The Mystery of Munroe Island

by Satyajit Ray

  When I entered the drawing room, I saw a man nervously clutching the folds of his dhoti in his hands and sitting all bundled up in one corner of the sofa. I’ve yet to come across a more innocuous person than him. Not so much at first glance, but when you look at him again you do notice the distinct quality of the pupils of his eyes: whatever life force the man has seems to be concentrated on his pupils.

  ‘Namaskar, Tilu Babu!’ His hands, still holding on to the edges of his dhoti, now reached his chin as he folded them in greeting. ‘I apologize for interrupting your Cosmos write-up. I’ve come here with a great desire to exchange a few words with you. And I know you will fulfill my wish.’ It was not just the reference to Cosmos, but the use of the name Tilu which aroused great curiosity in me. Only my father who, sixty years ago, had called me by this name. As I grew older, the need for a pet name was lost. I was transfixed.

  ‘My name is Shri Nakurchandra Biswas. I live in Makorda (a town very close to Calcutta). For the last few days you have been appearing in front of me. But seeing you like that and in real are not the same thing.’

  ‘What do you mean by I have been appearing before you?’ I was forced to ask.

  ‘This phenomenon has started since the last one and a half months. People from distant lands or events taking place in different areas appear before me. At times these events are often not very distinct, yet, I see them. I’ve heard of your name and have seen your pictures in newspapers. One day, when I was trying to recall your image, you promptly appeared before me.’

  ‘This has been occurring over the last one and a half months?’

  ‘Yes, about a month and a half. One day it was raining heavily and the clouds rumbled. It was in the afternoon. I was sitting on a cot; there were three kittens playing in the courtyard in front of the veranda. As I sat on the veranda enjoying tamarind pickle, I suddenly saw about twenty yards away from behind the tree of Mitra’s house something like a fireball rolling in the air. You’ll not believe this, Tilu Babu, this ball arrived right before me. It looked like a glowing football. I saw it coming near our tulsi tree in our courtyard; I’ve no recollection of what happened after this. When I came back to my senses, the rain had stopped. The three kittens were dead. Yet I had remained unscathed. A coral tree and a wood apple tree behind our house were both charred.’

  ‘And the rest of the people in the house?’

  ‘There was no one at home other than my grandmother. My younger brother was in school; he is a primary schoolmaster in Makorda. My mother is no longer alive; my father was playing chess in Nani Ghosh, our neighbour’s house. Grandmother was unwell. She was lying down in a room at the rear side of the house. Nothing had happened to her.’

  Listening to the description it seemed to me he was talking about ‘Ball Lightning’. Once in a while, one gets to hear of this, when electricity appears in the form of a ball which floats in the air momentarily and then explodes. If this electricity passes close to a human and one observes that this person has undergone a distinct change then there’s nothing much to be said. One has heard stories of a deaf person beginning to hear after being struck by this ball of lightning and of a blind man’s vision being restored. My query was, how powerful was this gentleman’s potential?

  Before I could begin questioning him further, an answer was suggested to me.

  Nakur Babu suddenly began to murmur, ‘3-8-8-8-9-1-7-1.’ I noticed he was looking fixedly at the cover of the American weekly Time kept on the table. The image on the cover was that of the American millionaire, Petros Sargsyan. Staring at the picture Nakur Babu continued to speak, ‘I can see a trunk in this man’s house—on the right side of his bed, made by the Croskey Company—it contains cash—wads of hundred-dollar notes . . .’

  ‘And the number you quoted, what was that?’

  ‘That’s the code to open the chest. The lid has a set of wheels around which the numbers 1–9 are carved. The wheel rotates in both directions. When the numbers are matched the chest is unlocked.’

  Apprehensively he added, ‘Please don’t get me wrong, Tilu Babu. Talking about such matters to a busy man like you would amount to wasting your time—’

  ‘Certainly not,’ I interrupted him. ‘A power like yours is a unique phenomenon. It’s a great fortune for a scientist to meet you. All I want to know is—’

  ‘I’ll tell you all. You want to know, after I encountered the ball lightning experience what special powers I’ve acquired, isn’t it?’

