The Return of Vaman - A Scientific Novel

by Jayant V. Narlikar

  An incident came to Navin’s mind, something that had happened a couple of days back. He was getting ready to go to Bangalore for a dinner engagement when Major Samant jokingly remarked, ‘Out for a date, Mr Navin? I am sure you have found a loved one in Bangalore.’ This was spoken in Hindi with the word pyari used for ‘loved one’, and Navin had laughed it off. But now he began to wonder—why had Samant used that particular word? Did he know about the Pyarelal connection?

  A pat on the back brought him back to the present. The chairman was addressing him.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Minister … I was not paying attention,’ he apologized.

  ‘Mr Pande, we have been told that the container was opened last week. Can you give us an account of how this feat was accomplished? The minister repeated his question.

  As head of the archaeological project, it was Navin who had to present the account. This he did in his fine narrative style. For technical details he gave way to Laxman and Arul. By way of conclusion, he added, ‘We can now open and close the container. But we are awaiting this committee’s sanction to proceed further and investigate its contents.’

  ‘I am surprised, Mr Navin! With your archaeological expertise and with a team of scientists to help you, how could you contain your curiosity?’ the minister asked. ‘I would have expected you people to have ransacked the container right away.’

  Navin, Arul and Laxman glanced at one another, as if avoiding the answer. It was left to Kirtikar to come to their rescue.

  ‘Sir, they would indeed have done so but for a restraining order from Delhi’, he clarified.

  ‘Restraining order? Why? Who sent it? The chairman looked round the table.

  ‘Er … I gave the order, Minister’, Harisharan mumbled, somewhat embarrassed. ‘Realizing that it was a sensitive matter I felt that all investigations should proceed through proper channels after due clearance from this committee. This is standard practice, sir. I simply followed it.’

  The minister smiled. If Harisharan’s house catches fire, what and whose clearance would he require before calling the fire brigade, he wondered? Aloud, he said ‘I can understand your approach Harisharanji, as one dictated by caution … But surely all here would agree that these experts at the Science Centre are mature enough to decide for themselves? They don’t need to run to this committee for every small step.’

  Everybody agreed.

  ‘I will so minute it Mr Chairman!’ added Raj Nath, tongue in cheek.

  There was, however, a discussion on what should be done as the investigation proceeded. Finally, the chairman summarized the views. ‘Let us call on the experts to proceed as they think fit in order to get the maximum information about the contents of the box, bearing in mind, of course, that national security must not be jeopardized. Let the experts, Mr Pande, and the scientists Arul and Laxmanan, prepare a report for us. I hardly need to emphasize the need for complete confidentiality … let none of the findings of the investigation go beyond this committee.’

  ‘When will this committee meet again, sir?’ Harisharan forgot that Raj Nath and not he was the convener.

  ‘The committee will meet when the experts prepare their first report.’ The chairman looked at his watch in clear indication that the meeting was over.

  10 The Fortress

  ‘Umi … Umi …’

  As usual, the long distance call had a lot of static, but Urmila managed to make out that it was Laxman at the other end.

  ‘Yes, Urmila here. I bet your stay is extended further.’

  ‘Yes, my angel, extended indefinitely. That’s why I am arranging for you to come here to stay. Pack and be ready to travel on the Karnataka Express on Tuesday. Your ticket is being arranged and will be delivered to you. Be sure to bring all you need for a stay of several months.’

  ‘Including your stone god?’ Urmila asked jokingly. She was elated at the prospect of being with Laxman again.

