Original subtitles

(Newsreel) 'For the Defence of India,

'the biggest convoy of troops and equipment on record.

'With the Japanese poised, ready for attack from Burma,

'With German armies smashing their way to the Caucasus

'and the threat of violent nonviolence from Gandhi and Congress,

'the Defence of India has become one of the most urgent duties

'of Britain and the United Nations.

'The escort included a battleship

'as well as cruisers, destroyers and other warships.

'Ship after ship had come safely in

'to lie quietly at anchor under the blazing sun.'

(Cicadas and frogs calling)

(Crows cawing)

Flash your torch there, Mr De Souza. In the ditch!

- No wounds. - Who is it?

I don't know, Sister Ludmila.

Some fellow has been through his pockets. From the huts?

Yes. The poor ones pretend to sleep.

But what a fearful place to be without God's blessing on you.

Take him up!

Such anger in that face, Mr De Souza.

If he's not wounded, he must be ill.

(Sniffs) This one is drunk, Sister.

It is what I've been waiting for all the time I've worked for you -

to find that we've carried home the useless carcass of a drunken man.

Not the dying or maybe the dead but only a drunk.

This one is only a boy.

To be so drunk, he must also be unhappy.

Let him lie and I shall pray for him.

Good night, Mr De Souza.

(Speaking in Hindi)

Good morning. I want to see the person in charge.

I want to see the woman who calls herself Sister Ludmila.

(De Souza) It's we who call her that.

Right now she's busy. Can I be of help?

- Who are you? - I...I'm nobody.

Hardly worthy of your consideration.

It's all right, Mr De Souza.

Mrs Ludmila Smith?

My name is Merrick. I'm the district superintendent of police.

Of course - we are used to visits from the police,

but not, Mr Merrick, your coming yourself.

- How can I assist you? - I wish to carry out a search.

- Of course. - And where shall we begin?

Wherever you want.

(Merrick) Another of your helpers?

He spent the night here. Mr De Souza perhaps knows his name.

I only know that he has a hangover, Sister.

He's all right now, ready to go.

- No one can go till I say so. - Are we, then, all under arrest?

As I'm sure you've already guessed, Sister Ludmila,

we're looking for a wanted man.

Is this what is known as the "death house"?

(Laughing) I believe

that people who have never been here at the Sanctuary have called it that.

- There are no dead this morning. - No, not this morning.

Not for several days.

- The homeless? - I do not house the homeless.

The clinic receives only in the evening.

Those who cannot afford to lose a day's work come here.

- Mr De Souza is in charge. - No one with medical qualifications?

Dr Krishnamurti assists, and also Dr Anna Klaus of the purdah hospital.

The municipal board provides nothing,

so the money, while it continues, must come from me and from God.

- That's a curious arrangement. - It's a curious country.

But God allows for that.

These are all your helpers, your regular workers?

No one is regular here. They come and go.

I take on those who need a few rupees or those who need it most.

- Then Mr De Souza is also irregular? - No.

The Sanctuary is as much his as mine. He is not interested in rupees.

In life, rupees are a great consideration.

Then there is only your night visitor.

Thank you, Sister Ludmila. We need take up no more of your time.

(Ludmila) Who is that boy?

(De Souza) His name is Coomer. In fact, Kumar,

a nephew by marriage, I believe, of the Sen Guptas.

When, then, do you say Coomer if it is Kumar?

Ah, why?

It will be interesting, if not best, to see what follows.

(Speaks Hindi)

What? I'm sorry - I'm afraid I don't speak Indian.

(Speaks Hindi)

Doesn't he understand? No use talking Indian at me.

Sister Ludmila, is there a room where we can question this man?

- Question? What for? - Mr Kumar, these are the police.

They are looking for someone.

It's their duty to question anyone we cannot vouch for.

Last night, we found you in a ditch.

Now, what is so terrible in that, except hangover?

Come to the office.

Is that your name - Kumar?

No, but it'll do.

I see.

And your address?

What is this?

- Can anyone just barge in here? - Come to the office. Don't be silly.

Sister, we won't waste any more of your time.

(Sister Ludmila) Enough! This is my property.

I will not tolerate such behaviour.

And stop being silly! If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear!

We seem to have got beyond the stage where a talk would be satisfactory.

- I'm taking him into custody. - Oh? What charge?

- On no charge. - But I have a charge.

Being assaulted by this fellow with the beard.

