We didn’t spend very long in the snake park, but even a short visit showed us what a unique place it was. It seemed incredible that a single individual had planned the whole thing. I saw every species of snake that I had read about, and many that I didn’t know existed. The park itself was beautifully designed, so walking in it was a pleasure. No untoward incident took place during our outing on the first day. The only thing I noticed was that Lalmohan Babu tightened his hold on Nayan’s hand each time he saw a man with a beard. ‘Hodgson has gone back to Calcutta, I’m sure,’ I said to him. ‘So what?’ he shot back. ‘How can you tell Basak won’t try to appear in a disguise?’ We were strolling along a path that led to an open marshy area. To our surprise, we discovered that this area was surrounded by a sturdy iron railing, behind which lay five alligators, sleeping in the sun. We were watching them closely and Lalmohan Babu had just started to tell Nayan, ‘When you’re a bit older, my boy, I’ll give you a copy of my book The Crocodile’s Crunch,’ when a man wearing a sleeveless vest and shorts turned up, carrying a bucket in one hand. He stood about twenty yards away from the railing and began taking out frogs from the bucket. He threw these at the alligators one by one, which they caught very neatly between their jaws. I watched this scene, quite fascinated, for I had never seen anything like it before. We returned to our hotel in the evening, all safe and sound. None of us knew what lay in store the next day. Even now, as I write about it, a strange mixture of amazement, fear and disbelief gives me goose-pimples. The guidebook had told me Mahabalipuram was eighty miles from Madras. The roads were good, so we expected to get there in two hours. Shankar Babu had arranged two taxis for us. Nayan insisted on joining us instead of Mr Tarafdar as Jatayu had started telling him the story of his latest book. The Astounding Atlantic. I sat in the front seat of the car, Nayan sat between Jatayu and Feluda in the back. It soon became clear that we were travelling towards the sea. Although the city of Madras stood by the sea, we hadn’t yet seen it. Two hours and fifteen minutes later, the sea came into view. A wide empty expanse stretched before us, and on the horizon shimmered the dark blue ocean. The tall structures that stood out on the sand were temples. Our taxi stopped next to a huge van and a luxury coach. A large number of tourists—most of them Americans—were getting into the coach, clad in an interesting assortment of clothes, wearing different caps, sporting sunglasses in different designs, and carrying bags of every possible shape and size. We stopped and stared at them for a minute.