‘No, which is why we’re here. You see, we’re looking for someone who used to live in Haridwar. When we went there, we were told he’d gone to Rudraprayag. So we followed him there, but by then he had left for Kedarnath.’
‘Who are you trying to find?’
‘A man called Bhavani Upadhyaya.’
Mr Majumdar’s eyes nearly popped out. ‘Bhavani? You came looking for Bhavani, and you didn’t tell me!’
‘Why, do you happen to know him?’
‘Know him? My dear young man, I have known him for seven years, ever since he cured my ulcer with just one pill. I met him shortly before he left Haridwar. I noticed a change in him. He seemed very detached. He said he wanted to go to Rudraprayag. I told him Rudraprayag was not the same any more, what with buses and tourists and everything. If he wanted peace and quiet, he should go to Kedarnath. Still, he went to Rudraprayag first, perhaps to give it a try. But now he is here.’
‘Where can we find him?’
‘Not in the main town. He now lives in a cave. Have you heard of Chorabalital? It’s now called Gandhi Sarovar, I believe.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘The river Mandakini begins her journey from Chorabalital. You have to go behind this place, and make your way through rocks and snow for about three miles. There is no proper road. Then you will see a lake. That is the Sarovar. Bhavani lives in a cave near that lake. His surname has disappeared completely. People now know him as Bhavani Baba. He lives in complete seclusion. No one lives anywhere near him. If you are really keen, you may try finding his cave tomorrow morning.’
‘Have you met him?’
‘No, not this time. But some of the local people told me about him. Just occasionally, he comes here for food. Actually, fruit and vegetables are all he needs to keep going for days.’
‘Thank you very much indeed, Mr Majumdar. You’ve done us an enormous favour. But do you think anyone here might know of his past?’
‘Yes, there’s every possibility of that. After all, he hasn’t given up practising altogether. I heard he has cured a local child of polio. But, very soon, I think he’ll stop seeing patients, and become a total recluse.’
‘One last question. Can you tell me which part of the country he comes from?’
‘To be honest, I never asked him. He always spoke to me in very good Hindi, without traces of a regional accent. Anyway, good luck!’ Mr Majumdar left.
Lalmohan Babu had left us a while ago, and was talking to someone. He now joined us once more, and said, ‘We’re wanted in the Birla guest house.’
‘Who wants us?’ Feluda asked.
The man who had been talking with Lalmohan Babu stepped forward and said, ‘Mr Singhania.’
Feluda frowned. Then he turned to me and whispered, ‘This may well be the same Singhania who had gone to see Upadhyaya in Haridwar, It can’t do us any harm to go and meet him.’ To Singhania’s messenger, he said, ‘Chaliye.’
The guest house was very close to the temple. It took us barely three minutes to get there. I noticed on the way that it was beginning to get dark, although the sun still shone on some of the peaks, making them turn red and pink and golden.
I was surprised to see how clean the guest house was. Perhaps this was the best place in town, at least in terms of cleanliness. God knows what their food was like. In any case, I had heard all one could get in Kedar was potatoes.
Our guide took us to the first floor of the building, and ushered us into a fairly large room. Four mattresses lay on the floor. Three bulbs shone rather dimly from the ceiling. Kedarnath did have electricity, but the voltage was clearly very low.
A minute later, the man who had summoned us came into the room.
Seven
I felt a sudden stab of disappointment on seeing Mr Singhania. Perhaps it was his name that had made me think of lions and, subconsciously, I was expecting a man with a personality to match the majesty and ferocity of that animal. The man who walked in was of medium height, and everything else about him was so ordinary that it took me a while to accept that this indeed was the wealthy and powerful man who had gone to tempt Mr Upadhyaya. Only his thick moustache seemed to give him an air of importance.
‘My name is Singhania,’ he said. ‘Please sit down.’
We sat on two mattresses. He took the third, and sat facing us.
‘I am aware how well-known you are, Mr Mitter, but so far I haven’t had the chance to meet you,’ he began.
‘Nobody wants to meet me unless they are in trouble,’ Feluda replied lightly.
