The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume I (7 page)

It seemed cooler the following morning, so Baba told me to wrap a muffler round my throat. I could tell from his frown and preoccupied air that he was deeply worried. Dhiru Kaka had left the house very early in the morning without telling anyone where he was going. After yesterday’s incident, he had said only one thing over and over: ‘How will I now face Srivastava?’

Baba had tried to comfort him by saying: ‘But it wasn’t your fault! How were, you to know the thief would turn up in your absence dressed as a sadhu? Why don’t you go to the police? Didn’t you say you knew Inspector Gargari?’ So it could be that Dhiru Kaka had gone to inform the police.

Baba said over breakfast: ‘I had thought of taking you to the Residency. But perhaps it’s best that I stay in today. You two can go out for a while, if you like.’

I nearly smiled at this, for Feluda had already said he’d like to explore the place on foot and I had decided to join him. I knew what he had in mind was something other than just aimless walking. His eyes had taken on a steely glint since last night.

We left shortly after eight.

As soon as we were out of the house, Feluda said, ‘Let me warn you, Topshe. If you talk or ask too many questions, I’ll send you back. Just keep your mouth shut and walk by my side.’

‘But what if Dhiru Kaka informs the police?’

‘So what if he does?’

‘Suppose they catch the thief before you?’

‘No matter. I’ll change my name, that’s all.’

Dhiru Kaka lived on Frazer Road. It was a quiet street, with houses which had large gardens on either side. It led to Dupling Road. Unlike Calcutta, all roads in Lucknow were clearly marked.

There was a paan shop at the corner where Dupling Road joined Park Road. Feluda ambled towards this shop.

‘Can I have a
meetha
(sweet) paan?’ he asked.

‘Yes, babu, I’ll make you one with special masala,’ said the paanwalla.

‘Thank you.’

The paan was duly handed to him. Feluda paid for it, put it in his mouth and said, ‘Look, I am new to this town. Can you tell me where can I find the Ramakrishna Mission?’

‘Ramakrishna Mishir?’

‘No, no. Ramakrishna Mission. I’ve heard that a great sadhu is visiting Lucknow and is staying at the Ramakrishna Mission.’

The paanwalla shook his head and muttered something I couldn’t catch. But we got some information from another source.

A man with a huge moustache was lying on a string bed nearby, singing merrily and beating an old rusted tin. He now stopped singing and said, ‘Would that be a bearded sadhubaba? Wearing dark glasses? Yesterday I spoke to such a man. He asked me where the nearest tonga stand was, and I showed him.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Five minutes from here. Just after that crossing, you can see a whole row of tongas.’

‘Shukriya,’ said Feluda.

‘That was “thank you” in Urdu,’ he said to me as an aside. I had never heard the word before.

The eighth tongawalla we asked admitted that a bearded, saffron-clad man had indeed hired his tonga the previous evening.

‘Where did you take him?’

‘Istishan,’ said the tongawalla.

‘You mean the railway station?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘How much do you charge to get there?’

‘Seventy-five paise.’

‘And how long does it take?’

‘Ten minutes.’

‘If I pay you a whole rupee, can you get us to the station in eight minutes? Now?’

‘Why, have you a train to catch?’

‘Yes, the best train in the world. The Imperial Express!’

The tongawalla grinned, foolishly and said, ‘All right. I’ll get you there in eight minutes.’

On our way, I asked a little hesitantly, ‘Do you think the sadhu is still waiting at the station clutching that ring?’ At this, Feluda glared at me so furiously that I promptly shut up.

A little later, he asked our driver, ‘Did the sadhubaba have any luggage?’

The driver thought for a minute and said, ‘Yes, I think he had a case. But not a large one.’

‘I see.’

On reaching the station, we began asking all the likely people who might remember having seen the sadhu. But those at the ticket booth or the gate couldn’t help; nor could the porters. The manager of a restaurant at the railway station said, ‘Are you talking about Pavitrananda Thakur? The one who lives in Dehra Dun? He arrived only three days ago. He couldn’t have gone back so early. Besides, he always travels with a huge entourage.’

