Latest news with #1959
Hindustan Times
2 days ago
- Hindustan Times
Stray bullet injures woman in Dharavi
MUMBAI: A 32-year-old woman who was talking to her friend outside her house on Sunday night in Dharavi was hit by a stray bullet. It is not yet known who fired the bullet, said police. The Shahu Nagar police registered a case under Section 109 (attempt to commit murder) and relevant sections under the Arms Act, 1959. The woman, Sarwar Banu Shaikh, hails from Bihar and resides on the 90-feet road in Dharavi. After completing her work, she was talking to a friend near her house around 9.30pm when the bullet hit her shoulder. 'Initially, she was not sure what had hit her. After seeing her bleed and suffer from unbearable pain, they realised it was serious and linked to a thud noise they had heard before it hit her. Her friend and she assumed a tyre burst or a firecracker went off and got her,' said a police officer. Shaikh was rushed to the Sion hospital, where an X-ray revealed the bullet injury. The doctors removed the bullet from her shoulder. She is currently undergoing treatment, the officer said. Officers from the Shahu Nagar police station and Mumbai Crime Branch interrogated other residents in the neighbourhood and her family members to understand if they suspected it was an attack from a rival, but they denied it. 'We are questioning locals and criminal elements in the area to understand if anybody recently purchased any weapons which misfired,' said the officer. The Shahu Nagar police registered a case under Section 109 (attempt to commit murder) and relevant sections under the Arms Act, 1959.
Time of India
18-07-2025
- Time of India
Bail denied to 2 accused in former Haryana MLA Rathee murder case
Panchkula: A special CBI court here has rejected the regular bail pleas of Dharmender Singh and Amit Gulia, two key accused in the murder conspiracy of former MLA and INLD president Nafe Singh Rathee. The CBI's crime branch arrested the duo in connection with the broad daylight assassination of Rathee and his associate in Bahadurgarh last year. Defence counsels for Dharmender and Amit Gulia argued before special CBI Judge Rajeev Goyal that their arrests were based solely on disclosure statements, which they contended were not legally maintainable. Dharmender's counsel asserted his client's innocence, a claim echoed for Gulia, who was reportedly arrested based on Dharmender's disclosure. However, the special CBI prosecutor opposed the bail applications, detailing the alleged roles of both men in the murders. The prosecutor informed the court that Dharmender is accused of arranging the Hyundai I20 car used by the shooters and maintaining contact with Kapil Sangwan alias Nanda, the alleged mastermind who orchestrated the killings from abroad. The prosecution further alleged that Gulia provided crucial logistic support to the killers while incarcerated. It was claimed that the mobile phone used to communicate with Kapil Sangwan and the assailants belonged to Gulia. The CBI asserted that both Dharmender and Amit Gulia were "actively involved in planning and executing the murder of Nafe Singh Rathee". The court, after hearing arguments, dismissed the bail applications on Wednesday. The incident dates back to Feb of last year, when car-borne assailants opened fire on Rathee as he was returning to his Bahadurgarh home. Rathee's personal security officer also sustained bullet injuries and later succumbed. The case was initially registered at the Line Paar police station in Bahadurgarh. Following a recommendation from the Haryana govt, the ministry of home affairs (MHA) transferred the investigation to the CBI's crime branch. The CBI subsequently arrested Ashish alias Baba, Sachin alias Saurav, Dharmender, and Gulia, and has since filed a chargesheet against them. They face trial for offenses under Sections 120-B, 302, 307, and 34 of the IPC, and Sections 25/27 of the Arms Act, 1959. Further investigation remains ongoing, with two absconding assailants, Atul and Nakul, yet to be apprehended, and the weapons used in the crime still unrecovered. MSID:: 122767858 413 |
Time of India
18-07-2025
- Time of India
‘Arrest illegal', Kalka court orders immediate release of teenager
1 2 Panchkula: Declaring the arrest of an 18-year-old boy illegal due to a violation of an earlier bail order, a Kalka court has ordered his immediate release and directed a detailed medical examination over allegations of custodial torture in an Arms Act case. Parvesh Sharma was booked in a celebratory firing related incident and earlier got bail from the court, but was still arrested under other sections in the same case. The police now moved an application for the re-arrest of the accused as Sections 25(1)(a), 25(1)(b), and 27(2) of the Arms Act, 1959 were added. Interestingly, the application was not forwarded by Assistant Public Prosecutor Ranvijay Rana, as he submitted that he was not at all convinced with the application. The court asked the investigating officer when and why the accused was arrested even before the application for re-arrest was put up before him. He submitted that the accused was arrested yesterday when he came to join the investigation in pursuance of the notice. The IO was asked whether the order dated June 27, by which the bail of the accused was allowed by the court, was challenged and set aside by any superior court. