The Mysterious Shrine

Imran had no knowledge of the activities of the police or the investigative department in this matter. He had not even bothered to find out from Fayyaz what the police had concluded about these incidents.

Imran put the piece of paper in his suitcase and, changing into another suit, got ready to go out again.

A little while later, his motorcycle was headed toward the same town where the "fearsome building" was located. Upon reaching the town, it was not difficult to find out who owned the building previously. Imran met a responsible person from the family who had sold the building to the judge.

"It's a matter from eight years ago," he said. "Mr. Ayaz bought the building from us. Before he died, he legally transferred it to some judge in the city."

"Who was Mr. Ayaz? Where did he live before?" Imran asked.

"We don't know. After buying the building, he lived for three years but no one could find out who he was or where he came from! He had a servant with him who still resides in a part of the building."

"That means the caretaker of the grave!" Imran said, and the old man nodded affirmatively. He thought for a moment and then spoke.

"Mr. Ayaz himself discovered the grave. Our family didn't know about it. There was never a grave there before. We didn't hear anything about it from our elders either."

"Oh!" Imran said, staring. "How was the grave discovered?"

"He saw in a dream that a martyr was buried at that place. The very next day, he started building the grave."

"He started building it himself?" Imran asked in surprise.

"Yes, he did all his work himself. He was quite wealthy! But he couldn't be called stingy because he gave generously to charity."

"The room where the body was found had plaster on its walls, but the other rooms didn't. Why is that?"

"Mr. Ayaz did the plastering himself."

"Himself?"

"Yes!"

"There must have been a lot of gossip in the town about this."

"Not at all, sir!... Even now, people here believe that Mr. Ayaz was a venerable elder, and I think his servant is also not devoid of saintliness."

"Were there ever people who came to meet Mr. Ayaz who were strangers to the townsfolk?"

"No... I don't remember. I think no one ever came to meet him."

"Alright, thank you very much!" Imran shook hands with the old man and walked towards his motorcycle.

Now he was heading towards the same building, with many thoughts simultaneously racing through his mind! Ayaz had built that grave himself! And he did the plastering in the room himself. Was he a good mason too? The grave was not there before. It was discovered by Ayaz. His servant is still attached to the grave today. But why? What was the need to plaster just that one room?

Imran reached near the building. The outer sitting room where the grave's caretaker lived was open, and he himself was present. Imran glanced at him briefly. He was a middle-aged, burly man with a thick beard and red eyes. Perhaps he always looked that way.

Imran blinked quickly two or three times, and then the old foolish expression appeared on his face.

"What's the matter?" the servant shouted as soon as he saw him.

"Thanks to your prayers, I got a job," Imran said in a respectful tone. "I thought I'd come to serve you a bit."

"Get lost," the grave's caretaker started to glare with his red eyes.

"Don't be so harsh!" Imran said, folding his hands. "I just have one last request."

"Who are you... What do you want?" The caretaker suddenly softened.

"A boy. Just a boy. A house feels empty without a child. Oh dear, I've longed for a child for twenty-three years."

"Twenty-three years! How old are you?" The caretaker started to stare at him!

"Twenty-five years!"

"Get lost! Are you trying to fool me? I'll incinerate you right now..."

"You misunderstood, sir! I was talking about my father... He's getting remarried."

"Are you leaving or..." the caretaker said, rising.

"Sir," Imran said, folding his hands in a respectful tone, "the police are going to trouble you a lot."

"Get lost! The police are fools! What can they do to a saint!"

"Two murders happened under the saint's protection."

"They might have happened! Why doesn't the police ask the judge's daughter why she brought a thug here."

"Oh sir, the police really are fools! Please guide me."

"You're a secret policeman."

"No, sir! I am a newspaper reporter. If I get some new information, I'll be able to feed myself."

"Alright, sit down. I can't tolerate that the house where a saint's shrine is becomes a den of vice. The police should prevent it."

"Oh sir, I don't understand at all," Imran said in despair.

"I'll explain," the caretaker said, glaring with his red eyes. "On the 14th, the judge's daughter brought one of her boyfriends here... and stayed inside for hours!"

"You didn't object... If I were there, I would have smashed their heads. Oh my, at such a great saint's shrine..." Imran started beating his chest!

"I had to swallow my anger... What could I do! My mentor gave this house to these people, otherwise, I would have shown them."

"Your mentor?"

"Yes... Hazrat Ayaz, may Allah have mercy on him! He was my spiritual guide! He gave me this room in the house so I could take care of the shrine."

"Where is Mr. Ayaz's shrine?" Imran asked.

"In the cemetery... He had willed that his grave should be leveled and no marker placed."

"So you recognize the judge's daughter?"

"Yes, I recognize her! She is cross-eyed."

"Oh!" Imran clutched his chest, and the caretaker started glaring at him.

"Alright, sir! She came here on the night of the 14th, and the body was found on the morning of the 16th."

"There won't be just one, thousands more will be found," the caretaker roared with anger. "It's a desecration of the shrine!"

"But sir! It's possible that it was her brother."

"Absolutely not! The judge has no son."

"Then the matter is... complicated!" Imran started scratching his right ear.

Imran left from there as well and went back into the town. For two or three hours, he continued to question various people, and then he headed back to the city.