At last, the chowkidar of the first-class waiting-room said he had seen a man who fitted our description.

‘Did he sit here in the waiting-room?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Well?’

‘He went into the bathroom. He was carrying a small case.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I don’t know, babu. I didn’t see him after that.’

‘Were you here throughout?’

‘Yes. The Doon Express was about to arrive. There were a lot of people here. I didn’t leave the room at all.’

‘Perhaps you didn’t notice him again.’

‘Well—all right, perhaps I didn’t.’

But the man looked as though what he really wanted to say was that if the sadhubaba had come out of the bathroom, he would certainly have seen him.

If that was the case, where had the sadhu disappeared?

We came out of the station. Here, too, stood a row of tongas. We got into one. I was beginning to look upon these contraptions with a new respect. The last one had taken exactly seven minutes and fifty-seven seconds to reach the station.

I couldn’t help asking another question as we set off. ‘Did the sadhubaba simply vanish in the bathroom?’

‘Yes, he might have done,’ said Feluda. ‘Sadhus and sannyasis in the olden days could disappear at will—or so I’ve heard.’

I knew he wasn’t serious, but he spoke with such a perfectly straight face that it was impossible to tell.

A funny noise greeted us as we reached the main road. It sounded like a band, and it was coming closer. Bang, bang, twiddle-dee-dum!

Then we saw it was a tonga like ours, with the difference that this one was decorated with artificial flowers, balloons and colourful flags. The music was coming from a loudspeaker, and a man wearing a fool’s cap was throwing great fistfuls of printed paper at people.

‘Advertisement for a Hindi film,’ Feluda said.

He was right. I could see, as the other tonga went past us, that a brightly painted poster was pasted on its side. The film was called
Daku Mansoor.
A couple of handbills landed in our tonga, and with them, came a white sheet of paper, screwed into a ball. It hit against Feluda’s chest and fell on the floor.

‘I saw the man who threw it, Feluda,’ I yelled, ‘he was dressed like an Afghan. But—’

Before I could finish speaking, Feluda had picked up the piece of paper, clambered down and started to run in the man’s direction. I simply watched with amazement the speed at which he ran, despite jostling crowds, without colliding into anyone.

The driver, by this time, had stopped the tonga. I could do nothing but wait. The music from the loudspeaker had grown faint, although a few urchins were still busy collecting the handbills. Feluda returned a few moments later, panting. He jumped into the tonga, gestured to the driver to start, and said, ‘He managed to escape only because I wasn’t familiar with the little alleyways of this place!’

‘Did you actually see him?’ I asked.

‘How could I have missed him when even you saw him?’

I said nothing more. If Feluda hadn’t already seen the man, I would have said that although he was dressed like one, the man was remarkably short for an Afghan.

Feluda now took out the screwed-up piece of paper, smoothed it out and read its contents. Then he folded it three times and put it in his wallet. I did not dare ask what was written on it.

We returned home to discover that Dhiru Kaka had come back, and with him was Srivastava. The latter did not appear to be too upset by the loss of his ring. ‘That ring had a jinx on it, I tell you,’ he said, ‘it caused trouble everywhere it went. You were lucky it was stolen in your absence. Suppose they had broken into your house at night? Suppose they had turned violent?’

Dhiru Kaka smiled at this.

‘That would have made more sense,’ he said. ‘This man simply made a fool of me. It is this that I find so hard to accept!’

‘Stop worrying, Dhiru Babu. That ring would have gone, anyway, even if I didn’t part with it. And please don’t go to the police. That would make matters worse. Whoever it was might try to attack you again!’

All this while, Feluda was leafing through a copy of
Life
magazine. He now laid it aside, leant back in the sofa and asked, ‘Does Mahabir know about this ring?’

‘You mean Pyarelal’s son?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I don’t know for sure. He used to be in Doon School. Then he joined the military academy, but left it eventually and went off to Bombay. Now he’s become an actor, I believe.’

‘Did Pyarelal approve of his son acting in films?’

