It was half past five in the evening by the time we reached Kedarnath. It had not yet started to get dark, and the mountain tops were all shining bright. It is impossible to describe what one feels on reaching a flat plateau after climbing uphill for several hours on a steep and narrow road. The feeling uppermost in my mind was a mixture of disbelief, reassurance and joy. With this came a sense of calm, peace and humility. Perhaps it was those peaks which towered over everything else that made one feel so humble. Perhaps it was this feeling that evoked religious ardour, a reverence for the Creator. A large number of people were sitting, standing, or lying on the rocky ground, overcome with emotion, unable to say or do anything except shout, ‘Jai Kedar!’ The famous temple stood surrounded on three sides by heavy snow. We walked through the crowd to find ourselves somewhere to stay. There was a hotel here called Hotel Himlok, but it was already full, as was the Birla guest house. Finally, we went to a Kali Kamliwali dharamshala. They gave us mattresses, blankets and razais, at a very nominal charge. By the time we finished booking a room, it was past six o’clock and the temple had closed. It would open only at eight the next morning, we were told. So we went off to find what we needed the most: a hot cup of tea. There was a stall not far from our dharamshala. The streets of Kedar reminded me of the streets of Benaras. Most of the roadside shops were selling incense, flowers and Vermillion. They would shut down in November, and until April, the town would remain totally deserted. I had expected Lalmohan Babu to want to rest after our difficult journey. But he said he had never felt more invigorated in his life. ‘There is new life in every vein in my body,’ he said. ‘Tapesh, such is the magic of Kedar.’ Three steaming cups of tea were placed before us. The tea had been brewed with cinnamon. I could smell it as I raised a cup to my lips. ‘Did you find Upadhyaya?’ asked a voice. It was Pavandeo Singh, standing a few feet away. In his hand he still held his camera. The equipment for recording sound was strapped to his belt. ‘No, we came only about half an hour ago,’ Feluda told him. ‘I got here at two-thirty and made some enquiries. As far as I can make out, he has become a full- fledged sanyasi. I think he even dresses like one. So you can imagine how difficult it’s going to be to single out one sanyasi amongst so many. Besides, he is very likely to have changed his name. At least, no one I asked seemed to know anyone called Upadhyaya.’ ‘Well, we must keep trying, mustn’t we?’ Feluda said. Pavandeo nodded and left. He was still a mystery to me. We finished our