Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb Chapter 1

Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb

Chapter 1

The air was stifling as I stepped off the rickety bus and headed into the station and I was sweating profusely. My companions, brother and sister Raj and Neela Mistry followed close behind.

Over here, a voice called out as we went through the doors, and I turned to see who had spoken. It was the man we were meeting, here in the train station in central Mumbai, India.

Uncle Fuad! Raj called out, turning to make his way over to where the man was standing. I followed Raj and Neela to meet their father’s brother. I could see the resemblance right away. Fuad Mistry looked like his nephew, wavy dark brown hair, brown eyes, neatly trimmed dark moustache. He was about the same height as Raj, 5’11” but was more heavy set than his nephew. His suit was dark with a white shirt and no tie, his shoes were shined. He looked like a government official but he was in fact a businessman in Mumbai. I wasn’t sure the details of his business, but was sure I would soon find out. He was very rich according to Raj.

I greeted him with a handshake and he smiled. Mr. Macdonald, thank you for coming to Mumbai with my precious nephew and niece. It is good to see they are making friends in Canada. When I summoned them back here they said you might be able to help me.

I hope so, sir, I said. Call me Justin, please. This is a beautiful city—from what I’ve seen so far.

It is, he said with a grin. And please call me Uncle Fuad. Yes, it is very beautiful and very many people live here.

It’s the 8th largest city in the world, Raj boasted, looking between his uncle and me. Largest and richest city in India.

I nodded, grinning at my friend. He was excited to be back in his hometown.

When my brother moved to Canada, we never thought we would see you again for many years, my dear, Fuad said to Neela. I’m so happy you are here with your brother and his friend.

Oh, Uncle Fuad, you know we could never stay away too long. We miss you and Aunty Adya. And Maya and Zayd, of course.

You miss your aunt’s cooking, I’ll wager, Uncle Fuad said beaming. Your cousin Maya misses you too. I don’t know about my son, though. He has not been too happy lately. Come. We will get you settled—then we will discuss why I summoned you here.

We grabbed our luggage and went back out into the late afternoon sun. The heat was oppressive and the honking horns and general bustle of a large city made it noisy, but the architecture was breathtaking. I had never been to India before and was looking forward to the visit, even if it was not all pleasure.

Uncle Fuad had a limousine waiting at the curb. We piled our luggage inside the trunk then got in the back. Fuad’s chauffeur was named Qasim and was a short older gentleman with greying hair and brown eyes. He wore a black hat and white gloves and a white shirt and tie.

Once we were inside, the car pulled into traffic. Qasim drove from the busy section into more residential area. We turned onto a side street and I gasped. The homes were huge, as big as I’ve ever seen anywhere. Palm trees dotted the boulevard and set back in from the street were the houses, surrounded by fences and beautiful trees.

Leaving the noise behind, the street narrowed and started to twist and turn through shaded areas with larger trees. We drove for a while, the homes getting seemingly more beautiful the further we drove.

Finally, Qasim turned into a driveway. I couldn’t see the house right away, it was secluded by a grove of trees, a large banyan tree in the centre, with its wide foliage and twisted trunk.

Uncle Fuad has a grove of these banyan trees in the back orchard, Neela remarked as she noticed me admiring the one in front of us.

Qasim drove up the winding bricked driveway and went around a small bend at the top. The “house” came into view then. It was quite simply a mansion! Two stories of cream coloured wood, with inset windows and main entrance with a large balcony on the second floor. Palm trees dotted the surroundings. It was peaceful here, I thought as we got out of the limousine. Another young man dressed in dress pants and white shirt came forward with a small cart and got our luggage from the trunk.

Once we had our things, Qasim drove off to park the limousine in the garage which I figured was out behind the house.

This is Bashir, my butler, Uncle Fuad announced. He will look after you while you are here. Bashir, please take the young people’s things to their rooms.

Bashir smiled and nodded and moved off with the cart of luggage.

Now you will meet my family, Fuad announced, clapping his hands.

We went into the main entrance and again I was shocked at how opulent this home was. Raj had told me a little about his uncle before we came. He was a very rich man here in the city and this had caused a little animosity between Fuad and his brother Hamid, Raj’s dad.

A woman dressed in along flowing aqua coloured sari came out to greet us.

Aunt Adya! Neela exclaimed running over to her aunt. She kissed her on the cheek. Raj approached and did the same. She approached me and shook my hand. Welcome to our home, Justin, she said. She was smiling but I detected a note of sadness in her eyes.

Neela! A female voice called from somewhere above us. A teenaged girl dressed similarly to her mother but in an orange sari, came running down the curved stairway and came up to Neela, giving her a hug and kiss. I assumed this was Maya. She spoke a few words to Neela in a foreign language, I supposed was Hindi.

English only, her mother admonished. We have a guest.

Sorry, mother. Maya saw Raj and gave him a hug. You’re looking good, cousin, she cooed. You're looking fit and you look so handsome with your moustache.