‘He never mentioned anything to me. But I know he was very fond of his son.’

‘Was Mahabir in Lucknow when Pyarelal died?’

‘No, he was in Bombay. He arrived as soon as he heard the news.’ Dhiru Kaka said, ‘Good heavens, Felu, you are asking questions like the police!’

‘He’s an amateur detective, you see,’ Baba explained. ‘He has a positive . . . er. . . knack in these matters.’

Dr Srivastava looked at Feluda with undisguised surprise. ‘That’s good,’ he said, ‘very good indeed.’

Only Dhiru Kaka remarked, a little dryly, I thought: ‘And the thief took something from the very house where we have a detective
staying! That is regrettable, isn’t it?’

Feluda made no comment. Instead, he turned to Srivastava and asked another question.

‘Is Mahabir earning enough from films?’

‘I don’t know about that. He went to Bombay only two years ago.’

‘He does have plenty of money, doesn’t he? I mean . . .’

‘Yes. Pyarelal left him all his property. Acting in films is more or less just a pastime for him.’

‘Hm,’ said Feluda and picked up the
Life
again.

Srivastava suddenly looked at his watch and exclaimed, ‘My God, is that the time? I forgot all about my patient! Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.’

Dhiru Kaka and Baba went out with him. Feluda dropped the magazine on a table and asked, ‘Where would you like to go—the moon or Mars?’

‘At this moment,’ I replied, ‘I’d like to do just one thing.’ Feluda paid no attention to me. ‘I’ve just seen a picture of the surface of the moon in that magazine. It didn’t seem very interesting. I feel curious about Mars.’

I rose from my chair. ‘Feluda,’ I said, ‘what I am curious about is that piece of paper in your wallet.’

‘Oh that! Here, look!’

He flicked the neatly folded paper towards me as though he was playing carrom. I opened it and found just two words: Watch Out!

The writer had used a red liquid of some kind. It wasn’t ink. What could it be? Feluda must have guessed what I was thinking, for he said: ‘Sometimes, after a paan has been stuffed with masala, some of its juice overflows on to the stalk. Those words were written with the red juice from a paan.’

I brought the paper close to my nose. It smelt distinctly of paan. ‘But who could have written it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why should anyone tell you to watch out? You didn’t steal the ring!’

Feluda burst out laughing.

‘The culprit doesn’t get warnings and threats, silly! They are given to the culprit’s enemy. And a detective is always an enemy. So whoever chases a criminal has to risk his life!’

My heart beat faster and my throat started to go dry. I swallowed hard and said, ‘In that case, we should perhaps take some steps to
protect ourselves.’

‘And who told you I haven’t taken those steps already?’ said Feluda and took out a small round tin from his pocket.

‘Denticare,’ it said.

Why, it was only a tin of toothpowder. I had seen my grandfather use it years ago. Surprised, I asked, ‘What would you do with tooth-powder, Feluda?’

‘Don’t be silly! It’s not toothpowder.’

‘What is it then?’

Feluda widened his eyes, stretched his neck and proclaimed proudly, ‘It’s Powdered Thunder!’

That night, after dinner, Feluda said suddenly, ‘Topshe, what do you make of all this?’

‘All what?’

‘Everything that’s happened so far.’

‘Why, you should know! You’re the detective! Besides, how can I draw any conclusions until we find out who that sannyasi was?’

‘But surely certain things are quite clear? For instance, the fact that the sannyasi went into the bathroom and didn’t come out. Now that is pretty revealing, isn’t it?’

‘What does it reveal?’

‘Can’t you figure that out?’

‘Well, all it can mean is that the chowkidar wasn’t paying enough attention.’

‘No, no, you ass!’

‘What, then?’

‘If the sannyasi had indeed come out, that chowkidar would definitely have seen him.’

‘You mean he never did?’

‘Do you remember what he was carrying?’

‘Look, I wasn’t . . . oh yes, he had a small attaché case.’

‘Have you ever seen a sannyasi with an attaché case?’

‘No, can’t say I have.’

‘Well, I think that’s distinctly suspicious.’