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Le Bitcoin Passe la Barre des 90 000$ – Un Marché Haussier est-il en train de Naître ? eToro Market Updates Click Here Undo He replied in the negative. The assistant public prosecutor submitted that he could not defend the act and conduct of the IO. Counsel Deepanshu Bansal for the accused submitted that the accused was arrested in complete violation of the bail order. He submitted that the accused cooperated with the police by appearing before them on July 15, 2025, at 2:30 p.m. However, the police simply arrested him and took him to the Crime Investigation Agency (CIA) of the Panchkula police, where he was physically tortured. Preserve CCTV footages: Rights panel Commenting on the case, the Haryana Human Rights Commission said, "Illegal detention and giving third-degree torture to a person in custody by any police officer/official is a serious violation of human rights. These allegations are pointing towards gross misconduct." Commission member Deep Bhatia directed the Panchkula police commissioner to preserve the CCTV footage of all the cameras installed at Pinjore police station, District Panchkula, and produce the same along with the medical record of accused on the next date of hearing July 23.
The Print
11-07-2025
- The Print
Tennis player's father shot her dead over jibes about ‘living off her income'—‘insult to my dignity'
Her father, Deepak Yadav, pumped three bullets into Radhika's waist, the police have recorded in his statement confessing that he felt 'insulted' over jibes from acquaintances that he was benefiting from the income of his daughter. The confession is detailed in the FIR, a copy of which ThePrint has seen. It was her mother's birthday, and Radhika wanted to make her favourite food, more so because she was down with fever and resting in her room, according to police officers and family relatives present at the house. New Delhi: Tennis player Radhika Yadav, 25, was cooking in the kitchen when her father allegedly shot her dead with his licensed gun at their home in Gurugram around 10.30 am Thursday. Tennis was dear to Radhika, police officers privy to the case told ThePrint, adding that she had a successful career playing for Haryana at the national-level and travelled across the country. Her tennis dreams had suffered a setback due to a shoulder injury, but she went on to set up an academy in Gurugram a year ago to coach children in the game. The academy had turned out to be sore point with her father, who had asked her to shut it but she did not listen. This led to a fractured relationship between the two, said the officers. Deepak admitted to nursing a grudge against Radhika in his confession. While he had shifted to Gurugram with his family, he continued to buy milk from his native village of Wazirabad, located a few kilometres away. During one of those trips to take milk from the village, an acquaintance hurled a jibe about Deepak living off his daughter's income. Such jibes continued and had prompted him to ask Radhika to close her tennis academy, said the police. 'They also used to question my daughter's character. I asked my daughter to close her academy, but she refused to do so. I grew tense about it as it was an insult to my dignity,' Deepak told the police, as documented in the FIR. 'Because of this tension, I pulled out my licensed gun and shot my daughter at her waist thrice when she was cooking in the kitchen.' Deepak is currently in custody and the police have booked him under Section 103(1) (murder) of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita as well as Section 27 (3) of the Arms Act, 1959, that deals with prohibited acts using a weapon. Also Read: Newlyweds who sought police cover shot dead in Haryana in 3rd case of 'honour killing' this month 'This was a mistake' The G block of Gurugram's Sector 57 wore a deserted look Thursday evening. Residents in the neighbourhood were, however, quick to identify the two-storey residential building belonging to the Yadavs. A family member came out of the building, requesting that the media leave them with their 'dignity'. 'Bahut beizzati ho gayi hai hamari, ab aur mat karo. Ek galti ho gayi (we have already been insulted enough, please stop now. This was a mistake),' said a young man in his 20s, who was wearing a mask, possibly to avoid being identified. The gruesome killing has left the joint family in shock and disbelief. In his statement to the police, Radhika's uncle Kuldeep Yadav said he was sitting on the ground floor of the two-storey house that he co-owns with his brother when he heard a loud boom from the first floor in the morning. The floor is occupied by his elder brother Deepak, and his family, which includes his wife, daughter and son. The scene there left Kuldeep in shock. He said he saw his niece Radhika lying in a pool of blood in the kitchen, while he could spot the revolver used in the crime in the drawing room. Kuldeep and his son took Radhika to the nearby Marengo Asia Hospital, where she was declared brought dead. Gurugram Police spokesperson Sandeep Kumar said the police were informed about the incident by the hospital. A team from the forensic laboratory subsequently visited the house. 