They even gave me the details of those injuries.’
The expression on Mr Sen’s face changed. He sighed after a short pause, and said, ‘Nishith knew I didn’t want anyone to learn about what had happened. If I had visitors in the morning, he always dressed my foot with a fresh bandage and told them I had gout. Today, Mahim has done this job. I certainly did not want this fact publicized, Mr Mitter. What happened to me was no less tragic than losing an ancient and valuable manuscript. But since you have already guessed the truth . . .’
He raised his trousers to expose his left leg.
To my complete amazement, I saw that the dressing finished three inches above his ankle. Beyond that was an artificial leg, made of wood and plastic!
The Mysterious Tenant
One
‘W ho was Jayadrath?’
‘Duryodhan’s sister, Duhshala’s husband.’
‘And Jarasandh?’
‘King of Magadh.’
‘Dhrishtadyumna?’
‘Draupadi’s brother.’
‘Arjun and Yudhisthir both owned conch shells. What were they called?’
‘Arjun’s was called Devdatt, and Yudhisthir’s was Anantavijay.’
‘Which missile causes such confusion in the enemy camp that they start killing their own men?’
‘Twashtra.’
‘Very good.’
Thank goodness. I had passed that little test. Of late, the Ramayan and Mahabharat had become staple reading for Feluda. I, too, had joined him and was thoroughly enjoying reading them. There was story, after story, after story. A new word has come into use these days—unputdownable. If you pick up a book to read, you cannot put it down till you’ve finished it. The Ramayan and the Mahabharat are like that—quite unputdownable.
Feluda was reading the Mahabharat in Bengali, written by Kaliprasanna Sinha. Mine was a simplified version meant for youngsters. Lalmohan Babu says he can recite large chunks of the Bengali Ramayan by heart. His grandmother used to read aloud from it when he was a child, so he still remembers quite a lot of it. We haven’t got the Bengali version in our house, but I think I’ll get a copy and test Lalmohan Babu’s memory one day. At the moment he is busy writing a new novel, so he hasn’t been visiting us all that frequently.
Feluda had to stop reading and glance at the front door, for someone had rung the bell. Feluda had returned only last Friday after solving a murder case in Hijli. He was in a relaxed mood, which was probably why he didn’t seem too keen to get up and find out who was at the door. As a matter of fact, he does not even need more than one case every month. His needs are so few that he can manage perfectly well on the fees he is paid for each case. Lalmohan Babu calls his lifestyle ‘totally unostentatious’. But he always finds it difficult to pronounce that word and ends up saying ‘unossenshus.’Feluda therefore found a tongue-twister for him and told him to practise saying it several times, so that his tongue would stop getting stuck on long and difficult words. ‘Pick up these sixty-six thistle sticks’ was what he had suggested. Lalmohan Babu tried saying it once, and stumbled four times!
I have often heard Feluda say, ‘When a new character appears in your tale, you must describe his looks and clothes in some detail. If you don’t, your reader may imagine certain things on his own, which will probably not fit whatever you say later on.’ So here’s a description of the man who entered our living room: his height was probably 5’9”, age around fifty; the hair around his ears had turned grey; there was a mole on his chin, and he was wearing a grey safari suit. From the way he cleared his throat as he stepped into the room, he appeared to be feeling a little uneasy; and judging by the way his hand rose and covered his mouth when he cleared his throat, he was somewhat westernized in his behaviour.
‘Sorry I couldn’t ring you and make an appointment,’ he said. ‘All the roads are dug up in our area, so the phone lines are
The expression on Mr Sen’s face changed. He sighed after a short pause, and said, ‘Nishith knew I didn’t want anyone to learn about what had happened. If I had visitors in the morning, he always dressed my foot with a fresh bandage and told them I had gout. Today, Mahim has done this job. I certainly did not want this fact publicized, Mr Mitter. What happened to me was no less tragic than losing an ancient and valuable manuscript. But since you have already guessed the truth . . .’
He raised his trousers to expose his left leg.
To my complete amazement, I saw that the dressing finished three inches above his ankle. Beyond that was an artificial leg, made of wood and plastic!
The Mysterious Tenant
One
‘W ho was Jayadrath?’
‘Duryodhan’s sister, Duhshala’s husband.’
‘And Jarasandh?’
‘King of Magadh.’
‘Dhrishtadyumna?’
‘Draupadi’s brother.’
‘Arjun and Yudhisthir both owned conch shells. What were they called?’
‘Arjun’s was called Devdatt, and Yudhisthir’s was Anantavijay.’
‘Which missile causes such confusion in the enemy camp that they start killing their own men?’
‘Twashtra.’
‘Very good.’
Thank goodness. I had passed that little test. Of late, the Ramayan and Mahabharat had become staple reading for Feluda. I, too, had joined him and was thoroughly enjoying reading them. There was story, after story, after story. A new word has come into use these days—unputdownable. If you pick up a book to read, you cannot put it down till you’ve finished it. The Ramayan and the Mahabharat are like that—quite unputdownable.
Feluda was reading the Mahabharat in Bengali, written by Kaliprasanna Sinha. Mine was a simplified version meant for youngsters. Lalmohan Babu says he can recite large chunks of the Bengali Ramayan by heart. His grandmother used to read aloud from it when he was a child, so he still remembers quite a lot of it. We haven’t got the Bengali version in our house, but I think I’ll get a copy and test Lalmohan Babu’s memory one day. At the moment he is busy writing a new novel, so he hasn’t been visiting us all that frequently.
Feluda had to stop reading and glance at the front door, for someone had rung the bell. Feluda had returned only last Friday after solving a murder case in Hijli. He was in a relaxed mood, which was probably why he didn’t seem too keen to get up and find out who was at the door. As a matter of fact, he does not even need more than one case every month. His needs are so few that he can manage perfectly well on the fees he is paid for each case. Lalmohan Babu calls his lifestyle ‘totally unostentatious’. But he always finds it difficult to pronounce that word and ends up saying ‘unossenshus.’Feluda therefore found a tongue-twister for him and told him to practise saying it several times, so that his tongue would stop getting stuck on long and difficult words. ‘Pick up these sixty-six thistle sticks’ was what he had suggested. Lalmohan Babu tried saying it once, and stumbled four times!
I have often heard Feluda say, ‘When a new character appears in your tale, you must describe his looks and clothes in some detail. If you don’t, your reader may imagine certain things on his own, which will probably not fit whatever you say later on.’ So here’s a description of the man who entered our living room: his height was probably 5’9”, age around fifty; the hair around his ears had turned grey; there was a mole on his chin, and he was wearing a grey safari suit. From the way he cleared his throat as he stepped into the room, he appeared to be feeling a little uneasy; and judging by the way his hand rose and covered his mouth when he cleared his throat, he was somewhat westernized in his behaviour.
‘Sorry I couldn’t ring you and make an appointment,’ he said. ‘All the roads are dug up in our area, so the phone lines are
Similar Books
