Menagerie & other mysteries

Ever since that morning in March when I had woken up with my bed soaked in sweat, the last month and a half had seen a gradual rise of the mercury with no respite in sight. It was not as if it didn't rain a couple of times, but this only served to step up the humidity level. The fan whirred overhead relentlessly, night and day, but this brought no relief either. I felt as if I were immersed from head to toe in rasgulla syrup.

With mind and body in this despondent state, we had set the chessmen out on the charpoy again one morning. Byomkesh was on the verge of checkmating me with his rook and I was perspiring profusely from the anxiety his anticipated move generated when there was an intrusion. It came in the form of a soft but persistent knocking on the door. It couldn't be the postman - his knock carried a note of aggression. So who could it be?

We looked at one another in eager anticipation. Could it be that the long-awaited new mystery crying for a solution had come to our door at last?


Translated from Bengali by Sreejata Guha