Bollywood Burglary (Geronimo Stilton #65)
Geronimo Stilton
Dear mouse friends,
Welcome to the world of
The Rodent’s Gazette
Editorial Staff
Geronimo Stilton
A learned and brainy
mouse; editor of
The Rodent’s Gazette
Thea Stilton
Geronimo’s sister and
special correspondent at
The Rodent’s Gazette
Trap Stilton
An awful joker;
Geronimo’s cousin and
owner of the store
Cheap Junk for Less
Benjamin Stilton
A sweet and loving
nine-year-old mouse;
Geronimo’s favorite
nephew
Geronimo Stilton
Scholastic Inc.
BOLLYWOOD
BURGLARY
Copyright © 2015 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Palazzo Mondadori, Via
Mondadori 1, 20090 Segrate, Italy. International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.
English translation © 2016 by Atlantyca S.p.A.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are copyright,
trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights reserved. The
moral right of the author has been asserted. Based on an original idea by
Elisabetta Dami. www.geronimostilton.com
Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920
, 557 Broadway, New York,
NY 10012.
SCHOLASTIC
and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered
trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark
of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to www.
stiltoncheese.com.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into
any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without
the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding
permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A., Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan,
Italy; e-mail foreignrights@atlantyca.it, www.atlantyca.com.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.
e-ISBN 978-1-338-08776-5
Text by Geronimo Stilton
Original title Il mistero del rubino d’Oriente
Cover by Danilo Barozzi
Illustrations by Danilo Loizedda (design) and Daria Cerchi (color)
Graphics by Michela Battaglin
Special thanks to Beth Dunfey
Translated by Lidia Morson Tramontozzi
Interior design by Kay Petronio
First printing 2017
17 Spice Street
Yawn
Mmm, hot
cheese
Oops!
That
day
began like any other — it seemed
like a
perfectly normal
day, in fact.
But it turned out to be one of the most
incredible, mousetastic days of my life! By
the time I put my snout back on my pillow
that night, my life had
changed forever.
Oh, excuse me, I almost forgot to introduce
myself. My name is Stilton,
Geronimo
Stilton
, and I am the editor of The Rodent’s
Gazette, the most famouse newspaper on
Mouse Island.
Hmm. . .
Now, where was I? Oh yes! My morning
began like any other . . .
I climbed out of bed and
scampered
to my
office. Once I got settled at my desk, I started
brainstorming. I had to come up with an idea
for a new series of books. Hmm . . . should I
write a book on
gardening
? Or
do-it-yourself
projects? Or
sports
? Or . . .
I thought and thought and thought. By
lunchtime, I was still thinking.
And then something
strange happened
How
strange!
I glanced out the window, and there
was a small plane towing a
banner
right outside — I mean, right outside
—
my
office.
visit india!
it said. Hmm, that was
unusual!
The mailmouse came and
left me ninety-four travel
brochures about India.
Hmm, that was a bit odd!
A second later, the
phone rang and a
strange
rodent squeaked, “My dear Mr. Stilton,
how about a trip to India? I’ll give you
a discount . . .”
“
Thanks, but I think
I’ll pass
,”
I answered.
Then I got an email with
a
very
weird invitation . . .
Hmm, that was a wee bit bizarre!
But on the other paw, it was lunchtime,
and I was hungry. I didn’t want to think
twice about food. So I hailed a
TAXI
and
headed toward 17 Spice Street.
When my cab screeched up to the curb, I
spotted a fabumouse
painted
wooden
door
and smelled an
intriguing
array of spices . . .
yummy, yum, yum!
It
sure smelled whisker-licking good!
A message for Mr. Stilton: Would you like to try
a delectable assortment of delicious dishes?
Come to the Taj Mahal Indian restaurant,
17 Spice Street. It’ll be whisker-licking good!
Geronimo Stilton
A fabumouse invitation
SUBJECT:
TO:
mailboxget
GET mail
print
label
new
message
chat
find
favorites
tools
What a
delicious
aroma!
INDIAN FOOD
Indian cuisine includes a wide assortment of colors,
aromas, and
flavors
.
Food from India’s northern regions is non-vegetarian
and less spicy, using more dairy products in dishes. The
cuisine of the southern regions is mostly vegetarian and
&
nbsp; tends to be
spicier
.
Dishes are often flavored with
spices
like
turmeric, coriander, cumin, and tamarind, also known as
the “Indian date.”
Rice is a staple food of India, and it is served hot as a
side dish. When cooked in broth and flavored with spices,
it’s called
pilau
. When served with chicken, lamb, or
vegetables, it’s called
biryani
.
Bread is also an essential staple, especially in the north.
There are many varieties of bread. The most widespread
in India is
roti
(also known as
chapati
), an
unleavened round bread made with whole-wheat flour.
Dal
is a typical Indian dish that is creamy and made with
lentils and various spices. There are many types of
Dal
.
Steam’s Coming Out
of My Eeeeears!
As soon as I entered the restaurant, a
waiter with thick
fur
and shiny whiskers
scurried
over.
“Yoo-hoo! Welcome, my dear Stilton!
Have you ever been to
India
?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” I answered.
“But that’s absolutely elementary. You are
thinking of
going
, then?” he said.
“Actually, no . . .” I replied.
“Actually, yes, you will be!
Soon!
Very,
very soon. In fact, let’s make a bet. I bet that
you will go to India!”
Then the waiter waved a sheet of paper
under my snout. “
Now sign right
here, Stilton!
