‘Brilliant, Felu Babu, absolutely brilliant! After a long time, you’ve shown me today that your old power of deduction is still intact.’
‘Was it Basak?’
‘Oh yes. Nandalal Basak. He told me his full name today.’
‘What else did he tell you?’
‘Something rather unpleasant, I’m afraid. Apparently, Basak added ten thousand dollars to their original offer. But even so, Tarafdar refused. That naturally annoyed Basak very much. He said to me, “Go tell your snoopy friend, Mr Ganguli, Nandalal Basak has never been defeated in his life. If Tarafdar does a show in Madras, he’ll have to drop the special item by that wonder boy. We’ll see to it!”’
My hands suddenly turned cold not because Basak’s words meant that he had recognized Feluda, but because there was a hidden menace behind his words that I didn’t like at all.
‘That accounts for Basak,’ said Feluda coolly. ‘Tiwari is out of the picture. So we now have to watch out for Tarak Nath Thakur and Hodgson.’
‘Tarak Nath cannot do anything by himself. It’s Gawangi we have to deal with.’
Feluda started to speak, but was interrupted by the door bell. I could hardly believe my eyes when I opened the door. Never before had I seen telepathy work so quickly. TNT himself stood outside.
‘Is Mr Mitter in?’
‘Come in, Mr Thakur,’ Feluda called. ‘So you’ve worked out who I really am?’
‘Of course. And I also know who this satellite of yours is,’ TNT said, turning to Lalmohan Babu. ‘You are Jatayu, aren’t you?’
Yes.’
‘I had once thought of keeping you in my zoo, do you know that? After all, in the matter of writing absolute trash, you’re quite matchless, I think. Hullabaloo in Honolulu . . . ha ha ha!’
The sound of his loud laughter boomed out in our living room. Then he looked at Feluda again. ‘So we’re meeting once more in Madras, I think?’
‘Have you made up your mind about going there?’
‘Oh yes. And I won’t be alone. My Ugly from Uganda will accompany me, of course. Isn’t that marvellous? Sounds just like the title of one of your books, doesn’t it, Mr Jatayu?’
‘Are you going by train?’ Feluda asked.
‘I have to. Gawangi couldn’t fit into a seat in an aircraft.’
Mr Thakur burst into a guffaw again. Then he rose and began walking towards the front door. ‘There’s only one thing I’d like to tell you, Mr Mitter,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘In some situations, brain power can’t possibly be a match for muscle power. Your intelligence may be thousand times stronger than Gawangi’s, but if it came to a physical combat, he’d win with both his hands tied behind his back. Goodbye!’
Mr Thakur disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. I’d love to see this Gawangi in person, I thought.
Nine
There was no sign of either Gawangi or TNT on the train. Our journey to Madras proved to be totally eventless.
‘I fail to see,’ Lalmohan Babu remarked on our way to the hotel, ‘why Madras is clubbed together with cities like Delhi, Bombay and Calcutta. Why, any small town in Bengal is more lively than this!’
In a way, he was right. The roads were so much more quiet than the streets of Calcutta. But they were wide, smooth and devoid of potholes. There weren’t many skyscrapers, either; nor were there any traffic jams. I began to like the city of Madras. Heaven knew why Lalmohan Babu was still looking morose. However, he cheered up as we entered the brightly-lit lobby of our hotel. He looked around a few times, then nodded approvingly and said, ‘Beautiful. Hey, this is quite something, isn’t it?’
We had already decided that we’d spend the first three days just seeing the sights. Nayan and Mr Tarafdar would, of course, accompany us. ‘We’ve seen the Elephanta caves, Ellora and the temples of Orissa,’ said Feluda. ‘Now we ought to visit Mahabalipuram. That’ll show us a different aspect of architecture in India. Have a look at the guide book, Topshe. You’ll enjoy things much better if you’re already aware of certain points of interest.’
Since it was already dark, we did not venture out in the evening. In fact, each one of us felt like an early night, so we had dinner by 9 p.m. and went to bed soon after that. The next morning, Feluda said as soon as we were ready, ‘Let’s go and find out what Sunil and Nayan are doing.’