‘What do you suspect?’

‘That sannyasi was no more than a non-sannyasi just like you and
me. And his normal clothes were in that attaché case. The saffron robe was a disguise. Possibly the beard was false, too.’

‘Oh, I see. You mean he changed into different clothes, stuffed his robe into the case and came out looking totally different. No wonder the chowkidar couldn’t recognize him!’

‘Yes, now you’re talking!’

‘But who threw that piece of paper at you?’

‘Either the fake sannyasi himself, or one of his men. He must have heard us making enquiries at the station, so he decided to give us a warning.’

‘All right. But are there any more mysteries?’

‘There is no end to them, my boy! Who followed Dr Srivastava in that black car? Who was watching us from the gate, smoking a Charminar and chewing a paan? Was it the same sannyasi, or was it someone else? What “spy” did Pyarelal talk about? Why does Bonobihari Babu keep wild animals in his house? Where had Mahabir seen Bonobihari Babu before? How much does he know about the ring?’

I lay awake that night, thinking these things over. Feluda was scribbling something in a blue notebook. Then he put it away and went to bed at half past ten. Soon, he was fast asleep.

Drums beat in the distance. Oh yes, Ram Lila. I heard an animal at some stage—it might have been a dog or a jackal, but it sounded like a hyena.

Why was Feluda puzzled by Bonobihari Babu’s wild animals? One didn’t always have to do things for a specific reason, did one? People had strange hobbies. So perhaps keeping wild animals was just a hobby for him?

It’s difficult to tell when I fell asleep; nor can I tell what woke me. It was still dark. And everything was very quiet. The drums were silent, as were the animals. All I could hear was Feluda breathing heavily in his sleep next to me and the alarm clock ticking behind my head. Then my eyes fell on the window.

Normally, I could see a fair bit of the starry sky through the open window. Tonight, something blocked most of it.

As the last remnants of sleep cleared from my eyes, I realized with a shock what it was. A man was standing outside at the window, holding its bars, and staring into our room.

My heart stood still. Yet, I couldn’t take my eyes off that figure. The room was utterly dark and the starlight outside was not good enough to see the man’s face. But I could make out that the lower half of his face was covered by a dark cloth.

Now he put a hand through the bars in the window. But no, it wasn’t just his hand. He was holding a rod.

A sweet, yet strong smell hit my nostrils. I was already breathless with fear. Now my limbs began to go numb.

I tried to muster all my will power. Then slowly, without moving my body, I stretched out my left arm towards Feluda. He was still asleep.

My eyes hadn’t moved from the window. The man was still holding the rod and that smell was getting stronger. I began to feel giddy.

At this moment, my hand brushed against Feluda’s waist. I gave him a nudge. Feluda moved slightly and his bed creaked noisily with the movement. In that instant, the man vanished from the window.

‘Why are you poking at me?’ asked Feluda sleepily. I swallowed and tried to speak.

‘Window,’ I managed.

‘What about the window? Who’s . . . God, what’s that smell?’ Fully awake, Feluda jumped up and ran to the window. He stared out of it for a few moments, then turned back to me.

‘Tell me exactly what you saw.’

I was still finding it difficult to talk. ‘A man . .’ I croaked, ‘with a rod . . . inside . . .

‘Did he stretch the rod out into our room?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see. He must have had chloroform dabbed on that rod. He wanted us to faint.’

‘But why?’

‘It could be a different thief. May be he thought the ring was still in our house. Never mind. Go back to sleep now, and please don’t tell you father or Dhiru Kaka about this. They’ll only get nervous and spoil all my work.’

The next morning, both Baba and Dhiru Kaka appeared more relaxed. The police had been informed and Inspector Gargari had already started working on the case. So it wasn’t likely that there
would be any further problem.

I sent up a silent prayer for Feluda. Dear God, don’t let the police win. Let it be Feluda who finds the ring. May the full credit go to him, not the police.

Baba said, ‘I’m thinking of taking you out today to a few other places.’

