buildings, but it is certainly the number one as far as the size of a palace goes. No other palace in the world has such a large audience hall.’
A whole football stadium could fit into this, I thought, staring at the hall. But that wasn’t all. Outside, there was a massive well. The nawab had clearly thought big. The guide told us the well was used for punishing criminals. They were simply thrown into it, and no one ever saw them again.
But what took my breath away was the Bhoolbhulaia. Little passages ran in all possible directions. No matter where I went or what corners I turned, it always seemed as though I was back where I’d begun. All passages were identical—walls on both sides, a low ceiling and, in the middle of the wall, a tiny niche. The guide said that when the nawabs played hide-and-seek with their queens, oil lamps used to burn in those little niches. The thought of flickering lamps in those spooky little passages gave me goosepimples.
Feluda, I noticed, kept very close to the wall. But I couldn’t understand why he was lagging behind all of us. Then I got totally absorbed in the excitement of going through the winding maze and had forgotten all about him, until I heard Baba exclaim: ‘Oh, where is Felu?’
I turned around quickly. Feluda was nowhere to be seen. My heart missed a beat. However, only a few seconds later, he reappeared after Baba called out to him. ‘If I were to walk so fast,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t possibly get an idea of how the maze is designed.’
The door at the end of the last passage in the maze opened onto the huge roof of the Imambara. It had a wonderful view. One could see practically the whole of Lucknow from it. There were a few other people already on the roof. One of them—a young man—came walking towards Dhiru Kaka, smiling.
‘Mahabir!’ Dhiru Kaka exclaimed, ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Three days ago. I always return to Lucknow at this time of the year. I’ll go back after Diwali. I have two friends with me, so we’reout sightseeing.’
‘This is Pyarelal’s son,’ said Dhiru Kaka, ‘he lives in Bombay. He’s an actor.’
I looked at Mahabir. He was staring at Bonobihari Babu as though he had seen him before.
‘Have we met before?’ asked Bonobihari Babu, echoing my thoughts.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Mahabir replied, ‘but for the life of me I can’t remember where.’
‘I met your father once. But you were not here then.’
‘Oh. I see,’ said Mahabir, embarrassed, ‘I must have made a mistake. Sorry. Well, I must get back to my friends. Namaskaar.’
He left. He must be younger than Feluda, I thought. A good-looking man, and very well built. Perhaps he was interested in sports.
Bonobihari Babu said, ‘It might be a good idea to go to my place now. If you must see the animals, it’s best to do so in daylight. I haven’t yet been able to arrange lights in their cages.’
We paid the guide and went down. A staircase ran from the roof straight to the ground floor.
Just as we came out of the gate, I saw Mahabir and his friends get into the black Standard.
Three
It was nearly 4 p.m. by the time we reached Bonobihari Babu’s house. It was impossible to tell from outside that the house contained a mini zoo. The animals were all kept in the back garden.
‘This house was built about thirty years before the Mutiny by a wealthy Muslim merchant,’ Bonobihari Babu told us. ‘I bought it from an Englishman.’
The house was obviously quite old. The carvings on the wall were typically Mughal.
‘I hope you don’t mind having coffee. There’s no tea in my house, I am afraid,’ said Bonobihari Babu.
I felt quite pleased at this for I wasn’t allowed to have too much coffee at home. But we had to see the animals first.
The living-room led to a veranda, behind which sprawled a huge garden. Individual cages for the animals were strewn all over thisgarden. There was a pond in the middle surrounded by tall iron spikes. An alligator lay
A whole football stadium could fit into this, I thought, staring at the hall. But that wasn’t all. Outside, there was a massive well. The nawab had clearly thought big. The guide told us the well was used for punishing criminals. They were simply thrown into it, and no one ever saw them again.
But what took my breath away was the Bhoolbhulaia. Little passages ran in all possible directions. No matter where I went or what corners I turned, it always seemed as though I was back where I’d begun. All passages were identical—walls on both sides, a low ceiling and, in the middle of the wall, a tiny niche. The guide said that when the nawabs played hide-and-seek with their queens, oil lamps used to burn in those little niches. The thought of flickering lamps in those spooky little passages gave me goosepimples.
Feluda, I noticed, kept very close to the wall. But I couldn’t understand why he was lagging behind all of us. Then I got totally absorbed in the excitement of going through the winding maze and had forgotten all about him, until I heard Baba exclaim: ‘Oh, where is Felu?’
I turned around quickly. Feluda was nowhere to be seen. My heart missed a beat. However, only a few seconds later, he reappeared after Baba called out to him. ‘If I were to walk so fast,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t possibly get an idea of how the maze is designed.’
The door at the end of the last passage in the maze opened onto the huge roof of the Imambara. It had a wonderful view. One could see practically the whole of Lucknow from it. There were a few other people already on the roof. One of them—a young man—came walking towards Dhiru Kaka, smiling.
‘Mahabir!’ Dhiru Kaka exclaimed, ‘When did you arrive?’
‘Three days ago. I always return to Lucknow at this time of the year. I’ll go back after Diwali. I have two friends with me, so we’reout sightseeing.’
‘This is Pyarelal’s son,’ said Dhiru Kaka, ‘he lives in Bombay. He’s an actor.’
I looked at Mahabir. He was staring at Bonobihari Babu as though he had seen him before.
‘Have we met before?’ asked Bonobihari Babu, echoing my thoughts.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Mahabir replied, ‘but for the life of me I can’t remember where.’
‘I met your father once. But you were not here then.’
‘Oh. I see,’ said Mahabir, embarrassed, ‘I must have made a mistake. Sorry. Well, I must get back to my friends. Namaskaar.’
He left. He must be younger than Feluda, I thought. A good-looking man, and very well built. Perhaps he was interested in sports.
Bonobihari Babu said, ‘It might be a good idea to go to my place now. If you must see the animals, it’s best to do so in daylight. I haven’t yet been able to arrange lights in their cages.’
We paid the guide and went down. A staircase ran from the roof straight to the ground floor.
Just as we came out of the gate, I saw Mahabir and his friends get into the black Standard.
Three
It was nearly 4 p.m. by the time we reached Bonobihari Babu’s house. It was impossible to tell from outside that the house contained a mini zoo. The animals were all kept in the back garden.
‘This house was built about thirty years before the Mutiny by a wealthy Muslim merchant,’ Bonobihari Babu told us. ‘I bought it from an Englishman.’
The house was obviously quite old. The carvings on the wall were typically Mughal.
‘I hope you don’t mind having coffee. There’s no tea in my house, I am afraid,’ said Bonobihari Babu.
I felt quite pleased at this for I wasn’t allowed to have too much coffee at home. But we had to see the animals first.
The living-room led to a veranda, behind which sprawled a huge garden. Individual cages for the animals were strewn all over thisgarden. There was a pond in the middle surrounded by tall iron spikes. An alligator lay
Similar Books
