"What nonsense are you talking about!" Fayyaz muttered.
"Measure it, my dear! If it's wrong, you can head my sever... uh... maybe I misspoke... place my head on the sever," Imran said, looking around. He picked up a twig lying nearby and then bent down to measure the distance between the wounds. Fayyaz watched him in amazement.
"Here," Imran handed him the twig. "If this twig isn't five inches, find someone's beard to measure."
"But what does it mean?" Fayyaz said thoughtfully.
"It means the killer and the victim were actually lovers."
"Imran, my dear, be serious."
"This twig indicates that this is the case," Imran said. "And the old Urdu poets shared the same belief. Just look at any of their collections! You'll find a few verses that support my idea. Let me recite one:
'May no twist come to the wrist, we too are very resilient, my dear.'"
"Stop this nonsense. If you don't want to help, just say it clearly," Fayyaz said, annoyed.
"You've measured the distance yourself! Now you tell me what it could mean," Imran said.
Fayyaz said nothing.
"Think about it," Imran continued. "According to Urdu poetry, only a lover would permit their beloved to kill them in any manner they wish. They could chop them into pieces or inflict wounds with precision. These wounds don't appear to be made in haste. The condition of the corpse doesn't suggest that the victim struggled before dying. It seems as if they laid down quietly and said, 'Do as you wish, my dear.'"
"What connection does old poetry have with reality?" Fayyaz asked.
"I don't know," Imran said thoughtfully, nodding his head. "But now you can recite the entire ghazal. I'll comment on the final couplet."
Fayyaz remained silent for a while, then said, "This building has been vacant for almost five years! However, it is opened for a few hours every Thursday."
"Why?"
"There's a grave here, believed to be that of a martyr. So on thursdays, a person opens it to clean the grave."
"Offerings must be made," Imran asked.
"No, nothing like that. The people who own this house live in the city, and I have close relations with them. They have employed someone to take care of the grave every Thursday. There's no crowd of devotees here. Anyway, when the caretaker came here this afternoon, he saw this corpse."
"Was the door locked?" Imran asked.
"Yes. And he can say with certainty that the key wasn't lost even for a moment, and there were no signs that someone had climbed over the wall to get in."
"So, this corpse must have fallen from the sky!" Imran said seriously. "It's better that you seek help from the martyr whose grave is here..."
"You're rambling again!" Fayyaz interrupted.
"Who are the owners of this building, and what are they like?" Imran asked.
"The same Judge who lives next door to me," Fayyaz replied.
"Oh, the same Judge!" Imran smacked his chest and licked his lips.
"Yes, the same one... buddy, seriously... for God's sake."
"Then I can't help you," Imran said, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Why?"
"You haven't helped me."
"I did," Fayyaz said in surprise. "I don't understand."
"You're selfish. Why would you help me?"
"Tell me, I really don't understand."
"I've been saying for a long time to arrange my marriage with the judge's daughter."
"Stop talking nonsense. Always saying ridiculous things."
"I'm serious," Imran said.
"If you're serious, then you must be blind."
"Why?"
"Because that girl has one eye."
"That's why I want to marry her. She'll look at me and my dogs with one eye."
"For God's sake, get serious!"
"First, you promise," Imran said.
"Okay, okay, I'll talk to them."
"Thank you so much! I'm really smitten with that girl... what do they call it... oh, I forgot again... even though it was just mentioned a little while ago."
"Let's leave it. Talk about important things."
"No, let me remember it. Otherwise, I'll have a hysterical fit."
"Love," Fayyaz said with a grimace.
"Live long! Well done!" Imran said, patting his back. "May God keep your female safe. Now, tell me, has the corpse been identified or not?"
"No! He's neither a resident of this area nor known to Judge Sahib's family."
"So no one recognized him."
"No!"
"Did you find anything on him that could shed light on his identity?"
"Nothing... but wait," Fayyaz said, moving towards a table. When he returned, he had a leather bag in his hand.
"We found this bag near the corpse," Fayyaz said.
Imran took the bag from him and started examining its contents.
"A carpenter's tools," he said. "If these belong to the victim... his appearance isn't great, but he doesn't seem to be a carpenter."
"Why not?"
"His hands are very soft and... there's no roughness in his palms. These hands could belong to a painter or an artist," Imran said.
"So far, you haven't said anything useful," Fayyaz said.
"It's not wise to expect more from a fool," Imran laughed.
"His wounds have confused me," Fayyaz said.
"If you put balm on my wounds, I'll also look at these wounds."
"What do you mean?"
"Judge Sahib's daughter!" Imran said as if he had remembered something. "Judge Sahib must have one of the keys to this house."
"Yes, he does have one."
"Does he have it, or did he have it?"
"I didn't ask that!"
"Well, ask him then. Now, have the body taken for an autopsy, paying special attention to the depths of the wounds."
"Why?"
"If the depths of the wounds are also equal, then understand that this is the work of the martyr."
"Why are you talking nonsense?"
"If you intend to act on what I'm saying, then employ the services of Ali Imran, M.Sc., Ph.D. Otherwise, there's no... what's the word I'm forgetting?"
"Necessity!" Fayyaz said with a sour expression.
"Live long... otherwise, there's no necessity."
"We will follow your instructions! Anything else?"
"And I want to see the entire building," Imran said.
After touring the entire building, they returned to the same room.
"By the way, ask Judge Sahib why he tried to change the layout of only this room while leaving the rest of the building in its old state. There's no plaster visible on any wall, but here it is."
"I'll ask."
"And also ask about the key! And if you find the one-eyed beloved, tell her that no one can understand your half-drawn arrow from my heart! Maybe Ghalib's beloved also had only one eye because a half-drawn arrow can only belong to a single eye!"
"So, you won't tell me anything else at this time?" Fayyaz asked.
"Man, you're so ungrateful... ungrateful... maybe I forgot the word again."
"Forgetful!"
"Live long. Yes, so you're very ungrateful. I've been talking nonsense for so long, and you say I haven't told you anything."