'My niece Radhika was a tremendous tennis player and had brought several awards home,' Kuldeep said in his statement to the police that formed the basis of the FIR against his brother. According to the police, Deepak was self-employed along with his brother and son in the business of real estate and rentals in Gurugram. He had been a massive beneficiary of the government's acquisition of land in Wazirabad around two decades ago. As the influx of money increased in the family, Deepak saw the need for a gun that was issued with a licence in his name, said the police, adding that no misadventure had been reported against him concerning his .32 bore revolver earlier. When Kuldeep told the police that only Deepak and his wife Manju were present on the first floor at the time of murder, the police had only two suspects. Manju refused to give a statement, citing ill health and her presence in another room at the time of the incident. Deepak gave in during the sustained interrogation at his house, they said. (Edited by Nida Fatima Siddiqui) Also Read: Horror in Haryana's Jind as 5-yr-old & her mother gangraped, girl murdered. Teen among 4 apprehended
The Guardian
05-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
‘Ephraim will know': the man who buried 10,000 people has lessons on empathy, loss and the majesty of memory
It's a cool summer morning in the last days of 1959 and a teenager is riding his bike through Sydney's Rookwood cemetery. As he glides across the grounds, he notices the signs of dawn. The dew is melting off the grass. A fox leaps behind a bunya pine, and as if out of nowhere, a few of its cubs follow. The soil is firm beneath his tyres, and he can smell it warming, roused by the sun after a night of slumber. Riding his Malvern Star, he is carefree. But Geoffrey William Finch, this lanky not-quite-man on his way to his carpentry job, is also careful. As he traverses the grounds, he sees the sun come up behind the headstones. Then he rounds a corner and sees the very same sun shining on an east-facing row, blazing into the engraved names of the dead. This morning, as every weekday morning, he could circumvent the cemetery, ride along the waking bustle of Lidcombe. Instead, he lets himself in through the pedestrian gate and cuts across the field of headstones. He chooses this route because he likes the quiet. This is the interlude in which he works out his world, considers the day to come. 'And the whole time I am talking,' he tells me, some six decades later, sitting at his broad dining table in Melbourne. 'Who are you talking to, Ephraim?' I ask, because now this boy is an elderly man with a different name, a different religion, a life that he could have scarcely predicted riding through Rookwood on those dewy mornings. Ephraim and I are sitting in his front room and the sun is pouring into the space between us. He is telling me stories. I notice that he prefers discussing his work to discussing himself. He wants to revisit his 30 years as director of a burial society – the people he comforted and held; those he ritually washed, wrapped and prayed for. But today I press him on those early years. I want to learn the soil of this man before I can describe its trees, the fruits it has borne. 'Who are you talking to, riding through Rookwood?' I repeat, lightly, as Ephraim closes his eyes, slipping into a temporal estuary. 'I am talking to God,' he says eventually, his hands resting on the table in front of him, a boyish smile now playing on his bearded face. That Ephraim says such a lofty thing without an ounce of grandiosity, without pushing or preaching, foreshadows what I will learn about this man. This man, at once deeply religious and utterly irreverent, softly spoken but defiant, is as prone to crying as to smiling. This man, whose work deals with the body as much as the spirit, dwells easefully at their intersections. This ageing Orthodox Jew with a broad Aussie accent, this voracious archivist and beloved community figure, this working-class butcher's son who felt pulled to the Torah, is, himself, many beautiful intersections. The notion of writing Ephraim's life has been in the ether for many years. If you were a member of Melbourne's Jewish community from the mid-1980s to 2015 you would – for better or worse – have had something to do with Ephraim Finch. Having buried over 10,000 individuals, Ephraim is – physically, emotionally, culturally and spiritually – linked to a great many lives in this unique pocket of the world. Not long ago, someone interviewed Ephraim with a view to writing his biography. But for one reason or another, a book did not eventuate. And so the idea made its way to my desk. A week after the publisher approached me, I was shown Ephraim's journal. I was struck by the language he used to chronicle his work with the dead and the dying, as well as their loved ones: 'Your heart could feel the pain of lovers separated by war.' 'How do you live a normal life? I don't know, but I feel their losses and their love for each other.' 