Unfortunately, we had been unable to get rooms on the same floor. Ours was on the fourth, while Nayan’s was on the third. We climbed down a flight of stairs and pressed the bell outside room 382. Mr Tarafdar opened the door. We found Shankar Hublikar in the room, and another gentleman. But there was no sign of Nayan.
‘Good morning, Mr Mitter,’ said Tarafdar with a big smile, ‘meet Mr Reddy. He is the owner of the Rohini Theatre, where I am going to have my first show in Madras. He says there’s a tremendous interest among the local public. There have been a lot of enquiries and he thinks the tickets will sell like . . .’
‘Where’s Nayan?’ Feluda interrupted a little rudely.
‘Being interviewed. A reporter from the Hindu arrived a little while ago to take his interview. This will mean more publicity for my show.’
‘Yes, but where is this interview taking place?’
‘The manager himself made arrangements. There’s a conference room on the ground floor . . .’
Feluda darted out of the room even before Tarafdar had finished speaking, I followed Feluda quickly, Tarafdar’s last words barely reaching my ears, ‘ . . . told him no one should go in . . .’
We rushed down the stairs without waiting for the lift. Feluda kept muttering under his breath. I caught the words ‘fool’ and ‘imbecile’, which I realized were meant for our magician.
A passing waiter showed us where the conference room was. Feluda pushed open the door and marched in. There was a long table, with rows of chairs around it. Nayan was sitting in one of them. A bearded man sat next to him, jotting something down in a notebook. Feluda took this in and, a second later, strode forward to grab the reporter and pull at his beard. It came off quite easily. Henry Hodgson stood staring at us.
‘Good morning,’ he grinned, without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
‘What was he asking you?’ Feluda asked Nayan.
‘About horses.’
‘All right, Mr Mitter, have me thrown out,’ said Hodgson, still grinning. ‘I have already got the numbers of all the winning horses in every race for the next three days. I shouldn’t have a care in the world for many years to come. Good day, sir!’
Mr Hodgson slipped out. Feluda flopped down on a chair, clutching his head between his hands. Then he raised his face and looked straight at Nayan. ‘Look, Nayan,’ he said somewhat impatiently, ‘if anyone else tries talking to you, from now on, just tell them you’re not going to utter a word unless I am present. Is that understood?’
Nayan nodded sagely.
‘There is one consolation, Feluda,’ I ventured to say. ‘At least Hodgson’s not going to bother us again. He’ll now go back to Calcutta and put his last few pennies on horses.’
‘Yes, that’s true, but I am concerned at Tarafdar’s totally irresponsible behaviour. A magician really ought to know better.’
We took Nayan back to Tarafdar’s room. ‘Did you want publicity, Sunil?’ Feluda said sarcastically. ‘You’ll get it in full measure, but not in the way you had imagined. Do you know who was taking Nayan’s interview?’
‘Who?’
‘Mr Henry Hodgson.’
‘What! That bearded—?
‘Yes, it was that bearded fellow. He’s got what he wanted. Didn’t I tell you Nayan wasn’t out of danger? If Hodgson could follow us to Madras, why shouldn’t the others? Now, look, if you want Nayan to remain safe, you’ve got to do as I tell you. Or else don’t expect any help from me.’
‘Y-yes, sir!’ Mr Tarafdar muttered, scratching his neck and looking somewhat shamefaced.
‘Leave the publicity to Mr Reddy,’ Feluda continued. ‘Neither you nor your friend
Shankar should go anywhere near reporters from the press. Many genuine reporters will want interviews and information. You must learn to stay away from them. Your main priority should be Nayan’s safety because—remember—if your show is successful, it will be because of his power and what he does on stage, not because of any publicity you might arrange for yourself. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir. I understand.’
Over breakfast, we told Lalmohan Babu about Hodgson’s visit. ‘Good, good!’ he exclaimed, attacking an omelette. ‘I was afraid things would go quiet in Madras. I’m glad something like this has happened. It all adds to the excitement, don’t you think?’
We returned to our room to get ready to go out. It had been decided that we’d go to the snake park today. An American called Whitaker had created it and, by all accounts, it was certainly worth a visit. Just as we were about to leave, the doorbell rang. Lalmohan Babu had already joined us in our room. Who could it be?
