Crime and Punishment

 

                                       Crime and Punishment

I am sitting in Chandrakala’s house. A spacious room, I sit on a sofa. Opposite me, on another sofa, sits Chandrakala. Between us, a table. In my hand, a revolver. I have taken money from her husband to kill her.

Why are my hands, holding the revolver, trembling like this? Is it her beauty that unsettles me?

I must describe Chandrakala’s beauty. An oval-shaped face. Eyes spread wide like a lotus. A sharp nose. Spotless fair skin. Lips curved like a bow. Removing one’s eyes from the petal-like earlobes that adorned her was not easy. Her lips, rosy like a rose and sculpted like a masterpiece, were a wonder. It’s hard to believe she is 30 years old and a mother of two.

Yet, it is not her beauty that unsettles me. It is the way she confronts me. I have killed many with this revolver before. In their dying moments, I have often seen fear, guilt, and memories of all their sins flashing before their eyes, pleading silently for forgiveness.

But in Chandrakala’s eyes, I saw none of it. The indifference with which she treated the revolver, as if it were a toy, gave my hands this tremor.

“Is the punishment you’re about to give me truly fitting for my crime?”

Generally, beautiful women don’t have sweet voices. She is an exception. To calm my shaking, I decided to talk to her.

“Your husband sent me. I only heard his side. Tell me your side. Then I’ll decide.”

“I understand. You lack the courage to kill me. You want to hear me speak just to reassure yourself.”

I placed the revolver on the table and started listening to her story.

“I was born in Thiruvananthapuram. My family has a political background. My grandfather was once a central minister. My father has been an MLA in the same constituency for twenty years. I am an only daughter, loved by all. I was always respectful and caring towards elders. I would help old people cross the street. I personally gave my grandfather his daily medications.

Yet, even back then, there must have been a corner of cruelty in me. I would trap colorful insects in a box, cut off their legs and body parts, and derive a strange thrill from watching their twitching. Besides this, I had no other flaws.

At 22, I married Karthik, the son of a wealthy businessman. Our life was joyful. Within two years, I gave birth to twin daughters. Then, Karthik began to change. One day, he brought Meenaloshini home and ordered me to take care of her. They laughed and chatted for hours. This continued for many days. One day, when my children were crying uncontrollably, despite my efforts, Meenaloshini carried them. The children immediately stopped crying and even played with her. She then gave me a condescending look. That day, the seeds of murder were sown. Not against her. Not against my husband. But against my children.

One day, when no one was home, I started cutting my children, beginning with their tiny fingers. Their screams, their pain — it gave me ecstasy.

After disposing of their bodies, I disappeared. The police caught me. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court, but my father’s political influence got me acquitted.”

After she finished, I instinctively reached for the revolver. My hands trembled more than before.

To hide the tremor, I continued the conversation.

“You are very beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“It’s hard to believe such a beautiful woman could do such a monstrous act.”

“Beauty is a great armor, isn’t it? Just like being an intelligent man. Society never suspects the filth hidden deep inside a beautiful woman or an intelligent man. People imagine that beauty and intelligence never commit evil. But tell me, what punishment will you give this beautiful woman?”

“Your husband said you must die with ten bullets piercing your forehead, writhing in agony.”

“That is not the right punishment. Who are you? How did you even get in touch with my husband?”

I placed the revolver back on the table and started telling her my story.

“I had a beautiful family — Vidya, Sujith, and I. I worked as a police inspector. Eight years into our marriage, last year, I started having health issues. Continuous cough and bloody sputum for a month. On August 2nd — a date I cannot forget — the doctor told me I had cancer. At most, I had a year to live.

Returning home, another shock awaited me. Vidya had died in a car accident.

Sujith couldn’t handle the loss of his mother. His violence escalated. He broke everything in the house. Complaints flooded from his school. I couldn’t manage both work and Sujith at the same time. I resigned and took care of him full-time.

One day, the school called me. Sujith had attacked a classmate, slashing him all over with a blade. The teacher told me something shocking. As the injured boy screamed in pain, Sujith neither showed fear nor guilt. Instead, he smiled cruelly. The teacher said, ‘He is sure to become a criminal, perhaps even a serial killer.’

From that day on, Sujith stopped going to school.

A month ago, your husband approached me. He detailed how you murdered your children but were acquitted. He wanted revenge and asked for my help. I was struggling financially. I agreed.

While collecting details for the assignment, something caught my attention. Your lawyer argued that a mutation in the Monoamine oxidase A gene caused your violence, and you were acquitted based on that.

I had Sujith undergo genetic testing. He has the same mutation.

Now, when I point this revolver at you, your face fades, and Sujith’s face appears. My hands tremble. My heart weakens.”

A flash of brilliance crossed Chandrakala’s face, as if freed from a great burden.

“Keshav, why shouldn’t I be innocent then? Why should I be blamed for this murder? Couldn’t it be my genes, my neural networks, that caused this?”

“I thought of that too. But then, wouldn’t all criminals use the same excuse? How could we ever uphold justice and morality in society?”

“Do you know about the debates on Determinism vs Free Will?”

“I’m not much of a reader.”

“This debate was a great philosophical conflict of Western civilization. Determinists argue that human actions are dictated by genetics and neural structures, with the environment acting as a stimulus. Man does not have free choice.

On the other hand, Free Will advocates say — if a human is merely a prisoner of his body and environment, he is not truly human but just a machine. Only one who observes, analyzes, and chooses his actions becomes human.

Determinism vs Free Will — which side are you on?”

“I cannot decide.”

“I am on the Free Will side. Tell me again — what is my punishment?”

“I can kill you.”

“These bullets will only give me half a second of pain. But my husband will bear the loss for the rest of his life. Will my death ever balance his grief?”

“I can leave you and walk away.”

“Then I might kill again. The old, the young, men, women — I can torture and kill. God has naturally placed the urge in me. You will be fully responsible for that. You have multiple choices. Choose. See? Free Will works here.”

I picked up the revolver. This time, there was no tremor. I placed it against my forehead and pulled the trigger. Drops of my blood splattered on Chandrakala’s face.

Chandrakala quickly rushed and held my head on her lap. Her tears mixed with the blood on my forehead.

“You shouldn’t have done this, Keshav.”

I tried to speak to her. My words came out faint.

“These are my car keys. The house keys are inside the car. Go to my house. Sujith will be asleep by now. From this moment, you are his mother. Make him a good man, a gentle soul. Remove the violence in him. By doing so, the cruelty inside you will also dissolve. This is the punishment I give you.”

Chandrakala kissed my hands.

“The right choice.”

I saw her figure fading away as she walked toward the car.