'Sometimes you do not understand the depth of friendship until the final days.' I noticed his empathy for all those enduring loss. The intensely personal involvement with the details of another's narrative. The reverence for forces we battle but must ultimately accept. 'He knew he was going to die and seemed to accept it. I held his hand and wished him a safe journey,' he writes in one entry. I wanted to know more about this heart language and how a human might acquire it, become fluent in its lexicon. Sign up to Five Great Reads Each week our editors select five of the most interesting, entertaining and thoughtful reads published by Guardian Australia and our international colleagues. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Saturday morning after newsletter promotion Underneath this sat something else. I had my own memory of Ephraim Finch, from a death in my family almost 20 years ago. When my then-husband's mother passed away in 2006, I remember Ephraim's name being uttered; on the cusp of her death, throughout her funeral, during the rituals that coloured the subsequent weeks. I do not recall the way Ephraim looked, or even meeting him. But I will never forget the way his name resonated in that house of mourning. It was as though the name itself had a beneficent forcefield; every time my grief-stricken father-in-law would say it, he seemed calmer. 'Ephraim will know' seemed to be the answer to the questions, many of them unanswerable. Time after time, in the sheer act of saying it, something in the atmosphere would ease, even as the tears continued. When the name 'Ephraim Finch' was spoken to me again, some 17 years later, I felt myself hurtling, with grateful awe, back into its orbit. At our first meeting, before I have even begun to prepare myself for the flood of names and narratives, Ephraim launches into a recollection of everyone he continues to visit at Springvale Jewish cemetery, almost 10 years after retirement from his role as director of the Jewish burial society. 'It's my village,' he says, closing his eyes and taking me along on his imaginary tour of the place. 'I see all of them as I go around … it's like walking down the street. There is the lovely gentleman who descended from the Radomsker Rebbe, and there is Bill … Hello Bill, my dear friend! And here is Mr Cykiert, who gave me his poem just before he passed.' I continue to watch him meet them, one by one. 'And, oh.' He drops to a whisper, his fluttering hands stilling. 'Hello, dear boy.' Something subtle shifts in his facial musculature, his eyes flicker. 'You see, I buried this boy …' In this moment, Ephraim's wife Cas, who has been sitting with us the entire time, softly interjects. 'May I tell this story, darling?' she asks, in a manner I will witness many times over the coming months. There is a concert of silent knowings between Cas and Ephraim, an instinct for each other's pauses. Intuitively, they allocate the best raconteur for the moment, illuminating and verifying one another. 'I'd like to explain why we are so connected to this boy, if I may?' Cas asks, her voice deep and low, her blue eyes cloudy. Ephraim nods. 'We were out one day with our daughter Sharona, who is now 42, but was then 20. It was a hot day, but she was suddenly freezing and had a terrible headache. This went on for days and on the third night she developed a rash. On top of this, she felt like every bone in her body was breaking. Next morning, I got up at dawn to get her some Panadeine. As soon as my finger made contact with her arm, dark purple spots started to appear, spreading. And Ephraim knew exactly what it was, because he had buried this magnificent young man a few years earlier. He knew the symptoms.' A doctor arrived not long after and administered a penicillin shot, which bought Sharona time to get to the hospital, where she would stay for three weeks. One day an infectious diseases doctor approached the Finches on the ward. 'How did you recognise the meningococcal septicaemia?' he asked Ephraim. 'Doctor, I buried a boy in 1991 …' And before Ephraim could say more the doctor named that boy, remembering the family. They stood mutely for some time, struck by the reach of tragedy. But beneath the moment was an undertow, a twist in the Finches' hearts. It was nothing as crass or numerical as a sacrifice schema – Cas and Ephraim never believed that this boy died so Sharona could live. In fact, it was an inversion of this 'lucky us' smugness – they had never forgotten that this child died while theirs had lived. Three months after Cas tells this story, Ephraim and I will go to Springvale together, and when we reach this young man's grave, Ephraim will bend down and kiss the engraved marble. He will greet the boy and read his name out loud, along with his date of passing. He will intone the names of his mother and father. He will weep for them, while knowing the limits of his weeping. He will continue bending, head bowed, holding all the connections in all his body. And I sense, simply by being next to this softly moving human, the shuddering proximity between us all, the near misses, the churn of loss and the majesty of memory, the ceaseless current of our arrivals and departures. This is an edited extract from Ferryman: The Life and Deathwork of Ephraim Finch by Katia Ariel (Wild Dingo Press, A$34.99).
