The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II (76 page)

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.’

Gangavataran made my head reel. Carved in relief on the face of a huge rock was the story of the emergence of Ganges from the Himalayas. There were animals and scores of human figures, exquisite in every detail.

‘All this was done by hand, simply with a chisel and hammer, wasn’t it?’ Lalmohan Babu asked in wonder.

‘Yes. Just think, Lalmohan Babu. There are millions of carved figures like these, to be found in temples all over our country. It took hundreds of years to finish building these temples; dozens and dozens of craftsmen worked on them. Yet, nowhere will you find a single stroke of the hammer that’s out of place, or a mark made by the chisel that doesn’t fit in. If something goes wrong with a figure of clay, the artist may be able to correct his mistake. But a single mark on a piece of rock would be permanent, absolutely indelible. That is why it always takes my breath away when I think of how totally perfect these ancient artists’ skill had been. God knows why modern artists have lost that sense of perfection.’

Mr Tarafdar and Shankar Babu had gone ahead. ‘You may as well go and see the two caves I told you about,’ Feluda said to me. ‘I am going to look at these carvings more closely, so I’m going to take a while.’

I took the guidebook from Feluda and looked at the map to see where the caves were located. ‘Look, Lalmohan Babu,’ I said, pointing at two dots on the map, ‘this is where we have to go.’ But it was not clear whether Lalmohan Babu heard me, for he had already resumed his story about the Atlantic and started to walk away. I followed him, and soon found a path that went up a small hill. According to the plan, I was supposed to go up this path. The noise of the waves was a lot less here. I could hear Lalmohan Babu’s voice quite clearly. Perhaps his story was reaching its climax.

I found the Pancha Pandava cave. Before I could go in, I saw Lalmohan Babu and Nayan come out and walk further up the same path. Neither seemed even remotely interested in the astounding specimens of sculpture all around.

I took a little time to inspect the carvings. The figures of animals were surprisingly lifelike. Even in thirteen hundred years, their appearance hadn’t changed. When I stepped out of the cave, two things struck me immediately. The sky had turned grey, and the breeze from the sea was stronger. There was no noise except the steady roar of the waves and an occasional rumble in the sky.

The Mahishasurmardini Mandap stood in front of me. Since Lalmohan Babu had come in the same direction, he should have been in there, but there was no sign of either him or Nayan. Could he have walked on without going into the mandap at all? But why would he do that? There was nothing worth seeing on the other side. Suddenly, I felt afraid. Something must have happened. I came out quickly and began running, almost without realizing it. Only a few seconds later, a new noise reached my ears—and froze my blood.

‘Ha ha ha ha ha ha!’

There could be no mistake. It was TNT’s laughter.

I turned a corner sharply, and my eyes fell on a horrible sight. A colossal black figure, clad in a red and white striped shirt and black trousers, was walking rapidly away, carrying Lalmohan Babu and Nayan, one under each arm. I could now see for myself why Mr Tarafdar’s chowkidar had called him a demon.

Under any other circumstances, I would have been petrified. But now there was no time to lose. ‘Feluda!’ I yelled and began sprinting after the black giant. If I could attach myself to one of his legs, perhaps that would slow him down?

I managed to catch up with him eventually and lunged forward to grab his leg. He let out a sharp yelp of pain, which could only mean that my hands had landed on the same spot where Badshah had bitten him. But in the next instant, I found myself being kicked away. Two seconds later, I was lifted off the ground and placed under the same arm which held Nayan. My own legs swung in the air like a pendulum. I was held so tightly that, very soon, I began to feel as though I’d choke to death. Lalmohan Babu, too, was crying out in pain.

But TNT was still laughing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his stick in the air, making circular movements, and heard him shout like a maniac, ‘Now do you see what I meant? How do you find Gawangi, eh?’

I would have told him, but at this moment, events took a dramatic turn. Two men emerged from behind TNT. One of them was leaning forward and walking strangely, taking long, measured steps. He was also swaying his arms from side to side.

Mr Tarafdar! And his friend, Shankar Hublikar.

I knew what Mr Tarafdar was trying to do. I had seen him make the same gestures on stage, when he hypnotized people. He continued to move forward, his eyes fixed on our captor. By this
time, TNT had seen both men. He charged at Tarafdar, his stick still raised high. Shankar Hublikar snatched it from his hand.

