Beyond Reasonable Doubt

By Ranjit Mishra

When Salman Curtis set foot on the steamer bound from London to Calcutta, he had no inkling of the adventures that awaited him as an Anglo-Indian police officer. His postings take him from sleepy villages to bustling towns, from panchayats to court rooms, from investigating petty crimes to heart-wrenching murders and dacoity. This book describes some of the most horrifying crimes he becomes a witness to, charting in detail the investigative techniques that led them to find the culprit.

Unfolding the life and times of late 19th century India, Beyond Reasonable Doubt is a well-researched compendium of investigations undertaken under the British Raj, that laid the foundation for many
crime-solving techniques used till date.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Srishti Publishers
• Release date: Nov 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9789390441723

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgement

Preface

Introduction

1. Gaurang’s Revenge

2. The Confession

3. Neighbour’s Envy

4. The Compromise

5. The Murder of the Watchdog

6. Baalu’s Tragedy

7. The Sacrifice of a Child

8. The Mystery of the Plough

9. Samba – A Dog Tragedy

10. A False Scent

11. The Murder of a Mahant

12. Running Amuck

Glossary

List of Acronyms

Acknowledgement

First and foremost, I would like to thank every police personnel I have ever worked with during my fourteen years of service in the Indian police – right from the instructors at Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel National Police Academy, Hyderabad to those in various districts of Bihar. They have taught me about the finer nuances of criminal investigation and also that investigating a crime is an art. It cannot be understood by reading a report; it has to be practised and perfected.

I would also like to thank the various lawyers and judges with whom I have interacted in professional capacity. The experience with them may have been good or bad, but the teachings were always invaluable.

Thanks to J.D.B. Gribble for his master work Outlines of Medical Jurisprudence for Indian Criminal Courts, which is like an encyclopaedia of forensic examination of criminal cases. Though more than 140 years old, this work has been my constant companion in the last seven years.

I also acknowledge the sources of stories in my book which have been inspired by real crime cases given in A Digest of Indian Law Cases: Containing High Court Reports, 1862-1900, by Joseph Vere Woodman, India Calcutta High court, India High Court (Calcutta, India), Emile Henry Monnier, Great Britain Privy Council, Judicial Committee; The Digest Of Criminal Cases Vol XI, (1914), Calcutta High Court; and The Trial of Criminal Cases in India, by A. Sabonadiere (1926).

Heartfelt thanks to everyone in my publishing team, without whom this book would not have been possible. Special gratitude to my editor Stuti, who painstakingly read through the manuscript and shaped it to its best version. My sincere thanks to my publisher Arup Bose for being a friend and a guide all through the journey for this book to see the light of day.

And above all, I would like to thank my wife Prachi Pallavi for her love and constant support, for all the late nights and early mornings, and for keeping me sane, not only for this book but through my entire police life. Thank you for being my best friend and for our two wonderful kids, Devanshi and Aakarsh, who mean the world to me. I owe you everything.

Preface

Beyond Reasonable Doubt: Mysteries from the Raj is a compendium of gruesome crimes from the British period in India that are captured from the eyes of Salman Curtis, an Anglo-Indian who has been appointed in the police forces in Calcutta. As he takes a leap of faith and travels from the suburbs of London to India, the country where he was born, he participates in a series of investigations that challenge his perception and broaden his understanding of legal machinery.

Salman learns a lot as he goes from one posting to the other, and documents the cases in his journal.

The cases in this volume, with certain exceptions, have been either investigated by him or narrated to him. They are chosen as types and illustrations rather than as eccentricities and abnormalities. These are all actual reported cases from the court records of the period. Some of these cases and proceedings still form the basis of current-day investigations. Changes have been made only to make these cases more comprehensible for those not having a legal background. Anyone who is directly or indirectly associated with criminal cases in present day India will certainly appreciate that most of the cases in this volume are not very dissimilar to those being reported in criminal courts even to this day, particularly in the rural areas.

