Madalasa?’
‘I don’t understand what you are talking about, Arya Supratik.’ Her voice was a bit distorted at the end.
‘You know what, Madalasa? I visited the prime minister minutes before coming to your house right now. You know what I saw there? He was lying dead in his bed with a knife forcibly plunged into his chest. I didn’t find anything suspicious over there except the smell of a strong scent around his bed and inside his room. It instantly reminded me the scent you put on your body in the evening when you were with me. The two smells were so surprisingly similar! Supratik took a pause and said, ‘Why you killed the prime minister? Out of revenge? Because he had killed Princess Ratta whom you were extremely loyal to?’
Madalasa remained speechless.
Supratik continued, ‘After coming back from the morgue you had visited the minister at his bungalow knowing well that the place has almost no security, possibly drugged him with heavy dose of wine then killed him in inebriated state. You committed one big mistake here. You forgot to remove your scent.’
‘The prime minister was a traitor, Arya Supratik. He repeatedly asked our king not to tie marital knot with Princess Ratta. When our king ignored his advice he got her killed during the king’s absence. I have no remorse for killing such wretched man.’ Madalasa said in a firm, gritty voice. ‘You can arrest me if you want.’
The prime minister was also plotting to dethrone and kill the king. Supratik didn’t disclose that to Madalasa, only told her that the king will decide her fate when he will be back to Ujjain. ‘Till then you are free.’
Supratik boarded on his horse. ‘I am proceeding to the battle-ground now to join our king. Wish me luck!’ He said to Madalasa.
They waved at each other.
Night thickened as they distanced.
King Skanda came back to Ujjain after defeating the Hunas once more. However, we didn't come to know anything of Madalasa and Supratik after his return.
History is still silent about that.

© 2021 SUGATA M


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You’re writing this like a report, of the form, “This happened…then that happened…and after that…” And you’re using way too many words—explaining as an external observer in far more detail than needed.

That’s a nonfiction technique and can’t work for fiction. Nonfiction’s goal is to inform—which is an informational goal. Fiction's, though, as E. L. Doctorow expressed it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” That’s an emotional goal, and requires an entirely different presentation methodology. Instead of a narrator whose performance can neither be seen nor heard, fiction places the reader into the persona of the protagonist, in the moment that character calls now.

So...you begin with:

• “Supratik, Chief of Police and Internal Security at Ujjain, walked rapidly up to the riverside, just as the body was being fished out.”

But, do you have to TELL the reader his full title, at this point? When he walks up to the people and a policeman replies, “Yes, chief,” or “Good morning chief,” won’t we know without the necessity of you being on stage as yourself? Couldn’t you just call him, Chief Supratik? Anything more is irrelevant to the action in the opening of the scene.

Do we need to know how quickly he walked? That’s visual detail and the reader can’t see him. Would it really matter if he limped, or hopped there? No. But...every unnecessary word you use costs reading time, and the faster the read the more impact the action has.

In his viewpoint, what matters is that a body is being pulled out. And what matters to him matters to the reader. So in his viewpoint it might more like: “As Chief Supratik approached the riverbank, a body was just being pulled from the water.

Fifteen words on what matters to him in the moment, as against twenty-three of generic overview explanation from you.

• The officer supervising the operation turned around and saluted his commander immediately.

Why to we need to know the man’s job? Don’t we assume that one who makes a report to him is the one qualified to do that? And must you tell the reader that the man who saluted did so immediately, AFTER he did it? Do we really care if it was instant or slow if he chief doesn’t see a problem? It is his story, after all.

• ‘Bring the body out.’ Supratik instructed to his subordinate.

So...a man saluted. Our protagonist gives an order, and you have to tell the reader who he was talking to? Seriously? 😆 You can probably cut the number of words in the piece by 10%, or more, without changing anything…and must.

But of greater importance, he arrives AS the body is being fished out, and sees that, then asks that the body be brought out? Out of where? You never had them do anything but pull it from the water. That error happened because you’re using an outside-in approach, where you tell the reader what you want to happen next, and the actors dutifully follow orders, without question.

But had you been using the inside-out approach, where you were placing the reader into the scene in the protagonist's viewpoint, they, along with the chief, would have watched what was done with the body and would know where it is. Of more impotence, you would know, and never force him to make a statement that doesn't track. Place yourself into the viewpoint of the protagonist as you write and he would have said, "No, wait...they still have the body lying on the riverbank." Writing is more fun with the protagonist whispering suggestions and warnings in our ear.

The problem isn’t one of writing talent, how well, you’re writing, or, even the story. It’s that like every other hopeful writer, you own only the writing skills and techniques you were given in school. And because of the hundreds of reports and essays we wrote while perfecting our nonfiction skills, whatever you write using them will, of necessity, read like a report—as this story does. And, since that’s fixable, I thought you’d want to know.

The thing we forget is that professions, and Fiction-Writing is a profession, are acquired IN ADDITION to the set of general skills we’re given in school. So we leave school not knowing that we’re exactly as prepare to write fiction—or any of the writing professions—as well as to successfully remove an appendix. And when it's time to write our stories we, of course, use what we know.

The solution? You could spend four years at the university getting a degree in commercial Fiction-Writing, if you have four years to spare. There are also seminars, workshops, retreats, writing and critiquing clubs, and, of course, the library’s fiction-writing section. That last one I where I suggest you begin. You can proceed at your own pace, work when you have the time free, and have access to the views of pros in writing, teaching, and, publishing.

As luck would have it, a site recently began providing free downloads of the best book on the techniques of fiction I've found to date, free. And free is good, so before they change their minds, copy/paste the address below this paragraph into the URL window at the top of any Internet window, and hit Return.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

And, if you want a kind of overview of the issues, you might check a few of the articles in my WordPress writing blog, linked to at the bottom.

So dig in. And as you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

Posted 3 Years Ago


I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don’t know what to say except that I have enjoyed https://sites.google.com/view/topessaywritingservices reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.I’ll use this information for my essays

Posted 3 Years Ago


I submitted a story after 3 years to this group. It is a murder mystery of the ancient India. Hope you will enjoy it.

Posted 3 Years Ago



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Added on February 20, 2021
Last Updated on February 20, 2021

Author

SUGATA M
SUGATA M

New Delhi, South Asia, India



About
Moody, creative, romantic man loves intelligent and witty women and friendly men, adores simplicity and abominates double standard more..

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