The following day we were supposed to travel down the road to Pune to a level-crossing between Khandala and Lonavala. That was the spot where the final climactic scene was going to be shot. All told, there were eleven ‘action’ scenes in the film. Pulak Ghoshal was going to start with the last one. The complete scene could not be shot in a single day. The whole thing would take as many as five days. We had decided to watch the shooting every day—that is, if we enjoyed the first day’s experience. The train would be available on all five days, for an hour between one and two o’clock. But the horses meant for the group of bandits, and a Lincoln Convertible meant for the hero, could be used any time. The scene in question went like this: The villain had replaced the real engine driver and was driving the train. In one of its compartments the heroine and her uncle were being held, their hands and feet tied. The hero was chasing the train in a motor car. At the same time, the hero’s twin—who had been kidnapped by bandits when he was a baby, and had now become a bandit himself—was riding with his entire gang to attack the train. He would get close enough to the train to jump into it straight from his horse. About the same time, the hero in his car would also catch up with the train, and he would arrive on the scene to see the bandit and the villain (pretending to be the engine driver) having a fight. The villain would be killed. What would happen next? . . . All would be revealed on the silver screen! Apparently, three different versions of the final scene were going to be shot. Then the director would decide which appeared the best on the screen, and retain it, discarding the other two. Mr Ghoshal dropped in briefly quite early in the morning. We told him we were ready to go, and all arrangements were in hand. ‘Laluda,’ he said, ‘I can tell just by looking at you that you really enjoyed watching Teerandaj !’ Lalmohan babu could be seen smiling to himself from time to time, as he recalled the previous night’s events. Mr Ghoshal had noticed that smile and misunderstood the reason for it. Lalmohan babu laughed loudly and said, ‘Bravo, my boy—to think that a boy from our Gorpar in Calcutta could achieve so much! You have shown them all. . . ha ha!’ Since we were going to be out all day, Feluda told me to take all the edible stuff in our hand luggage. We packed the oranges, biscuits and sweets that Lalmohan babu had bought the day before and put them in the car. Then Lalmohan babu deposited all his cash with the hotel manager and took a receipt from him. ‘Who knows,’ he told us, ‘whether a real bandit or two won’t get mixed up with the