I was the son of a poor clerk who had no income other than his salary. I had Ishwari for my friend. He happened to be the son of a very wealthy landlord. We often had heated debates in which I dubbed landlords as leeches, predators and people living off the fat of the land. Ishwari naturally defended landlords though his arguments were seldom as weighty as mine and for obvious reasons. The only arguments that he could muster was that not all men are born equal and that it has always been this way. These could hardly bear the onslaught of moral and humanistic principles invoked by me. However it must be said to Iswari's credit that unlike me he never lost his cool and kept smiling through the debate. May be he understood that he was trying to defend something that was not entirely defensible.
Though, Ishwari was always harsh upon his servants and attendants. He had his fair share of the arrogance and haughtiness that characterized his class. He was quick to lose his temper if he found his bed was not made well enough, or his milk was not warmed just right for him, or his bicycle was not sparkling clean. He would not put up with any laziness or lack of courtesy in his servants. But he was friendly and polite in the extreme with his friends, especially me. I often wondered if I would be just as harsh to the less privileged if I were in the place of Ishwari. And I suspected that perhaps I would have been even more so as my love for the lowly was based not so much on principles as the fact that my own place in the society was closer to them. I also suspected that Ishwari would be an aristocrat even if he were in my place because that was his innate nature.
The festival of Dashahara was close at hand. I had made up my mind not to visit my family. I didn't have enough money to pay for the fare and I didn't want to ask them for more money. I knew well enough that they were already spending beyond their means on my education. Also I had to catch up on my studies and that would have taken a back seat at home. At the same time staying in the boarding house almost alone was not a very welcome prospect. So when Ishwari invited me to accompany him to his home for the festival, it didn't take much persuasion. I readily agreed. Ishwari was an intelligent and hardworking student too. I told myself that it will be better to study together with Ishwari.
Ishwari was happy when I accepted the invitation. He was also prudent enough to tell me, "Please take care not to criticize the zamindars (landed aristocracy.) Not only will my family feel bad, it might be quite disruptive. You see the servants and peasants are made to believe that they are duty bound to serve us and it is our divine right to be the recipient of their labors. No one would put up with you giving them ideas to the contrary."
I countered, "You don't expect me to turn into a different person, do you?"
He just said, "I do hope so," and let the matter rest at that.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was the first time I would be travelling second class. I had no experience of travelling even in the inter class, let alone second. We both were excited about the vacations and the journey and reached the railway station quite early in the evening. We roamed around for some time and then went to the refreshment room for our dinner. The waiters were quick to figure out who was the boss and it showed in the deferential treatment meted out by them to Ishwari while nearly ignoring me. Even though Ishwari was paying for the dinner, I felt bad about it. I expected them to be just as prompt and courteous in serving me as they were towards Ishwari. My expectations were belied and this left a bad taste in my mouth: I hardly enjoyed my dinner. Ishwari paid the bill and left a tip of half of a rupee. It occurred to me that the waiters must be earning more in tips than the whole salary of my father. Yet, their attitude towards me kept bothering me.
As we were leaving for boarding the train, the waiters saluted Ishwari and bid him goodbye paying scant attention to me.
Ishwari observed, "Look at these fellows: How well mannered and cultured they are! This is very unlike our servants back home."
I said dryly, "Perhaps they too would be just as well mannered if you gave them a tip of half a rupee every day."
Ishwari said, "I do not think it is just a matter of earning tips."
I responded sarcastically, "Of course not, it must in their DNA!!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The train, a mail train, left Prayag station. It next stopped at Pratapgarh. A passenger opened the door of our coach. I immediately shouted, "This is second class; not the general compartment." The passenger entered the coach, cast a strange look at me and said, "Yes, sir! I know that much." He sat down on the berth opposite ours. I felt very embarrassed at my behavior. I didn't know what had come upon me.
We reached Moradabad early in the morning. There was a whole team at the platform waiting to welcome us. It comprised of two gentlemen and five servants. The servants picked up our luggage. The two gentlemen were in tow behind us. As I learnt later, one of them was a Muslim, Riyasat Ali, and the other was a Brahmin, Ramharakh. They were munshis or supervisors. They looked at me in a manner that seemed to underscore my inferior status.
Riyasat Ali asked Ishwari, "Is this young gentleman your classmate?"
