Ep 1: Murder in May

Murder in May 1873. The goddess Kali has been worshipped in Bengal for a long time. She is a fierce feminine energy, free and unkempt, a creator and destroyer. Look in the day girls would often be named after her. Parvati, Kamini, Shama, Ilocashim. Probably a common name that one. But about 150 years ago, colonial Bengal was shaken to its core by this very name. On May 27, 1873, Ilocashim was murdered with a kitchen blade by her husband, Nobine. She had found out about her relationship with Madhub Chandra Giri. The chief priest of the famous Tarukeshwar temple. The local papers had a field day. They called it the Tarukeshwar murder case. And so began a series of events that culminated in controversial trials, a media frenzy and the biggest scandal to rock colonial Bengali society. This is a dramatized retelling of the story. TS Studios presents Forgotten Crimes. About 70 kilometres from the city of Kolkata is Kormon village. It's located deep inside West Bengal's Burdhavan district, famously known as the rice bowl of West Bengal. This quiet here. Welcome change from the bustle of Kolkata. There are vast expanses of rice fields everywhere and a few shops selling home goods and local food. There's a village police office, a hospital, some temples and a handful of schools. It's comfortable and homely, but it's isolated. Perhaps that is why Nobine moved to Kolkata, leaving his young wife behind. To a man in his early 20s, a life at Kormon probably wasn't as appealing as one in the city, just a few kilometres away. From around 1772 till 1911, Kolkata was the capital of British India. It was the centre of industry, culture and of course, justice. Nobine headed to Kolkata to work at a government printing press. The printing industry was thriving and a job in that sector provided him good money. Prior to 27th of that May, life seemed good to him. He was married to a location. He had hopes of becoming a father and had a steady source of income. In later Kali Kart paintings, Nobine is dressed in an immaculate thoughty and kurtaset, umbrella in hand, not a hair out of place. Popular media saw him as a sophisticated Kolkata Babu. Official records say, "Eloke she was between 14 to 16 years old then." Not a lot was known about her. Not even her exact age. At that time, by 16, a girl would ideally be married and a mother to at least two children, preferably sons. Eloke she had one of those boxes ticked. She had found a husband and a good one by social standards. Nobine John's Rebanagy was a Kulin Brahman with a respectable job. Kulin Brahman men were known to practice polygamy and take dowry. The charge between Rs. 5 to Rs. 500 to marry girls. After marriage, they were known not to provide for their young wives. This often forced them to take up sex work. An official survey around 1850s found that out of the 12,000 sex workers in Kolkata, about 10,000 were widows, wives or daughters of Kulin Brahman men. Records say that Nobine did not practice polygamy. The media always referred to him as a good man and a good husband. In their six years of marriage, Eloke she hadn't been able to give him a child. As Nobine set off to Kolkata to build his career, Eloke she was allowed to spend time at a parental home which was a few kilometers from the Taroukishot temple. This temple was known to offer women miracle cures for infertility. Eloke she was away from her husband and marital home, both things unusual for a married woman back then. This was the land of Manu's law which said, a woman must never act independently of her husband. She was under the sole guidance of her father, Nilkomol Mokhapaddhaye, who after the death of Eloke she's mother had married the much younger Mondakini. Later when theatre productions based on the Taroukishot murder trials were staged, Mondakini was always portrayed as a greedy stepmother and Nilkomol as a lustful old man under her thumb. When Eloke she began frequenting the Taroukishot temple in the hopes of conceiving a child, she met the middle aged Madhubchandra Girri. He was the holy Mahant, the seasoned grand priest of the temple. Even today the Taroukishot temple is a popular site of holy pilgrimage in West Bengal. Every year during Shivratri, thousands of devotees head there to offer their prayers to the benevolent deity. But in Eloke she's time, newspapers had begun to expose their morality of the priests at these famous temples. In 1824, a priest at the Taroukishot temple was convicted of murdering his mistress's lover. In the temples of Chittagong, the priests were accused of sexually exploiting female pilgrims and in Begu Sarai, the wealthy priest was murdered by local peasants for his misconduct. But that in stop devotees from thronging the temples. After news of the Taroukishot scandal broke, a Bengali song became popular. Ginni Taroukishot Jawa Habeena, Kortakor Chhemana, this translates to, "The wife won't be able to go to Taroukishot. Her husband has prohibited it." People had begun to doubt such religious