  The ‘stone god’ was not an idol. Laxman was not a believer in Hindu rituals, but he loved idlis and dosas. Realizing this, Urmila’s mother had given her the traditional stone grinder to prepare the dough for these dishes. Urmila recalled Laxman’s vehement veto when she proposed bringing it all the way from Tanjore to Hyderabad. Always a light traveller, Laxman could not tolerate carrying that huge block of stone. Urmila on the other hand did not wish to leave her mother’s gift behind. This led to their first quarrel after the wedding, and Laxman thought that Urmila had conceded him victory. However, on reaching their home in Hyderabad, when Laxman opened all the boxes he was astonished to find the stone block peering at him from Urmila’s steel trunk. Rather than carry it separately, Urmila had smuggled it in. Only then did Laxman realize why the porters who carried that trunk in Tanjore and Hyderabad had demanded extra tips.

  However, once the grinder was placed in Urmila’s kitchen, it more than justified its transport and soon attained the status of a stone god in Laxman’s gastronomic view.

  As Urmila pulled out her famous steel box from under the bed, she speculated about the contents of that other large container, in Gauribidnur.

  Karl Shulz, too, was speculating. He never wasted time, and on his first night in Bangalore he had promptly set off for Gauribidnur.

  At ten o’clock that night Pyarelal brought the car to the porch of the hotel as arranged, and Shulz was ready for him. The driver set off as previously instructed.

  As the car crossed the city limits, Shulz spoke: ‘PL, I agree with you … I won’t contact Navin just now. We should not be seen together. But what about you? You have been meeting him in the past. Have you ever been watched?’

  ‘Watched?’ Pyarelal was shocked. ‘By whom?’

  ‘By the secret service … your CBI or IB.’

  Pyarelal laughed and added, ‘They are all morons. Had they known anything about us they would have nabbed us by now.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure, PL. Of course, it is your business. But let me give you that age old advice that I have found indispensable: don’t underrate your enemy. For example, did you realize that, as we came out of the hotel, there was a person watching us?’

  ‘Rubbish, Karl! You have become paranoid about our secret service. There are always a lot of hangers-on in our five star hotels …’ Pyarelal suddenly broke off with an exclamation as a car whizzed past in the opposite direction.

  ‘What is the matter?’ Shulz asked.

  ‘That was Navin’s Jaguar going past. He must have got some news for us since he was heading for Bangalore.’

  Shulz cursed under his breath and commented, ‘PL, your whole organization is amateurish! Otherwise this lack of coordination would not have happened. Evidently you cannot communicate with Navin inside that Science Centre.’

  Pyarelal was silent. Shulz had hit upon the nail well and truly. However, after a while he added lamely, ‘Karl, you will soon see how well fortified that place is. See if your professional brain can find a way of …’

  Shulz slapped him on the back genially and added, ‘My friend, don’t take it to heart! Stop the car about a kilometre from the Science Centre. I will get out and walk.’

  The car pulled off the highway behind a clump of thick bushes. Shulz got out and walked on swiftly but noiselessly into the night. As he disappeared into the darkness, Pyarelal wondered what it would be like to encounter this huge figure in the dark as an adversary. He shuddered at the thought.

  A ten-foot high brick wall mounted with broken glass surrounded the Science Centre. Moreover, an electrified wire fence had been erected on top of the wall as a further precaution. There must also be burglar alarms suitably hidden, Shulz surmised as he took it all in. He directed his steps to a large peepal tree not far from the fence. Noiselessly, and with a speed that belied his bulk, he climbed halfway up the tree. He was hidden by the foliage but could get a clear view of what lay beyond the wall. The view was barely visible to human eyes, but it was clear enough for the infrared camera that Shulz carried with him. He rapidly took a large number
of photographs.

  From what little Shulz could make out with his own eyes, he was at the eastern corner of the centre while the excavated portion lay to the south. Not far from him stood what was evidently the laboratory building cum office block. The adjoining barracks to the north were presumably used as housing. Shulz uttered a grunt of satisfaction when he discerned an empty plot to the west, no doubt set aside for a garden.

  ‘Aren’t the fortifications formidable?’ Pyarelal asked as Shulz returned an hour later.

  ‘Indeed, yes. But I have managed to get prisoners out of jails guarded even more meticulously.’ Pyarelal knew that Shulz was stating a fact that the police of a dozen countries could corroborate.

