The Kolkata Conundrum

The Study of Secrets

We reached Professor Shantanu Bose's house in north Kolkata by evening. The place was old—one of those classic three-storied buildings with latticed windows and dark wooden shutters that groaned with age. It was tucked into a narrow lane where the setting sun cast long shadows, and the silence hung thick, broken only by the distant honk of a tram and the occasional bark of a stray dog.

Prabir Bose unlocked the front door with a trembling hand. "This way," he murmured, leading us up a winding staircase to his brother's study. A musty, old-paper scent filled the air, and I wondered how many hours Shantanu Bose must have spent here, poring over his research.

The study was a small, cramped room with shelves bursting with books, papers, and strange figurines. There was an empty spot on a dusty shelf, a hollow space where, I guessed, the idol had once sat.

Feluda's eyes swept the room, his gaze sharp and deliberate. He moved quietly, carefully, as though he were in the presence of something sacred. Finally, he spoke. "Prabir Babu, was this room always locked?"

"Yes," Prabir replied. "Shantanu was protective of his work. He kept the key with him at all times." He looked around the study, his expression sorrowful. "I haven't touched anything. I couldn't bear to."

Feluda nodded, then turned to me and Madhuri. "Look around, but be careful. Anything could be a clue."

As we began sifting through the papers on the desk, I caught Madhuri looking at a small stack of notebooks. She picked one up, flipping through the pages with a quiet fascination.

"Look at this," she whispered, showing me a sketch. It was a rough drawing of a small, dark idol, simple in design but somehow unsettling. Around the idol, Shantanu had drawn strange symbols that didn't resemble any script I recognized.

"What do you make of it, Topshe-da?" she asked, her voice low.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "But it seems like Shantanu Bose was on the trail of something unusual."

Across the room, Feluda examined the shelves. He reached for a particular book, a heavy leather-bound volume with a faded gold emblem on the cover, but when he opened it, his eyes narrowed.

"Hm." He held up the book for us to see. It had been hollowed out, and inside was a folded piece of parchment. He carefully unfolded it, and we all leaned in to read.

The note was written in Bengali, the handwriting jagged and rushed. It read:
"The truth is buried in three places: darkness, history, and home."

"Darkness, history, and home," Jatayu mumbled, scratching his head. "Sounds like one of my plot twists!"

But Feluda's face was unreadable. He folded the note again, slipping it into his pocket. "If this was the last message Shantanu left behind, then we must take it seriously. It's a map, in a way—a trail left for someone to follow."

Prabir looked confused. "But what does it mean?"

Feluda closed the hollow book, his expression thoughtful. "I believe it means we're dealing with someone who intended to reveal something hidden, someone who felt there was a truth to be told—dangerous enough to keep hidden for centuries."

Just then, Madhuri, who had been examining a stack of letters on the desk, held one up. "Feluda-da, look at this."

She handed him the letter, and as Feluda read, his brow furrowed. "This is addressed to Shantanu from a certain Dr. Prafulla Sen," he said. "It seems he and Shantanu were corresponding about something they called 'The Path to Moksha.'"

"What's that?" I asked, curious.

"Literally, it means 'the path to liberation,'" Feluda replied. "But in this case, it might refer to an old Bengali belief that certain idols or artifacts held spiritual power, or perhaps even secrets of enlightenment. The idol Shantanu found might have been such an artifact—rare and coveted."

A heavy silence fell over the room. The idea that Shantanu had been researching a forgotten relic, one that supposedly held the secrets of spiritual enlightenment, made the whole affair feel ominous.

Jatayu, looking thoroughly bewildered, broke the silence. "So, are you saying Shantanu Babu might have found...what, a hidden path to Moksha? Is that even possible?"

Feluda looked at him with a small smile. "Jatayu-babu, sometimes people believe in things so deeply that they become real—at least, real enough to cause danger. And if someone else believes in this artifact's power, they may be willing to do anything to possess it."

Prabir's face was pale. "But Shantanu was a scholar, not a mystic. He would never...he couldn't have been so careless as to put himself in danger."

Feluda placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes, Prabir Babu, danger finds you, whether or not you seek it."

As we prepared to leave, Madhuri lingered by the empty spot on the shelf, staring thoughtfully. "It's strange, though," she murmured, half to herself. "If he was so protective of this idol, why would he leave such an obvious clue behind?"

Feluda's eyes gleamed. "That, Madhuri, is an excellent question. Perhaps Shantanu wasn't leaving a clue at all—perhaps he was asking for help, in his own way."

The four of us walked out of the house with an unspoken understanding: whatever Shantanu Bose had discovered was only the beginning. As we stepped into the evening light, I felt a shiver run down my spine.

I knew we had to follow the message of the dark idol, and whatever truth lay hidden in darkness, history, and home, it would be up to Feluda to bring it to light.