Six Suspects Read Online Free Page A

higher and higher towards the ceiling in a synchronized
gravity-defying supernatural duet. There are gasps of disbelief
from the assembly.
    Mohan Kumar feels a prickling sensation in his palms.
'Invisible wires, hooked to the ceiling,' he opines, but his voice
lacks conviction. Rita simply gapes.
    As suddenly as it had begun, the spinning wheel abruptly
grinds to a halt. The walking stick falls down with a clatter. The
spectacles hit the floor and shatter.
    There is a long pause, and for a moment Mohan thinks the
Baba has gone to sleep. Then his body begins to shudder uncontrollably
as though in the grip of a violent fever.
    'Oh God, I can't see this,' Rita wails. At that very moment
comes the sound of a voice unlike anything Mohan Kumar has
heard before.
    'I wish to tender my humble apology for the long delay in
reaching this place,' the voice says. 'And you will readily accept
the apology when I tell you that I am not responsible for the delay
nor is any human agency responsible for it.'
    The voice is grating yet oddly affecting, clear, resonant and so
androgynous that it is impossible to tell whether it belongs to a
man or a woman. It comes from the lips of Aghori Baba yet does
not appear to be his.
    A deathly silence falls over the audience. They feel themselves
to be in the presence of a superior force, one they can neither see
nor fully comprehend.
    'Do not regard me as an animal on show. I am one of you. And
today I want to talk to you about injustice. Yes, injustice,' the voice
continues. 'I have always said that Non-violence and Truth are like
my two lungs. But Non-violence should never be used as a shield
for cowardice. It is a weapon of the brave. And when the forces of
injustice and oppression begin to prevail, it is the duty of the brave
to—'
    Before the sentence can be completed, the rear door of the
auditorium bursts open and a bearded man wearing loose white kurta pyjamas storms into the hall. His long black hair is in
disarray and his eyes shine with unnatural brightness. He
rushes towards the stage, chased by a couple of policemen wielding
sticks. Aghori Baba turns silent in the face of this sudden
intrusion.
    'This is a perversion!' the bearded man cries as he reaches the
edge of the stage, standing directly in front of Mohan Kumar.
'How dare you dishonour the memory of Bapu through this
commercial spectacle? Bapu is our legacy. You are making him
into a brand of toothpaste and shampoo,' he shouts angrily at
Aghori Baba.
    'Please calm down, Sir. Do not get agitated,' Veer Bedi
materializes on stage like a magician's rabbit. 'We'll take a quick
commercial break while we deal with this situation,' he
announces, to no one in particular.
    The protestor takes no notice of him. He inserts a hand inside
his kurta and produces a black revolver. Gripping it tightly, he
points it at Aghori Baba. Veer Bedi swallows hard and hastily
retreats into the wings. The policemen appear to be immobilized.
The audience is in a stupor.
    'You are worse than Nathuram Godse,' the bearded man says
to Aghori Baba, whose eyes are still closed, though his chest is
heaving up and down in a sign of laboured breathing. 'Godse
merely killed Bapu's body. But you are desecrating his soul.'
Without further ado, he pumps three bullets into the sadhu .
    The sound of gunfire crashes through the hall like a giant
wave. There is yet another burst of light on the stage and Aghori
Baba's head slumps down on his chest, his saffron kurta turning
crimson.
    Pandemonium erupts in the auditorium. Screams cascade down
the aisles as people rush frantically towards the exit. 'Help, Mohan!'
Rita shrills as she is pushed off her seat by the jostling mob behind
her. She tries valiantly to retrieve her handbag, but is sucked into the
crowd which surges like an angry river towards the door.
    Mohan Kumar, still sitting in his chair feeling dazed and lost,
senses something graze his face. It is soft, like a ball of cotton, yet
slimy, like the underside of a snake.