In February, 58-year-old Badri Patel was found motionless on a cot in his courtyard, dead before his family could take him to a hospital. In March, former 59-year-old sarpanch Chhaturam Sahu complained of queasiness while overseeing funerary preparations and collapsed. Later that month, 38-year-old Vinod Sahu was found slumped by the river.These were three of the eight deaths that Kharve in Chhattisgarh’s Baloda Bazar district – a village of 1,000 people – has seen over the last five months. They all had one thing in common – they went drinking with Ramsahay Jaiswal, a local grocery shop owner who was arrested on June 22 for the deaths of all eight people.On June 22, police arrested 46-year-old Ramsahay for the eight killings allegedly committed between February and May. Police allege Ramsahay laced bottles of locally brewed alcohol with a potent rat poison called Suhaga, killing unsuspecting victims within 15 minutes of consumption. Most victims were in their 50s and were allegedly regular drinking companions whom investigators say he targeted over accumulated slights — from trivial personal disputes to property troubles.For a village that sees few crimes — and fewer heinous ones — the murders came as a massive shock.The killings have now settled in every corner of the village — it hangs about the peepal tree that is the village meeting point, slipping into everyday tasks, conversations and silences. “We felt the gods were angry with us,” says Bagram Sahu, son of Buthalu Sahu, one of the victims.The deaths that shook the villageSituated next to the river Mahanadi, Kharve is divided into old and new Kharve, with a peepal tree forming the central part of the village. Surrounded by numerous multi-storeyed brick-and-mortar houses, the circular concrete platform around it forms the village’s centre, where all village roads lead: it’s where friends meet, exchange news and make promises. It is also here, right next to the tree, that Ramsahay ran his grocery shop.According to investigators, most deaths went undetected because they were put down to natural causes, sometimes by doctors.Story continues below this adIt began on February 7 with 58-year-old Badri Patel. That evening, Patel had gone drinking with Ramsahay — as he had done many times before — and returned home at 9 pm. When his daughter found him two hours later, he was lying motionless on his cot in the courtyard.Doctors put it down to a heart attack. “My father and Ramsahay were childhood friends. My father used to keep money with Ramsahay for safekeeping and asked for it whenever he needed it. Even now I don’t know why he did it,” his son Vikram, a mason who works in Jammu, says.Over the next few weeks, three others followed: 60-year-old Buthalu Sahu on February 20, 59-year-old Chhaturam Sahu on March 2, and 60-year-old Budhram Jaiswal on March 12.Former sarpanch Chhaturam Sahu, too, had drinks with Ramsahay. “He had not been staying in the village and had come back for Buthalu Sahu’s funeral. He went for a drink with Ramsahay, then went to oversee food preparations for the funeral when he felt queasy. He lay down and was dead by the time we took him to the hospital,” his 29-year-old son Harish says.Story continues below this adIt wasn’t until Vinod Sahu’s death on March 31 that concerns began to grow. His family says that morning, 38-year-old Vinod headed to the Mahanadi for a bath – his usual morning routine – and later went drinking with Ramsahay.He died at home 15 minutes later. “We later learnt that Vinod told someone that he had bought desi liquor for Ramsahay that morning and they had plans to share it,” a lawyer says.For the village, Vinod’s passing was particularly concerning. Unlike the others before him, Vinod was relatively young and healthy. “We felt so many deaths in the village was a bad omen,” Dilharan Jaiswal, a former sarpanch and Ramsahay’s neighbour, says. “In April, we consulted a baiga (local priest) and a gunia (traditional healer who also practises omen reading) in our village and conducted poojas on two occasions.”In the following weeks, two more died in quick succession – 55-year-old Gajanan Manjhi on April 28 and 59-year-old Chaituram Sahu on April 30 — and even though it disturbed them, villagers didn’t think to link the deaths.Story continues below this adThen Mahetru Shu died, and the village finally realised something was wrong.The turning pointWhen he died on the morning of May 14, 40-year-old Mahetru was perfectly healthy and had headed down to the river to bathe.“Someone saw him speaking with Ramsahay. He drank alcohol and left to take a bath in the river. Minutes later he collapsed by the river,” his son Divyanshu says.The death rattled the village, and discussions began under the tree. It was then that they learnt something startling: a few days earlier, one of them, 23-year-old daily wager Kartik Kumhar, had fallen ill after drinking liquor Ramsahay had offered.Story continues below this ad“I came home in the middle of the day and asked my friend Pramod Sahu if he had any liquor. He said he had half a bottle of liquor that Ramsahay had given him. I drank that, and within 20 seconds I vomited and fainted, regaining consciousness only 5-6 hours later,” he says.Alarmed by the story, villagers began joining the dots. On June 6 – some 20 days after Mahetru’s death – they filed a police complaint naming Ramsahay. Eight FIRs were registered later in the month.Who is RamsahayThose who knew him paint a very different picture: an affable, social and god-fearing man who made friends easily and got along with everyone. Short, thin and haggard, the 49-year-old Ramsahay was the youngest of seven siblings – three brothers and four sisters – and belonged to a well-respected, landed family.A Class 7 dropout, Ramsahay has two sons – one running another grocery shop after graduation and the second still studying in college. Ramsahay’s was the first grocery shop in the village, residents say.Story continues below this adThe sons could not be contacted for a response. But his brother says the family is shocked by the allegations.“Our father died when Ramsahay was a child, and our mother five years ago. He was always helpful, and no one ever said no to him. Fifteen years ago, he built two small temples in the village. We’re all shocked. We kept asking him to tell us the truth, but he kept pleading his innocence,” his brother Shivcharan says.Villagers say it wasn’t unusual to see him sharing drinks or chatting with neighbours late into the evening. But while he was seemingly friendly, some also recall how he cut people off over disagreements.“He used to drink beer with me. But ever since I opened a grocery shop right next to him, he’s stopped talking to me,” former sarpanch Dilharan says.Story continues below this adWhat the police have foundThe villagers’ complaint prompted police to take a closer look at the deaths. Ramsahay was arrested on June 22.Investigators say Ramsahay offered his victims a locally made liquor called Goa, sold at Rs 120 a bottle. He would allegedly lace it with rat poison before offering it to unsuspecting victims, sometimes for free.“We have strong circumstantial evidence in the case,” Deputy Superintendent of Police Kaushal Wasnik says. “We are also depending on forensic evidence. After exhuming the bodies of seven victims, samples were taken by forensic experts and sent to the Forensic Science Laboratory [FSL] to see if traces of Suhaga are found in them.”Investigators claim the alleged motives varied from personal taunts and jibes to land disputes, suspicion of occult practices and, in at least one case, an unpaid loan.In at least one case, the poison allegedly went to unintended victims.Story continues below this ad“After questioning, we found out that the accused held grudges over petty things,” one officer says. “He also believes he’s done much for the village but has never been given the respect he deserved.”Back in the village, Ramsahay’s family has since left. Life has returned to its staid pace: villagers continue to gather under the large peepal tree for their evening gossip, and children play next to Ramsahay’s padlocked home and shop.But beneath the seeming normality, undercurrents of tension lie. “Nobody wants to talk about Ramsahay anymore,” Kishan Sahu, a villager sitting by the tree, says.