Amidst the sindoori smoke enveloping the pandal, and his own growing despair, a golden tooth flashed! Chipped. Feluda’s hand reached for the killer’s collar.
Ami tomake bhalobashi, she told her detective husband, after he solved his 100th case!
"Amy tumaka Bhaalo maashi," Jake attempted in a broken Bengali. Amy wasn't sure if it was a pun.
All wives are detectives you know, she warned her husband before she boarded the bus for Chattogram.
As Kiriti stopped playing the ektara, he heard the clapping and realized he wasn’t alone. He had bewitched the crowd. He had finally done it.
As Parashor lifted the Asian Kabaddi Championship trophy, he felt honoured. Finally, he had made Bengal proud. Captain of India’s team and he had won.
"Atul and murderer! Nah impossible." Ajit noticed a strange glint in his roommate's eyes—that can't be a murderer's. He's determined to free his friend.
Byomkesh Bakshi's sharp mind and keen intuition always solved the crime, leaving criminals quaking in their boots.
"Byomkesh Bakshi? Who is he?" She asked me. "You must watch his movie," I told her. "Best Bengali character ever."
Byomkesh saw right through Anguri Devi's alibi as the unmistakable waft of roshogullas hit him. Shobha Bazaar of course. She had killed her husband's lover.
“Checkmate, my worthy contender. You were too quick to underestimate my intellect.” Mitin Mashi never loses sight of her mission. Bullseye hit once again.
Colonel Niladri Sarkar was well known for collecting butterflies, very less realised how adept he is at collecting evidence too.
Emily bit into the amriti and smiled. Reid had been right. One was not enough and neither was this a jalebi.
Every time Kolkata prepared for Durgashtmi, Rana thought of Vidya Bagchi, and he wondered if she was real or his mind's fantasy.
Feluda strolled the Kolkata book fair, but his attention shifted to a suspicious character. The twist? The suspect was his biggest fan.
- Feluda, why are you so tall? - Ask the oatmeal about it, my friend.
Guess who I saw at Cox's Bazar? "Who?" "Arjun!" "The actor?" "No, the detective!"
He had the charm, the wit, and the courage. But when it mattered, he was powerless. Feluda couldn't save himself.
"Hey Subrata, what kind of man are you? Till now, you can't even propose Kuntala for marriage! Give him some tips, Krishna," Kiriti said, smiling.
His footprints had traces of red clay. This was odd. Bankura was far away. Unless he was a potter. Of course! Case closed.
Kakababu’s archaeology expertise helped him unearth the fossils of every case, and come out rock solid with evidence of the ultimate truth.
Kiriti Roy solved the case, but the victim turned out to be the killer all along.
Like the Royal Bengal Tiger, P.K Basu waited stealthily to make his move at the right moment, and nab the culprit in his game.
Pallavi Chatterjee was a great IB agent, but her feelings for Vihaan always left her in a dilemma.
Rajesh Das walked through the bustling book fair, but his keen eye noticed something amiss. The culprit? A stolen book. But who stole it?
Shardul Thakur life was riddled with ironies. He was a gay police officer, and often, he wondered what it would be like to arrest himself.
Shaurya Goenka. Gang Rape. Power won. Justice failed. Payal Mitra suffered. Parents lost. Durga Thakur swore ultimate vengeance.
Superstar Babita Sen was stabbed in the back by her string of boyfriends many times. But ACP Raghav was different. He chose her heart instead.
Tina looked at the Indian woman who was chatting with Newt about the magical creatures in Sunderbans. An angry dragon roared jealously in her head.
The Bengali classical singer hummed in the background, but Sehmat was captivated by her husband's beauty. She was prepared for everything but falling in love.
The clues were everywhere, but they led to a dead end. Byomkesh Bakshi realized too late he was the culprit.
The Howrah bridge had seen many brutal murders. But nothing was impossible for Detective Byomkesh Bakshi to be able to solve.
The lights! The sounds! The colours! They were right. Kolkata’s Durga Puja had calmed Mitin to her soul.
There is just some magic in Kiriti Roy’s magnifying glass that can resolve even the smallest speck of doubt.
The waters of the Prinsep ghat were serene, except for the blood draining from the auror's mutilated body. Manjulika watched the seeping blood with glee.
"Uncle....I was dying to meet you again. Hey, cousin, please take seat. But, Mr. Mitter, Maganlal Meghraj isn't liking your snooping in his territory."
Vani Sanyal knew that Freddy Daaruwaala was a murderer, but in a twisted way, the policewoman loved that about him the most.
Wednesday looked at the sweet Rasgulla in horror. It was nothing like her bland toast and black coffee. Deserts always seemed stupid to her.
"What is the Murderer's alibi?" "Eating Rosogolla, he claims" "Turns out, even the sweetness of Rosogolla couldn't mask the bitterness of his crime"
"What are you writing?" "It's a mystery set in Dhaka." "Oh don't forget to include Feluda in it!"
Who put this hair in my Macher Jhol? I must hire Kiriti Roy immediately!
“Who stole the rosgullas?” Feluda stared intensely at the scribbled note by the 8-year old. Case resolved in 10 minutes. It was Nani.
"Why didn't you punish Satyakam's stepfather for killing him? A murder is a murder, Byomkesh! You didn't even spare Swarup Kumar's mother-in-law from getting punished!"
"You...You, Rathikanta! I loved and trusted you more than myself. Was that a crime?" Shakuntala closed her eyes. "Her Dushyanta killed her", Byomkesh sighed.
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