Sister, does this man have possessions to be returned to him?

We found nothing.

We turn out pockets, you understand, for purposes of identification.

No, I have nothing, except one thing.

- And that? - A statement.

I come with you under protest.

He lives with his aunt, Mrs Sen Gupta, the sister of his father.

His father, 20 years ago went to England and died before this war began.

He made and lost a fortune and died by his own hand.

- And the boy? - Came to his aunt in Mayapore.

But all he knows, I think, is England.

But it will not be all. I will speak to the uncle.

Romesh Chand has a lawyer, so it will not be all.

I left my cycle in the rack outside. I'm to report to Matron.

You're our new voluntary bod.

She seems grim but the bark's worse than the bite.

- Thank you, Nurse. - Good luck.

Oh, by the way, out here QAs are sisters.

Only Anglo-Indians are nurses.

- I'm sorry. - One of those things.

(Woman) Come in.

Matron, I'm Daphne Manners.

- I was told to report to you. - Manners.

Ah, that's a famous name in Mayapore. How do you do?

I've been here since your late uncle was governor.

- How is Lady Manners? - She's living in Rawalpindi.

She's very well.

Where shall we start? By showing you the Manners Wing?

You're staying with the Deputy Commissioner, I suppose?

No - with Lady Chatterjee at the MacGregor House.

I travelled with her from Rawalpindi.

She's one of Lady Manners's closest friends.

Of my uncle, too, of course.

Lady Chatterjee is a Rajput princess.

She entertains a wide circle of friends, both European and Indian.

But this is a British hospital.

In India, you'll soon understand what that means.

You may find things here of which you do not approve.

Perhaps they're things that ought to be changed.

I'm sure they will be, if you prefer to wait.

Meanwhile, there are the sick to care for.

What were you doing in England?

Driving an ambulance in London in the Blitz.

- That must have been exciting. - Yes. I was scared stiff.

You didn't have to bother there about people's views.

You saved their lives. It's the same here.

If you're to satisfy me, you must forget everything except the work, understand?

Yes, yes, of course.

Come along!

Good morning, Matron.

- Oh, I'm sorry. - No matter.

Miss Manners, this is Dr Anna Klaus of the women's purdah hospital.

Lili Chatterjee has told me about you. Welcome to Mayapore.

I felt such a fool.

Anna Klaus is not a harpy - almost a chum.

- I was just putting on my glasses... - Those wretched specs.

Are you sure you need them?

Auntie Ethel said I ought to give them up.

- I suppose they do look awful. - Not for that.

I don't approve of specs for young people.

I'II lend you Huxley's book. You must do the exercises.

Look through the trees! Can you see the hills?

No, not at all.

Hmm. Never mind. We'll try again tomorrow.

Drink up! We'll have the other half and bash off into dinner.

(Ringing bell)

- Raju, tell Cook we'll eat in 20 minutes. - Yes, madam.

Anna Klaus is Jewish. Is that a description? Not per se.

She was thrown out of Germany by Hitler before the war.

I see her through my dealings with the women's purdah hospital.

You know she telephoned today?

Not about you - about a young Indian who was in trouble with the police.

- What sort of trouble? - Not politics.

I don't think Anna really knew.

She'd spoken to this madwoman who calls herself Sister Ludmila

and bashes around picking up dead bodies and the dying.

So, I telephoned Judge Menen and he rang me back in half an hour.

"Lili," he said, "your young man seems to have a lot of influence.

"There's been a lawyer there already. The police have let him go."

(Laughing) I expect we did more harm than good.

Well, after such a fuss they won't forget him.

"Ah, Mr Kumar," the police would say. "He has a lot of friends."

I saw Ronald Merrick again today.

- He was in that big truck of his. - Well, Ronald is a chum.

- At least, I think he is. - How do you mean?

I wonder if he comes to the MacGregor House only to pick things up.

There aren't so many places where a district superintendent of police

can mix with Congress wallahs and hear their news.

He's a policeman all the time, young Ronald, don't you think?

- He may not be with you. - I don't really know him.

- He's good-looking. - (Laughing) Yes, he is, quite.

All the girls are after Ronald Merrick.

I want to ask you something.

- Well, bash on. - May I call you Auntie?

I seem to be rather short of relations.

I mean, it was sudden when Daddy and David were killed.

Then I came to India and found Auntie Ethel. Will you be auntie too?

