Once again it was the same problem – the food was not up to the mark. The rice being overcooked and the dal being too insipid; and what was utterly unforgivable was the fish curry. For one thing that Raj can never compromise on was his fish curry – it has to be perfect…………

Seething with anger, he called for the cook who was none other than his mom, Sheila. “Mom, what is the matter with you? Ever since I have come back from my hostel, I have not tasted one proper fish curry. Have you forgotten how to cook?”

Shelia was a teacher at the local Government School in Vijerig and teaches English over there. His son, Raj who studies at the Realton Boarding School, is here to spend the summer vacations. Well he may be spending his vacations out here, but that is the time which I dread the most, thought Sheila. All the time demanding food, Sheila could never fathom where did that gargantuan appetite come from and yet it had no effect on him: Raj’s lean outlook would almost make any outsider think that he was suffering from anorexia.

With a sweet smile, she mockingly told him, “Why? What is the matter – do you find my cooking to be too bland for you after being catered to five star cuisines at your hostel?” Everybody knew about the strict discipline at the Realton and coupled with that the almost spartan offerings of food that was served over there, Raj had a hard time fitting into it at first. Raj started bawling, “Even though I come for only two months – all that I get is bland food and with that a fish, all drowsed in sand and that too without any texture.” Sheila said,” Son, how am I to know. They are fishes, not vegetables that I have grown or eggs, that I go to the hens to reprimand them. Moreover, I did clean the fish under running water for a long time.”

“Then what about these grains of sand – I know very well that this fish belongs to the Oncorhynchus mykiss family and they always dwell in the fresh waters. So, where do these sand particles come from?” Sheila was already at the end of her tether – the upcoming school exams coupled with the fact that her rebellious son was now trying to cross question her with his profound knowledge on Biology, was already taking its toll on her nerves. Irritated, she touted him saying, “Why don’t you go and find out where these sand particles have come from, Sherlock?” Completing his meal, Raj calmly said, “Yes, I do intend to rake out the truth – after all no one messes with my fish”

The next day, when the fish monger came to deliver the fish, Raj himself took it from him and placed in the kitchen. He went on to inspect the fishes and indeed the gills of the fish as well as the scales were covered in sand. Remembering his mom’s rebuke the other day, he decided to get hold of the fish monger the next day. As he went to wash his hands, he saw that the sand grains were also there but somehow they seemed a bit different under the light – it was as if they shone a bit more brilliantly under the light. Strange, he thought…… but what was about to unfold was even more strange

The next day, he woke up early; quite contrary to his usual routine. Even Shiela was surprised – but she thought, “Well miracles do happen sometimes!” Finding nothing to do, Raj started scrounging the attic for any interesting item to dillydally his pending homework.

Suddenly, he chanced upon a news paper with a strange heading – ‘Gold Lost In Derailed Train Accident.’ Strange, he thought, I have never heard of an accident in Vijerig. On further inspection he found that the article had been written in the year 1947, just six months before Independence. It seemed that a train carrying gold bars had got derailed near Vijerig and due to that the compartment carrying those bars had fallen into the Nova Lake. The search for those gold bars was going on. “Wow”, he whistled to himself, “who would have thought that our very own Nova Lake was a treasure spot.”  He was about to return to the living room when something strange caught his eyes – the rays of the sun were coming through a crack in the wall and it fell on a pile of  rubbish kept at the corner; among those things a mirror with a golden finish was shining quite brightly.

Immediately he rushed out of that room and rushed to the refrigerator. There was still some fish left over from last day – he took one piece and swabbed a layer off it; putting it down on his microscope, which he had won in a competition last year. “Eureka!!! Just as I had thought, these are not ordinary sand grains but rather ‘golden particles’”, he exclaimed, “After all, fifty years is enough time for those bars to start disintegrating under the abrasive nature of the water and land.”

No sooner had he said those words than the bell rang: it was the fishmonger. Raj was almost out of breath when he reached the door. On seeing the man, he told him,” Uncle, I am working on a school project, where I have to make a note on the habitat of the trout fish. So can you please take me to the place where you catch these fishes?” The man was at first nonplussed, but could not reject Raj’s plea. After all he was one of his cherished customers. Complying, the man took Raj with him the very next day when he went to fish.

While he was explaining the details to Raj, Raj got busy in examining the fish gills. Yes, he mused to himself, this is indeed that place for the gills of the fish in his hand was covered with the same sand. Thanking the man, he made a mental note of the place. Raj knew that the police would never listen to a small boy like him but he did not worry – for he had his proof with him, those sand particles. And just as he had thought once they had those gold particles verified, they were putty in his hands.

As the divers dived into the waters, the O.C of Vijerag Police Station beckoned Raj who was standing nearby. He said,” I am already recommending you for the President’s Medal for doing this great deed.” Raj was ebullient and started hatching dreams of his fame. Just then, the O.C said,” By the way, do you know that this train which carried the gold was actually derailed by our freedom fighters to supplement their fight with arms and ammunition’s. But as fate would have it, neither they nor the British could lay their hands on it. Hence, by helping us in recovering this treasure, you have also played a role in the fight for our Independence – no matter that it may be fifty years after we have attained it.”

The sun was setting down and its rays gently fell on the smiling statue of a man, carrying a stick and depicted as wearing a dhoti and a khadi cloth, who too had withstood the ravages of both time and the British…