‘Possibly, but I am not in trouble.’
‘I know that. In fact, I had heard of you. But I wasn’t sure that you were the same Singhania.’
‘I’d be very interested to know how you learnt my name.’
‘Did you ever go to Haridwar?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Did you meet a man called Bhavani Upadhyaya there?’
‘I did, but how do you know about it?’
‘Mr Upadhyaya’s landlord told me someone called Singhania had come to meet his tenant, together with another man.’
‘What else did he tell you?’
‘You had apparently made a proposition that Upadhyaya found immensely tempting, but he managed to overcome that temptation.’
‘What a strange man, this Upadhyaya! I have never seen anyone like him. Can you imagine this, Mr Mitter? His monthly income never exceeded five hundred rupees, as he treated the poor without charging a penny. I offered him five hundred thousand. You know about the pendant he was given, don’t you? Originally, I believe it used to belong to the Maharaja of Travancore.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard that, but what I’d like to know is who told you. I was given to understand that only a handful of people who were close to Chandradeo Singh knew about it.’
‘You’re right, Mr Mitter. It was one of this handful of people who told me. I have a business in Delhi. I buy and sell precious stones and jewellery. Umashankar Puri’s son, Devishankar, came to me and told me about this pendant. He wanted me to buy it, and naturally, expected a commission. So I went to Haridwar, but Upadhyaya refused to part with it, even at the price I offered. Puri lost all interest, but I did not. I simply cannot give up the idea of buying it. I have come here to make one last attempt. If Upadhyaya has renounced the world and become a sanyasi, why should he want to hang on to an earthly object like that? Doesn’t it seem strange? Maybe if I made another offer, he’d agree to sell it this time?’
‘So why don’t you approach him?’
‘That is impossible.’
‘Why?’
‘He now lives in such a remote corner that I couldn’t possibly visit him there. May I ask you something?’
‘Yes?’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I have come, Mr Singhania, chiefly as a traveller. But I have got a lot of regard for Upadhyaya. If I see anyone trying to harm him, I shall certainly do my best to stop that person.’
‘Does that mean you are acting as a free agent? I mean, no one has employed you to be here on their behalf?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Would you agree to work for me?’
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘Go and see Upadhyaya, and persuade him to sell me that pendant. I will give you ten per cent of five hundred thousand. If Upadhyaya does not want to take any money for himself, I am prepared to give it to a member of his family, or whoever he thinks deserves to be paid.’
‘But are you aware that someone else is interested in this pendant?’
‘Yes. You mean Pavandeo Singh, don’t you? To be honest, I didn’t know until this evening. A reporter called Bhargav came and met me here. Who knew reporters would chase me even in Kedarnath? Anyway, it was he who told me. But I believe Singh is here simply to make a film.’
‘Sure. But Upadhyaya and his pendant will play a major role in his film.’
Mr Singhania began to look utterly helpless.
‘Please, Mr Mitter,’ he
begged, ‘please help me.’
‘Did you mention anything to Bhargav?’
‘No, of course not. I told him I was only a pilgrim here.’
‘Bhargav himself is interested in Upadhyaya, but only as material for a scoop.’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’
‘Look, all I can promise to do is this: if I find Upadhyaya, I will pass on what you’ve just told me. I personally feel if he doesn’t want to keep the pendant with him any more, he’d like to give it to someone. I don’t think he’ll agree to sell it. So let’s not make any firm arrangements right now. I will let you know what happens if I can get to meet him at all.’
‘Very well. Thank you, Mr Mitter, thank you very much.’
It was dark outside. The town of Kedarnath was slowly going to sleep. The lights in the houses, the shops as well as the streets were all so dim that they didn’t really make much difference. In the middle of it all, one light shone very brightly. Curious, we made our way to it, and found Pavandeo Singh filming the streets of Kedar with the help of a battery-operated light. He stopped as he saw us, and asked, ‘Any luck with Upadhyaya?’
Instead of giving him an answer, Feluda asked him a question. ‘Where are you staying here?’
