All of us slept soundly that night. Our alarm clock woke us at five o’clock. We were ready to leave in a few minutes. The number of people who were already out and about was quite amazing. People from virtually every corner of the country were present, including a large number of Bengalis. Most of them were travelling in groups. Many families had several generations travelling together, ranging from grandfathers in their seventies, to grandchildren barely five years old. It took me only a few seconds to spot Pavandeo Singh. He was in the process of hiring two horses. What was he still doing here? I had assumed he had already gone to Kedarnath. ‘Good morning!’ he greeted us. ‘I got delayed in Son Prayag yesterday. The scenery there was so beautiful, I had to stop to take photos. I am now going to go up to Kedarnath alone. I’ll carry my camera and sound equipment with me, on one horse. The other will take all the new and unused film.’ Feluda returned his greeting and moved away. ‘There is no end to the mysteries,’ he remarked. ‘Could it be that he’s appointed someone in Kedar to find Upadhyaya?’ There was no time to ponder over this, for it was time to get going. ‘Are you still determined to walk with us?’ Feluda asked Lalmohan Babu. ‘Yes, sir. I may not be able to keep pace with you at all times, but—’ ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. You walk at whatever pace you find comfortable. Since there is only one road, and one destination, we’ll all get there sometime, never fear. Here, take this.’ Feluda handed Lalmohan Babu one of the walking sticks he had bought for us. Nearly every traveller to Kedarnath was crying a similar stick. It was wooden, but the pointed end was covered by iron. We left on the dot of six. Lalmohan Babu took a deep breath and shouted, ‘Jai Kedar!’ with such vigour that I began to feel afraid he might have spent half his energy at one go. The road to Kedarnath was narrow and rocky. At times, there wasn’t even enough room for two people to stand side by side. There were steep hills on one side, and on the other were deep ravines. The Mandakini flowed with great force below these. There was little vegetation on the way, except for certain patches where large leafy trees created a green canopy over our heads; but these were few and far between. Those who were walking frequently had to stand aside to make way for horses and dandis. One had to stay as close to the hill as possible, for going near the edge of the road was extremely dangerous. One single careless step could lead to a fatal accident. Feluda and I did not find it too difficult to walk uphill, possibly because we both did yoga regularly. Lalmohan Babu tried very hard not to show what a struggle it was for him. He walked in complete silence, catching up with us when we reached flatter surface. ‘I can now see what made Tenzing so famous!’ he declared, panting slightly.

Twenty minutes later, something happened to delay our arrival in Kedarnath by another half an hour. A large boulder suddenly came rolling down a slope at great speed. This was so totally unexpected that it took us a few seconds to realize what was happening. Although no one was seriously hurt, a certain amount of damage could not be avoided. The boulder brushed against Feluda’s arm and smashed his HMT watch. Then it knocked the walking stick from the hand of an elderly man, making it fly towards the edge of the cliff and disappear into the gorge below, perhaps to land directly in the gushing Mandakini. By this time, Feluda had collected himself and decided to act. He began climbing up the slope with the agility of a mountain goat, as I stood gaping after him, marvelling at his strength and stamina. How could he do it, so soon after having climbed uphill for many miles? But there was not a second to be lost. I followed him as quickly as I could. By the time I reached him, Feluda had already caught the culprit. He was clutching at the collar of a young man, pushing him against a tree. The man could not have been more than twenty-five. He had turned visibly pale, and was freely admitting to having pushed that boulder deliberately. He had apparently been paid by someone to do this. The man took out a new, crisp ten-rupee note to show us he was telling the truth. ‘Who paid you?’ Feluda demanded. ‘I don’t know him. He is a man from my village, but I don’t know him personally. I did it only for the money.’ There was no reason to doubt his word. We’d never learn from him who was really responsible. This man was no more than a hired hand. Feluda grabbed the woollen wrapper the man was wearing, and tied him to the tree with it. ‘I’m bound to find a police constable somewhere. When I do, I’ll send him to you,’ he told him. Lalmohan Babu sighed with relief when we joined him. ‘How worrying, Felu Babu! Anything could have happened if that boulder hit you. Who is it that wants to prevent your reaching Kedarnath so desperately?’ We didn’t know the answer, so we simply resumed walking. A little later, we reached a place called Ramwara. Nearly everyone stopped here to rest for a while. There were dharamshalas here, as well as tea stalls. Lalmohan Babu deserved a short period of rest, so we decided to stop for half an hour. Ramwara was at a height of 2500 metres. The scenery around us was absolutely fantastic. Lalmohan Babu went into raptures, recalling scenes from the Mahabharata. He declared eventually that he would have no regret if he fell and died on the