Ep 2: A Sensational Trial

The Sensational Trial In the previous episode, we presented a dramatized retelling of how Ilokishi's murder played out. No-been killing her in a fit of rage, his subsequent confession, how the media made a hero out of him and a villain out of the priest, Madhupchandra Giri. What followed was two explosive trials. The legal trial fought in court and a public trial by the people of Bengal. How much justice was delivered and how much was denied. Let's find out. TS Studios presents Forgotten Crimes. At the time of Ilokishi's murder, a young Calcutta barrister, Vumesh Chandra Bonaji had just about started his career. He took up No-been's case, free of charge. The first day of the trial arrived. The queen versus No-been Chandra Bonaji at the Huggley Session score at Sir Ampur. No-been was charged with murder under section 300 of the IPC. If he was found guilty, he could be sentenced to death or life imprisonment and a fine. A newspaper report on the trial said, people flocked to the Session court as they would flock to the Lewis Theatre to watch Ossello being performed. Vumesh Chandra Bonaji had seen the crowd. He had read what the papers were printing. He could tell that his client had the public on his side. He carefully prepared his remarks for court. The report on No-been's trial said the arguments when something like this. Was Ilokishi really dead? The civil surgeon could not conclusively identify her. Who witnessed the death? There was no one who saw it happen with their own eyes. How did we know it was a murder? The civil surgeon had only pronounced her dead. It could very well have been a suicide. Temporary insanity. This is what happened to No-been. Upon hearing of Ilokishi's infidelity, he lost control of his actions and his words. Although section 84 of the 1860 Indian Penal Code recognized insanity as legal defence, this was the first time temporary insanity was used in court. The Indian jury wanted a reason to support No-been and they were handed one on a silver platter by his lawyer. The day of No-been's testimony had arrived. The stakes were high. People had raised funds for No-been. Newspapers had taken up arms for him. Everyone wanted him free. No-been must have been asked a lot of questions that day. The most important one being this. Did you kill your wife? No-been paused and replied, "I don't know whether I killed her myself, but I fear I might have." We don't know if there was sincerity in his words or if this was all part of an elaborate plan. But it was all that Womash Chandrabonagee needed. No-been's confusion about his action was the perfect finishing touch to the temporary insanity defence. Moments later, the jury found No-been not guilty. A girl had been murdered. Her husband had confessed to the murder. As far as people were concerned, justice had prevailed. All was well. But not for long. About six months before the trial, the criminal procedure court had been changed. The new law allowed a British judge who disagreed with an Indian jury to refer the case to the high court for re-evaluation. The judge who had presided over No-been's trial disagreed with the jury. The case was sent to the high court. People were up in arms. How could a foreign man decide what was right and wrong in a society that he did not belong to? Meanwhile, No-been had also filed a case against the priest Madhub Chandra Girri and his fellow Kinaram, accusing them of adultery. In colonial India under section 497 of the IPC, adultery was a criminal offence. If the accused was found guilty, he would be punished with imprisonment for as long as five years, or with a fine, or both. Madhub Chandra Girri and Kinaram absconded. Kinaram was untraceable, but the popularity of the case worked against the priest. He was found hiding in the French rule settlement Chandra Nagar. Joy Krishna was a Minda there joined forces with the colonial authorities to bring him back to Kolkata. Much to the public's annoyance, renowned British lawyers arrived to defend the priest. Days turned into months as scores of people gave testimony in Madhub Chandra Girri's trial. The proceedings were often interrupted by angry crowds demanding justice. Madhub Chandra Girri stood in court flanked by his British lawyers head down, a picture of holy sainthood. In a famous Kali-Hat painting of the courtroom, he was shown in a typical saintly attire. White Chandra on his forehead, holy beads around his neck and wearing a saffron dhoti. The day of the verdict arrived. The priest was tried by a judge and two assessors. Assessors are generally non-lawyers who advise the judge. In this case, there was split. One found him guilty, while the other didn't. The judge went with the guilty verdict and sentenced Madhub Chandra Girri to three years of imprisonment and a fine of rupees 2000. People could finally celebrate. The priest had been rightfully punished for his sins. But he was a step ahead. The priest had an experienced legal team that immediately advised him to appeal to the high court and soon his case was also headed to the same court as nobins. Both cases dragged on for months. The local newspaper, the Bengali wrote, "No case in our generation has excited such a deep and widespread interest. Groups of peasants who may not have heard of roadtacks may be seen discussing nobins and the priest." During these trials, men would shut shops early and the streets would clear out. People would arrive early to the courts to grab their seats. The others would crowd outside waiting to find out what had transpired inside. Soon the high court even began charging an entrance fee. They won the only ones who profited. Several plays based on the scandal were being performed. The bazaar was flooded with Kali-hat paintings and would-cut arts illustrating Elocatious murder. Sari's and knives with her name on them were found in every shop. Evidently, a woman's murder made for good business. In Madhupyanthu Giri's trial, the key issue was of evidence regarding adultery. The questions raised were simple. Was Elocatious Nobins' lawful wife? Did the priest know that she was married? Has there been intercourse between Elocatious and the priest? Had Nobins allowed the affair to transpire? The lawyers tried every trick to prove the priest's innocence. They would have managed had it not been for a few key witnesses. Gopinath Sinharoy, the man who guarded the priest's residence, came forth with crucial evidence. Three others claimed to have seen Elocatious arrive at the priest's house in the evening and leave the next morning. This was critical evidence. The judge found the priest guilty, siding with Hindu sentiments. The judgement was final. He was sentenced to three years of imprisonment with hard labour and 3000 rupees fine. But people felt the priest was let off easy. When he left the court, an angry mob followed him to jail, cursing him along the way. Meanwhile, Wamesh Chandrabonaji was still convincing British authorities that Nobins was of unsound mind when he killed his wife with a kitchen knife. Public support for the trial was unlike anything Bengal had seen before. The judge's acknowledged Nobins' unhappy position, but also declared him sane and guilty of murder. All October 30th 1873, about five months after he killed his wife, Nobine was finally sentenced to life imprisonment. The judgment led to protests. Petitions with over 10,000 signatures found their way to the colonial officials. Everyone demanded a royal pardon for him. Even after the pardon was rejected, editors brought this up in their newspapers again and again and again. Three years of persistent demands by devoted supporters led to Nobine being granted a pardon by Lutinan Governor Sirichard Temple in 1876. After his release from prison in the Andermans, hundreds arrived to greet his steamer in Kolkata. His first stop was the office of the Hindu Patriot newspaper to express his deep gratitude for their support. That was the last time he was seen in the public eye before disappearing into oblivion. At the same time, Madhupchandra Girri had also finished serving his three-year jail term. He swiftly went back to the same position in the same temple until his death in 1894. The morality of Bengal had been restored. An article in the Bengal he noted, "In sympathising with the unfortunate Nobine, people forget that the victim was a tender girl of 16 years. What had she done to forfeit her young life?" No one had an answer to that. In the next episode, we look at how Ilokishi became the villain in her own murder and the role the media played in shifting focus from Ilokishi's murder to her infidelity. More about that in Episode 3 of Forgotten Crimes. This podcast is brought to you by TS Studios, the production company that brings the swaddles creative point of view to original podcasts and films. Narrated by Shayani Gupta, written by Koyena Ghosh, associate producer Vibhav Sarath, creative producer Mohini Chaudhary, sound designer Arya Nanchi, fact check Pavna Goni, our director Neha Shakaavat, marketing collateral design Hitesh Sonar, research consultant Geraldine Forbes, supervising producer Srishti Malhotra, executive producer Karla Buchman.