By the time we reached Rudraprayag, after a brief stop in Srinagar to have a cup of tea, it was nearly five o’clock. Rudraprayag was a fairly large town, with its own school, college, hospital and post office. A signboard used to hang over the spot where Corbett had killed that famous leopard. ‘But it broke a few years ago, and nobody replaced it,’ Joginder informed us. We went straight to the rest house. It was just outside the main town, in a quiet and peaceful spot. The first thing we heard on our arrival was that the road to Kedar had reopened and buses were running again. Apparently, it had been blocked for many days due to a landslide. As things turned out, this was a stroke of luck, but we did not realize it until much later. The manager of the rest house, Mr Giridhari, had not heard of Feluda, but that did not stop him from being most kind and hospitable. He said he had read many Bengali authors in translation, Bimal Mitra and Shankar among them. ‘They are my favourite authors,’ he beamed. A few minutes later, we met another guest, who had got stuck in Rudraprayag because of the landslide. Unlike Mr Giridhari, he recognized Feluda instantly. ‘I am a journalist, I have heard of many of your cases,’ he said. ‘Your photograph was published in the newspapers in northern India after the Sukhtankar murder case in Allahabad. That’s how I could recognize you. My name is Krishnakant Bhargav. I am very proud to meet you, sir.’ The man was about forty years old, of medium height and had a thick beard. Mr Giridhari naturally became curious on learning that Feluda was an investigator. ‘There is no trouble here, I hope?’ he asked anxiously. ‘There can be trouble anywhere, Mr Giridhari, but we haven’t come here to look for trouble. Actually, all we’re looking for is a man called Bhavani Upadhyaya.’ ‘Upadhyaya? But he’s no longer here!’ exclaimed Mr Bhargav. ‘I came here simply to write a story on him. When I reached Haridwar, I heard he had come here. So I came here, and discovered he had gone to Kedarnath. That’s why I decided to follow him there. Now that the road is open again, I intend leaving tomorrow morning. He’s a very interesting character.’ ‘Is he? I’m looking for him because I believe he treats the sick, and can work wonders. You see,’ Feluda lowered his voice, glancing rather pointedly at Lalmohan Babu, ‘this friend of mine is mentally disturbed. He behaves quite normally most of the time, but just occasionally, his problem flares up. He starts talking absolute gibberish, and can even get violent at times. A lot of doctors have seen him in Calcutta, but nothing has worked. So when I heard of Upadhyaya, I thought he might be able to help. At least it’s worth a try, don’t you think?’ After the first few seconds of stunned disbelief, Lalmohan Babu caught on quickly. In order to prove Feluda right, he tried to bring an expression of wild insanity to his face, but succeeded only in looking like the Nepali mask that hangs in our drawing room.

Mr Bhargav nodded sympathetically. ‘Then you, too, must look for him in Kedarnath. He didn’t go to Badri, for I didn’t find him there. But I hear he has become a sanyasi, so he may have changed his name.’ At this moment, an American car drew up outside the gate. Three men got out of it and came walking towards us. The leader of this team was easy to recognize, for we had all seen the photo Mr Puri had given Feluda. It was Pavandeo Singh of Rupnarayangarh. The other two were obviously his chamchas. Pavandeo took a cane chair and sat down on the veranda. We were sitting only a few feet away, drinking tea. ‘No luck,’ Pavandeo said, shaking his head, ‘we’ve just been to Badri. Upadhyaya isn’t there.’ ‘What amazes me,’ Mr Giridhari remarked, ‘is that everyone in this rest house is looking for Upadhyaya for a different reason. You want to include him in your film, Mr Bhargav wants to write a story on him, and Mr Mitter wants to get his friend treated.’ Pavando’s men were carrying television equipment. He was holding a camera with a huge lens. ‘A tele lens?’ Feluda asked. ‘Yes. I took it with me to film the melting snow on the peaks of Badrinath. Actually, the main equipment I am using is compact enough for one person to handle. That includes sound. My friends will go with me as far as Gaurikund. I will film the rest of it myself.’ ‘Does that mean you are going to leave for Kedarnath tomorrow?’ ‘Yes, first thing in the morning.’ ‘Will you be interviewing Upadhyaya if you can find him?’ ‘Yes, certainly. This film is being made for an Australian television company. I will naturally show the mountains and the snow and all the rest of it, but the interview with Upadhyaya will get a lot of footage. He’s such an amazing character. What he did to my father was nothing short of a miracle.’ I watched Pavandeo Singh closely. This man bore little resemblance to what Umashankar Puri had told us. Feluda, I noticed, did not mention Mr Puri at all. We left the rest house shortly afterwards, to go and have our dinner in town. When the waiter came to take our order, Lalmohan Babu suddenly banged a fist on the table and demanded an omelette. ‘An armadillo’s egg! That’s what I want!’ he said loudly. Feluda was obliged to explain to him that his insanity was something he didn’t have to prove all the time, particularly when nobody from the rest house was in sight. If he kept behaving strangely without any reason, the chances of getting thrashed were very high. ‘Well, you’re right,’ Lalmohan Babu conceded, ‘but if I get a suitable opportunity,