  His deduction was accurate. I answered, ‘Exactly so.’

  Nakur Babu said, ‘Do you know my problem? I don’t treat these as “special powers”! A person who laughs or cries or yawns or snores—does he treat these as special powers? It’s as normal as breathing. Whatever I’m doing, I don’t think of these as special powers. For instance, let’s look at your table. Can you tell me what’s kept on it?’

  Following this gentleman’s suggestion I looked at the Kashmiri table kept in one corner of the room.

  An object was placed on the table which I had never noticed earlier. It was a brass figurine—though it was not very clear. It was as if the object was vibrating, and the figure looked translucent. As I was looking at it, it disappeared.

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘The brass figure of a meditating Buddha. But it wasn’t solid.’

  ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you. I still haven’t mastered this exercise. This statue is at present in the drawing room of the lawyer Shibratan Mallik’s house. I saw it there once. At this point I imagined it to be present on your table, but it didn’t appear entirely.’

  I was telling myself no one on earth till now (with the exception of the Chinese magician Chee Ching) has been able to hypnotize me. But to an extent Nakur Babu was successful. This was indeed a kind of hypnotism. This was one of the many powers of Nakur Biswas. Hypnotism, telepathy, clairvoyance—this gentleman seem to be in full possession of all these three qualities.

  ‘I first heard about you from this Shibratan,’ said Nakur Babu. ‘That’s when I thought, why don’t I take a trip to Giridih? Because not only do I get to meet you, I can also caution you about something.’

  ‘Caution?’

  ‘Please don’t mind, Tilu Babu, and also pardon my impertinence. I’m well aware that you not only belong to India, your fame is known around the world. You are invited from all over the world and you often accept these invites. But in case you accept an invite to visit São Paulo, I request you to be particularly careful.’

  São Paulo is Brazil’s biggest city. ‘Till now I’ve not received such an invitation,’ I said. ‘What’s happening in São Paulo?’

  ‘Sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you anything beyond this. As of now things are still not very clear to me. To be frank, I’ve no idea where São Paulo is. Out of the blue I saw before me one long white envelope on which your name and address were typed. On one corner of this was a stamp with the mark appearing—“São Paulo”—and immediately my heart trembled. And thereafter I noticed a luxurious room in which a huge, pot-bellied foreigner sat staring at you. I didn’t find that man very pleasant.’

  Having sensed that he had crossed the limit of ten minutes Nakur Babu tried to get up. I asked him to sit down. I possibly can’t let him go without offering him a cup of coffee. Moreover, I needed to know how to contact him in future.

  Hesitatingly Nakur Babu sat down. I asked, ‘Where are you staying now?’

  ‘I’ve checked in to Manorama Hotel, sir.’

  ‘For how long will you stay?’

  ‘Till I have accomplished my mission I guess . . .’

  ‘But I must have your address.’

  He curled up in embarrassment. In that pose he said, ‘I can’t believe you’re actually asking for my address.’

  I had to tell him firmly that his humility was now crossing the limit. I said, ‘You ought to know that it’ll be a cause of great regret if any scientist after an interaction with you for only ten minutes is unable to keep in to
uch with you.’

  ‘If you write “Care Of Hargopal Biswas, Makorda”, I’ll receive the letter. Everyone knows my father there.’

  ‘Suppose you get a chance to travel abroad, will you?’

  This question had been hovering in my mind for quite some time. There’s a marked tendency amongst scientists abroad to scoff at all supernatural abilities or incidents. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to present Mr Nakurchandra Biswas in person before them. I myself do not belong to this group of sceptics. I do not treat this ability of Nakur Babu with disbelief or scorn. We still know very little about the human brain. My grandfather, Botukeshwar, could remember everything he heard. He only had to hear or read an epic only to recall it perfectly. Yet he was also a full-fledged family man and rarely preoccupied with literary or religious activities. Can any scientist abroad be able to explain how this was possible? No, they can’t, because they still haven’t solved even half the mystery of a human brain.

