Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb Chapter 2

Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb

Chapter 2

I closed the door behind him and went to sit on the bed. Already threatened to give up the case—and I didn’t even know what it was about yet!

Another knock at the door startled me out of my daydreaming. It was Raj. Coming? Dinner’s ready.

Yeah, I said, distractedly.

What's up? He asked as I followed him out into the hallway. He had changed clothes as well. Dressed in long khaki pants and orange dress shirt he looked different than his usual tank top, basketball shorts and flip flops.

Tell you later, I said as I saw Neela and Maya come out of their rooms and approach us. Neela had opted for a blue sari that matched the one Maya was wearing.

 Zayd was probably back in his room, the music still blaring.

We followed Maya downstairs then into the dining room. Adya was there checking to make sure there were enough places set. She greeted us with a smile when we entered.

Sit down, please she said, motioning for me and Raj to sit along one side while Maya and Neela sat across from us. Maya sat directly across from me. Adya sat at one end of the table.

A moment later Fuad came in, having changed out of his suit into comfortable Indian attire, a long flowing cream coloured shirt called a kurta, and matching pants or pajama, loose fitting pants that narrowed at the ankle.

Where is your brother, Fuad boomed at Maya.

In his room, she replied.

We will eat without him, then, Fuad said, sitting down.

The servants soon served the food. I had done some research prior to the trip and was familiar with some of the food.

A plate of flat bread called naan, brushed with butter was brought out with another bowl of minced lamb called keema. The meat mixture was used to stuff the naan and eaten like a taco.

Another bowl of spicy potatoes, called dum aloo was served, as was some butter chicken and basmati rice. We served ourselves. I noticed that the food was not too spicy, probably for my benefit. I didn't mind spicy food as long as my mouth wasn't on fire for the rest of the day afterwards.

A small bowl of what looked like green beans was on the table. I reached for one but Raj nudged me. Those are hot peppers, he said under his breath. Extremely spicy. Use with caution.

Thanks, I mumbled back.

We apologize for our son's behaviour, Adya said as we were finishing our meal. She turned to Raj, are you OK?

I'm fine, Raj said. In fact, Zayd apologized, so we're good, he added nodding his head.

I doubted that Zayd had actually apologized. Why did Zayd hate Raj so much?

Once we were finished, a lovely young woman took away our plates. A small dessert was served, a rice pudding which was nice. After that was eaten, Fuad stood up. We will meet in my office, we have something very important to discuss, he said, turning to me and Raj. Will you two accompany me now?

Of course, Uncle Fuad, Raj said standing up. I got up and followed them out of the dining area across the parlour into another room that appeared to be Fuad's office. It was decorated in a western style, with bookshelves lining the walls. A family portrait was hanging on the one wall, taken quite a few years ago as Zayd and Maya were just small children. There was another child in the picture, an older child who I was not aware of. I was going to ask Raj later, but Fuad beat me to it.

My son Balan, Fuad said sadly, noticing me looking at the picture. He died soon after this portrait was taken about 10 years ago. He was killed in a road accident.

Oh, I'm sorry, I said, not knowing what else to say.

I was with Balan in the accident, Raj said quietly. I survived, obviously, he added. We were the same age. We were 10 when the accident happened. We were like best friends.

I put my hand on my friends shoulder. I'm sorry, Raj, I didn't know.

He just nodded and took a seat in from of Fuad's massive desk. I sat next to him. We were quiet for a moment as Fuad pulled a file from his desk drawer.

Justin, Raj has told me about your exploits back home in Canada. Your father is a renowned private investigator. I had a nice long chat with him yesterday, I hope you don't mind.

No, of course not, I said.

Fuad nodded. The reason I asked you here is that I need a young person to check something out for me. I have had an unusual request brought to me, and I need to know if this item can be located.

OK, I said nodding, curiosity piqued.

He handed over an 8×10 photograph, in colour. It looked like a casket. It appeared to be wood with intricate designs carved into is. Behind the coffin in the photo was what appeared to be a dark stone box. It reminded me of a tomb.

This is the tomb of Maharajah Nipendra Singh. We ruled one of the Indian states in the late 19^th century and early 20^th century. He was very revered here in Mumbai.

Fuad handed over another photo, black and white that showed a man dressed in beautifully embroidered top coat that went past the waist. Large gold buttons and a sheathed sword hung from his belt. His head was adorned with a wrap. He had a thick moustache that was tipped up at the edges. His eyes looked sad.

This is Nipendra Singh. He died in 1904 and was buried here in Mumbai on the Gharapuri Island in Mumbai harbour. A few years later his tomb was stolen from his grave on the island and is reputed to be here in the city. He had advisers when he was the maharajah and it was assumed that they stole the coffin and tomb but nothing was ever proven.