‘I have got a room in a private house. The house belongs to a panda. It’s not far from here. See that lane on the left? I’m in the third house one the right.’
‘OK. I’ll get back to you,’ Feluda said. We began walking back to our dharamshala.
A few seconds later, Lalmohan Babu suddenly remarked, ‘I don’t know what kind of a person Pavandeo Singh really is, but that man Singhania is a crook.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Maybe you couldn’t see it from where you were sitting, but I did. He had a small tape recorder in his pocket. I saw him switch it on as soon as you started speaking. He’s got the whole conversation on tape.’
‘Well then, Mr Ganguli, I make a much better crook, wouldn’t you say?’ Feluda took out his mircrocassette recorder. ‘Do you think that I—’ he couldn’t finish. A man had emerged from the shadows and hit him on his shoulder as he was speaking. I saw Feluda sway and then fall to the ground, without being able to do anything to defend himself. The lane we were passing through was totally deserted. No doubt the attacker had taken the fullest possible advantage of this.
He tried to run away after that one blow. I stood stupefied, but only for a moment. Some odd instinct made me leave Feluda, and chase the other man instantly. Ten seconds later, I had caught him by his shoulders and pinned him against the wall. He kicked at me, and began to push me away; but Lalmohan Babu’s weapon shot out at him, and he fell down, crying in pain. I looked with some surprise at the weapon, which was nothing but his walking stick with a sharp pointed end. Deliberately, or otherwise, Lalmohan Babu had managed to hit this man on the head. I could see, even in the semi-darkness, blood gush forth from an open wound. But the man was obviously quite strong. He struggled to his feet in spite of his injury, and ran again, this time quickly melting into the darkness.
We turned to Feluda, and helped him to his feet. He did not say anything, but it was clear that he was hurt and in pain. Luckily, our dharamshala was not far. He said only one thing on the way: ‘So the goondas have made it to Kedarnath!’
By an enormous stroke of luck, it turned out that there was a doctor staying in the dharamshala. He was a Bengali, who happened to recognize Feluda. So he received extra special care. His shoulder had a nasty cut. The doctor washed it with antiseptic lotion, then put a band-aid on it. ‘It’s impossible to tell without taking an x-ray whether you’ve fractured your shoulder or not,’ he said.
‘Never mind about that. Fracture or no fracture, you couldn’t make me stay in bed, I promise you,’ Feluda grinned.
When we asked him about his fee, the doctor shook his head vigorously.
‘No, no, I cannot charge a fee for doing so little,’ he said. ‘You know, Mr Mitter, this is my third visit to Kedar. Each time I come back, I find the natural beauty of the place quite unspoilt, but the number of antisocial elements appears to be on the increase. I suppose the improvement in road transport is responsible for this. While it has made Kedar accessible to thousands of pilgrims and tourists, it has also made it easier for these elements to spread crime and vice where it simply did not exist before.’
The manager of the dharamshala had informed the local police without being told. When an inspector turned up, Feluda spent a long time speaking to him. I couldn’t hear what exactly he told him, but could see that the inspector was listening carefully and nodding in agreement.
Mr Bhargav arrived as soon as the inspector left. ‘What is this I hear about you being attacked?’ he asked, sounding both surprised and concerned.
‘It was nothing, Mr Bhargav. A detective learns to take these things in his stride. It was probably only a local goonda, interested more in my wallet than my person. But he didn’t succeed in taking anything.’
‘You mean this is not connected in any way with your investigation?’
‘What investigation? I am here merely to meet Upadhyaya.’
‘I see. Have you discovered where he lives?’
‘Have you?’
‘No one here knows anyone called Upadhyaya.’
‘Then perhaps he has changed his name.’
‘Yes, maybe.’
Feluda did not reveal anything of what we knew. Bhargav left, looking faintly disappointed.
Since we had another early start the following morning, we had dinner at half past eight and prepared to go to bed. Feluda, however, had other plans. To my amazement and considerable annoyance, he said, ‘You two can go to bed. I’m going out now, but will soon be back.’
