hat is there to see in Sonahati?’ asked Lalmohan Babu. ‘Well, according to this book I’ve been reading, called Travelling in Bengal,’ Feluda replied, ‘there ought to be an old Shiv temple and a large lake. I think it’s called Mangal Deeghi. It was built by one of their zamindars. Even twenty years ago, Sonahati was little more than a village. Now it has a school, a hospital and even a hotel.’ Lalmohan Babu looked at his watch and said, ‘Another ten minutes, I should think.’ It was a new quartz he had bought recently. ‘The way it keeps time is really most terrific, he had told us. We were on our way to Sonahati at the invitation of their Recreation Club. We were accompanied by one Navjeevan Haldar, who was a famous professor of history, and had written several books. The club had organized a joint reception for Prof Haldar and Feluda. We would spend two days in Sonahati, staying at the house of the wealthiest man there, called Panchanan Mallik. He was also the president of the club. Rumour had it that he was a collector of antiques. ‘I didn’t really think you’d accept this invitation,’ Lalmohan Babu remarked, looking at Feluda. ‘I just wanted to get out of Calcutta for a couple of days,’ Feluda replied. ‘At least the air in Sonahati will be cleaner. Besides, a friend of mine—Someshwar Saha—lives there. He’s a lawyer. We used to be classmates. I am looking forward to seeing him again.’ Our train reached Sonahati more or less on time. A small group came towards us as soon as we got out. Two of them were carrying garlands, which they promptly placed around Feluda and Prof Haldar’s necks. The man who had garlanded Feluda said, ‘Namaskar. I am the secretary of our club. My name is Naresh Sen. It was I who wrote to you. And this is Panchanan Mallik.’ A middle-aged man stepped forward, a welcoming smile on his lips. I noticed he had gold buttons on his kurta. ‘We are deeply honoured to have you here,’ he said. ‘I hope you won’t find it too inconvenient to stay in my house. I mean, we couldn’t offer you all the facilities of a big city.’ ‘Please don’t worry about that. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy ourselves,’ Feluda said. ‘You are a well-known personality as well, I hear,’ Mr Mallik turned to Lalmohan Babu. ‘Well, I . . . I do a bit of writing,’ Jatayu tried looking modest. Mr Mallik’s blue Ambassador was parked outside the station. We climbed into it. ‘I have heard about your collection,’ Feluda remarked as we drove off. ‘In fact, I think I read a report on it somewhere.’ ‘Yes, it’s an old passion of mine. I have collected quite a few things. Prof Haldar here may be particularly interested for many of the items have a historical significance. My latest acquisition is the Maharshi’s shoe.’ ‘The Maharshi’s shoe? What does that mean?’ Lalmohan Babu asked, puzzled. ‘Don’t you know about it? Prof Haldar, I am sure, has heard the story.’

‘Let’s hear it.’ ‘Maharshi Debendranath, Rabindranath Tagore’s father, was an extremely wealthy man, as you all know. Once he received an invitation from a maharaja. He knew many other rich people had been invited. So he went and saw that the others had turned up in their most expensive clothes. Everywhere he looked, he saw silk kurtas, jamavar shawls, gold chains and priceless jewels. But what was he dressed in? Tight white pyjamas, a long white achkan and a plain white shawl. People were amazed. Why was he dressed so simply? Then they saw his feet. The Maharshi was wearing a pair of white naagras, on which shone two huge diamonds.’ ‘My word! And you’ve got those shoes?’ Lalmohan Babu exclaimed. ‘One, I’ve got only one of them. The diamond is still fixed on it. I’ll show it to you.’ Mr Mallik’s house was large, surrounded by a big garden. There could be no doubt about his own affluence. The car stopped under the portico. Two bearers and a chowkidar were waiting near the front door. ‘Show these people to their rooms,’ Mr Mallik said to one of the bearers as we got out. ‘And see that lunch is served at one o’clock.’ We were taken up a marble staircase. ‘Your reception is in the evening. It’s likely to be quite cold at that time,’ Mr Mallik told us. ‘I hope you have brought enough warm clothes?’ ‘We have, thank you.’ Three rooms at the end of a passage had been made ready for us. Prof Haldar disappeared into his, and the three of us went into the one meant for Feluda and myself. It was a spacious room, and its floor was embedded with pieces of china. A little hole in the wall near the ceiling told us there had once been a hand-pulled fan in this room. ‘This pattern is called crazy china,’ Feluda informed us, looking at the floor. Then he added, ‘Mr Mallik’s money came from copper mines. One of my clients knows him very well.’ ‘I see. Hey, have you noticed the difference in the air?’ Lalmohan Babu asked. ‘It is clean and pure, isn’t it?’ It certainly was. There was no noise pollution either. Traffic was nonexistent. I had not heard one single horn from a car or a rickshaw since the moment of our arrival. My ears would get a rest here, I thought. A bearer arrived, carrying three glasses of sherbet on a tray. As soon as we had finished drinking it, he returned to say lunch had been served.