Gawangi slowed down. He suddenly seemed unsure of himself. I saw TNT tear at his hair and shout at him; but I couldn’t understand a word of the language he spoke.

Mr Tarafdar and Gawangi were now facing each other. With an effort, I managed to turn my head and look up at Gawangi’s face. What I saw took me by surprise again. His eyes were bulging, his jaw sagged and I could see all his teeth. I had never seen a human face like that.

Then, slowly, the huge arms that were carrying us began to lower themselves. A few moments later, I felt solid ground under my feet, and realized that Lalmohan Babu and Nayan had also landed safely.

‘Go back to your car,’ Mr Tarafdar spoke through clenched teeth. ‘Let me deal with this, then we’ll find ours.’

The three of us turned and began running back towards the caves. I saw TNT sit down on the sand, his face between his hands.

We found Feluda still looking at Gangavataran. The sight of three figures rushing forward madly made him guess instantly what had happened. He ran quicker than us and opened the doors of our taxi. Luckily, the driver had not left his seat.

All of us jumped in.

‘Turn back!’ shouted Feluda. ‘Go back to Madras, fast!’

Only one of us spoke as our car started to speed towards the city. It was Nayan.

‘That giant has forty-two teeth!’ he said.

We were having a most enjoyable lunch in the dining room called Mysore in our hotel. It specialized in Moghlai cuisine. Lalmohan Babu had offered to pay for this meal, as a token of thanks to Mr Tarafdar for having saved his life. Tarafdar and Shankar Babu had rejoined us in the hotel.

‘But how did Gawangi find you in the first place?’ Feluda asked Lalmohan Babu.

‘Don’t ask me, Felu Babu! What happened was this: I was totally engrossed in telling my story, and Nayan was hanging on to every word. We kept going into and coming out of caves and mandaps,
without really taking anything in. In one of these, suddenly I saw a statue of Mahishasur. I was about to come out after just one glance, when my eyes fell on another statue, painted black from head to toe, except that its torso was covered with red and white stripes. It was massive, and it was horrible. I was staring at it, quite puzzled by this deviation from all the other sculptures in the complex and wondering if it might perhaps be a statue of Ghatotkach—I mean, there were characters from the
Mahabharata
strewn about, weren’t there?—when the statue suddenly opened its eyes. Can you imagine that? The monster had actually been sleeping while standing up! Anyway, he lost not a second when he opened his eyes and saw us. Before either of us could get over the shock, he had picked us up and was striding ahead. Well, I think you know the rest.’

‘Hm. Gawangi might be physically exceptionally strong, but I’m sure he’s actually quite simple. Thank Heavens for that, or Sunil would have found it a lot more difficult to hypnotize him.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ Mr Tarafdar said. ‘We had no idea, of course, that we had been followed. You see, Shankar is interested in ayurveda. He’d heard somewhere that a herb called Sarpagandha could be found in Mahabalipuram. So we had gone to look for it. In fact, we even found it and were returning feeling quite jubilant, when we saw Gawangi and Thakur.’

‘Sarpagandha? Isn’t that given to people with high blood pressure?’ Feluda asked.

‘Yes,’ Shankar Babu replied. ‘Sunil’s pressure tends to climb up occasionally. I wanted the herb for him.’

Lalmohan Babu threw a chicken tikka into his mouth. ‘Felu Babu,’ he said, munching happily, ‘we managed without your help today. Perhaps you’re not going to be needed any more!’

Feluda ignored the jibe and said, ‘What is more important is that Gawangi and Thakur’s efforts failed.’

‘Yes. We’re now left with only Basak.’

Mr Reddy, who had arrived just before lunch and had been persuaded to join us (although he ate only vegetarian food), spoke for the first time. ‘Tell you what, Mr Tarafdar,’ he said gently. ‘I suggest you don’t go out anywhere else today. In fact, you should rest in the hotel tomorrow as well. After today’s events, I really don’t think you should run any more risks with that boy. After all, your show begins the day after tomorrow and we’re sold out completely for the first couple of days. If anything happened to Nayan, every
single person would want his money back. Where do you think we’d stand then?’