Recently a rumour has surfaced that the tomb was found on the grounds of the University of Mumbai. I need you and Raj to go to the university and see if you can see if the rumours are true and try to locate it if you can. The university directors are very reticent in giving out any information, but if the tomb can be located after all these years then maybe it's mystery of why it was stolen in the first place will be solved.

Why do you need a young person for this? I asked, curiously, handing back the two photos.

I need you two to infiltrate—go undercover at the university and pose as students, and find out where the tomb is located. Time is of the essence. There are many fanatics here in the city who might harm the tomb or the coffin if and when it's discovery is made public.

I have been asked my a business associate to recover the tomb and the coffin of the maharajah.  They also fear that the coffin will be desecrated and lost forever if we do not recover it soon. Time is of the essence.

As well, next week is the Maharajah's birthday and is considered a special holiday to some. I fear that if the tomb is not located and the coffin is not procured, then it will be damaged and maybe hidden away again. If this happens it may never be recovered.

Whoa! Raj said. OK, So that doesn't give us much time. He turned to me. Think we can do it?

I looked at my friend and felt an extra strong bond with him that I hadn't felt before this trip. Zayd's animosity towards him bothered me and I was sad about his losing his best friend 10 years ago. He had never mentioned this to me before.

You and me, together as a team, buddy, we can do it, I know we can.

Raj beamed. That's great, he said, turning back to his uncle. Where do we start?

The next day dawned bright and humid. I showered and dressed, back in more western attire, t-shirt and cargo shorts. I decided to wear my high tops as Raj and I would be doing a lot of walking. I went downstairs for breakfast at 6 am. The girls were still sleeping, having stayed up late the night before getting caught up.

I had a few minutes alone. I thought about what Zayd had told me about not accepting his father's request. I had no intention of not accepting whatever he had asked me to do. I wasn't worried about Zayd—he didn't scare me. But I had a bad feeling that he would not be happy about my decision. I would have to watch myself.

Raj met me a few minutes later in the dining room, dressed in a dark brown t-shirt and Bermuda shorts. He had opted for sneakers as well.

We ate a small breakfast of poha, pressed rice mixed with vegetables. Some more naan bread was available and some western style jam and peanut butter was laid out for us. We drank some milk to wash it all down, and were soon stuffed.

Fuad came into the room as we were finishing. I will have Qasim drive you to the university this morning. You have everything in your back packs as we have discussed?

Yes, Uncle Fuad, Raj said with a grin. We are ready to go. I nodded in agreement. Thank you so much, Justin and Raj for doing this. Please enjoy yourselves today, but we need to find the coffin and the tomb as soon as possible.

We had discussed the prior evening that Raj and I would be exchange students who had just started at the university but had to start late due to a family emergency. The current semester had only begun about 2 weeks earlier so we wouldn't be too far behind.

Luckily we were only enrolled in 2 classes. History of India and an English literature course. This would enable me to investigate in the area where the tomb was reported to be located without arousing too much suspicion.

Raj and I had read the class syllabus the evening before so we knew what books we needed to buy at the campus bookstore. As well, Uncle Fuad had rented a small apartment that Raj and I could stay at while we were going to school, about 2 blocks from the university.

We met Qasim out front about 5 minutes later with our backpacks and luggage. Qasim would drop us at school then take our bags to the apartment.

As we got into the limousine I stole a glance up at the windows on the second floor. I saw Zayd looking down at us, a scowl on his face. I hoped by disobeying him I wasn't putting myself and Raj into danger. Was he involved in the maharajah's tomb at school? Zayd did attend the university but was currently on a co-op semester and worked at a research firm not far away, so at least we wouldn't be running into him at the university. But he likely had friends and likely had contacted them about us already. Our cover might not last that long. We had to work fast.

We drove through the early morning streets of Mumbai, traffic already thick, cars zipping along the streets that had steam rising from an earlier rain shower.

We passed street vendors selling their wares. Finally Qasim turned down a small street lined with low apartment buildings. He pulled over in front of a nice cream coloured three story building. He turned to us. Your apartment is there, he said pointing to the building. Number 744. The apartment is Number 301 on the third floor. No elevator.

We nodded as he handed us a set of keys. I will take you to the university as classes start soon. I will return here with your luggage. You can walk back as the university is only 2 blocks away.

Qasim started to pull out into the street. A large truck had been lumbering along the street but had stopped about a half a block back. Once Qasim had pulled out, the truck suddenly gunned his engine and came right at us. I glanced out the back window and gasped. The truck was going to hit us!