The next morning, we left for Khilanmarg at nine o’clock, after a quick breakfast. We had to walk uphill for three miles, to climb the additional two thousand feet. Only old Mr Mallik chose to take a horse. The rest of us decided to go on foot. There were nine of us in the group, including Arun Sarkar and Prayag (Mr Mallik’s bearer). The way to Khilanmarg was most picturesque. There were colourful flowers on both sides of the path. I have found new energy in these seven day,’ Lalmohan Babu declared. ‘Covering two thousand feet doesn’t strike me as a problem at all.’ We began our journey. The others dispersed in smaller groups, but the three of us stayed together. It took us two hours to reach Khilanmarg. The sight that met our eyes as we got to the top rendered us completely speechless. There was snow on the ground as well as on all the peaks immediately visible. Stretched below us, right up to the horizon, was a green valley, complete with shimmering lakes and rippling rivers. Behind it rose Nanga Parvat, sculpted against the sky, tall and majestic. ‘I don’t think there is any view in Kashmir more beautiful than this!’ Feluda exclaimed softly. Lalmohan Babu took out his camera. ‘Come on everyone, let’s have a group photo!’ he called. ‘Stand on the snow here, please. It’ll make a fantastic picture.’ A sudden commotion from the other group made me tear my gaze away from the mountains. Then I heard Mr Mallik’s voice: ‘Vijay? Where is Vijay?’ A quick glance told me Vijay Mallik was the only person missing. Could he simply have fallen behind? It did not seem likely. They had not been walking together, it was true; but a single member could not have got totally separated from everyone else without a good reason. Sushant Som spoke next: ‘Why don’t you wait here, Mr Mallik? Let me go and have a look.’ ‘We’ll go with you,’ said Mr Sarkar and the doctor. We, too, joined the search party, retracing our steps slowly over the path we had just climbed up. My heart beat faster. Where had the man gone? ‘Vijay!’ Mr Som called loudly. There was no reply. We continued to climb down. About fifteen minutes later, Lalmohan Babu stopped suddenly, staring at a bush. Feluda followed his gaze and ran over to the bush immediately. Through its leaves, a man’s foot was sticking out. Or—strictly speaking—it was a mountain boot. ‘Mr Som! Over here!’ Feluda yelled. Mr Som ran across, followed by the others. Vijay Mallik was lying on his stomach, unconscious. Feluda felt his pulse and said, ‘He’s alive. I think he received a blow on his head, which made him faint.’ Luckily, there was a stream nearby. One of the men ran to bring water from it. Vijay Mallik opened his eyes when his face had been splashed with water a few times. ‘Where? . . .’ he asked, looking around in a puzzled fashion.

‘How did this happen?’ Feluda asked sharply. ‘Someone . . . pushed . . .’ ‘It seems as if you fell from quite a height, rolling down the hill.’ ‘Yes . . . I remember bending over a flower . . .’ ‘You struck your head against this tree trunk. That’s what broke your fall, I think, but you lost consciousness with the impact.’ ‘Yes . . . perhaps . . . ’ ‘Do you think you could get up?’ Feluda put his arms round Vijay’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. Vijay swayed unsteadily for a few moments, then managed to stand upright. Feluda looked at his head and said, ‘There’s a swelling, but no bleeding. You may well be in pain for a few days. I suggest we go back immediately. We’ll try to get you a horse; in the meantime, walk slowly. When we’re back in Gulmarg and you’re feeling better, I’d like to talk to you.’ Vijay seemed to have recovered a little. He raised his hand gingerly and felt the swelling on his head, then started walking. I wondered confusedly who had done this to him. Why had he been attacked? It was evening by the time we reached Gulmarg. We went straight to our cabin. ‘We must have a cup of tea before we do anything else,’ Feluda announced, calling the bearer a second later. Then he lapsed into silence. I noticed his brows were knotted in a heavy frown. Much to our surprise, just as we had finished having our tea, Vijay himself arrived at our cabin, accompanied by Mr Sarkar and Mr Som. ‘I had to come and see you, Mr Mitter,’ he said. ‘I have never felt so perplexed in my life.’ ‘Can you think of anyone here who might have a grudge against you?’ ‘No. Who could it be, unless it was either of these men here, or Dr Majumdar? That’s a preposterous idea!’ ‘You did not run into any old acquaintance in Srinagar?’ ‘No.’ ‘Is there anyone back in Calcutta who might bear you a grudge?’ ‘Not that I am aware of.’ ‘Did you go to college in Calcutta?’ ‘Yes, Scottish Church.’ ‘And was your student life more or less troublefree?’ ‘Er. . . no, not exactly.’ ‘Oh? Why not?’ ‘When I was in my second year in college, I fell into bad company. I began taking drugs.’ ‘Hard drugs?’ ‘Yes. I tried cocaine . . . and morphine.’ ‘What happened next?’ ‘My father came to know. He was still working as a judge. He tried very hard to make me give up drugs, but couldn’t.’ ‘Even so you finished college?’

‘Yes. I was a brilliant student, as it happened.’ ‘Were you at home throughout?’ ‘Initially, yes. But once I had left the university, I felt I had to get out. So I left home and travelled to Uttar Pradesh. I met an extraordinary man in Kanpur. His name was Anandaswamy. He was a sadhu,