It is noteworthy that a very large proportion of cases of violence arise out of hot blood, ungovernable temper and the natural inclination of many in rural areas, who are generally miles away from the nearest police station, to take the law into their own hands and to fight it out on the spot. No magistrate or judge knows anything about the antecedents of those who are brought before him, or of their life and character, unless a previous conviction stands against someone.

Snakebite and fever are believed to cloak many deaths from poisoning, and from other causes, which are never heard of by the authorities. Many cases of false charges, of wilful perjury, and of subornation of perjury pass unpunished. Few tribunals intervene with much frequency with a view of punishing the perjury which is rife in all courts.

The objective of this book is not merely to interest the students of criminology or to illustrate the difficulties of police investigation, and of the whole course of criminal administration in India, but to try to throw some light upon the life and mentality of the ordinary people.

Lord Haldane developed the view that if law in its full significance is to be appreciated, larger conceptions than those of the mere lawyer are essential.

In modern terminology, we call this the ‘public opinion’. If one were to go strictly by the rules of law, if the evidence of the principal witness for the prosecution breaks down, the case as a rule, breaks down with him. If one were to be guided by such circumstances, it would be difficult to convict in many clear cases. The simplest and most straightforward cases are constantly tainted with palpably untrue statements and inconsistencies. Where affirmative evidence is called for the defence, usually in support of the popular alibi, the matter is worse. In a word, the court is often driven to construct a new story for itself by piecing together what is acceptable, and to find facts establishing a case which differs fundamentally from either that of the prosecution or that of the defence.

Moreover, making false charges is a hobby for many in rural areas. They think that their best chance of damaging their enemies is to bring them to court. To these men, the ties of blood and caste, and the attractions of getting more money prevail over justice. They hold it no sin to give false information or to perjure themselves for the defence if a caste-fellow is accused.

A man once took a small boy out into the jungle and left him dead. Then, he returned home with the bangles the boy had been wearing. The boy, however, recovered consciousness and was able to describe and name his assailant. The police was not satisfied and, in turn, put up two witnesses to say they heard the boy scream and saw the accused escaping. But, they both made a bad mistake about the time. The accused was able to call convincing evidence of his presence in another town when two apparently respectable witnesses had seen someone attacking the boy several miles away. So, a really clear case was ruined by ‘police padding’, as it is called.

There is a well-known and authentic story, which is worth repeating. A complicated report of cattle-trespass was made to a young European magistrate to initiate criminal proceedings. The conscientious young man visited the village to have a view. He found that one side had no cattle, and the other had no land!

More serious are the astounding forgeries of birth registers, deeds and other documents, in cases involving property. But this form of crime is more of a local industry, with its schools and apprentices and wholesale dealers found mostly in urban or semi- urban areas.

An old Persian proverb, memorised in the vernacular by alliteration, attributes crime to three sources – land, woman and gold. Anyone with experience in dealing with crime may classify them broadly under seven heads:

1. Dacoity or robbery with violence – Often accompanied with rape by armed bands at night who are raiding helpless villagers.

2. Agricultural battles – Waged in hot blood, generally over disputes about irrigation, and cattle trespass.

3. Communal riots

4. Village vendettas

5. Mysterious murders – Arising out of cold-blooded conspiracies and ambushes, in which well-to-do people are often involved for various reasons and which are extremely difficult to unravel.

6. Child murders – For the cheap jewellery which parents insist on putting on their children; or committed by hysterical mothers who, after a domestic quarrel, will jump down a well with a baby in arms, intending suicide, but more often killing the child and saving themselves.

7. Poisoning – Generally for the sake of an inheritance, or for some petty theft.

The trials of cases in court and the various stages of the police investigation are of extraordinary interest, as the readers will appreciate from the stories which follow.

Introduction

Salman Curtis, sitting in his dimly-lit office room, could no longer concentrate on the brown pages of the ledger in front of him. He had just received a telegram which said, Appointed in Police – start at once.

