ON THE RUN WITH FOTIKCHAND , livre ebook

Follow Fotikchand’s adventures through the colourful and dangerous streets of Kolkata in this action-packed thriller!
An eleven-year-old boy, Bablu, gets kidnapped by four goons. As they make their escape in a stolen car, they meet with an accident and two of the goons die on the spot while the boy loses consciousness. The two surviving kidnappers, presuming the boy to be dead, leave him stranded.
When Bablu regains consciousness, he realizes he has lost his memory. In his wanderings, he befriends a street juggler, Harun, who gives him shelter and introduces him to a new way of life. Bablu, now called Fotik, spends his days working in a tea shop, while his evenings are spent assisting Harun on his street shows. Gradually they develop a bond that makes them inseparable till one day the kidnappers spot Fotik, and Harun and he are forced to be on the run again.
On the Run with Fotikchand is a thrilling story of everlasting friendship. Riveting and racy, it’ll have you turning the pages till the end.
A Puffin Original
Cover illustration by Dipankar Bhattacharya
PUFFIN BOOKS CLASSIC ADVENTURES
ON THE RUN WITH FOTIKCHAND
Satyajit Ray (1921–92) was one of the greatest film-makers of his time. In 1992, he was awarded the Oscar for Lifetime Achievement by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. In the same year he was also honoured with the Bharat Ratna.
Ray was also a writer of repute, and his short stories, novellas, poems and articles, written in Bengali, have been immensely popular. He has published several books in Bengali, most of which became best-sellers. He is also the author of the famous Feluda mysteries, the comic-strip versions of which are available in Puffin.
Gopa Majumdar has translated several works from Bengali to English, the most notable of these being Ashapurna Debi’s Subarnalata and Bibhutibhushan Bandopadyay’s Aparajito, for which she won the Sahitya Akademi Award in 2001. She has translated several volumes of Satyajit Ray’s short stories and all of the Feluda stories for Penguin Books India.
On the Run with Fotikchand

SATYAJIT RAY
Translated by Gopa Majumdar
Illustrated by Satyajit Ray
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi 110 017, India
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)
Penguin Group (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published in Bengali by Ananda Publishers Pvt. Ltd 1976
First English language translation published in Stranger by Penguin Books India 1992
This edition published in Puffin by Penguin Books India 2010
Copyright © The Estate of Satyajit Ray 2010
Translation copyright ©Penguin Books India 2010
Illustrations copyright © The Estate of Satyajit Ray 2010
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-01-4333-162-9
This digital edition published in 2011.
e-ISBN : 978-81-8475-288-5
This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser and without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above-mentioned publisher of this e-book.
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
1
He was not sure when his eyes had opened. Before he could actually see anything, he could feel that he was cold—he was wet—he was lying on the grass, and there was something hard under his head. Then he felt pain all over his body. Even so, he raised his right arm gingerly and felt under his head. His hand touched a stone; it felt cold. It was a large stone; he could not possibly lift it and move it away. Perhaps moving his head was a better idea. So he moved his head a little, and then lay more comfortably on his back.
Now he was able to see. Until now, it had not been possible to see anything because it was dark, and he was lying under the sky, and the sky was cloudy. Now the clouds were dispersing, revealing bright stars.
He tried to grasp what had happened. It would not be very wise to get on his feet, he realized. It was more important to figure out why he was lying on the grass, why he was in pain, and why his head was throbbing.
What was that noise? It just went on and on, steady and monotonous. He thought for a while, then realized what it was. It was the sound of crickets. Could it be described as a call? No, crickets did not call. They were not birds, but insects. He knew that. Who had told him? That he could not remember.
He tilted his neck. That made his head throb even more painfully. Never mind. He would try not to move, but see as much as possible. He must find out how he came to be here.
What was that? Had the stars in the sky suddenly come down to earth? No. He knew what those were. They were fireflies. They shone in the dark, on and off, and flew in circles. The light that came from them was cool. If you held a firefly in your hand, you wouldn’t feel any warmth. Where had he heard that? He had no idea.

But if there were fireflies, there must be trees in the vicinity. Fireflies always fluttered near trees, or bushes. There they were, coming quite close at times, then flying away. He could see some more in the distance. There had to be a lot of trees. What was a large cluster of trees called? It had a name, surely? He knew it, but could not remember the word.
He turned his head in a different direction. Again, he felt a sharp pain. There were several trees on the opposite side as well, fireflies glowing amidst them. The tops of those trees seemed to have merged with the dark sky. The stars were standing still but the fireflies were moving constantly, glittering points of light.
The trees on the other side seemed quite far—a road ran between them. What was that on the road? He had not noticed it before, but now more things were gradually becoming visible.
It was a car, standing in the middle of the road. No. It was not standing, but lying on its side. Whose car was it? Had he been in it? Was he going somewhere? Where was he going? He did not know. Simply could not remember.
For some inexplicable reason the sight of the car made him feel afraid. There was nobody except him, nothing around here except that car, and that, too, was lying on the ground with its back to him.
He knew that moving would cause him pain but he got to his feet, nevertheless. He fell down instantly. A few moments later, he made himself get up again. This time, he could walk. He moved slowly towards the trees on the other side of the car.
It was a forest. Yes, that was the word he was looking for. It was still dark, but now he could see well enough to be sure that he was in a forest. So it was possible to see in the light of the stars. Had there been a moon, it would have been easier to see things. And in daylight everything would be clearly visible.
He passed a few trees, then stopped as he reached the next one. There weren’t just trees in front of him. There was something else, at some distance. He hid behind a tree, and peered cautiously.
It was a herd of animals. They were walking together, making a rustling noise. They had horns on their heads … there went one … and another … and a third one. They were deer. He knew it. He could remember that word. One of them stopped suddenly, stretching its neck. The others stopped as well. They seemed to be listening intently. A second later, he heard it too. It was a car in the distance—the noise was getting closer.
The deer ran away. They sprang in the air, and were gone in a second. All of them.
The car came closer. Now he could see several other things. The sky was not as dark as before. Treetops were now visible against the skyline. The stars had started to fade. He turned back. Perhaps now he’d be able to see the approaching car. He began walking back towards the road, but discovered that his legs were hurting so much that he could not walk comfortably. He had to limp.
The vehicle came and went. It was not a car, but a truck. It was green, and loaded with goods. It slowed down as it approached the overturned car, but did not stop.
He limped back to the road, and could now see the overturned car. The front was badly damaged. Bits of it looked smashed in. Other parts were totally flattened. The bonnet was half-open and tilted at an angle. One of the front doors was open. He could see the head of a man. The man was lying on his back, his head was poking out of the open door. The ground under his head was wet.
There was another man in the back seat. Only his knee was visible through the window. His trousers were black. The car was light blue. There was broken glass—thousands of shards—strewn over a large area around the car. Each tiny piece of glass w