You're looking well too, Maya, Raj said, embarrassed. Here, this is my friend Justin Macdonald, from Canada.

Maya turned to me. I noticed her eyes, a creamy chocolate brown. Her hair was long and curly, interlaced with strings of jewels. She also had a small shiny stud in her nose.

She stopped when she saw me. Oh, this is Justin, she said, coming over and shaking my hand. She turned to Neela. You lied to me, cousin, she said. He’s not homely at all!

I said no such thing, Neela gasped, slapping Maya’s arm. Raj just snickered.

So, you made it, another voice—male, boomed from the stairway. A young man, I assumed was Zayd, came down the steps. Unlike his mother and sister, he was dressed in western attire, jeans with ripped knees, a white t-shirt and black zippered fleece sweater and black high tops. His hair was dark brown and curly and went to his shoulders, with dark brown deep set eyes. Clean shaven except for a few days growth of stubble.

He came over to Raj and went to shake his hand but at the last minute pulled his hand away and smacked Raj in the face. Raj turned away putting his hand to his face.

Zayd! His mother said. What was that for?

Zayd was silent for a moment. Answer your mother, Fuad boomed. That was very rude. Apologize to Raj.

It’s OK, Uncle Fuad. Raj said. Aunt Adya. Really. Zayd and I have an—understanding. We’re cool.

That’s right, cousin, Zayd sneered. He turned to me. You must be Raj’s friend from Canada. You have my sympathy. He put his hand out and I shook it—reluctantly.

Zayd—enough! His father roared. Back to your room—now!

Zayd looked at his father and scowled, but finally relented and turned and went back upstairs.

Adya came over to me. I apologize for Zayd’s rudeness.

I just shrugged and glanced at Raj who looked a little shocked at his cousin’s actions. I nodded to him as if to say “You OK?” and he nodded back.

Maya, can you take our guests to their rooms. They can relax before dinner is served in a little over an hour.

Neela followed Maya up the winding staircase, Raj and I following in their wake.

The upstairs hallway was carpeted with a rich golden brown colour. Mirrors adorned the walls and Indian art hung at intervals, interspersed with large vases, some with flowers, some empty. One large vase at the end of the hall had a beautiful countryside scene painted on it. We passed a door about halfway down with loud music blaring from behind. It was a western band I wasn’t familiar with.

Zayd’s room, Maya said pointing to the door as we passed. My parents room is there, she added pointing to the first door we passed, next to Zayd’s. Mine is on the other side of my brother’s. You will each have a room across the hall. Neela of course will be across from me, she added with a giggle.

My room proved to be right across from Zayd’s and Raj was next to mine, first door on the left. The servant’s quarters were in the basement.

We went into our respective rooms. I was totally bowled over by the opulence. Rich red carpeting with a large king size bed with a dark red comforter sat along the inside wall. A large window faced out to a large yard with the grove of banyan trees that Fuad had mentioned earlier. My bags were on top of the bed. I opened up my suitcase and started to put away my clothes in the large dresser, handles looked like they were made of gold.

A large mirror was behind the bed. More art hung on the walls. Once unpacked I noticed a small room at the back. I opened the door to reveal a small en suite bathroom with a shower, sink, toilet and another device sitting beside that resembled a toilet. What was that?

I decided to have a quick shower to freshen up. Once I was done with the shower I got dressed quickly. I decided to dress up a little for dinner, choosing dark pants and turquoise dress shirt. I was just pulling on a clean pair of socks when there was a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Raj I opened the door. I was surprised to see Zayd there.

Hey, I said. What’s up?

Can I come in?

He brushed past me into the room without waiting for an answer. Sure, I said. I could smell garlic on him, like he had just eaten an entire clove of it.

I left the door open but he turned back and closed it. We need to talk, he said, sitting down on the bed. He had taken off his shoes since we met in the hallway, to reveal bright neon green socks with blue polka dots.

Never the one to mince words I first asked the question I had been dying to ask since I arrived. What’s your problem with Raj?

My cousin? Pfft. He’s a doofus, that’s all, Zayd said.

I don’t think so.

You don’t know him very well, Zayd said.

I know him well enough, I said, not liking this guy very much. What did you need to talk to me about?

The reason you’re here in India. My father wants you to look into something for him, Zayd said, standing up again and approaching me.

He hasn’t spoken to me about it yet, I said. I don’t even know what it’s about.

Good, Zayd said visibly wilting. When he asks you to help him say that you can’t. Make up some excuse. Any excuse.

Why? I said. Why would I do that? That’s the whole reason I’m here. I’m a guest in his home. I can’t just turn him down like that.

But you will, he added with a menace to his voice.

Or else what? I said getting up in his face. Are you going to do something? I hated bullies and I hated being threatened even more.

Zayd stepped back, shocked at my response, but quickly recovered. Yeah, he said. I will do something. And you won’t like it. I promise you that.

With that he left the room.