Mapping the inconsistency of change
Inured as we Indians are to an endless stream of blood-curdling cases of crime and violence, the gruesome Ranga Billa case of August 1978 was so barbaric, involving as it did two winsome teens—Geeta and Sanjay Chopra—that it traumatised the entire nation.
The sadism and sheer mindlessness of this rape-and-murder case guarantees instant recall even after so many decades. What made it even worse was that the two perpetrators were unrepentant and, thereby, became a byword for absolute evil and remorselessness. The anomie was typical of a time when our old value systems were beginning to crumble and amorality and viciousness had infected the entire social structure.
This is the first full-length retelling of that crime fleshed out with material gleaned from a variety of sources. Bestselling author and journalist Sudeep Chakravarti, who is a long-time Delhi resident, has delved deep into eye-witness accounts, court records and original interviews—he left no document unchecked—to create a blow-by-blow account that is precise and accurate in its details. It may remind us of Truman Capote’s classic non-fiction novel, In Cold Blood, although Fallen City is grounded in facts.
The narrative is simple enough—the two Chopra siblings were on their way to the All India Radio station to participate in a Yuva Vani programme. They hitched a ride in a car driven, fatefully, by Ranga and Billa, both hardened criminals. Passersby had noticed the two children—one of them bloodied—struggling with all their might inside the car, and had reported it to the police. But the police, with characteristic tardiness and apathy, remained inactive, at one time arguing that the area in which the victims had been spotted was outside their area of jurisdiction.
This is a typical excuse that the Indian police still proffer to justify their passivity and lethargy. Public outrage and anger and a media feeding frenzy were inevitable. Even prime minister Morarji Desai took a personal interest in the case.
Late in the evening, the two young men drove the car to the deserted Delhi Ridge, where the boy was murdered. Thereafter, the girl was first raped, and then killed. But not before she had dealt a blow on Billa’s head with the sword the two criminals were carrying. The bodies were discovered two days later.
After playing a cat-and-mouse game for some time, Ranga and Billa had unwittingly walked into a trap when they forced themselves into a compartment reserved for the military. The occupants recognised them from their mug shots in newspapers.
Once in custody, the two culprits first made confessions, and then retracted them. However, they were both convicted and sentenced to death. Both men were hanged on January 31, 1982.
This case has uncanny parallels with the horrific rape and murder of a junior doctor at RG Kar Hospital, Kolkata, on August 9. Again, the nation exploded in a paroxysm of rage. Again, the incompetence and venality of the administration and the police were roundly condemned by the court. But crimes that make one’s flesh crawl continue, even involving children.
Chakravarti attempts to capture the zeitgeist of the Seventies by describing in detail—tedious at times—both the political and social scenarios of Delhi. He harks back to the Mahabharata, and then fast forwards to the Indira Gandhi regime and the dark days of the Emergency.
Then, he takes a leap into the dark future and references the Sikh pogrom following Indira Gandhi’s assassination in 1984. “Delhi’s dark arc, bookended, as it were, by the Emergency and the butchering of Sikhs, still had some years to run.”
While some of this does have relevance to the narrative, Chakravarti, at times, goes to absurd lengths—Charles Sobhraj, too, is introduced—particularly when he tries to give it a cosmic dimension. As the Jamuna swells in sympathy, “in the cosmic scale of crime, it could be said that the weather did in Billa and his accomplice”.
Chakravarti sniggers at “Indian Englishism”, yet in the next page we have “operation theatre”. This, however, is quite in keeping with the purple patches and long-winded sentences that proliferate. “India’s lexicon of loathsomeness” takes the cake.