We decided to leave after lunch. But before a final decision could be taken on where we should go, Bonobihari Babu turned up at the house. It was he who eventually settled the matter.

‘I had to come when I heard of the daylight robbery,’ he said. ‘If only you had a hound, Dhiru Babu, this wouldn’t have happened. A well-trained pedigree hound would have taken just five seconds to figure out what the sadhu’s intentions were. But what’s the use of offering you advice now? The damage is done! Never mind. Have one of these,’ he added, unwrapping the small packet he was carrying, ‘these are the best paan in Lucknow. Banaras is the only other place where you can find such good quality paan.’

I began to feel slightly uneasy. If Bonobihari Babu stayed for too long, our plans for the afternoon would be spoilt. But he asked at this point, ‘Are you planning to go out or will you stay in?’

Baba said, ‘Well, these fellows haven’t seen anything except the Imambara. So I was thinking of taking them somewhere else.’

‘Haven’t you seen the Residency?’ Bonobihari Babu asked me. I shook my head.

‘Then allow me to show it to you. You won’t find a guide like me. I have a thorough knowledge of the Mutiny.’

Then he turned to Dhiru Kaka and said, ‘There is only one thing I’m feeling curious about. Where did you keep the ring? In a chest?’

‘No, I haven’t got one in my house. The thief took it from my Godrej almirah. The key, of course, was in my pocket. He must have used a duplicate.’

‘I believe he left the box behind?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very strange! Was the box in a drawer?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you searched the drawer thoroughly, I presume?’

‘Every inch of it.’

‘You could check for fingerprints, couldn’t you? I mean, on the handle of the almirah and that little box . . . ?’

‘That wouldn’t help. Both are full of my own fingerprints.’

Bonobihari Babu shook his head and said, ‘Pyarelal was a strange man. He didn’t even bother to have the ring insured. And the person he gave it to was just as foolish. However, I hope he’s now learnt a lesson.’

We didn’t get the chance to take a tonga this time. All of us got into Bonobihari Babu’s car. Feluda and I sat in the front.

As we were passing through Clive Road, Bonobihari Babu asked us, ‘Did you ever think you’d get involved in such a mysterious event in Lucknow?’

I shook my head. Feluda chuckled.

Baba spoke for him. ‘Felu is thrilled to be here,’ he said, ‘because he’s very interested in such things. He’s an amateur sleuth, you see.’

‘Indeed?’ Bonobihari Babu sounded both surprised and pleased, ‘It’s an excellent way of exercising the brain. Well, Felu Babu, how far have you got?’

‘I’ve only just started.’

‘I don’t know what you’d call a mystery. But certainly I am mystified by many things.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Dhiru Kaka.

‘Well, how do you suppose that sannyasi got hold of a duplicate key? Besides, your house wasn’t totally empty. How could he go into your bedroom knowing that the bearer and the cook were in the house? In any case, one little thing has always worried me.’

‘What is that?’

‘Did Pyarelal really give that ring to Dr Srivastava, or did Sri—?’

‘What are you saying, Bonobihari Babu? Surely you don’t suspect poor Dr Srivastava!’

‘Why not? Everyone is under suspicion until this matter gets cleared up. And that includes you and me. Isn’t that right, Felu Babu?’

‘Certainly. We mustn’t forget that Dr Srivastava and that sadhu had both gone to our house that evening,’ said Feluda.

‘Exactly!’ Bonobihari Babu seemed to grow positively excited. Baba spoke a little haltingly. ‘But . . . if Srivastava had indeed used unfair means to get hold of that ring, why should he give it to us for safe keeping? And then why should he steal it again?’

Bonobihari Babu laughed out loud. ‘That’s simple! His house was burgled. So he got frightened and passed the ring on to you. But
temptation didn’t leave him, so he stole it back, fooled the real thief and killed two birds with one stone!’

I began to feel quite confused. How could an amiable gentleman like Srivastava be a thief? Was Feluda in agreement with what had just been said? Or had his suspicion fallen on Dr Srivastava only after Bonobihari Babu began speaking?

