hijras themselves were homosexually oriented, why would they emasculate themselves? It seemed probable to the doctor that, although there were many customers in the hijra brothels who were homosexuals, not every customer went there for anal intercourse. Whatever one thought or said about hijras, they
were
a third gender — they were simply (or not so simply) another sex. What was also true was that, in Bombay, fewer and fewer hijras were able to support themselves by conferring blessings or by begging; more and more of them were becoming prostitutes.
But why had Farrokh chosen a hijra to be the serial killer and cartoonist in the most recent Inspector Dhar movie? Now that a real killer was imitating the behavior of the fictional character – the police would say only that the real killer’s drawing was ‘an obvious variation on the movie theme’ – Dr Daruwalla had
really
gotten Inspector Dhar in trouble. This particular film had inspired something worse than hatred, for the hijra prostitutes not only approved of killing Dhar — they wanted to maim him first.
They want to cut off your cock and balls, dear boy,’ Farrokh had warned his favorite young man. ‘You must be careful how you get around town!’
With a sarcasm that was consistent with his famous role, Dhar had replied in his most deadpan manner: ‘You’re telling me.’ (It was something he said at least once in all his movies.)
In contrast to the lurid agitation caused by the most recent Inspector Dhar movie, the appearance of a real policeman among the proper Duckworthians seemed dull. Surely the hijra prostitutes hadn’t murdered Mr Lai! There’d been no indication that the body had been sexually mutilated, nor was there a possibility that even a demented hijra could have mistaken the old man for Inspector Dhar. Dhar never played golf.
A Real Detective at Work
Detective Patel, as Dr Daruwalla had guessed, was a deputy commissioner of police — D.C.P. Patel, officially. The detective was from Crime Branch Headquarters at Crawford Market –
not
from the nearby Tardeo Police Station, as Farrokh had also correctly surmised – because certain evidence, discovered during the examination of Mr Lai’s body, had elevated the old golfer’s death to a category of interest that was special to the deputy commissioner.
What such a category of interest could be wasn’t immediately clear to Dr Daruwalla or to Inspector Dhar, nor was Deputy Commissioner Patel inclined to clarify the matter promptly.
‘You must forgive me, Doctor — please do excuse me, Mr Dhar,’ the detective said; he was in his forties, a pleasant-looking man whose formerly delicate, sharp-boned face had slightly given way to his jowls. His alert eyes and the deliberate cadence of the deputy commissioner’s speech indicated that he was a careful man. ‘Which one of you was the very first to find the body?’ the detective asked.
Dr Daruwalla could rarely resist making a joke. ‘I believe the very first to find the body was a vulture,’ the doctor said.
‘Oh, quite so!’ said the deputy commissioner, smiling tolerantly. Then Detective Patel sat down, uninvited, at their table – in the chair nearer Inspector Dhar. ‘
After
the vultures,’ the policeman said to the actor, ‘I believe
you
were the next to find the body.’
‘I didn’t move it or even touch it,’ Dhar said, anticipating the question; it was a question
he
usually asked – in his movies.
‘Oh, very good, thank you,’ said D.C.P. Patel, turning –his attention to Dr Daruwalla. ‘And you, most naturally, examined the body, Doctor?’ he asked.
‘I most naturally did
not
examine it,’ Dr Daruwalla replied. ‘I’m an orthopedist, not a pathologist. I merely observed that Mr Lai was dead.’
‘Oh, quite so!’ Patel said. ‘But did you give any thought to the cause of death?’
‘Golf,’ said Dr Daruwalla; he’d never played the game but he detested it at a distance. Dhar smiled. ‘In Mr
were
a third gender — they were simply (or not so simply) another sex. What was also true was that, in Bombay, fewer and fewer hijras were able to support themselves by conferring blessings or by begging; more and more of them were becoming prostitutes.
But why had Farrokh chosen a hijra to be the serial killer and cartoonist in the most recent Inspector Dhar movie? Now that a real killer was imitating the behavior of the fictional character – the police would say only that the real killer’s drawing was ‘an obvious variation on the movie theme’ – Dr Daruwalla had
really
gotten Inspector Dhar in trouble. This particular film had inspired something worse than hatred, for the hijra prostitutes not only approved of killing Dhar — they wanted to maim him first.
They want to cut off your cock and balls, dear boy,’ Farrokh had warned his favorite young man. ‘You must be careful how you get around town!’
With a sarcasm that was consistent with his famous role, Dhar had replied in his most deadpan manner: ‘You’re telling me.’ (It was something he said at least once in all his movies.)
In contrast to the lurid agitation caused by the most recent Inspector Dhar movie, the appearance of a real policeman among the proper Duckworthians seemed dull. Surely the hijra prostitutes hadn’t murdered Mr Lai! There’d been no indication that the body had been sexually mutilated, nor was there a possibility that even a demented hijra could have mistaken the old man for Inspector Dhar. Dhar never played golf.
A Real Detective at Work
Detective Patel, as Dr Daruwalla had guessed, was a deputy commissioner of police — D.C.P. Patel, officially. The detective was from Crime Branch Headquarters at Crawford Market –
not
from the nearby Tardeo Police Station, as Farrokh had also correctly surmised – because certain evidence, discovered during the examination of Mr Lai’s body, had elevated the old golfer’s death to a category of interest that was special to the deputy commissioner.
What such a category of interest could be wasn’t immediately clear to Dr Daruwalla or to Inspector Dhar, nor was Deputy Commissioner Patel inclined to clarify the matter promptly.
‘You must forgive me, Doctor — please do excuse me, Mr Dhar,’ the detective said; he was in his forties, a pleasant-looking man whose formerly delicate, sharp-boned face had slightly given way to his jowls. His alert eyes and the deliberate cadence of the deputy commissioner’s speech indicated that he was a careful man. ‘Which one of you was the very first to find the body?’ the detective asked.
Dr Daruwalla could rarely resist making a joke. ‘I believe the very first to find the body was a vulture,’ the doctor said.
‘Oh, quite so!’ said the deputy commissioner, smiling tolerantly. Then Detective Patel sat down, uninvited, at their table – in the chair nearer Inspector Dhar. ‘
After
the vultures,’ the policeman said to the actor, ‘I believe
you
were the next to find the body.’
‘I didn’t move it or even touch it,’ Dhar said, anticipating the question; it was a question
he
usually asked – in his movies.
‘Oh, very good, thank you,’ said D.C.P. Patel, turning –his attention to Dr Daruwalla. ‘And you, most naturally, examined the body, Doctor?’ he asked.
‘I most naturally did
not
examine it,’ Dr Daruwalla replied. ‘I’m an orthopedist, not a pathologist. I merely observed that Mr Lai was dead.’
‘Oh, quite so!’ Patel said. ‘But did you give any thought to the cause of death?’
‘Golf,’ said Dr Daruwalla; he’d never played the game but he detested it at a distance. Dhar smiled. ‘In Mr
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