If I find my son’s killers, I’ll kill them

[1]

I have said everything that I could possibly say. There’s nothing else left.
My son was everything to me. He was something to a lot of people. Ask around, you will find so many people who he had helped, all of who will know him as a gentle, quiet person who never harmed anyone.
I didn’t know when Jyoti first started reporting on crime. But ever since I found out he was a crime reporter, I was both proud and afraid. Here was my son, doing something dangerous, but also working towards helping the society in his own way, helping the policemen put the criminals away.
But I was never too worried, because he was always in touch with me, wherever he would go. Jyoti was a workaholic and all of us knew that, but even when he would be under pressure at work, he would not share that stress with us. And if we ever told him that we were worried about him doing something too dangerous, Jyoti would always smile and say, “Don’t worry, whatever must happen will happen. Till then, I’ll be fine.”
Then one day, he told me that he would finally come home to me and stop running around on the streets. He said he had too many things to do, and one day, he would start doing them all from home. He was even planning to work on writing for a movie. I was so happy that day.
My son was a very kind and considerate man, and not just to his family. One day, he found a pigeon outside our house; I think it was not well and needed food. He started feeding it and it sort of became his pet. Just like this, he was kind to everyone he knew. Once, my daughter Lina hurt her feet and couldn’t walk home. Jyoti actually picked her up in his arms and carried her home!
He was one of the most upright men. I have seen a lot in my lifetime, and I know what crooks people are, but my Jyoti was the bravest and the most honest among everyone around him. He never stepped on anyone’s toes. Duniyate o karur konodin khoti koreni (he never hurt anyone in the world). That is why I can’t figure out why anyone would want to hurt him.
I suppose we had all grown used to Jyoti’s job. We stopped fearing the worst. How could I have known he would be taken from me?
It was raining that morning. Jyoti had bought a windcheater some time ago, and was wearing it for the first time. I remember how tall and handsome my son looked as he went out. A little later, someone called for him, and I told him he had left.
That day, Jyoti even called to tell me that he was on his way home. And then, someone told me he was hurt. At first, I thought he may have had some accident on his motorcycle. But I never ever thought that someone could have actually killed him.
I know it was all that man Asrani’s (Vinod Chembur, alleged Chhota Rajan aide, who had been arrested by the police for the murder of Jyotirmoy Dey) fault. Oi kuttar jonno amar chhele aj aar amar kachhe nei (I don’t have my son anymore because of that dog). The police told me he was present at that bar when Jyoti was there for some story, and that man pointed out my son to the killers. We knew nothing, of course.
What will happen to us now? The police say the murderers will be caught, his friends keep checking on us, but who will replace my son? Can anyone give my Jyoti back to me? Even now, without knowing it myself, I still wait for him in the night, still strain my ears to catch the sound of his motorcycle as he comes home. Only later do I realise that my son will never come back to me.
Afterwards, there were so many people spreading terrible rumours about my son, about his going abroad, maybe accepting a bribe. They don’t know that my son was a simple man. He was ambitious, but a simple man at the end of the day, and never compromised on his integrity. The police then asked me about these rumours. They just aren’t true, I kept telling them.
Ja bolar shob police ke bole diyechhi (I have told the police everything I could). They told me they had caught all the four men who attacked him. They told me Asrani was the man who masterminded his murder. They also told me he was arrested and is in jail. But even then, it isn’t enough. Nothing can ever be enough.
We are not bigshots — we are humble, poor people, who had someone like Jyoti with us. But God save that Asrani fellow if he ever comes in front of me. I shall kill him, if I ever get my hands on him, I’ll tear him apart myself.