FALOODA WITH FELUDA

7:36 PM
April 7, 2012
Whitefield, Bangalore

“Here’s your order, Ma’am. Royal Falooda.”

A tall glass filled with two scoops of ice cream blended with silky vermicelli noodles and black basil seeds in rose syrup, topped with almonds, nuts and a tiny decorative umbrella, was kept in front of the beaming young lady. She immediately kept the copy of The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume 1 aside and turned up to look at the waiter.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile.

The waiter bowed and walked away. The young lady stirred the contents of the tall glass slightly and tasted it. “Mmm”, she moaned with closed eyes and a satisfied smile played on her lips. The next moment, her black eyes fell on another table at the far end of the restaurant near the entrance. There was an unattended backpack on the table. She looked around the nearly empty restaurant in an attempt to find the owner of the backpack, but even after a couple of thorough glances around the restaurant, she couldn’t seem to pinpoint anyone in particular who roamed around or even went near that table. She finally ignored it and got back to her dessert and book. The evening was young and she decided to finish the short story that she had begun reading at work. She wanted to complete it before leaving the restaurant.

About half an hour later, she closed the book and kept it on the table, looked up in the air and slowly shook her head in awe. She smiled momentarily, reliving the story that she’d just read, but her expression immediately changed when she saw that the backpack still lay neglected on that table. She quickly called the waiter, who politely asked her, “Anything else, ma’am?”
“No. Bill please, and may I have a word with your manager?” she requested.
“Sure, ma’am.” He replied promptly and walked away to fetch the manager, who arrived shortly. 
“Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?” he asked.
“I have been sitting here for over half an hour and it seems like somebody forgot their bag there,” she pointed towards the table. 
“Oh, is it?” asked the manager, turning his head towards the abandoned table. He promptly moved over to get a closer look and the frown on his face instantly turned into a smile. He looked back at the young lady who was now standing next to her table alongside two other waiters. “That bag belongs to one of our regular customers. He must have told one of our waiters to take care of it while he attended to some urgent business. Madhav, did you forget to keep it at the counter again?” asked the manager.

Madhav, who was standing beside the lady, admitted to the mistake, but before the manager could continue with the scolding, the young lady interrupted, enquiring, “Sir, do you do this kind of favour often?”
“Oh, no ma’am. We actually don’t encourage this at all, but that customer is special to us. He actually solved a murder case that happened at this restaurant a year ago. He must have had some important lead in another case-”
“What! Is he a police officer?” the lady interrupted.
“No. Ma’am. He is a private investigator,” the manager replied.

Her eyes widened and she involuntarily glanced at the book that she was holding. “What are the odds?” she thought and a lopsided smile came across her face briefly. She decided that she had to somehow meet this person before leaving. She turned towards the patient manager and asked him, “Do you have any idea when that person would return whenever he goes out like this?”
“Usually about an hour or so, isn’t it, Madhav?” he replied turning towards the waiter, who nodded.
“I have been here for a while and the bag has been here long before that, I presume. So, he should be here in some time, shouldn’t he?” said the woman, glancing at her wristwatch.
“Yes ma’am, mostly. But we can’t guarantee-” 

The manager was interrupted by the sound of the front door and everyone looked that way. A tall, thin young man, wearing a white football jersey over blue denim trousers and sports shoes, entered. Upon closing the door, he quickly glanced at the table where the bag was kept and then turned his gaze towards the group of people who were staring at him. There came a slight frown on his face when he saw the tall woman, whose eyes had an excited gleam and whose lips were about to break into a smile. He looked at the others who were smiling at him. He stood there for another moment without uttering a word. He looked at the bag again and raised his eyebrow, turned towards his audience and gave them a half-nod. He walked towards the young lady, and his eyes locked with hers. Before the first word was spoken in this interval, the young man thanked the manager and tipped the waiter. He then took his bag to leave the restaurant. It wasn’t until he opened the door that the woman called for him. He turned around to find that she was signalling him to wait as she hastily completed her payment using her card. In a minute, she extended her hand and introduced herself, “Hi, I am Shikha Chauhan.”

The young man shook her hand and replied, “Hi, Shikha. I see you’re a Feluda fan as well. You waited for me to show up, thank you. Didn’t think that you would bump into a real-life detective when you’re holding onto that gem of a book, did you? And yes, private investigators do exist in the 21st century. Also, I am an engineering graduate like you, Shikha.” He smiled.

“How-”, Shikha began, but the detective interrupted her, “Before you ask, there are three more questions that I would like to ask you. May I?” he said.
Shikha nodded involuntarily, but she couldn’t believe her eyes. “Maxtron Electronics’ campus is great, isn’t it? Also, how do you like the Incident on the Kalka Mail story that you have just finished? And how was the Royal Falooda?”

She was dumbfounded by his questions. In the next few moments of this brief pause at the doorway, fortune was kind enough to not introduce any customer entry or exit interruptions as Shikha’s brain fade refused to clear! With a snap of his fingers, Vipin said, “Hey, you just had Falooda with Feluda! Nice! Ah, rude of me not to introduce myself. Vipin Sharma. ‘Detective’.”