I made this long preamble to show my readers that I am going to write about the mystery of Nayan with full approval from Feluda. In fact, even Lalmohan Babu seemed to agree wholeheartedly. ‘Splendid! Splendid!’ he said, clapping enthusiastically. ‘What a good idea to write about Nayan! Er . . . I hope my role in it is going to remain the same? I mean, you do remember all the details, don’t you?’ ‘Don’t worry, Lalmohan Babu. I noted everything down. But where should I start? ‘Start with Tarafdar’s show. That really was the beginning, wasn’t it?’ Feluda said. Mr Sunil Tarafdar was a magician. His show was called ‘Chamakdar Tarafdar’. Magicians were growing like mushrooms nowadays. Some of them were serious about their art, but the stiff competition made many of them fade into oblivion. Those who stayed on had to maintain a certain standard. Feluda had once been interested in magic. In fact, it was I who had revealed this a long time ago. As a result, many up and coming magicians often invited Feluda to their shows. I accompanied Feluda to some of these, and was seldom disappointed. Sunil Tarafdar was one of these young magicians on the way up. His name had started to feature in newspapers and journals a year ago. Most reports spoke favourably about him. Last December, he turned up in our house one morning and greeted Feluda by touching his feet. Feluda gets terribly embarrassed if anyone does this, so he jumped up, saying, ‘No, no, please don’t do that . . . there’s no need . . .’ Mr Tarafdar only smiled. He was a young man in his early thirties, tall and slim. He sported a thin, carefully trimmed moustache. ‘Sir,’ he said, straightening himself, ‘I am a great fan of yours. I know you are interested in magic. I am going to hold my next show in Mahajati Sadan on Sunday. I have had three tickets reserved for you in the front row. The show begins at 6.30 p.m. I’ll be delighted if you come.’ Feluda did not say anything immediately. ‘I am inviting you, sir,’ Mr Tarafdar continued, ‘because the last item in my show is going to be absolutely unique. I am very sure no one has ever shown anything like this on stage before.’ Feluda agreed to go. Lalmohan Babu arrived at 5.30 in his green Ambassador the following Sunday. We chatted for a while over a cup of tea, and left for Mahajati Sadan at six. We got there just five minutes before the show was to start. The hall was packed. Obviously, the large advertisement that had appeared in the press recently had worked. We found our seats in the front row. ‘Did you see the ad in the paper?’ asked Lalmohan Babu. ‘Yes,’ Feluda replied.

‘It said something about a totally new attraction . . . something called “Jyotishka”. What could it be?’ ‘I don’t know, Lalmohan Babu. Just be patient, all