OK meṃ Thank You!

OK meṃ Thank You!

“Privacy! Unbelievable!” Sarang laughed, carrying Papya. “Everyone’s hiding until Dādā and those businessmen from Kolkata and Chandigarh announce their merger.”

“Murder?” Papya gasped. “I have to stay alive to love you!”

Shaking his head, and thereby rubbing noses, Sarang almost enlightened him when triple screams from Onuradha, Jasleen, and Vaijayanti brought them running to the courtyard. Kedar Roy, JK Mehra, and Rāvasāheba Nagarkar were slumped over a table, each man’s hand pushing away the same plate, half Pacific blue and half baby blue, bearing a half-orange.

“Who murdered them?” Sarang despaired. Car tires squealing outside meant that the murderer was getting away!

Detective Papya took charge. “Bengali Grandmother, your telescope please! OK meṃ thank you!”

Bindhubashini handed it over, and Papya stood at the window to identify the perpetrator.

Noticing Lahouran and Chandrakala staring at her, Bindhubashini remarked, “Our stepsons imprisoned each of us, but while you Panjabi and Marathi dancers see only memories, this oborodh-bashini sees everything with her telescope!”

“Chowdhury, Chaddha, and Nimbalkar have been caught, OK meṃ thank you!” Papya announced, putting away his mobile phone. “I suspected - this rejected presentation was theirs. The telescope only confirmed the obvious.”

“Obvious?” Sarang’s curiosity was aroused.

“This orange represents our orchard,” Vaijayanti noted.

“The plate’s half-and-half colours represent Chandigarh,” Jasleen guessed.

“You’re missing the imagery of solar energy dominating the world and the future,” Onuradha argued. “Remember Sultana’s Dream?”

“Rāvasāheba died as he lived, opposing progress,” Chandrakala remarked. “The orchard’s mine, Sarang. I’ll approve your merger.”

“With Papya? Unbelievable!”