"Give us the diamond, fools!"

The chaiwala fished it out. "Whose shiny rock?"

"But we got free chai ," Pappu said.

"Ivy says we should give it back," Dharam said, tilting his ear toward the plant.

Thus began a chase through the gullies of Varanasi. Pritam, using a dhol as a shield, drummed his way through a spice market, covering the goons in red chili powder. Pappu, convinced the goons were "tax collectors," began pelting them with rotten eggs while reciting fake tax laws. Dharam, still carrying his plant, climbed onto a float of dancers and started singing a love song so off-key that half the goons covered their ears and ran away.

And in the distance, Sohanlal—who had been trying to retrieve his diamond—was chased down the street by the same donkey, now wearing a tiny badge Pappu had made for her.

"Keep it," Pritam said. "Buy a new donkey."

"And a donkey who's now a legal hero," Pritam added.

The cobbled streets of Varanasi glistened with morning prayers and the scent of kachoris . In a tiny, crumbling haveli overlooking the Ganges, three men sat in a row, scratching their heads.

Before they could decide, Sohanlal's goons arrived. The leader, a muscle-bound man named Kala, smashed down the door.

Pritam, Pappu, and Dharam looked at each other. Then at the chaiwala . Then at the groaning goons.

Dharam looked at his plant. "Ivy says that's better than a diamond."

Just then, the family donkey—whom Pappu had named "Inspector Gadheri"—charged. The donkey kicked Kala so hard that the diamond flew into the air. It landed… plop … into a pot of boiling chai at a roadside stall.

They were, to put it mildly, a disaster.

Their latest disaster was named "Sardar Sohanlal's Diamond." Sohanlal, a wealthy but crooked businessman, had stolen the diamond from a temple in Amritsar. By a twist of fate, the diamond had ended up in a ladoo that Dharam had stolen from a wedding procession.