Ishwari replied, "Yes, my classmate and my roommate too. It is because of him that I am staying on at Allahabad. But for him I would have returned to Lucknow long time ago. This time I managed to persuade him to accompany me home. There were several telegrams from his own home asking him to spend the vacations with his family, but to no avail. The last telegram was an urgent one costing a quarter of a rupee per word! He said no to even that."
The two gentlemen tried their best to look suitably impressed. Riyasat Ali again spoke in an uncertain tone, "For a person of his stature, he dresses too simply!"
Ishwari said, hoping to put all his doubts at rest, "He is a follower of Mahatma Gandhi. He will wear nothing but khadi. He made a bonfire of all his fancy clothes. He is a true aristocrat and has an annual income of two and a half lakhs from his estate. And yet he looks like an inmate who has just walked out of an orphanage!"
Ramharakh said, "You are right. One could hardly guess his stature by looking at him. There are few gentlemen who could match his simplicity."
Riyasat Ali corroborated, "He reminds me of the nawab of Changli. He always wore a mere khadi jacket and a pair of the cheapest variety of shoes. Once, as he was roaming around on his own, the authorities mistook him for a labor and dragged him to work on a college building. The story has it that he donated ten lakh rupees for construction of the college."
Though I was embarrassed, I did nothing to counter the white lies that Ishwari had spun about me and and that were being corroborated by the two gentlemen. Perhaps I was persuaded into believing in those lies myself.
When we emerged from the station, there were two well groomed horses with elegant saddles on them waiting for us. Though I had mounted mules a couple of times as a child, I had not experience of horse riding whatsoever. I was terrified as I mounted the horse. I tried my best not to let the fear show. Ishwari was ahead of me and he made his horse go really slow. Perhaps he had sensed the fear in me.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ishwari's house was almost like a fort! The main gate at the entrance was huge. It was as big as the one I had seen at the Imambara. There was a guard at the gate, and an elephant just beyond it. Inside the house there was a whole army of servants. Ishwari introduced me to his father, uncles and cousins. He spun the same yarn before them as he had done before the two gentlemen at the station. And he did it so convincingly that it left no doubts in anyone's mind. Everybody in the house and the servants became extremely deferential towards me. In their eyes I was a baron with my income running into lakhs of rupees, and yet I had no airs about me. I was considerate to everyone. Many of them started addressing me as Sir.
A couple of hours later when Ishwari and I were all by ourselves, I said to Ishwari, "Please stop this mischief. You are embarrassing me no ends."
Ishwari smiled and said, "But for this mischief the idiots around here would not condescend to accept you as my friend and my equal."
After a short while a servant entered the room. He was there to massage our legs as per the custom. After all we had undertaken an arduous journey to reach home. As he moved towards Ishwari, Ishwari motioned towards me, "Sir first."
I was lying in the bed. No one had ever massaged my legs, never. I always termed this practice as inhumane, idiotic and a mark of a decadent life of excessive money and no sense of shame. And now I was indulging in it myself and enjoying it to the hilt!
It was ten o'clock now. Another servant appeared with a message that lunch was ready. Both of us went for a bath. I used to wash my own dhoti and undergarments after bath. But today I left them behind, like Ishwari, to be washed by a servant. Somehow it felt awkward to wash my own clothes.
In the villages it is customary to wash your feet before you get down to lunch. A servant was waiting at the entrance with a pot of water. Ishwari stepped in front of him and the servant washed his feet. I imitated Ishwari. All my ideals of equality of human beings and the like failed to deter me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All my plans to study hard with Ishwari got a short shrift. I was having the time of my life. Ishwari and I would go for walks, boating, fishing and hunting. Sometimes we would watch wrestling matches or play chess. Ishwari used to have omelettes for snacks and I loved it too. We were literally surrounded by servants all the time. There was one to give me a bath, another to wash my clothes, and yet another to fan me as I relaxed. I was known and respected as the prince disciple of Gandhi. Everyone was extra careful with me. My breakfast and snacks were always ready at the right time, my bed must be made for me well before it was time for me to retire. Even Ishwari could wait or make his own bed, but not me - the simple minded prince! It would be an insult to the prince.