  As the car made its way back to Bangalore, Shulz’s brain was already formulating plans for penetrating that barrier, if not physically, at least information-wise. Like Houdini, he treated fortifications as a challenge and invariably found ways of getting through them. He estimated (and he was always conservative in his estimates) that within a week he would be able to establish a channel of communication with Navin.

  Of course, Shulz thought grimly, Navin must play his part.

  Major Samant was unscrambling the telexes from Delhi. He had warned the telex operator that garbled messages from Delhi did not mean that his machine was out of order, and that he need not try to read sense into the jumble of words.

  There were five separate telexes on his desk. The key to them was in the secret drawer of his innocent looking desk, specially brought from Delhi. Even with the key, each telex by itself would have made no sense. But when all five were brought together in a certain order, they became clear. Their message drew out a whistle from the phlegmatic man who read them.

  11 The Suspect

  March 2

  Dear Lalitha,

  My first letter since the wedding! I realized with a shock that more than a year has passed. You may be wondering if your school friend has forgotten you. Well, I must confess ‘guilty’. Although ours was an arranged marriage, Laxman and I have been very happy—happy enough to forget all others!

  Remember how you and all our group of friends teased Laxman on the wedding day? Perhaps his shyness on that occasion misled you (and me, too!) into thinking that I was spliced to the prototype absent-minded scientist. No way!

  For all his international reputation as a scientist, Laxman is a down-to-earth man who cares about others. He likes to enjoy life—work permitting of course. Others had warned me that he would ignore me because of his work. Until recently I could confidently assert that they were wrong.

  But recently, Lalitha, things have changed. You will notice that my letter is not from Hyderabad. We are at Gauribidnur—a small, quiet place to the east of Bangalore. I know your geography was weak in school (remember how our Tope Miss made you locate places on the map?) but try and find out where Gauribidnur is!

  Laxman is deeply engrossed in the contents of that wretched container found here. You must have read about it a few weeks ago—how it was found accidentally. Apparently, the contents are fantastic—not just for archaeologists whose minds are in the past, but also for my dear husband who is always thinking of the future.

  That’s the trouble. Laxman is so engrossed in making sense out of it all that he has forgotten me. He goes out early in the morning, returns late at night, sometimes not at all. He won’t disclose a word of what it is all about. It is supposed to be highly classified.

  Classified! Secret! Security! These are the operative words where we live, fortified by barbed wire, high walls and armed guards. Major Samant, who supervises all the security arrangements, is a real tyrant. Of course, he is polite and all that—but hard as a nail. Even this letter must go through censorship. But let him read what I frankly think of him. No doubt he will smile and let it through.

  We are not let out of this compound except on rare occasions. Laxman has promised to take me one evening to Bangalore. He has a special pass. But at present that is like a politician’s promise before elections.

  Meanwhile, I must continue in these barracks, the life of a neglected wife, like my namesake in the Ramayana. I am the only housewife around. The other scientists have not brought their families because they have school-going children. There are a few other women here, secretaries, lab assistants and computer programmers. We meet on occasions to gossip …

  Laxman has provided me with my veena so that I may continue to practice. But there is no fun playing music if you have nobody to play to. And, of course, I have books to read.

  Do write. About yourself and the free outside world you live in. Your letters (if they get through our Major’s inspection!) will be great morale-boosters.

  My regards to Dr Jayaraman.

  Yours, as ever,

  Urmila

  ‘Umi, how about going to Bangalore for dinner tonight?’ Urmila could not believe her ears. True, Laxman looked very pleased with himself and had even admired her idlis. But this invitation seemed unbelievable in present circumstances.

  ‘Could you repeat what you said? I am sure I did not hear you correctly.’

  Laxman’s face wore an embarrassed smile. ‘I think you heard correctly! This evening, the first stage of my work here will be over and I am already in a mood to celebrate … with you as my honoured guest. For, with thou beside me in this wilderness …’

  ‘You need not wax poetic, Laxman. You know I have done nothing to help you in your work.’

