We now looked at the sanyasi. He was still looking perplexed. ‘The sound of that gunshot upset me,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to pull myself together. Please forgive me.’ ‘What happened was not your fault. But you must now bring out that bag you have been guarding for over thirty years. Surely you have realized by now that we are your friends? Is it in your cave?’ ‘Yes, where else could it be? That’s my only earthly possession!’ Once of the constables disappeared into the cave and came back with a small red bag in his hand. The sanyasi opened it. What slipped out first was a rolled sheet of paper. It was a statement from Raja Chandradeo Singh, confirming that the pendant was given to Bhavani Upadhyaya as a reward. It was stamped with his royal seal. A smaller bag came out after this, from which emerged the famous pendant. Each little stone in it shone and glittered in the sun. It was not difficult to see that it had been created by an extraordinarily gifted craftsman. Its beauty left us speechless for several seconds. Feluda was the first to recover. ‘Now,’ he said gently, ‘it would help us greatly if you could tell us who you really are.’ ‘Who I really am? What are you talking about?’ ‘Couldn’t you tell us your real name? The name you were given by your Bengali parents?’ The sanyasi did not even try to hide his amazement. ‘You know so much about my past? Who told you I was a Bengali?’ ‘No one. But I saw a letter you had written in Hindi. Some of the letters written in the devnagari script looked suspiciously like Bengali letters. Besides, on a shelf in your house in Haridwar, I found a torn page from a Bengali book.’ ‘Really? You have an exceptionally brilliant mind.’ ‘May I please ask another question?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Is Upadhyaya really your surname, and are you really called Bhavani?’ ‘What do you mean? Are you implying I am . . .’ ‘Isn’t Upadhyaya only a portion of Gangopadhyaya, and isn’t Bhavani a name for Durga? If I were to say your real name was Durgamohan Gangopadhyaya, would that be wrong?’ ‘Oh my God! K-k-k-ka-ka-ka-ka . . .’ ‘Why are you cawing so loudly, Lalmohan Babu? Have you suddenly turned into a crow?’ ‘N-no. It’s Kaka! My uncle, Durgamohan, isn’t it? Oh God, can it really be true?’ Durgamohan looked at Lalmohan Babu in profound surprise.

‘Kaka, I am Lalu!’ Lalmohan Babu went forward to touch his feet. The sanyasi put his arms around him and said, ‘The Almighty does move in mysterious ways, doesn’t He? Who knew I would be reunited with my only nephew like this? But now that I have, I have nothing left to worry about. That pendant is rightfully yours. I have no use for it any more.’ ‘Yes, I can see that. If you give it to me, Kaka, I can keep it in a bank locker. You may not know about it, but of late I have been making a lot of money by writing crime stories for children. But who knows, public demand changes so quickly, they may not want to read my stuff one day. If I knew I had the pendant tucked away somewhere, I’d feel a lot. . . you know . . . reassured!’