‘What about security during the shows?’

‘I have informed the police. Don’t worry, that’s been taken care of.’

Mr Reddy had indeed worked very hard to arrange good publicity for the show. We had seen large posters and hoardings on our way back from Mahabalipuram which showed Mr Tarafdar in his golden costume and introduced Nayan as ‘Jyotishkam—the Wonder Boy’.

‘We’ve all got to be a lot more vigilant,’ Feluda said. ‘I must apologize both to you, Mr Reddy, and to Sunil for not taking better care of Nayan. Those statues and carvings in Mahabalipuram simply turned my head, you see, or else I wouldn’t have allowed Nayan to get out of my sight.’

We finished our meal and left the dining room. Nayan went back with Mr Tarafdar since Jatayu had finished his story. Feluda, Lalmohan Babu and I returned to our room, and barely five minutes later, came the second surprise of the day.’

Feluda was in the middle of telling Jatayu, ‘I must now think of retirement, mustn’t I? I ought to put you in charge, I think. I’m sure you’ll make a very worthy successor—’ and Lalmohan Babu was grinning broadly, thoroughly enjoying being teased, when the telephone rang. Feluda broke off, spoke briefly on the phone, then put it down.

‘I have no idea who he is. But he wants to come up and see us. He rang from the lobby. So I told him to come. Mr Jatayu, please take over.’

‘What!’ Lalmohan Babu gasped. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You said my days were over. Let’s see how well you can manage on your own.’ The bell rang before Lalmohan Babu could utter another word. I opened the door to find a middle-aged gentleman, of medium height, sporting a thick black moustache, although his hair was thin and grey. He walked into the room, glanced first at Feluda and then at Lalmohan Babu, and said, ‘Er . . . which one of you is Mr Mitter?’

Feluda pointed at Lalmohan Babu and said coolly, ‘He is.’

The man turned to face Lalmohan Babu, with an outstretched hand. Lalmohan Babu pulled himself together, and gave him a manly handshake. I remembered Feluda had once said to him, ‘A handshake is a Western concept. Therefore, if you must shake hands
with someone, do so as a Westerner would—a firm grip, and a smart shake.’ Perhaps, like me, he had recalled these words for I saw him clutch the other gentleman’s hand tightly and give it a vigorous shake. Then he withdrew his hand and said, ‘Please sit down, Mr—?’

The man sat down on a sofa. ‘I could tell you my name, but that wouldn’t mean anything to you,’ he said. ‘I have been sent here by Mr Tiwari. I have known him for many years. But that isn’t all. You see, I am a private detective, like yourself. The company called Detecnique, for which I work, moved from Calcutta to Bombay more than twenty years ago. That is why I never got round to meeting you before, although I did hear your name. Pardon me, Mr Mitter, but I am a little surprised. I mean, you don’t look like an investigator . . . in fact, this gentleman here is more . . .’ He glanced at Feluda.

‘He is my friend, Lalmohan Ganguli, a powerfully outstanding writer,’ Lalmohan Babu announced solemnly.

‘I see. Anyway, let me tell you why I’m here.’ He took out a photograph from his pocket. I could see from where I was standing that it was a photo of Mr Hingorani.

‘You are working for this man, aren’t you?’

Feluda’s face remained impassive. Lalmohan Babu’s eyebrows rose for a fleeting second, but he said nothing. We were under the impression that no one knew about Mr Hingorani and us. How had this man found out?

‘If that is the case, Mr Mitter,’ continued our visitor, ‘then I am your rival, for I am representing Tiwari. I contacted him when I read about his case in a newspaper. He was delighted, and said he needed my help. I agreed, and left for Calcutta immediately. The first thing I did on reaching Calcutta was ring Hingorani. His nephew answered the phone and said no one knew where his uncle had gone. Then I checked with Indian Airlines and found his name on the passenger list of a Calcutta-Madras flight. It became clear that he had fled after Tiwari’s threats. So I went to his house, and met his bearer. He told me that three days ago, three visitors had been to the house. One of them was called Mr Mitter. This made me suspicious, and I looked up your number in the telephone directory. When I rang you, I learnt that you, too, had left for Madras. I put two and two together and decided to discover where you were staying. So here I am, simply to tell you what the latest situation is. You do admit, don’t you, that Hingorani appointed you to protect him?’

