One couldn't help feeling a certain melancholy viewing these now vagrant documents and photographs that would never be rightfully cherished. The pictures spoke to you. They offered slices of extinguished lives. They breathed sadness too, for what could have been and will never be. The sweet promises that Life made and insolently, arrogantly never kept.
The question being silently telegraphed around the court room was: When did this happen? Wasn't this trial about Indrani murdering her daughter to prevent her from marrying Rahul Mukerjea, her husband Peter Mukerjea's son from his first marriage?
Investigators in the sensational Sheena Bora murder case are not ruling out the "honour killing" angle after it came to light that both Peter Mukherjea and main accused Indrani allegedly disapproved of the "relationship" between his son Rahul and the victim.
'That winsome smile is a key asset. And says a lot about her too.'
Badami asked Das if Indrani was in the room. Das, whipping out his hand and pointing it at Indrani, announced: "Yes, she is right there." Indrani, who was looking down, through most of the hearing, momentarily raised her eyes, just a fraction and glanced at him. That was the first time either of them looked at each other. Till then, and later, Das refused to look at her, as if he was not able to, either out of anger or revulsion. It seemed mutual. Indrani too pretended throughout like he did not exist.
Accused No 1 announced that there had been a change in the circumstances of her health condition. She produced a thick 19-page document, written in her neat, very feminine handwriting, detailing her condition, its symptoms and the consequences it could have on her health and well-being.
Finally to end the dispute, Sharma threatened to show her shoes. Pasbola declared regally that he would like to forgo that particular honour. Sharma ignored him. Instead, she bent down, took off her shoe and triumphantly held her prize aloft, and said delightedly, "Yeh dekhiye! (Have a look!)"
Pasbola wound up his cross examination, tabling a new narrative in the murder case. That Sheena Bora had been murdered not by her mother. But by her brother.
Throughout, Mekhail spoke calmly, with hardly an inflection making even the barest attempt to hijack his tone. His tone was so empty it made his narrative all the more touching. And ugly and grey, as the monsoon sky beyond the window.
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