institutions. Questions were raised about the conditions under which the miracle kiosks were given to women in these temples. The intentions of the priests in charge, and if it was at all safe for women to go to these temples. The powerful priest got involved with illokishin, allegedly with the help of her father. Why would he help them? You might wonder. According to local rumours, the priest bought Nilkommal over with money and gold. Nilkommal wasn't a gold digger as much as he was a man who was blind and loved. He simply wanted to please his young wife, Manda Kini. The two categorically denied these accusations and gore during Noven's trial, but more on that later. Word got out about the affair. Maybe someone spotted a illokishy with the priest at an odd hour? Or did the new gold jewelry on Manda Kini re-suspissions? Please written at the time presented different versions of how Noven found out. Once said it was a letter from a well-wisher. One claimed it was a village gossip. Another alleged that he put two under together when he was shunned by other villagers. In any case, Noven found out. His honour was on the line. He quickly rushed back from Kolkata to confront illokishy. Noven was angry. He wanted an explanation. Illokishy confessed all. Noven decided to forgive Illokishy. The plan to move away from the village and start a fresh. Illokishy's father reportedly leaked their plans to the priest. The powerful priest ordered goons to block the young couple's way out of the village. Perhaps Noven and Illokishy planned to leave home in the quiet of the burning May afternoon. Maybe when Noven left to make arrangements for their travel, he was stopped by Manda Kchan's or Giri's goons. There raised voices got the attention of the village folk who had retired for the afternoon. Perhaps a fight broke out with no one daring to help Noven against the known goons of the area. Perhaps they shamed him about his wife's adultery. A defeated Noven returned home. He was reeling with humiliation and anger. Everybody knew that he had been betrayed by his wife. Illokishy had made a choice. joke of his honor. Nobun's mind began racing. He couldn't think straight. His anger reached a crescendo. The only thing that cuts through is the sharp silver grint of the kitchen blade. The kitchen blade or boat he is used to cut vegetables or meat before cooking. It's not really designed to cut through a human neck. The first hit possibly ruptured the skin. The second the veins and the arteries. By the third, it was too late. We don't know the details of what happened next. Did Elocue try to defend herself? Or did she surrender to him believing? This is what she deserved. Within the next few hours, a grief-stricken Nobun entered the local police station. Hang me please. I don't want to be alive without my wife. He told the Chokidar of the station. The newspaper headlines about the case were sensational. The morality of India will never prosper until crimes like these are punished. Women from good families believe Elocue she should have suffered before she died. We Hindus have tolerated a brothel in the name of the Tarukesh Shott Temple. The fatalist wife has been justly punished. The murder case got everyone's attention because it involved a high-ranking priest. The tide was slowly turning against people in positions of power within temples and the scandal was the last straw. People were angry that their faith was under attack by someone entrusted to protect it. They were out for blood. Even before the case reached the court, the people of Bengal had given their verdict. Madhup Chandra Giree was a bad man. He was a man made rich by donations and protected by the government. He was a priest who had tricked a married girl into adultery or worse, forced her. And who knows how many other women he had manipulated? Nobun on the other hand was a good man. He was the ideal Hindu man and a wronged husband. In 1873, Hindu society infertility was a sin as grave as murder. Nobun had done her a favour by killing her instead of letting her live a disgraced life. But where does Elocueche feature in all of this? A girl had been murdered. No one spoke of her story. Initial newspaper reports on the case would refer to Elocueche as "Nobun's wife" or "The Young Woman". People did not write her name, let alone her story. She became a footnote in her own murder. Did the justice system stand by Elocueche? Were Nobun and Madhup Chandra Giree punished? Did it matter? To know more, tune into the next episode of Forgotten Crimes. This podcast is brought to you by TS Studios, the production company that brings the Swaddle's creative point of view to original podcasts and films. Narrated by Shayani Gupta, written by Koeena Ghosh, associate producer Vibhav Sarav, creative producer Mohini Chaudhary, sound designer Arya Nanji, fact check Pavna Goni, art director Neha Shikawad, marketing collateral design, itesh sonar, research consultant Geraldine Forbes, supervising producer Trishty Malhotra, executive producer Karla Buchman.