One day Ishwari stayed back in his mother's room talking to her. It was past ten in the night. I was feeling very sleepy. But no one had made my bed! Making my own bed was just out of the question. It was half past eleven when one of the servants turned up. He apologized for the delay and said that he was very busy in the kitchen and elsewhere. He cringed as I started shouting at him. Ishwari must have heard me shouting. He entered the room and took stock of the situation. He then said, "Good that you gave him a piece of your mind. These lazybones deserve it."
A few days later I was sitting alone in my room. Ishwari had gone to attend some ceremony in the village. Dusk had fallen but there was nobody around to light the lamp. The lamp was sitting on the table with a matchbox next to it. But then how could I, the prince, light it myself? Ishwari didn't ever do that. I wanted to read the newspaper but it was too dark for that. I could feel the anger simmering within me. As luck would have it, Riyasat Ali happened to pass by my room. I called him in and gave him a sharp rebuke. I shouted, "It is dark and nobody cares to light the lamp in my room. Not even you. If you were working for me you would have got the boot within an hour. I wonder how Ishwari puts up with useless fellows like you." Riyasat Ali was taken aback. He lit the lamp with trembling hands and silently walked away.
A thakur (one belonging to the Kshatriya caste) from the village used to visit me often. He didn't look like a very responsible person but considered himself to be a disciple of Gandhiji. One day he walked into my room as I was sitting alone. He paid his respects and asked with folded hands, "Sir, you are a disciple of Gandhiji, aren't you? People say when he gets us independence there will be no landlords around."
I said with pride in my voice, "And why do people need landlords? They are merely parasites who exploit the poor."
Thakur pressed on, "Sir, then, will the government confiscate all the land held by the landlords?"
I responded, "I am sure that most of the landlords will voluntarily surrender their holdings. Those who don't will suffer confiscation. Personally, I am in full readiness to transfer my land to my tenants soon after independence."
Thakur sat down on the floor and started massaging my legs. He said, "Sir, not all landlords are like you. Some are real tyrants. I would forever be obliged to you if you could give me a piece of your land. I will be happy to serve you as long as I live."
I said, "I am still a student and don't have much say in property matters. But soon I will. And then I wouldn't forget to send for you. I will teach you driving and appoint you my driver."
I came to know later that on that day the thakur got high on several glasses of 'bhaang,' gave his wife a good thrashing and challenged the village moneylender to a fight.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The vacation finally came to an end. Many people accompanied us to the station to see us off. I played my role of the simple minded and kindhearted gentleman to the hilt and was rewarded with awed expressions on the face of the villagers. I wanted to tip all the servants heavily but then didn't have the money for it. Thakur even came to the platform and kept close to me all the time.
When the train arrived it was overflowing with passengers. It was difficult even to gain an entry in the second class. Inter class was even worse. With great difficulty we could enter a third class compartment. There was no other option. The vacations were over and this was the last train of the day. People instinctively made room for us and we got to squeeze in on a berth. But it was very cramped and uncomfortable. We could hardly move.
Some of the passengers were literate and quite knowledgeable. They were talking about wonderful governance by and the justice system of the British rulers. One of them said, "This is really unheard of - the equality before law. And the system of justice does really treat the mighty and the meek equally. Even if the king does a wrong, he cannot escape justice."
Another person said in agreement, "Yes I have heard of decrees against the king himself."
I was sitting close to the door of the compartment. A passenger was carrying a huge bundle on his back and was on his way to Kolkata. There was no place where he could keep the bundle. The weight of the bundle made him restless and he kept coming back to the door. He will stand there with his back to me and the bundle will rub into my face. I was feeling suffocated. Suddenly I lost all control and I slapped the man several times and pushed him away."
The man glared at me and said, "How dare you hit me? I too have a valid ticket for the journey."
I countered by slapping him a few more times.
Suddenly all the passengers in the compartment turned against me. Some called me names. Someone said, "If you are so delicate, you should travel first class!" Another person added, "Never mind if he is a moneyed person. Had he done this to me, I would have paid him back with interest."
Yet another person said, "And what exactly was the poor fellow's fault? The compartment is packed like a tin of sardines. One can hardly breathe. He moved to the door to get some fresh air. Isn't he too a human being? Must a rich man be so inconsiderate towards a fellow human being, rich or poor?"
