Close on the heels of my article last week on the now rather faded glory of the Brindavan Gardens, K. B. Ganapathy (KBG) too in his Abracadabra has lamented on the lost romance of the once beautiful place. The difference between what I have written and what he has written becomes noticeable only when one tries to read between the lines.

While I have dealt with ground realities there, he has added an ethereal dimension to the observations he has made during his recent visit by including a description of the mythical Brindavan too. He has elaborated on the romance between Radha and Krishna there and their amorous interludes too, which form a very interesting part of the Gita Govinda or the Song of Krishna, a work composed by the 12th - century poet, Jayadeva who was born in Kenduli Sasan near Puri in Orissa.

Jayadeva was one of five great poets adorning the court of the last Hindu ruler in Bengal, Maharaja Lakshmanasena (1175 - 1200) and it is in the Gita Govinda that Sanskrit poetry is said to have reached the pinnacle of its perfection. It is a monumental work in twelve parts, only the synopsis of which I have been able to read in its two English translations by Edwin Arnold and Barbara Stoler Miller which perhaps are no less interesting and enjoyable, especially to someone who is unable to relish it in its original form.

KBG too has written at length about what might have transpired between the two passionate lovers and has thrown much light on the mystery of the two sets of diminishing footprints which is most interesting. Since he has also admitted that he visited the place with his own Radha, I have decided to revisit the place at the earliest just to find out what pattern of footsteps the two have left behind there! The discovery should turn out to be most interesting.

KBG says that our earthly Brindavan which was once known for the flowers that bloomed there is now noteworthy for their absence. I would like to throw some light on why this is so. While the maintenance of the gardens now is indeed lamentable which is one of the main reasons for the absence of flowers, there is one more factor contributing to it. While I had camped there at the Royal Orchid Hotel last month, I had an occasion to take a leisurely and most invigorating walk around the place early in the morning, of course with my own Radha. Whether the walk seemed invigorating to me because of the place or because of the company I was in, is open to debate and readers can draw their own conclusions.

While the place was still shrouded in the heavy morning mist, I found a couple of ghostly figures wrapped in shawls, going around the place systematically plucking all the flowers from every creeper and bush and stuffing them into the plastic bags they were carrying with them. I presumed that there is no commercial reason for this perhaps daily act of vandalism, beyond the need to perform the morning pooja at home but still it mars the beauty of the place, where plucking of flowers by visitors and tourists is strictly prohibited.

Another mystery which I was able to solve with much help from my readers a little more surfing of the net, which I had blamed last week of not being of any help, is the death of one of the sons of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in one of the rooms of the Royal Orchid Hotel which was then known as Hotel Krishnarajasagar.

It appears his name was Denis Percy Stewart and he was the third son of Sir Arthur who along with his older brother Adrian, was an ardent motor racing enthusiast. The duo used to drive the famous 1928 Model Mercedes Benz SSK racing car and they also used to give talks to promote spiritualism and also to run the vast Conan Doyle estate. Denis was born on 17th March 1909 and he married Nina M’divani, a Georgian princess, and thanks to the wealth they inherited they travelled all over the world.

While on a tour of India Denis was mysteriously found dead at our famous hotel on 9th March 1955. So I was not too much off the mark when I said last week that according to my surmise from circumstantial evidence, the year was 1957. Readers, Prof. H. G. Gopalaswamy from San Jose, California, Mr. Faisal Mohamed from Subhashnagar and Mr. K. S. Gopal from Saraswathipuram sent me links to the net which proved very useful in my quest. But the response that threw maximum light on the interesting mystery was a letter I received from my close friend and well - wisher, Mr. Gauri Satya of Samachar, who is himself a very accomplished writer and also someone who can be called an authority on the history of Mysore City. I reproduce his letter in full:

Dear Dr. Javeed Nayeem,
Yes, Sir Arthur Conon Doyle’s son was staying at Hotel Krishnarajasagar, then managed by the State Government. He died of a heart attack in his room. Though I do not remember the exact date and year, probably it was in 1957. Hotel KRS Manager Mr. Narasimha Murthy called my father, G. L. Swamy, over phone and told him of the demise of Conon Doyle’s son. “Samachar” carried it as a box item the same day and next day the news item appeared in other State papers, published from Bangalore and other centres.

I think his name was “James” Conon Doyle, but I am not sure. Probably, if I dig out the old copies of “Samachar” of around that year, I will find the news item, from which I can trace his correct name and date of his death. Like his father, he was also an author and had written a few detective novels. But, they did not become as famous as his father’s novels. I think his body was taken to England for last rites. He had more or less rented the hotel room permanently, finding KRS an ideal spot for his writing. I think he was ailing from some heart problem and hence preferred staying in a calm and quiet place.

I keep reading your column “over a cup of evening tea” regularly. They are excellent pieces and written in an equally excellent language. You should compile the selected best ones particularly those on Mysore into a book and publish it.

Warm regards
Gouri Satya (Samachar)

I thank all these responders and well-wishers most sincerely for their help and goodwill. But I now wonder whether someone can tell me how Denis died and which room of the hotel he had occupied. It does not seem likely that it was Room No. 207 where I happened to stay, since I did not see his ghost prowling there at night.