  But when Nakur Babu heard my question he behaved as if I’d said something absurd.

  ‘I, go abroad?’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘What’re you saying, Tilu Babu? And even if I was inclined to how could I possibly go?’

  I said, ‘When a conference is organized abroad, many organizations, often send two tickets to the participant and also bear the cost of hospitality. Some take along their wives and some their secretaries. I, of course, always go alone but if you agree to come along—’ Nakur Babu all at once got up protesting vehemently.

  ‘That you have given me a thought is a boon for me. I don’t wish for anything more.’

  I joked, ‘However, if ever in your act of clairvoyance you foresee yourself going abroad, then please let me know.’

  Nakur Babu seemed to enjoy my joke and picked up the edges of his dhoti as he stood up to leave, saying, ‘Please accept my warm regards. And do give my blessings to Newton.’

  21 June

  I have sent off the article I’d written for Cosmos.

  So far, I haven’t heard from Mr Nakurchandra Biswas. Unless he himself writes to me, how else will I get news of him? At the same time, it won’t be right to exhibit too much eagerness from my side. Hence, despite knowing his address I haven’t yet contacted him. But in the meantime I’ve informed two of my friends, Saunders and Crole, about his exceptional powers. They both have shown great eagerness and interest in the topic. Crole said it won’t be a problem to raise funds to bring over Mr Nakurchandra for a demonstration. In fact, by making a few appearances on television he may return home with a decent income. I’ve let them know that the moment I receive any signs of interest from this resident of Makorda I’ll inform them.

  24 July

  Since the last month, in connection with my article, I’ve received 177 letters from various members of the scientific fraternity. They are all laudatory in nature. One of these comes from the proprietor of a major American Corporation, Solomon Blumegarten. He has let me know that he is ready to buy patents for three of my inventions. For this he is willing to pay me 75,000 dollars. The three inventions are—Annihilin gun, Miracurol pills and the Omniscope instrument. Even though I’d mentioned in my article that these inventions cannot be mass-produced in a factory, Blumegarten is not ready to accept that. He feels that if a human hand can produce anything there’s no reason why a machine can’t reproduce that very thing. You can’t argue on such matters through letters. Hence, I’ve let them know that purely on personal grounds I’m not ready to sell my patent rights.

  I wonder how he reacted when he came to know that even the amount of 75,000 dollars could not tempt me.

  17 August

  An unexpected letter. Written by Mr Nakurchandra Biswas. The contents as well as the language of the letter are unanticipated. Here’s the entire correspondence—

  After paying one billion bows at Trilokeshwar Shonku Esquire’s feet I humbly beg to say:

  Sir

  I’m well aware of the fact that you have remembered this worthless creature. Very soon the letter from São Paulo will arrive in your hands. For obvious reasons you will not be able to refuse this invite. You may recall, you had appealed to me with the request that I could travel abroad with you as your very dutiful servant—as your secretary. At that time I hadn’t agreed to that proposal but after returning to my humble abode I’ve eventually realized that if I am not present in person beside you, you’ll find yourself in deep trouble. Since the last few months, having worked tirelessly, I’ve taught myself shorthand following the method of Pitman. In addition to this, I’ve read a number of books and acquired basic knowledge of Western etiquette. Therefore, I’ll be eternally grateful if you please let me know in a letter your decision about taking me with you as an attendant as soon as possible. You’re a subject of pride in India as well as the world. But above everything else you’re a son of Bengal. We all pray for a long, healthy and safe life for you.

  Yours sincerely,

  Shri Nakurchandra Biswas, your obedient servant

  Now, my question is—can I trust the reason mentioned for this change of mind to come along with me for a foreign trip? Or is there some intrigue involved? Is this fellow in reality a shady character? Are the emotion and language of the letter mere pretence?

  These issues arise chiefly because this fellow is genuinely in possession of such amazing acumen. But there’s no point in worrying about this now. To start with, let’s see if the invite comes or not at all. Only then can action follow.