"Is this the justice in the British reign that you were talking about?"
A villager said with scorn, "He may be playing haughty here, but I am sure he will not be able to set foot inside a British Officers' office."
Ishwari mumbled to me in English, "What an idiot you are, Sir!"
It felt like my intoxication with my assumed personality was finally wearing off.
Though, Ishwari was always harsh upon his servants and attendants. He had his fair share of the arrogance and haughtiness that characterized his class. He was quick to lose his temper if he found his bed was not made well enough, or his milk was not warmed just right for him, or his bicycle was not sparkling clean. He would not put up with any laziness or lack of courtesy in his servants. But he was friendly and polite in the extreme with his friends, especially me. I often wondered if I would be just as harsh to the less privileged if I were in the place of Ishwari. And I suspected that perhaps I would have been even more so as my love for the lowly was based not so much on principles as the fact that my own place in the society was closer to them. I also suspected that Ishwari would be an aristocrat even if he were in my place because that was his innate nature.
The festival of Dashahara was close at hand. I had made up my mind not to visit my family. I didn't have enough money to pay for the fare and I didn't want to ask them for more money. I knew well enough that they were already spending beyond their means on my education. Also I had to catch up on my studies and that would have taken a back seat at home. At the same time staying in the boarding house almost alone was not a very welcome prospect. So when Ishwari invited me to accompany him to his home for the festival, it didn't take much persuasion. I readily agreed. Ishwari was an intelligent and hardworking student too. I told myself that it will be better to study together with Ishwari.
Ishwari was happy when I accepted the invitation. He was also prudent enough to tell me, "Please take care not to criticize the zamindars (landed aristocracy.) Not only will my family feel bad, it might be quite disruptive. You see the servants and peasants are made to believe that they are duty bound to serve us and it is our divine right to be the recipient of their labors. No one would put up with you giving them ideas to the contrary."
I countered, "You don't expect me to turn into a different person, do you?"
He just said, "I do hope so," and let the matter rest at that.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was the first time I would be travelling second class. I had no experience of travelling even in the inter class, let alone second. We both were excited about the vacations and the journey and reached the railway station quite early in the evening. We roamed around for some time and then went to the refreshment room for our dinner. The waiters were quick to figure out who was the boss and it showed in the deferential treatment meted out by them to Ishwari while nearly ignoring me. Even though Ishwari was paying for the dinner, I felt bad about it. I expected them to be just as prompt and courteous in serving me as they were towards Ishwari. My expectations were belied and this left a bad taste in my mouth: I hardly enjoyed my dinner. Ishwari paid the bill and left a tip of half of a rupee. It occurred to me that the waiters must be earning more in tips than the whole salary of my father. Yet, their attitude towards me kept bothering me.
As we were leaving for boarding the train, the waiters saluted Ishwari and bid him goodbye paying scant attention to me.
Ishwari observed, "Look at these fellows: How well mannered and cultured they are! This is very unlike our servants back home."
I said dryly, "Perhaps they too would be just as well mannered if you gave them a tip of half a rupee every day."
Ishwari said, "I do not think it is just a matter of earning tips."
I responded sarcastically, "Of course not, it must in their DNA!!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The train, a mail train, left Prayag station. It next stopped at Pratapgarh. A passenger opened the door of our coach. I immediately shouted, "This is second class; not the general compartment." The passenger entered the coach, cast a strange look at me and said, "Yes, sir! I know that much." He sat down on the berth opposite ours. I felt very embarrassed at my behavior. I didn't know what had come upon me.
We reached Moradabad early in the morning. There was a whole team at the platform waiting to welcome us. It comprised of two gentlemen and five servants. The servants picked up our luggage. The two gentlemen were in tow behind us. As I learnt later, one of them was a Muslim, Riyasat Ali, and the other was a Brahmin, Ramharakh. They were munshis or supervisors. They looked at me in a manner that seemed to underscore my inferior status.
Riyasat Ali asked Ishwari, "Is this young gentleman your classmate?"
Ishwari replied, "Yes, my classmate and my roommate too. It is because of him that I am staying on at Allahabad. But for him I would have returned to Lucknow long time ago. This time I managed to persuade him to accompany me home. There were several telegrams from his own home asking him to spend the vacations with his family, but to no avail. The last telegram was an urgent one costing a quarter of a rupee per word! He said no to even that."