It's nice of you to ask. Of course!

But what will the Matron say and the people at the Gymkhana Club?

"I say, Daphne, Lady Chatterjee's not really your aunt.

- "She can't be." - I shan't bother about the club.

- I'll never go. - Because of me? But you should.

- How else will you meet young people? - I shall meet them here.

I shall give a cocktail party. I shan't ask Ronald Merrick.

I'll ask him to dinner so if he comes it'll be for you.

So long before the rains.

When the rains come, everything smells sweet.

I like the smell of India.

Daddy used to talk a lot about it. I never could imagine...

It's the smell of dung. Your father didn't tell you that. They burn it.

I shall ask young Mr Kumar to my party.

Young Mr Kumar is a mystery, like the smell of India.

(Both laughing)

(Man) 'The hideous sight of a fireswept Burmese town by night -

'the result of a Japanese attack on an undefended town

'from which the population fled as the place is gutted by fire.

'From such scenes, the panic-stricken people of Burma

'have fled in their thousands, moving in great colonies

'from the terror which sweeps across their land.'

Did you hear the radio?

Last night the RAF bombed Rostock.

300 aeroplanes.

It's strange being a German listening to the news.

Divided loyalties, you know.

Anna, excuse us. I want Daphne to meet Robin and Connie White.

Mr and Mrs Deputy C.

They're popping in just to show willing. And to meet you, of course.

Aunt Lili, you know that isn't true.

Oh, but it is.

We met your aunt and uncle years and years ago, didn't we?

- I think so. Excuse me. - You won't remember.

- Robin was frightfully junior then. - I owe Auntie Ethel a letter.

- I must ask. - Oh, I'm sure she won't remember.

Though there was a funny story about that meeting.

Now, who has Lili got here tonight?

There's Vasi over there - Srinivasan.

He's the lawyer who gets roped in when Congress people get into hot water.

Judge Menen, talking to my husband.

Terribly amusing. You must meet him.

You must be Mr Kumar. I'm Lili Chatterjee.

How do you do, Lady Chatterjee? I'm afraid Aunt Shalini couldn't come.

Oh, dear. How sad.

How is it, Mr Kumar, that we've never met?

Actually, we have, at the flower show.

- Your roses won second prize. - At the flower show?

I wrote about it for the Mayapore Gazette.

Of course! Now I remember!

Daphne, this is Mr Kumar.

I told you there was something I knew and couldn't remember.

Well, that was it. Mr Kumar works for the Mayapore Gazette.

How do you do?

I'll leave you two together.

Ramaswami will bring you a drink.

- Your aunt couldn't come? - No.

I'm Lili's house guest, Daphne Manners.

I haven't been here very long, so I'm not much help. Do you know everyone?

Pretty well. There are some technical college types.

Faces I remember, names I forget.

Is the Mayapore Gazette an English paper?

Your English is terribly good. Where did you learn to speak it?

England.

England - of course. I mean, how stupid of me.

Now, where's Ramaswami? You haven't got your drink.

- Sahib? - Thank you.

(Clock chiming)

I say, would you like to see the garden?

Of course, you can from here. I mean, would you like me to show it to you?

Yes, of course.

I may get into trouble. I did earlier today, from Bhalu.

I picked some marigolds for Aunt Lili's breakfast tray

and trod on one of his precious beds.

It's all right now, though.

I gave the old rascal ten chips when I got home.

But don't say anything to Lili. She'd be furious if she knew.

Did you have a nice garden where you were in England?

I suppose it was all right. I didn't take much notice of it.

- Were you in England long? - Yes. Since I was two.

I went to school there.

- Where was that? - Chillingborough.

Oh, I must know someone who went to Chillingborough.

No, I don't think I do.

David would have done. He was my brother.

"Was" because he's dead.

He and my father were killed last year in the desert, two months apart.

I'm sorry.

That's why I came to India.

I'd lost my mother before the war.

My mother died when I was born. That's why I went to England.

And then I lost my father, too, so I came here.

- Makes us rather the same. - How the same?

Well, we've both lost our parents, lost our homes.

Now we've both come a long...

I don't feel the same. It's not the same.

Well...you came back...

Back? How can I possibly...?

I'm sorry. I've stayed too long. I've really got to go.

Thanks.

I'm sorry. It's not the same for anyone.

(Lili) Goodbye.

(Car starting)

(Kumar) Goodbye, Lady Chatterjee, and thank you.