  ‘On the contrary, Umi—it is because of your self-effacement that I have been able to put in so much work. Don’t think for a moment that I have not noticed your loneliness here. But I am helpless, for I cannot rest until I get to the bottom of this strange business.’

  Urmila gently pulled the unruly locks on Laxman’s head—locks to which she had become attached right from their first day together.

  ‘Laxman, one year’s training is enough even for a muddle-headed one like me to discover what it is like being married to a scientist … As for tonight, it’s a date! And I won’t allow you to back out, come what may.’

  So they arranged their programme. Laxman would be free by five in the afternoon, when they would get a car to go to Bangalore. He had already arranged with Major Samant for a staff car to be at their disposal. He left Urmila in a state of sweet anticipation as he walked over to his office.

  Yes, today he would put finishing touches to his highly classified report on the container. Although Arul and Navin had helped him, the lion’s share of the work so far had been his, and, of course, that of his assistant, the VAX computer at the Science Centre. Nobody knew what his report contained; he had typed it himself on the word processor. It would take him one hour to go over those hundred pages yet once more, before releasing it for discussion with Arul and Navin. And then it would go to their high level committee in Delhi.

  ‘Beep … Be…ee…ep…’, his intercom was calling.

  ‘Laxman here’, he responded laconically.

  ‘This is Major Samant’, the Major’s crisp voice crackled over the intercom. ‘Can you come to the coconut grove within ten minutes please? And not a word to anyone that you are meeting me there.’

  Laxman was puzzled and vaguely uneasy. He disliked intrigues—in fact, he disliked any interference with this chalked out programme. Why was Samant so mysterious?

  The coconut grove was a pleasant spot in the grounds, usually patronized by the staff when they relaxed after lunch. As Laxman made his way there he wondered if Samant had chosen it because it was out of sight of someone working in the main building. Samant was waiting for him and within a minute they were joined by Arul. Presumably Navin would also come, thought Laxman. But the Major began to speak rapidly and in a low voice.

  ‘I have called this meeting to discuss a delicate matter.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Navin?’ Arul asked.

  The Major looked disturbed at this question. He coughed as if to buy time before speaking. Finally, he blurted, ‘The matter concerns him …
he must not know of this meeting.’

  As Arul and Laxman waited, he continued, ‘You know, I am from the Intelligence Bureau. At the I.B. we have files on all three of you.’

  ‘Big Brother is watching you!’ mused Laxman to himself. Arul, however, burst out in anger, ‘Are we in a police state?’

  ‘No, Dr Arul.’ The Major had recovered his poise. ‘We have to do these things for national security. These files remain inactive until we feel that something in a particular file is a potential threat to the nation. I may assure you—although strictly speaking I shouldn’t—that the files on both of you are clear and hence inactive.’

  He would have said the same even if the situation were otherwise, thought Laxman. However, what the major did not say was more significant. Arul came to the point.

  ‘What about Navin?’ he asked. Major Samant shook his head.

  ‘I am afraid Dr. Navin does not fall in that class. Well known as he is amongst the international community of archaeologists, he has also been subject to … ah … illegal pressures to which he has succumbed. He has misused his position and knowledge … we know that he has been responsible for the unauthorized shipping of some valuable pieces out of this country.’

  ‘You mean he is a smuggler’. Arul liked to call a spade a spade.

  ‘And if so, how have you let him be at large?’ This was Laxman’s question, to which the Major next replied.

  ‘Because of Dr Navin’s expertise, we need him here. But more importantly, we are after bigger fish. Interpol is in touch with us and we have decided to wait for a while. We will act in good time … Have you seen this man, by the way?’

  The Major suddenly took out a photograph. He was watching the reactions on their faces as they both studied it. Evidently the face was new to them.

  ‘Who is he?’ Arul asked.