The two gentlemen tried their best to look suitably impressed. Riyasat Ali again spoke in an uncertain tone, "For a person of his stature, he dresses too simply!"
Ishwari said, hoping to put all his doubts at rest, "He is a follower of Mahatma Gandhi. He will wear nothing but khadi. He made a bonfire of all his fancy clothes. He is a true aristocrat and has an annual income of two and a half lakhs from his estate. And yet he looks like an inmate who has just walked out of an orphanage!"
Ramharakh said, "You are right. One could hardly guess his stature by looking at him. There are few gentlemen who could match his simplicity."
Riyasat Ali corroborated, "He reminds me of the nawab of Changli. He always wore a mere khadi jacket and a pair of the cheapest variety of shoes. Once, as he was roaming around on his own, the authorities mistook him for a labor and dragged him to work on a college building. The story has it that he donated ten lakh rupees for construction of the college."
Though I was embarrassed, I did nothing to counter the white lies that Ishwari had spun about me and and that were being corroborated by the two gentlemen. Perhaps I was persuaded into believing in those lies myself.
When we emerged from the station, there were two well groomed horses with elegant saddles on them waiting for us. Though I had mounted mules a couple of times as a child, I had not experience of horse riding whatsoever. I was terrified as I mounted the horse. I tried my best not to let the fear show. Ishwari was ahead of me and he made his horse go really slow. Perhaps he had sensed the fear in me.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ishwari's house was almost like a fort! The main gate at the entrance was huge. It was as big as the one I had seen at the Imambara. There was a guard at the gate, and an elephant just beyond it. Inside the house there was a whole army of servants. Ishwari introduced me to his father, uncles and cousins. He spun the same yarn before them as he had done before the two gentlemen at the station. And he did it so convincingly that it left no doubts in anyone's mind. Everybody in the house and the servants became extremely deferential towards me. In their eyes I was a baron with my income running into lakhs of rupees, and yet I had no airs about me. I was considerate to everyone. Many of them started addressing me as Sir.
A couple of hours later when Ishwari and I were all by ourselves, I said to Ishwari, "Please stop this mischief. You are embarrassing me no ends."
Ishwari smiled and said, "But for this mischief the idiots around here would not condescend to accept you as my friend and my equal."
After a short while a servant entered the room. He was there to massage our legs as per the custom. After all we had undertaken an arduous journey to reach home. As he moved towards Ishwari, Ishwari motioned towards me, "Sir first."
I was lying in the bed. No one had ever massaged my legs, never. I always termed this practice as inhumane, idiotic and a mark of a decadent life of excessive money and no sense of shame. And now I was indulging in it myself and enjoying it to the hilt!
It was ten o'clock now. Another servant appeared with a message that lunch was ready. Both of us went for a bath. I used to wash my own dhoti and undergarments after bath. But today I left them behind, like Ishwari, to be washed by a servant. Somehow it felt awkward to wash my own clothes.
In the villages it is customary to wash your feet before you get down to lunch. A servant was waiting at the entrance with a pot of water. Ishwari stepped in front of him and the servant washed his feet. I imitated Ishwari. All my ideals of equality of human beings and the like failed to deter me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All my plans to study hard with Ishwari got a short shrift. I was having the time of my life. Ishwari and I would go for walks, boating, fishing and hunting. Sometimes we would watch wrestling matches or play chess. Ishwari used to have omelettes for snacks and I loved it too. We were literally surrounded by servants all the time. There was one to give me a bath, another to wash my clothes, and yet another to fan me as I relaxed. I was known and respected as the prince disciple of Gandhi. Everyone was extra careful with me. My breakfast and snacks were always ready at the right time, my bed must be made for me well before it was time for me to retire. Even Ishwari could wait or make his own bed, but not me - the simple minded prince! It would be an insult to the prince.
One day Ishwari stayed back in his mother's room talking to her. It was past ten in the night. I was feeling very sleepy. But no one had made my bed! Making my own bed was just out of the question. It was half past eleven when one of the servants turned up. He apologized for the delay and said that he was very busy in the kitchen and elsewhere. He cringed as I started shouting at him. Ishwari must have heard me shouting. He entered the room and took stock of the situation. He then said, "Good that you gave him a piece of your mind. These lazybones deserve it."