”
Sign here, Stilton!
Uhhhh . . . okay ?
I was flabbergasted. No restaurant had
ever asked me to pay my bill
before
I’d
even ordered my meal! But I was hungrier
than a rat in a cheese shop. I couldn’t wait
to sit down and
eat
, so I signed.
I took
a better
look
at the waiter.
There was something familiar about his
snout. He also had a
squeaky
voice that
r
e
m
i
n
d
e
d
m
e
o
f
s
o
m
e
o
n
e
.
.
.
“Have we met
before?” I asked.
“
Nooo, noooo!
”
the waiter replied.
“Whatever gave
you that idea, my
dear Stilton?” He
pushed me toward
a table at the back of
the room.
The restaurant was lovely. The walls
were covered with red silk
tapestries
embroidered in gold, and there was a
mousetastic
fountain in
the center of the dining area. Delectable
aromas
and fabumouse Indian
music
filled the air. Waiters scurried around
of someone!
You
remind me
May I?
That looks
delicious!
What did you say?
Ha, ha, ha!
Do you
want
some?
Yummy!
Delish!
Mmm,
that’s
good!
Taste it!
Come, Mr. Stilton!
Okay . . .
Ha , ha, ha!
Of
course!
Great!
Chomp!
Fabumouse!
Here you go!
with trays loaded with yummy dishes. I
saw
chicken tikka masala
(chicken
with creamy tomato sauce and spices) and
samosas
(stuffed fried pastries).
I glanced at the menu. “Um, I’d like . . .”
But the waiter ripped the menu out of my
paws. “You
don’t know
much
about
Indian food, Mr. Stilton,” he snorted. “Let
me choose for you!
DO YOU LIKE
SPICY FOOD?
”
“Um, yes, I do,” I admitted. “But not too
spicy . . .”
The waiter ran off,
shouting
, “I’ll bring
you a meal that’ll knock your tail off! It’ll be
very hot
!”
As he disappeared into the kitchen, I heard
him squeak, “A
spicy
one for the rodent in
the rear! Heavy on the hot pepper. That’ll
make his whiskers do the
loop-the-loop
!”
Try the hot
one!
Argh!
Five minutes later, he returned with a tray
of
steaming
dishes. “Try the one with
the
hot pepper
!”
he ordered.
I tasted the first dish. It was
hot!
I tasted the second. It was
very hot!
Then I tasted the third dish. It was
extremely
hot!
I wanted to stop, but the waiter kept
shoveling spoonfuls into my snout.
1
2
3
4
5
HOT!
VERY HOT!
VERY, VERY
HOT!
OUCHIE! MY
TONGUE IS
BURNING!
MY MOUTH IS
ON FIRE!
“Let’s see
HOW MUCH
this customer
can take before he
bursts
!”
he cried
gleefully.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“One more bite, Stilton,” he insisted. “By
the time you’re in
India
, you’ll be used to
hot peppers
.”
“But I’m not going to India!” I protested.
“But you will go to India,” he insisted.
“
Wanna bet on it?
”
When he shoved a dollop from dish
6
7
8
9
10
MY
TONSILS ARE
SCORCHED!
IT’S SO HOT
I CAN’T
BREATHE!
HEEELP!
MY BELLY IS
ABLAZE!
I’M AS RED
AS A RIPE
HOT PEPPER!
STEAM’S
COMING
OUT OF MY
EARS!
SMOKIN’ SAMOSAS,
THAT WAS ONE
; FUR-RAISING
HOT PEPPER!
number ten into my mouth,
STEAM
started
coming out of my ears.
FZZZZZZZZZZ!
I’m burning
uuuup!
What’s the matter
with him?
“I’m
burning up
!” I screeched.
I ran to the fountain and dunked my whole
head into it.
I heard a sizzle.
Heeeeelp!
Finally!
When I returned to my table, the waiter
asked, “
So when are we going to India?
”
“I’m too busy, okay?” I shouted. “B-u-s-y!
Very busy! I can’t possibly go to
India
!”
Don’t Be a Fly
in the Fondue!
It’s you,
Hercule
Poirat!
Ha, ha, ha!
The waiter was disappointed. “Geronimo,
you’re such a
FUR-BRAIN
!” he scolded
me. “I was really hoping you’d go to
India
with me . . .”
And that’s when I recognized him.
“You’re not a waiter. You’re . . . my
detective friend,
Hercule Poirat
!” I cried.
FIRST NAME:
Hercule
LAST NAME:
Poirat
WHO HE IS:
Geronimo’s
childhood friend
PROFESSION:
Private investigator. He runs
a detective agency in New Mouse City.
Hercule loves mysteries the way mice love
cheese!
HIS HOBBY:
He likes to play tricks,
especially on Geronimo. His disguises are
famousely unpredictable. He’s disguised
himself as a flight attendant, a gift box,
and even an ice cream cone.
HIS PASSION:
Bananas! (He loves them — but
Geronimo hates them!)
HERCULE POIRAT
No way!
I can’t go.
Please,
please,
please!
Poirat pulled off his
wig
and
ripped
the slick mustache from his snout.
“Yes, it is I: Poirat, Hercule Poirat!
And
you simply must go to India with me.
”
I shook my snout. “I can’t go to India with
you. I’m too busy, Hercule! I’ve told you
over
and
over
again!”
Poirat started to
sob
. “Yes, my dear
Stilton. You did tell me . . . several times, in