The train was slow, but at least it wasn’t running significantly late. When one has to take connecting trains, it can cause great problems if the first train is delayed. We saw the first peacocks on reaching Bharatpur. Opposite our platform, there were three of them roaming freely on the tracks. Feluda said to me, ‘You will find that peacocks and parrots are as common here as crows and sparrows in Calcutta.’ All the men we saw had turbans on their heads and sideburns on their cheeks—the size of which seemed to be getting larger as we travelled. They were all Rajasthanis, wearing short dhotis which reached their knees, and shirts with buttons on one side. On their feet were heavy naagras. Most men were carrying stout sticks in their hands. We went to the refreshment room in the station in Bandikui to have dinner. Tucking into his roti and meat curry, Lalmohan Babu remarked, ‘See all these men? There’s a high probability that some of them are bandits. The Aravalli Hills act as a den for bandits—you know that, don’t you? And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how powerful they are. When they are thrown into prison, they can push apart the iron bars on their windows with their bare hands, and escape through the gap!’ ‘Yes, I know,’ Feluda replied. ‘And do you know how they punish those who cross them?’ ‘They’re killed, surely?’ ‘No. That’s the beauty of it. If a bandit is annoyed with someone, he will hunt him down—no matter where that person is hiding— and then chop his nose off with a sword. That’s all.’ Lalmohan Babu had just picked up a piece of meat. He forgot to put it in his mouth. ‘Chop off his nose?’ he asked. ‘Yes, so I’ve heard.’ ‘It sounds most barbaric! Like something straight out of the dark ages. How terrible!’ We caught a train to Marwar in the middle of the night. It did involve scrambling in the dark, but we found enough room for ourselves and slept well. In the morning, when I woke up, I glanced out of the window and saw an old fort in the distance, on top of a hill. Only a minute later, the train pulled into a station called Kisangarh. ‘If you see the word “garh” attached to the name of a place, you may assume that somewhere in that area there is a fort on a hilltop,’ Feluda said. We got down on the platform and had tea. The earthen pots in which the tea was served were much larger and stronger than the pots used in Bengal. Even the tea tasted different. Feluda thought camel’s milk had been used. Perhaps that was why Lalmohan Babu ordered a second pot when he finished the first. When I’d finished mine, I found a tap on the platform and quickly brushed my teeth. Then I splashed cold water on my face and returned to our compartment.

There was