Goodbye, Mr Kumar. Ah, there you are.

Some people from the tech are staying on.

I hope they won't be dull.

What did you make of young Mr Kumar, who's just bashing off?

- I think he's terribly sad. - Why do you say that?

Because he seems so lost.

(J‘ Patriotic music)

(Daphne) What's all this in aid of?

(Man) The War Week Exhibition? Some show the OC's organised.

A bit of flag-waving to impress the natives.

Really? I don't see how. I don't see many of them here.

Well, that's the point, isn't it?

One waves the flag to show who it belongs to.

- Hello. - Oh.

Miss Manners, I think you know Brigadier Reid.

Brigadier... Oh, yes.

Rawalpindi. I met you with your aunt at some official do.

Oh, yes. Yes, it was.

- How is Lady Manners? - She's very well, thanks.

Oh, this is Babs Linton, Brigadier Reid.

- How do you do? - Tony Masters.

- How do you do, sir? - Reggie Brockinghurst.

Sir.

Well, let's hope this all goes down well.

First public showing of the Berkshires in Mayapore.

Yes, sir. It is.

With Gandhi and the Congress putting their spokes in,

it's a good way of showing our mettle.

And not just for the regiment, the whole thing.

You'd better go and get yourselves some tea before it's all gone.

Yes, sir. We shall.

How's Lili, by the way?

Fine.

I'm sorry she can't be here.

Yes. So am I.

What would you like to do, sir? The parade starts in about half an hour.

I say, Daphne. I didn't know you knew the Brigadier.

- No. Neither did I. - Just look at this spread.

Some Indian contractor's making a packet out of this lot.

Bearer, tea for the memsahibs.

What are those sandwiches? You girls better pick what you want.

Come on, bearer! (Speaks Hindi)

Sorry, sahib.

What's on after the parade?

The sepoys are doing some wrestling.

- Oh, I couldn't bear to see that. - There'll be boxing from our chaps.

Hang on a minute.

Hello. It's Mr Coomer, isn't it?

Actually, it's Kumar.

- Hari Kumar. - Oh.

- Coomer was in England. - Yes, I see.

Do you remember me? We met at Lili Chatterjee's.

Yes, I know.

- How are you? - Fine.

(Daphne) I suppose you're here for the Gazette.

Yes, that's why. For the parade.

It's just about to start, I think.

Well...hope you enjoy it.

By the way, if you want to come again, please do come any evening.

- It's open house, you know. - Yes, thanks. I will.

I'll see you again, then.

Sorry.

- I say, who was that...? - That?

Oh, just a boy who was at Chillingborough.

Chillingborough? Good Lord.

(J‘ Band playing march music)

(J‘ Vera Lynn: We'll Meet Again)

Oh, Lord. I hate that blasted tune.

What's the matter with it? I'm all in favour of Vera Lynn.

- Girl with the golden whatsit. - I think you're drunk.

I am, a little.

Hello, Merrick.

(Daphne) Hello, Ronald.

You enjoy the parade?

I saw you there.

A double whisky, Joseph.

I'd rather have this than a military band.

Boom! Boom! Boom! It's been in my head all bloody afternoon.

I thought the music was very good. I like military bands.

Do you?

I've got a rather good collection of Sousa records.

- You must come and listen to them. - Oh.

Thanks. I will.

Well, um...sometime.

- That was pretty cool. - "Come up and see my etchings."

Never trust a policeman, too.

Well, I'm impressed. Daphne's obviously got what it takes.

- So have I, if that's what you want. - Shut up.

- Where are you going, then? - Where do you think?

(Bell tinkling)

(Lady Chatterjee) The English have always revered saints

but hated them to be shrewd.

To a Hindu, of course, life is a struggle towards oblivion -

the material world being an illusion.

Drinks, Ramaswami.

So, if Mr Gandhi chooses to ignore reality,

even one as likely and unpleasant as invasion by the Japanese,

I really do have to admire his shrewdness

in striving for personal salvation

by putting the cat so thoroughly among the pigeons.

Whereas, for Western religious mores,

getting to heaven requires only an act we're all capable of.

Dying, I mean.

Your turn to take a tile.

Thank you, Ramaswami.

So, are you going to become a sannyasi?

Bash off with a staff and begging bowl to renounce the world?

Not quite yet.

By the way, I met Mr Kumar the other day.

I asked him to drop in. I said any time.