I opened the door to find Mr Hingorani. ‘May I come in?’ he asked.
‘Of course, please do,’ Feluda invited.
Mr Hingorani came in and took a chair. ‘So far, so good!’ he said with a sigh of relief. ‘I don’t think Tiwari knows I’m here. I left without a word to anyone.’
‘Good. But I hope you’re being careful. There’s something I really must stress, Mr Hingorani. If anyone rings your doorbell, you must always ask who it is, and open the door only if the person who answers is known to you.’ Before Mr Hingorani could say anything, our own doorbell rang again. This time, it was Tarafdar and Nayan.
‘Come in,’ said Feluda.
‘Is this that famous wonder boy?’ Mr Hingorani asked.
Feluda smiled. ‘Is there any need to introduce these two people to you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Hingorani, you have appointed me for your protection. You ought to have realized that if a client doesn’t come clean with his protector, the protector’s job becomes much more difficult.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘You know that very well, but you’re pretending you don’t. But then, you’re not the only one who did not tell me the whole truth.’
Feluda looked at Mr Tarafdar, who stared blankly. ‘Very well, since neither of you will open your mouth, allow me to do the talking.’ Feluda was still looking at Mr Tarafdar. ‘Sunil, you said you had got a sponsor from somewhere. My guess is that your sponsor is none other than Mr Hingorani here.’
At this, Mr Hingorani jumped up in sheer amazement. ‘But how did you guess?’ he cried. ‘Are you a magician, too?’
‘No, my guess had nothing to do with magic. It was simply the result of keeping my eyes and ears open.’
‘How?’
‘When we had gone to see Sunil’s show, Nayan had told someone from the audience the number of his car. It was WMF 6232. I saw the same number on your white Contessa. It wasn’t too difficult to guess that the young man in the audience was someone from your family, and that he had told you about Jyotishka.’
‘Yes, yes. It was Mohan, my nephew.’ Mr Hingorani still seemed bemused.
‘Besides,’ Feluda went on, ‘when we went to your house the other day, I noticed quite a few books on magic in your book case. This could only mean—’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Mr Hingorani interrupted. ‘When my father found out about my interest in magic, he destroyed all my equipment, but not my books. I managed to save those, and have still got them.’
I glanced at Mr Tarafdar. He was looking extremely uncomfortable. ‘Don’t blame Sunil,’ Mr Hingorani added. ‘It was I who asked him to keep my name a secret.’
‘But why?’
‘There is an important reason. You see, my father is still alive. He’s eighty-two, but quite strong and alert for his age. He lives in Faizabad in our old ancestral home. If he finds out that I’ve got involved with magic and magicians, then even at this age, he’s very likely to cut me out of his will.’
‘I see.’
‘When Mohan told me about Jyotishka, I decided almost immediately to finance his show. By then it was pretty obvious to me that Tiwari and I would soon have to part company, and I’d have to find a new source of income. So I met Tarafdar the next day and made a proposal, which he accepted. Two days later, Tiwari came to me to accuse me of stealing. I just couldn’t take it any more. I wrote to Tiwari the following morning, and told him that I was unwell, and that my doctor had advised me a month’s rest. I stopped going to my office from the next day.’
‘That means you were going to travel to Madras, in any case, to see Tarafdar’s show?’
‘Yes, but what I told you about my life being in danger is absolutely true, Mr Mitter. I would have had to seek your help, anyway.’
‘What about the new business opportunity in Madras you mentioned?’
‘No, that was something I just made up. It isn’t true.’
‘I see. So I’ve been appointed to protect you from Tiwari’s hoodlums, and to save Nayan from three unscrupulous men. We can arrange for one of us to be present with Nayan at all times. But you must tell me what you’re going to do to make my job a little easier.’
‘Well, I promise to do as I’m told. I have visited Madras many times before. So I don’t have to go sightseeing. Tarafdar’s manager can keep me posted about sales figures, once the show starts. In other words, there’s no need for me to step out of my room; and most certainly I’m not going to open the door to anyone I don’t know.’