‘Going out? Where? Feluda, you can’t! I know your shoulder’s still hurting, and you need to rest.’
‘I need to see Pavandeo. It’s urgent.’
‘What! You can’t go straight into the enemy camp.’
‘Look, Topshe, this has happened to me before. The shock of a physical attack makes my mind function much better. I now realize Pavandeo is not our enemy.’
‘No? Then who is?’
‘You’ll see for yourself, very soon.’
‘What will you do if you go out, and find him waiting for you?’
‘I have got my weapon with me. Stop worrying, and go to sleep. It doesn’t matter what time I come back. Tomorrow’s programme remains the same. We are leaving for Gandhi Sarovar at half past four.’
Feluda went out, his revolver in his pocket and a big torch in his hand.
‘What admirable courage!’ Lalmohan Babu exclaimed.
Eight
I could not tell when Feluda had returned at night. When I woke, shortly before half past four in the morning, he was already dressed and ready to go. Lalmohan Babu and I took ten minutes, and then we set off. Dawn had only just started to break. The streetlights were still on, looking more apologetic than ever.
We passed the temple and reached the open area behind it. Feluda suddenly turned to me and said, ‘You used to be able to whistle pretty loudly. Can you still do it?’
Somewhat taken aback, I said, ‘Yes, of course. Why?’
‘You must whistle when I tell you to.’
I looked at him curiously, but knew better than to press for an explanation. We kept walking, using our walking sticks. Without those, it would have been extremely difficult to walk on the slippery, rocky surface, most of which was still covered with snow. A little while ago, we had had to cross the river, stepping rather gingerly across a makeshift bridge of wooden planks. Mandakini was little more than a stream here. Everywhere I looked, I could see high mountain peaks, but I had no idea what they were called. The tallest of these had started to acquire a pinkish glow in the early light of dawn.
My hands and face felt absolutely frozen. Lalmohan Babu spoke, through chattering teeth, ‘T-t-t-opshe will wh-whistle, but wh-what am I going t-to do?’
?
??You? You need do nothing but hold that stick of yours over your head, and whirl it in the air. This will prove both your bravery and your insanity.’
‘V-very w-well.’
Half and hour later, a flat, grey area came into view. It was surrounded by endless rocks and stones. That had to be the Sarovar. Even so, I looked at Feluda and asked, ‘Is that the—?’ Feluda nodded in silence. To the west of the lake was a large rocky mound. It could well contain a small cave. The whole thing was at least two hundred and fifty yards away.
For sometime now, Feluda had been glancing around, as though he was looking for something specific. Now his eyes seemed to rest on an object. I followed his gaze quickly and saw one leg of a tripod, peeping out from behind a large boulder. Silently, Feluda made his way to it, closely followed by us.
A few seconds later, we found Pavandeo Singh peering through his camera. He was using his telephoto lens like a telescope.
‘I can see the cave quite clearly,’ he said as we reached him, ‘but he hasn’t yet come out of it.’ Then he passed the camera to Feluda, who passed it to me after a brief look.
The surface of the lake was still, reflecting the faint pink in the sky. I had to turn the camera a little to the left to locate the cave. A saffron flag was stuck between two stones right next to it.
As I looked, the sanyasi slowly stepped out of the cave. In those strangely beautiful surroundings, it seemed as though he had stepped onto a stage, to take part in some heavenly play. He was facing the east, waiting to welcome the rising sun.
‘Topshe, we have to get going,’ Feluda whispered. Rather reluctantly, I turned to go.
‘Don’t worry,’ Pavandeo said reassuringly. ‘I’ll stay here with my camera.’
We walked on, as quickly as we could, trying to hide whenever possible behind boulders and smaller hills. It was a shade brighter now, but there was no noise anywhere. It seemed almost as if nature was waiting with bated breath for something extraordinary to happen.
Soon, we got much closer to the sanyasi. I could see him clearly, as well as the flag near his cave. He was wearing a brown wrapper over his saffron clothes. We were moving toward the north; the sanyasi was still facing the east.