Even a dozen more words to this message could not have made it more meaningful for him. For the last two years, since leaving school, he had pestered every relative and friend he had in India to find him some employment there. Sitting in the dingy rooms in London suburbs, he had been brooding on his hard fate that was brought on due to lack of funds. He could have chosen a life in a city office or that of a soldier, but he always wanted to go back to India, the country where he was born. His mother was an Indian who had died of jungle fever when he was three and his father had soon returned to England as a sick and heart-broken retired army major.

Salman was never fully accepted by his father’s relatives. After his father’s death, he was almost alone. One of his school teachers had obtained for him a so-called cadet-ship in an Austrian Cavalry Regiment, but he really wanted to go to India. The telegram he had received was from a distant cousin, eleven years senior to him, who was an influential officer in Calcutta, in whose house he knew he would be welcome. In those days, a police job in India could only be obtained by nomination, as there was no provision of any examination, qualifying or competitive.

With the telegram in his pocket, Salman set out for the head office of the firm where he had been working for the last eight months. Requesting an interview with his employer, he tendered his resignation. He then, went to his family bankers and showing them the telegram, requested some advance money necessary for his passage and outfit. They readily advanced a loan with a cheque book as to draw on them up to £150. To someone whose annual income had hitherto amounted to less than £40, this seemed a princely fortune. Spending £68 for a berth in upper class cabin of a decent enough steamer to Calcutta, and £40 at an East India outfitter for suitable clothes, he still had enough to survive in India for the next three months, or so he thought.

Salman had nobody to bid adieu to in London, nor did he have many friends. Six days after he received that telegram, he was a part of the crowd on the deck of the steamer en route to Calcutta.

The days of the voyage passed quickly and on one hot, steamy June morning, Salman found his steamer proceeding slowly up the Hooghly to Garden-Reach, where the usual crowd of passengers’ relatives and friends, agents, touts and peons, had gathered to greet the new vessel from England. In this crowd stood a tall young man, dressed in blue and gold, who – having discovered Salman by some mysterious means – came up and after customary salaam, enquired in broken English if he was Kartis Sahib.

Salman replied that he was. He then, handed Salman a letter which was from his cousin, telling him to put himself in the hands of the bearer, Golan Ali. Soon, Salman was on his way to his cousin’s house on a ticca gadi – the four-wheeler of Calcutta in those days.

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Salman stayed with his cousin at Calcutta for a few weeks and then, had to report to Bhaggulpore (present day Bhagalpur in Bihar) to join as an apprentice. He boarded the first available train at Howrah and by next evening, landed at Bhaggulpore railway station.

A dak gadi (literally, mail-carriage) to which two ponies were attached, was drawn up outside the station. Seated on the driver’s seat was a long-haired, weird-looking individual who, upon seeing Salman approach, jumped off his perch and with a profound salaam, handed him a crumpled note. It was an invitation from the district police chief to come straight to his house and put up there till he could find one for himself. Thrown from side to side and expecting every moment to be capsized, Salman survived the forty-five-minute ride on dak gadi to the bungalow of the Superintendent of Police.

The next morning, Salman was up by dawn. Chota-Hazri with his hospitable senior, accompanied him to the parade ground to attend the morning drill. As he approached, Salman saw a large body of men who were armed with carbines and bayonets. Clad in the picturesque blue and red uniform of the force, they presented a very smart and soldier-like appearance. In addition, there were half-a-dozen squads of recruits in various stages of ignorance and inefficiency.

Suddenly the parade drill instructor gave a war cry of Billing sthopgiringgrong and Comenshelaf pot. These were words Salman had never encountered. Then, he remembered his cousin telling him that, for the uninitiated, parade ground language is apt to be obscure at times. He asked no questions. But, the Superintendent noticed his bewilderment and explained that drill instructors, often being illiterate men, learnt their drill by rote. And, the strange words

Salman had just heard were intended to represent Balance step gaining ground and Commence left foot.

After an hour spent on the parade ground, they returned home to a tub and breakfast. At 12:00 p.m., the duo drove to the police office, where Salman was duly initiated into the intricacies of police work. Having little knowledge of the local language and the official routine, he sat lost in amazement at the mass of vernacular papers placed before his chief and the rapidity with which he disposed them. At 5:00 p.m., the two knocked off work and went home. Then, hastily swallowing some tea and toast, they proceeded to the Judge’s house where they played tennis and billiards.

