A member of the film unit, Mr Nitish Som, turned up soon after breakfast the following morning to collect Lalmohan Babu. Feluda and Lalmohan Babu had worked very hard the previous evening to make sure he got his lines right. ‘Mr Ghoshal said he’d like you to wear your own clothes, but we don’t yet know what colour would be suitable. So could you pack everything you’ve got here?’ Mr Som asked. ‘May I go with you?’ I said. Mr Som thought for a minute and replied, ‘Why don’t you come around eleven? We’re not going to start shooting before twelve this afternoon. I am taking Mr Ganguli away only because we need to have enough time to do his make-up. But if you come at eleven, you’ll be able to see our little ceremony to mark the mahurat—you know, the starting of our shooting. After that, if you like you can stay on and have lunch with us.’ Lalmohan Babu left with his suitcase at eight-thirty. Feluda and I went out half an hour later, to walk down Jalapahar Road. ‘It makes no sense to spend the whole morning in the hotel!’ Feluda declared. The morning, as it happened, was as beautiful as the day before. The sun shone brightly, and Kanchenjunga stood out in all its glory. The Mall was quite crowded today. Loads of people had arrived to spend their Puja holidays. We passed the horse-stand, and continued walking. Feluda lit a cigarette. He was trying very hard to give up smoking, but he couldn’t do without one after breakfast. ‘What do you make of it, Topshe?’ he asked, looking at the scenery. ‘The only person who struck me as interesting was Birupaksha Majumdar.’ ‘Yes, but that is only because you have learnt a lot of interesting things about him. A man who doesn’t sleep at night, spends his time collecting pieces of sensational news, tells you there’s a mystery in his life but refuses to divulge the details, and keeps a valuable statue on an open shelf in his bedroom, most certainly cannot be classified as ordinary.’ ‘His son hardly opened his mouth.’ ‘True. In fact, that stuck me as odd. He appeared as though he was afraid to say very much, in case he said something he shouldn’t.’ ‘And Rajat Bose?’ ‘What did you think of him?’ ‘I think his eyesight isn’t very good, but he’s decided not to wear glasses. Didn’t you see him bump against a chair?’ ‘Excellent. Perhaps he does have glasses, but they’re either broken or lost. I think it’s things in the far distance he cannot see. I’m sure his close-range vision is fine, or he couldn’t have brought out those scrapbooks.’ ‘What about the hero from Bombay and the villain?’ ‘You tell me. Let’s see how much you’ve observed.’

‘I noticed something strange yesterday.’ ‘What?’ ‘Mr Majumdar seemed upset—no, not exactly upset—but didn’t he suddenly grow kind of preoccupied when he met Raina and Verma?’ ‘Yes. But his mind keeps wandering, doesn’t it? As if there’s something on his mind, all the time. We may learn what it is if we can ever get to hear what the local rumours say about him.’ We returned to the hotel an hour and a half later. I left again at eleven-thirty. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Feluda said, ‘I’ll try to get to the gumpha on top of the Observatory Hill. You just go and enjoy yourself.’ I reached Nayanpur Villa in about twenty minutes. The first thing that greeted me was the noise from a generator, but I couldn’t see it. One of the unit members saw me, and came forward to take me inside. The shooting was going to take place in the southern side of the house. We hadn’t seen this part of the house yesterday. One of the rooms was very brightly lit. All doors and windows had been sealed to keep out natural light. Perhaps the scene to be shot would show something happening at night. But where was our Jatayu? Oh, there he was! It took me a few seconds to recognize him. A beard and a wig had transformed his appearance totally. He really was looking like a villain. On catching my eye, he walked over to me and said gravely, ‘What do you think? Will I do?’ ‘Oh, sure. I hope you remember your lines?’ ‘Of course.’ At this moment, Pulak Babu called from the set. ‘Laluda!’ Lalmohan Babu ran to grab a chair opposite Mahadev Verma, who was sitting on a small sofa, stroking his moustache. ‘Look, Laluda,’ said Pulak Babu, ‘let me explain what I want you to do . When I say “Action!”, you must take out a cigar from your pocket and put it in your mouth. ‘Mahadev will take out a cigarette. Then you must bring out a matchbox, light Mahadev’s cigarette, and then your own cigar, leaning back in your chair. I will then say “yes”. You must then inhale, and speak your first line. That will end the shot. Remember, this is chiefly your shot, for the camera will show your face, and Mahadev’s back. All right? Here’s a cigar and a matchbox.’ ‘All right.’ The camera started rolling a minute later. ‘Sound!’ said Pulak Babu, ‘Action!’ Lalmohan Babu put the cigar in his mouth, but failed to light the match. I saw him clutching a matchstick the wrong way round, and striking the plain end against the box helplessly. ‘Cut, cut! Laluda, please—!’ ‘Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more careful the next time.’ In the second shot, he lit his cigar successfully, but inhaled quite a lot of smoke and began coughing and spluttering. Pulak Babu had to shout, ‘Cut!’ once more. But the third shot went without a single hitch, and ended in a round of applause for the villain’s assistant. It took Pulak Babu another five hours to call it a day. I noted with surprise that Lalmohan Babu did not make a single mistake