A few days later I was sitting alone in my room. Ishwari had gone to attend some ceremony in the village. Dusk had fallen but there was nobody around to light the lamp. The lamp was sitting on the table with a matchbox next to it. But then how could I, the prince, light it myself? Ishwari didn't ever do that. I wanted to read the newspaper but it was too dark for that. I could feel the anger simmering within me. As luck would have it, Riyasat Ali happened to pass by my room. I called him in and gave him a sharp rebuke. I shouted, "It is dark and nobody cares to light the lamp in my room. Not even you. If you were working for me you would have got the boot within an hour. I wonder how Ishwari puts up with useless fellows like you." Riyasat Ali was taken aback. He lit the lamp with trembling hands and silently walked away.
A thakur (one belonging to the Kshatriya caste) from the village used to visit me often. He didn't look like a very responsible person but considered himself to be a disciple of Gandhiji. One day he walked into my room as I was sitting alone. He paid his respects and asked with folded hands, "Sir, you are a disciple of Gandhiji, aren't you? People say when he gets us independence there will be no landlords around."
I said with pride in my voice, "And why do people need landlords? They are merely parasites who exploit the poor."
Thakur pressed on, "Sir, then, will the government confiscate all the land held by the landlords?"
I responded, "I am sure that most of the landlords will voluntarily surrender their holdings. Those who don't will suffer confiscation. Personally, I am in full readiness to transfer my land to my tenants soon after independence."
Thakur sat down on the floor and started massaging my legs. He said, "Sir, not all landlords are like you. Some are real tyrants. I would forever be obliged to you if you could give me a piece of your land. I will be happy to serve you as long as I live."
I said, "I am still a student and don't have much say in property matters. But soon I will. And then I wouldn't forget to send for you. I will teach you driving and appoint you my driver."
I came to know later that on that day the thakur got high on several glasses of 'bhaang,' gave his wife a good thrashing and challenged the village moneylender to a fight.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The vacation finally came to an end. Many people accompanied us to the station to see us off. I played my role of the simple minded and kindhearted gentleman to the hilt and was rewarded with awed expressions on the face of the villagers. I wanted to tip all the servants heavily but then didn't have the money for it. Thakur even came to the platform and kept close to me all the time.
When the train arrived it was overflowing with passengers. It was difficult even to gain an entry in the second class. Inter class was even worse. With great difficulty we could enter a third class compartment. There was no other option. The vacations were over and this was the last train of the day. People instinctively made room for us and we got to squeeze in on a berth. But it was very cramped and uncomfortable. We could hardly move.
Some of the passengers were literate and quite knowledgeable. They were talking about wonderful governance by and the justice system of the British rulers. One of them said, "This is really unheard of - the equality before law. And the system of justice does really treat the mighty and the meek equally. Even if the king does a wrong, he cannot escape justice."
Another person said in agreement, "Yes I have heard of decrees against the king himself."
I was sitting close to the door of the compartment. A passenger was carrying a huge bundle on his back and was on his way to Kolkata. There was no place where he could keep the bundle. The weight of the bundle made him restless and he kept coming back to the door. He will stand there with his back to me and the bundle will rub into my face. I was feeling suffocated. Suddenly I lost all control and I slapped the man several times and pushed him away."
The man glared at me and said, "How dare you hit me? I too have a valid ticket for the journey."
I countered by slapping him a few more times.
Suddenly all the passengers in the compartment turned against me. Some called me names. Someone said, "If you are so delicate, you should travel first class!" Another person added, "Never mind if he is a moneyed person. Had he done this to me, I would have paid him back with interest."
Yet another person said, "And what exactly was the poor fellow's fault? The compartment is packed like a tin of sardines. One can hardly breathe. He moved to the door to get some fresh air. Isn't he too a human being? Must a rich man be so inconsiderate towards a fellow human being, rich or poor?"
"Is this the justice in the British reign that you were talking about?"
A villager said with scorn, "He may be playing haughty here, but I am sure he will not be able to set foot inside a British Officers' office."
Ishwari mumbled to me in English, "What an idiot you are, Sir!"
It felt like my intoxication with my assumed personality was finally wearing off.
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