This remained Salman’s daily life for the next six months, except an hour or so each day with the moonshee, or the language instructor.



The next few months went by uneventfully. He passed his examination and was beginning to be of some assistance to his chief when one morning, he received orders from headquarters, posting him to the charge of a sub-district force many miles away.

Salman decided to leave the next morning, and as the place to which he was appointed was not connected by any railway line, his only means of reaching there was by palki dak, a slow and unpleasant mode of transportation. Journeys by palki or palanquin were only preferred at night. So, he started late in the evening. A palki of a superior quality was specially borrowed for his use. The interior comprises a small but comfortable bed that looked inviting enough. The clean white sheets and pillows suggested ease and comfort. But appearances could be deceptive, as Salman would learn soon. After the customary farewell, he managed to crawl into the little box. The bearers put their shoulders to the pole and gave one mighty heave. The palki swayed from side to side and then, they were off.

For the next five miles, the discomfort Salman endured baffled all description. The quick, jerky motion of the palki, the weary chant of the bearers as they shuffled along at a pace that was neither walk nor run. The dust kicked up by their feet increased the stifling heat. But worse were the fumes from the mashal - a primitive sort of torch composed of filthy rags bound a round a bamboo stick.

Salman had barely managed to sleep when he was awakened by a violent bump. He found the palki on the ground with all the bearers congregated around it, shouting loudly and evidently more excited. After some time, he was informed that a tiger had just crossed the road in front of them. As the road at that point was a mere clearing through a dense jungle, it was quite possible that some wild animal had crossed it, though he was inclined to doubt the fact. The men, however, seemed so panic-stricken that to give them confidence, Salman fired a shot with his revolver in the direction where they said the beast had gone.

But this did not boost the morale of the bearers. There were still strange sounds so finally, it was decided to spend the night there, and move on only after day broke. The night passed without further adventure and shortly after sunrise, they reached the rest house, where they relaxed for the day. The second night’s journey was through cultivated area. Finally, on the third day, they reached their destination. The only other European in the place was the assistant magistrate, Barclay, whose house Salman was to share. The two soon developed a bond and eventually, Salman eased into his life as a police officer in India.



A few days later, one fine afternoon, Salman decided to pay an unannounced visit to one of the police stations within his jurisdiction. As soon as he reached the police station, a middle- aged man came in and reported that his brother had been brutally assaulted by three people whom he subsequently named. The scene of the crime was only some five miles away, and although the man had been attacked the previous night, it was now late in the afternoon. It so happened that the officer-in-charge of the police station was out on duty as a minister was visiting his police station limits. Salman, the young Assistant Superintendent of Police realized that this was a one of a kind opportunity to investigate a case by himself.

He told the head constable clerk at the police station to record the man’s statement in the First Information Book, or the general diary, as is required by law and the orders of the government. The clerk very nervously replied that it would be unwise to do that as the story was probably concocted. The SHO would have visited the scene of the murder to find out the facts before committing anything to paper.

Salman realized that the clerk was acting in good faith, seeking to circumvent the difficulties which distrust had placed in the way of the police. He questioned the middle-aged man very closely and found that he stuck to his story very rigidly. He could not but agree with the clerk that it was probably a concocted story, and that the delay in making the report lent credibility to this suspicion.

The man said that he and his three cousins were sleeping at a hut in their fields with the injured man, when they were awakened by a noise. They saw the accused striking him with axes. His head was cut open and he could not be alive.

Salman had his statement recorded at the police station and left for the scene of crime. When he arrived, he found over a dozen people sitting at the hut, waiting for the police to come. The injured man had been taken to the hospital. The three cousins – one of them a girl - corroborated the complainant in exact detail word for word. This level of accuracy heightened the suspicion.

The bed on which the injured man named Janu had been sleeping in the hut was