Chapter 13:My own Space
City like Mumbai can boasts of its greatness but if it writes an autobiography of itself, it might regret the pigeon-hole like residences that it offers to most of the people. If one need a spacious and decent and low cost residence here than that person would be day dreaming in all probability. After settling down in my office I started searching for the accommodation. I was not alone in this pursuit of searching but was accompanied by Kripal, my friend, colleague and guide. Kripal was staying in Mumbai since one year but he had to shift because of the enormous distance he had to travel for work.
Finally our search ended in a small Paying Guest accommodation. Although it was not luxurious but was fairly decent and going by the rent that we had to shell out, our pockets were not unhappy.
“Appa, I managed to get a good place”, I told my dad over the phone. After coming to Bombay it was a routine or rather a religious routine to call my parents at least twice every day. No sooner I left for Bombay; Akshyaa got selected in IIM, Ahmedabad and moved out. Now my parents were all alone. My mother at times felt so lonely at home that she would often cajole me to come back to Delhi but I was firm to face the city in all my might.
Our residence was in Kalina, it is a place near the Airport. Although the place was a small and the area was ordinary but somehow I still liked it.
The PG was owned by a Maharashtrian guy named Shri Ramjirao Patil who was a small time politician in Satara. He had purchased the flat for his only son Vishnurao Patil, who was working in Mumbai. Vishnu was not a great guy but he was not bad either albeit strange, mostly he kept to himself except for the day of rent when he sat and chatted with us for few minutes. I always have opinion about everyone right from the people I meet in trains and buses to all my friends and co-workers but I never had an opinion about this guy. He came home late and by the time we left for office he was sleeping in his bed. To me he was hardly existent.
Although Vishnu was absent most of the times but the most noteworthy accessory of that place was Karsan kaka, the house keeper. He was very old, I mean even the fold on his skins, and the frown on his forehead appeared older than the ‘Gateway of India’. He was a Gujrati and had come to Bombay 65 years ago from Gujarat to become a Bollywood hero. Obviously he could not become one but going back from Bombay is never the case for anybody who has once landed here. He was very interesting person and erudite too. He became a cook, and worked at several places. He was so good at cooking food and stories. I would often listen to him in rapt attention but I never believed those stories, to me those were the wild imagination of the senile masterpiece of the house. “Sachi Kahoon Chu!” (I am speaking the truth!) He would often exclaim shaking his head in affirmative after finishing some story. He knew I hardly believed him but he always emphasized that they were true.
But those were interesting stories. I remember that night when he told me a story. Karsan Kaka started at once “In the year of 1954, I was working at a Historian’s house. The Historian was an old Retired History Professor called William Scott. After the British left India in 1947 the Professor stayed back, for he was in search of a treasure. According to the Professor, once a young British man was in India for search of a lost treasure, he was a gold digger. The young lad whose name was Andrew Hobart was able to find the lost treasure in the jungles of Madhya Pradesh. But while he was on his voyage back to England he died in mysterious circumstances on board of the vessel Queen Mary. No one knew the reason of his death. Was it some conspiracy to kill him or was it some unknown disease that he encountered in India. There was no sign of any treasure in his belongings. Although it was a widely reported case in the colonial days and was also a very popular topic amongst the social circles at coffee tables yet it never reached a conclusion.”
All of a sudden Karsan Kaka started coughing “old age” he remarked, he continued after clearing his throat.
“My master, William found the diary that belonged to Andrew Hobart from a scrap dealer in the year 1942, 20 years after Andrew Hobart died. He bought the diary at 50ps from the scrap dealer.”
“What 50 paise”! Kripal exclaimed.
“It was a big amount in those days for an old book at the scrap dealer” said kaka.
“After he read the diary Professor found that Andrew Hobart never took full the treasure with him but he hid it somewhere so that he could arrange for the logistics to take away the treasure. But he died. Those days they never kept the dead body at ship, they might have thrown him into the sea after his rituals, the diary would have been in his belongings which were thrown with him and thus the diary would somehow made it to shore and was kept with scrap dealer till master found it.”
“The diary was not in the best of its condition; the Professor had to read it and made notes out of it. Few things that he was able to conclude from the diary was, Andrew Hobart stayed at Taj Mahal Hotel after discovering the treasure, which was proof enough that he had found something in value that allowed him to stay in the luxurious hotel. The other thing and the more important thing was that he had hidden the treasure in some vicinity of Taj Mahal Hotel. The actual place of treasure was either not written or the page was not found. Andrew Hobart mentioned about the Gateway of India and also drew a sketch of the Gateway in his diary. Professor was sure that the treasure was somewhere near the Gateway. He made frequent rounds of the gateway, often sitting there till late at night.”
“When I started working for him, he never talked to me much but later I became his student as well as his friend. He even taught me English and gave me books to read. I liked working with him. He was a loner, his wife died long ago and his only daughter was married off in London. I never saw her. The Professor was sure that treasure was buried under one of the big stones that surrounded the gateway but he had no idea how Andrew Hobart could hide it.”
“Once in the lazy summers of May, I was sleeping under the tree when Professor called me, I went running towards his room”.
“I know Karsan, Andrew had in fact written a riddle, on the last page of this diary, I solved it” exclaimed the professor pointing to the diary.
“But before I could even gather anything about it, the Professor suffered from a Heart Attack. I ran out of house calling for help but by the time I got a help was no more. Leaving behind his notes, Andrew Hobart’s Diary and the unsolved riddle of the treasure.”
“I still have the Diary of Andrew Hobart and his notes but all these years I could never understand it” said Karsan Kaka remorsefully.
I was dumb founded by this revelation of Karsan Kaka. I could not mistrust him this time as I actually saw the diary and notes. May be the treasure was waiting for me to be found. The diary’s last page had the letters inscribed.
“The full moon light and the Crown so Bright, no water of the sea but a stream from ravine in the sultry vault of the equine, leads to the steps beneath boulder, to lay finger on mammon remove the solder ”
I kept on wondering what could be the answer to the riddle but I never got an idea. I even thought that may be at least once; even I should give a try to the treasure hunt. I had to convince kaka and Kripal for they thought it could be dangerous but I could never take that thought out of my mind.
Although I was busy in my own world of office yet returning to home and sitting with Karsan kaka was always great. Kripal and kaka were my family in Mumbai, my home was a place where I could relax and enjoy. After all it was my place my little own world, my treasure.
