“It should be right here!” bubbled Rahul. “But obviously it isn’t!” taunted Shalini. They were definitely ready to kill each other. He pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket. Crumpled, yellow and mysterious. She just frowned at him.
They had been out since the previous day. Rahul had been planning this for some time now. Ever since he found the map, in his grandfather’s box, he knew it was a task left for him.
Grandfather had been an officer in the Army. He had been to many remote corners of the world during the exigencies of his service. His bag of stories had gems unimaginable. From the talking birds of Papua New Guinea to the hog which would fetch sticks along with the dogs in the West Indies, (pet of a clergyman), to the pet monitor lizards of climbers in the Sahyadris… Each tale was fascinating and spell binding.
He had once described to the young Rahul, wealth of unimaginable proportions that he had whisked out of a musty cave, high in the Himalayas. Whiff of it had sent dozens of mercenaries after him. It had then become his mission to keep it safe, hidden from all till Rahul was old enough to take care of the treasure. “When you find it, my boy take care of it. Remember I nearly lost my life for it.”
“But why can’t Dad take care?” Rahul wanted to say, but the doting smile arrested his query. Like a true soldier, the twelve-year-old saluted his grandfather and promised he would do just that.
Now here they were. Shalini rebuked herself for having jumped on to the foolish plan, just because she was gullible for treasure hunts. Right since childhood, they were irresistible to her. Of course, she loved Rahul too. But a treasure hidden by Rahul’s grandfather, at the risk of his life had grabbed her goat.
The previous day they had embarked on their journey. They had to look for the 3 Palms, north of the river. It seemed so simple, then. Its only once they crossed the river, north of Rahul’s house, they realised it. There were so many palm trees. Of all sizes. All day they trudged trying to figure out which clump of 3 was the right one.
They had travelled North, South, East and even West. Quite a few clump of 3 Palms too did they find. And the digging only resulted in a snake, a few scorpions, a bone, few shells, and broken finger nails. The camaraderie and song had disappeared by 9 pm.
It was past midnight and they had reached a tall clump of palms… 3 palms to be precise, that seemed taller and older than all others so far. When he turned to put his tool kit down, a shiver ran down Rahul’s spine. He could see the top of his home. Rather the light on the roof top, just above Grand father’s room. With renewed vigour they started their searching and digging. After a couple of hours, they were tired, irritated, and as clueless as ever.
He hated it, but Rahul admitted to Shalini, probably it was just a bad joke. He tried to hide his disappointment and bitterness. As he switched off his bright torch, the cool darkness enveloped them. The twinkling stars came to life and the beauty of the night sky took their breath away. He could identify, Orion. “Look Shalini, Orion, The Hunter as Grandpa would say!”
“It’s beautiful!”
“And there… can you see the Pole star?”
“Oh! I always thought it would be big… blazing like an ornament on the Christmas tree!”
The tinkling of their laughter swirled in the soft breeze. He pulled out some snack bars, the last of their ration and passed one to Shalini, preparing to wind up.
“Hey wait a minute,” she said.
3 Palms, could it also mean the distance of 3 palms? Filled with excitement, she measured 3 palm width from, each of the trees and got to a point. Rahul just watched in amusement. He knew his grandpa.
With renewed fervour Shalini started digging, Her spade clunked and she yelped as it struck an unrelenting object. In a trice Rahul picked up the spade and continued digging. She turned on the torch. And soon there emerged an iron box, a safe.
The excitement was palpable as their hearts beat fast. Sweat trickled down their forehead, nose, and ears. But they were oblivious. Soon the box was pried free. With bated breath they located the lever which when pressed would open the lid.
With a soft click the box opened up. It wasn’t there. The sparkling gems, the treasure, a king’s ransom… it wasn’t there. Wait a minute… what was it? There was a small book like thing. It was not paper like they knew… but some kind of parchment… and the writing… very different.
Next morning found them at the office of the Museum curator. Putting his magnifying glass down, he said with excitement ringing. “This is an ancient record of the great saint. See his record of ideas and thoughts. I will have to send it for further study to experts. It is surely a treasure to understand the Tibetan culture. Its priceless!”