‘Very well. All right then, Mr Hingorani, I suggest you go back to your room and stay in it. It’s time for us to leave.’
All of us rose. ‘Come along, Nayan Babu,’ said Jatayu, offering his hand. Nayan took it eagerly. He and Jatayu had clearly struck up a friendship.
Ten
We didn’t spend very long in the snake park, but even a short visit showed us what a unique place it was. It seemed incredible that a single individual had planned the whole thing. I saw every species of snake that I had read about, and many that I didn’t know existed. The park itself was beautifully designed, so walking in it was a pleasure.
No untoward incident took place during our outing on the first day. The only thing I noticed was that Lalmohan Babu tightened his hold on Nayan’s hand each time he saw a man with a beard. ‘Hodgson has gone back to Calcutta, I’m sure,’ I said to him.
‘So what?’ he shot back. ‘How can you tell Basak won’t try to appear in a disguise?’
We were strolling along a path that led to an open marshy area. To our surprise, we discovered that this area was surrounded by a sturdy iron railing, behind which lay five alligators, sleeping in the sun. We were watching them closely and Lalmohan Babu had just started to tell Nayan, ‘When you’re a bit older, my boy, I’ll give you a copy of my book The Crocodile’s Crunch,’ when a man wearing a sleeveless vest and shorts turned up, carrying a bucket in one hand. He stood about twenty yards away from the railing and began taking out frogs from the bucket. He threw these at the alligators one by one, which they caught very neatly between their jaws. I watched this scene, quite fascinated, for I had never seen anything like it before.
We returned to our hotel in the evening, all safe and sound. None of us knew what lay in store the next day. Even now, as I write about it, a strange mixture of amazement, fear and disbelief gives me goose-pimples.
The guidebook had told me Mahabalipuram was eighty miles from Madras. The roads were good, so we expected to get there in two hours. Shankar Babu had arranged two taxis for us. Nayan insisted on joining us instead of Mr Tarafdar as Jatayu had started telling him the story of his latest book. The Astounding Atlantic. I sat in the front seat of the car, Nayan sat between Jatayu and Feluda in the back.
It soon became clear that we were travelling towards the sea. Although the city of Madras stood by the sea, we hadn’t yet seen it. Two hours and fifteen minutes later, the sea came into view. A wide empty expanse stretched before us, and on the horizon shimmered
the dark blue ocean. The tall structures that stood out on the sand were temples.
Our taxi stopped next to a huge van and a luxury coach. A large number of tourists—most of them Americans—were getting into the coach, clad in an interesting assortment of clothes, wearing different caps, sporting sunglasses in different designs, and carrying bags of every possible shape and size. We stopped and stared at them for a minute. ‘Big business, tourism!’ proclaimed Lalmohan Babu and got out of the car with Nayan.
Feluda had never visited Mahabalipuram before, but knew what there was to see. He had already told me everything was spread over a vast area. ‘We cannot see it all in a day, at least not when there’s a small child with us. But you, Topshe, must see four things—the shore temple, Gangavataran, the Mahishasurmardini Mandap and the Pancha Pandava caves. Lalmohan Babu and Nayan can go where they like. I have no idea what Shankar and Sunil wish to do. They don’t seem at all interested in temples or sculpture.’
We began walking together.
‘All this was built by the Ballabhas, wasn’t it?’ asked Lalmohan Babu.
‘Not Ballabhas, Mr Ganguli,’ Feluda replied solemnly. ‘They were Pallavas.’
‘Which century would that be?’
‘Ask your young friend. He’ll tell you.’
Lalmohan Babu looked faintly annoyed at this, but did not say anything. I knew Mahabalipuram had been built in the seventh century.
We went to take a look at the shore temple first. Noisy waves lashed against its rear walls. ‘They certainly knew how to select a good spot,’ Lalmohan Babu remarked, raising his voice to make himself heard. On our right was a statue of an elephant and a bull. Next to these were what looked like small temples. ‘Those are the Pandava’s chariots,’ Feluda said. ‘You’ll find one that looks a bit like a hut from a village in Bengal. That’s Draupadi’s chariot.’