‘Any objections?’

‘Many.’

Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Feluda kept smoking, blowing out smoke rings from time to time, his face still expressionless.

‘Do you know what developments have taken place regarding Tiwari’s case?’ our visitor asked.

‘Why, has anything been reported in the press?’

‘Yes. Some new facts have come to light, that open up a totally different dimension. Are you aware what kind of a man you’re protecting? He is a thief, a liar and a scoundrel of the first order.’ The man raised his voice and almost shouted the last few words. Lalmohan Babu gulped twice and, despite a heroic effort, failed to hide the anxiety in his voice.

‘H-how do you kn-know?’

‘Tiwari found irrefutable evidence. Hingorani’s ring—a red coral set in gold—was found under the chest. It had rolled to the far end, which was why no one saw it at first. A sweeper found it eventually. Everyone in the office recognized the ring. Hingorani had worn it for years. This is my trump card, Mr Mitter. This will finish your client.’

‘But when the theft took place, Mr Hingoraj—no, I mean Hingorani, was visiting his cousin in a hospital.’

‘Nonsense. He stole into the office at two in the morning to remove the money. He had to bribe the chowkidar to get in. How do I know? I know because the chowkidar made a full confession to the police. Hingorani paid him five hundred rupees. Tiwari told me he could now remember perfectly when and how he had told his partner about the combination. It was nearly fifteen years ago. Tiwari had suffered a serious attack of hepatitis. He thought he’d die, so he called Hingorani and gave him the number.’

‘But why should Hingorani steal his partner’s personal money?’

‘Because he was nearly bankrupt, that’s why!’ our visitor raised his voice again. ‘He had started to gamble very heavily. He used to travel to Kathmandu pretty frequently and visit all the casinos. He lost thousands of rupees at roulette, but that did nothing to make him stop. Tiwari tried to warn him. He paid no attention. In the end, he had begun to sell his furniture and paintings. When even that didn’t bring him enough, he thought of stealing Tiwari’s money.’

‘Well, what do you intend to do now?’

‘I will go straight to his room from here. It is my belief that he’s brought the stolen money with him. Tiwari is such a kind man that
he’s offered not to take any action against Hingorani as long as he gets his money back. I am going to pass his message to Hingorani, and hope that he will then come to his senses and return the money.’

‘What if he doesn’t?’

Our visitor’s lips spread in a slow, cruel smile. ‘If he doesn’t,’ he said with relish, ‘we’ll have to think of a different course of action.’

‘You mean you’ll use force? But that’s wrong, that’s unlawful! Why, you are a detective, aren’t you? Your job is to expose criminals, not to break the law yourself!’

‘Yes, Mr Mitter. But there are detectives, and detectives. I believe in playing things by ear. Surely you know that the dividing line between a criminal and a good sleuth is very, very thin?’ He rose. ‘Glad to have met you, sir. Good day!’ he said, shaking Lalmohan Babu’s hand again. Then he swiftly went out.

The three of us sat in silence after he had gone. Then Feluda spoke. ‘Thank you, Lalmohan Babu. The advantage in staying silent is that one gets more time to think. I now realize that Mr Hingorani has recently lost a lot of weight. He’s been ailing for some time, perhaps with diabetes, I don’t know. Anyway, the point is that that’s why the strap of his watch became loose, and so did his ring. When it slipped off his finger and rolled under the chest, he didn’t even notice it.’

‘What! You mean what that man just said was true? You’re prepared to believe him?’

‘Yes, I am. A lot of things that were unclear to me before have now become crystal clear. But that man was wrong about one thing. Hingorani did not steal Tiwari’s money to settle his gambling debts. One look at Nayan had told him his financial worries were over. He took the money simply to create the Miracles Unlimited Company, and to support Tarafdar.’

‘Won’t you go and talk to Hingorani now?’

‘No, there’s no need. That man from Detecnique will do all the talking. And Hingorani will return Tiwari’s money, if only to save his own life. He has no future left as Tarafdar’s sponsor.’

‘But that means—?’

‘Stop it right there, Lalmohan Babu. I do not know what that means, or what all the future implications are. Give me time to think.’