The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume I by Satyajit Ray Read Free Book Online

detail of the city of Lucknow.
    Dhiru Kaka was a lawyer. He had come to Lucknow twenty years ago and stayed on. He was, I believe, fairly well known in legal circles. He had lost his wife three years ago, and his son was in Frankfurt. He lived alone, with his bearer, Jagmohan, a cook and a maali. His house in Secunder Bagh was a little more than three miles from the station. The main gate bore his name: D. K. SANYAL, MA, BLB, Advocate.
    A cobbled driveway led to a bungalow. His garden lay on both sides of the driveway. I spotted a maali working with a lawnmower as we stopped at the front door.
    Baba said after lunch, ‘You must be tired after your journey. I suggest we start our sightseeing from tomorrow.’ So I spent the whole afternoon learning card tricks from Feluda. ‘Indians have fingers that are far more flexible than those of Europeans,’ Feluda told me, ‘so it’s easier for us to learn tricks that require sleight of hand.’
    In the evening, we went out to the garden to have our tea. As we sat under a eucalyptus tree, cups and saucers in our hands, a car drew up outside the main gate. Feluda said, ‘Fiat,’ without even looking. This was followed by footsteps on the driveway, and a gentleman in a grey suit appeared shortly. He was fair, wore glasses and most of his hair was grey. Yet, it was clear that he was not very much older than Baba.
    Dhiru Kaka rose with a smile, his hands folded in a namaskaar. ‘Jagmohan, bring another chair,’ he said. Turning towards Baba, he added, ‘Allow me to introduce a special friend. This is Dr Srivastava.’
    Feluda and I had both risen by this time. Feluda muttered under his breath, ‘The chap’s nervous for some reason. He forgot to greet your father.’
    Dhiru Kaka continued, ‘Srivastava is an osteopath and a genuineLucknowwalla.’
    I heard Feluda whisper again. ‘Do you know what an osteopath is?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘A doctor who specializes in problems of your bones.’
    An extra chair arrived and we all sat down. Dr Srivastava picked up Baba’s teacup absentmindedly and was about to take a sip when Baba coughed politely. Dr Srivastava started, said, ‘I am so sorry,’ and put it down.
    Dhiru Kaka said thoughtfully, ‘You seem a little preoccupied today. Are you thinking of a difficult case?’
    Baba intervened at this point.
    ‘You are talking to him in Bengali, Dhiru. Does he understand it?’ Dhiru Kaka laughed, ‘Understand it? Good God—why don’t you quote a few lines from Tagore, eh, Srivastava?’
    Dr Srivastava appeared a little uncomfortable. ‘I know a little Bengali,’ he confessed, ‘and I have read some of Tagore’s works.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes. Great poet.’
    Perhaps they would now start a great discussion on poetry, I thought. But Dr Srivastava picked up his own cup this time with an unsteady hand and said, ‘Last night a daku came to my house.’
    Daku? What was that?
    The next words Dhiru Kaka spoke explained it. ‘You mean a dacoit? Heavens, I thought they existed only in Madhya Pradesh. How did one get into Lucknow?’
    ‘Call it a dacoit or an ordinary thief. You know about my ring, don’t you, Mr Sanyal?’
    ‘The one Pyarelal had given you? Has it been stolen?’
    ‘No, no. But I do believe the thief came to steal it.’
    Baba said, ‘What’s this about a ring?’
    Dr Srivastava turned to Dhiru Kaka. ‘You tell him.’
    Dhiru Kaka explained, ‘Pyarelal Seth was a famous, wealthy businessman of Lucknow. A Gujarati by birth, he had lived in Calcutta for some time. So he had a smattering of Bengali. When his son, Mahabir, was about thirteen, he went down with some serious ailment affecting his bones. Dr Srivastava cured him. Pyarelal’s wife was no more, and the first of his two sons had died of typhoid a few years earlier. So you can imagine how grateful he must have felt to Dr Srivastava for saving the life of his only remaining child. Beforehe died himself, he gave a very expensive and valuable ring to Dr