  3 September

  Nakur Babu has amazed me. The invite has arrived. What really surprised me even more is that there’s no way I can refuse this offer. São Paulo’s famous Butantan Institute is organizing a three-day science conference which as a matter of course will consist of talks, lectures, discussions, etc. In addition to that, on the last day of the conference, the institute will honour me by conferring a doctorate degree on me. Clearly, that article in Cosmos is responsible for reviving interest in my achievements once more in the scientific world. The officials of this conference do not just desire my presence, they propose to exhibit a collection of all my inventions, including the relevant documents related to them. In this connection, they stated, the government of India is ready to work in cooperation with the Brazilian embassy in Delhi. The institute has informed me that the hospitality won’t be limited to only three days. They’ll arrange for another seven days of stay in Brazil so that I can travel around the country properly. They will bear the cost of travel and accommodation for two persons.

  I informed them via telegram to confirm my participation. I also added that I’ll be accompanied by my secretary, Mr N.C. Biswas.

  A letter, of course, has been posted to Makorda. The conference starts on 10 October. I think I’ll be able to arrange everything within this one month.

  I’ve also given this news to Saunders and Crole. As renowned scientists, I’m sure both of them will be invited to São Paulo but I thought it was important that I let them know about Nakur Babu. I’ve also informed them that on this trip we cannot get too involved with Nakur Babu’s activities. However, Crole himself is very enthusiastic and an authority on supernatural matters. I’m sure Nakur Babu won’t object to offer a few demonstrations for Crole’s benefit within the confines of a hotel room.

  I don’t know if my not-too-distant crisis is for real or not. I’ve got this sneaky feeing that Nakur Babu could not resist the temptation of a free trip to a foreign land. I’ve written to him saying that he must arrive at my place at least three days before our journey. I must run a check on his sense of social grace. There’s no problem on the issue of language. I think he will somehow manage to communicate in English, and if for some reason he has to speak in Brazil’s language—Portuguese—I would be around to help him with that. With my interest in the history of Portuguese in India, from the age of eleven, I’d picked up the language from the local padre in Giridih, Father Robello.

  2 October

  Nakur Babu has arrived. I noticed quite a remarkable change
in the appearance of this man within the last few months. He said this was a result of yoga. In the meantime he went to Calcutta to get himself two suits tailored, along with a few shirts, ties, shoes and socks. As he had always used a neem twig to brush his teeth, he had to now buy a toothbrush and toothpaste as well. The suitcase which he had brought along apparently belonged to the lawyer, Shibratan Mallik.

  ‘Won’t you be visiting the jungles of Brazil?’ he asked while having lunch with me. I said, ‘They said they’ll offer us seven days to see the country. Visiting a forest, I’m sure, will be part of this package.’

  ‘After a search in our Shri Guru Library, I found an old book with pictures of Brazil by Baroda Banerjee. It mentions the forest and tells you that it has a certain breed of snake which is double the length of our python.’

  In all, Nakur Babu was in his element. Till now he hasn’t shown any signs of his powers. To be frank, he hasn’t broached that topic at all.

  Both Saunders and Crole have written to say they will be going to São Paulo. Needless to add, they are both very keen to meet Nakur Babu.

  10 October, São Paulo, 11.30 p.m.

  After attending the first session of the conference followed by a dinner in the house of the chief organizer of the conference, Professor Rodrigues, I returned to my hotel. This magnificent hotel is located in one corner of the city and beats many famous hotels of the world hollow. All the invitees to the conference are staying in this hotel. I’ve been allotted a grand and well-furnished suite—number 777. My ‘secretary’ Nakur Biswas is also staying on the same floor—in a single room, number 712.

  Along with the officials, Crole and Saunders too had gone to fetch me from the airport. Right there I introduced Nakur Babu to them. The instant he was introduced to Crole, Nakur Babu looked at him for a few moments and said, ‘Alps—Bavarian Alps—1932—you had two young men climbing, climbing—then slipping, slipping, slipping—then—eeks—very sad!’