In fact, he hadn’t finished. ‘Srivastava is a nice enough man, I agree,’ Bonobihari Babu went on. ‘But just think for a minute—he’s built his own house, stuffed it with expensive furniture and he certainly lives in style. Now, how could he have done that? I mean, how much does he earn as an osteopath in a small town like Lucknow?’

Dhiru Kaka said, ‘Who knows, perhaps his father left him some money?’

‘No. His father was just a clerk in a post office in Allahabad.’

At this point, Feluda suddenly asked something completely irrelevant.

‘Have you ever been bitten by any of your animals?’

‘No, never.’

‘What is that mark on your right wrist?’

‘Oh ho ho—you do have sharp eyes, I must say! That mark normally stays hidden under my sleeve. It’s the result of fencing. My opponent’s sword scratched my wrist.’

The Residency was really worth seeing. It was a beautiful place—there were trees everywhere and, amidst them, a few broken old British houses, all built in the mid-nineteenth century. On the trees sat large groups of monkeys. Lucknow, I had heard, was well known for its monkeys. Now I could see for myself what these creatures could get up to.

A few street-urchins were firing stones at the monkeys from their catapults. Bonobihari Babu went across and gave them a nasty earful. Then he returned to us and said, ‘I cannot stand cruelty to animals. Unfortunately, there’s plenty of it to be seen in our country.’

I had read about the Sepoy Mutiny. Going through the Residency made those events pass through my mind like pictures on a screen. Bonobihari Babu, in the meantime, had begun his commentary.

‘During the time of the Mutiny, Lucknow was ruled by the
Nawab. The British forces were all stationed in the Residency here. Henry Lawrence was their Commander-in-Chief. When trouble started, most of the other British men and women in Lucknow went and took refuge in a hospital. Sir Henry fought bravely, but was eventually killed by the sepoys. What happened to the British after that is obvious from the state of this building. If Sir Colin Campbell hadn’t arrived with reinforcements, heaven knows what greater horrors the British in Lucknow would have had to endure . . . This was their billiard room. Just look what those cannon balls did to it!’

Baba and Dhiru Kaka had gone for a walk since they had both seen the Residency before. Only Feluda and I were inside, totally engrossed in what Bonobihari Babu was saying, and looking at the remains of the broken buildings, all built two hundred years ago. Suddenly, through a hole in the wall, something came flying in. It shot past Feluda’s ear, bumped against the opposite wall and fell on the ground with a thud. It turned out to be a stone.

In the next instant, I saw Bonobihari Babu pull Feluda sharply to one side, just as another stone came in and fell on the floor. There was no doubt that both had been thrown with a catapult.

Bonobihari Babu, despite his age, moved with remarkable agility. He jumped through a bigger gap in the wall and landed on the grass outside. Feluda and I joined him almost immediately. We all saw a bearded man running away. He was wearing a black coat and a red fez cap. Feluda rose to his feet without a word and ran after him. I was about to follow, but Bonobihari Babu pulled me back, saying: ‘You are still only a schoolboy, Tapesh. It’s better that you stay out of this.’

Feluda returned in a few minutes.

‘Did you catch him?’ asked Bonobihari Babu.

‘No,’ said Feluda, ‘I was too far behind. He got into a black Standard car and fled.’

‘Scoundrel!’ Bonobihari Babu muttered. ‘Come on now, we’d better get out of here.’

A little later, we met Baba and Dhiru Kaka. ‘Why are you panting, Felu?’ Baba asked.

‘Perhaps he should give up being a sleuth,’ said Bonobihari Babu, ‘I think a goonda’s after him!’

Both Baba and Dhiru Kaka began to look rather alarmed when they heard our story. But, in the end, Bonobihari Babu laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said, ‘I was only joking. Those stones
were actually meant for me, not Felu. Didn’t you see me yell at those boys? It was simply their way of paying me back.’ Then he turned to Feluda and said, ‘Even so, Felu Babu, I would say that you really must be more careful. After all, you are young and new to this place. Why get involved in something that doesn’t concern you?’

Feluda remained silent. We began walking back to the car.