You don't mind, do you, Auntie?

No, of course not.

He lives with his Aunt Shalini in the Chillianwallah Bagh - Mrs Sen Gupta.

It seems one night he got drunk, so that's why the police picked him up.

Anna Klaus told me what she'd learned

from that madwoman who runs the Sanctuary place.

What - are you interested in Mr Kumar? Rather an odd fish.

Perhaps I'm an odd fish myself.

In those specs.

I don't suppose he'll ever come.

Thank you, Auntie.

- Daphne! - Oh, come in, Aunt Lili!

I'm bashing off now. I'll be back about midnight, I expect.

- Have a good time. - Give my love to the Whites.

I hope Kumar has the good manners to turn up.

(Daphne) Of course he will!

Raju took my note to the house and he was out, that's all.

Goodbye, Aunt Lili!

Of course he'll come.

Ramaswami!

Ramaswami!

Oh, Lord, I'm going to be in trouble.

I'm sure I never picked such tons of flowers. Ramaswami!

Tell Cook we'll want dinner in half an hour.

- Yes, madam. Sahib is here. - Where?

His tonga is just now leaving. The sahib's coming up the steps.

- Hello. - Hello. I'm sorry I'm late.

- I got a tonga at the station. - You're not late at all.

Do you like gin fizz? That's what I'm having.

Yes, that'd be fine.

- Raju, two gin fizzes, please. - Yes, madam.

(Speaks Hindi)

- Sorry? - Ice?

Oh. Yes, please. I'm afraid my Hindi still isn't very good.

I took lessons, but my teacher was too fond of garlic so I gave up.

Oh, I haven't learned much Hindi at all.

- Cigarette? - Thanks, but I've given up.

You were smoking at the party.

Yes. Yes, I was then.

Thanks.

Well, cheers.

I've ordered dinner in half an hour, so we'll have time for the other half.

Perhaps I should have told you - Lili won't be here.

Oh. Oh, I see.

Saturday's one of her bridge nights.

She's playing with the DC and his wife,

so I knew she'd be out and I hate bridge.

I didn't want to be alone.

I wanted to talk about home and eat chicken poolah,

and I was afraid if Lili wasn't here, you wouldn't come, so I cheated.

That's why I didn't say.

- Do you mind? - No.

No, I don't mind.

I seem to get things wrong, like 'Coomer'.

Oh, yes. That.

(Carefully accented) It is Hari Kumar.

Yes. Not Harry any more. Hari.

As in Mata Hari!

Did you see that picture years and years ago?

With Greta Garbo?

Yes. She was wonderful.

Oh, wasn't she? I was 13, I think.

- So was I. - What music do you like?

I went to the bazaar today and bought a pile of records -

Glenn Miller, the Ink Spots.

- Jazz and swing. - Lili's got a portable.

- Shall we try some after dinner? - Yes. That'd be fun.

(J‘ Swing music)

The idea was, after Chillingborough I'd swot for the ICS exams.

That's what my father always wanted.

But after he was dead and I came out here,

there wasn't much money for anything like that.

Or, rather, there was, but it belonged to my aunt's brother-in-Iaw,

Romesh Chand Sen Gupta.

He's a rich baniya - a merchant.

But he wasn't willing to cough up, so I tried various things

and ended up at the Gazette.

How do you like it?

It's all right. It's one way to cross the river.

- Cross the river? - From my side to yours.

Well, what shall we have next?

- There's a Victor Sylvester. - Oh, yes. Let's have that.

Is it difficult, then - crossing the river?

Not difficult. It's just that you become invisible.

(J‘ Swing music)

I say, I've almost forgotten how and was never much good anyway...

Would you care to dance?

Well, I was once described by my partner as an elephant in clogs

but if you're prepared to risk it, perhaps we could sort each other out.

Here goes, then.

How do you mean, 'invisible'?

- Oh, it's my fault! - Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm galumphing. This is hopeless.

It's too slow.

There's In the Mood over there - Joe Loss. Can you find it?

Even I can dance to that.

Here it is.

Oh, thanks.

It was Mother who told me to stop galumphing - when I was 15.

I'd always thought I was the Diana type -

you know, long-legged and graceful, flitting through the forest.

But it turned out I wasn't.

- (J‘ In the Mood) - Right.

- Have another go? - Yes.

(Insects chirping)

(Carriage approaching)

(Horse whinnying)

(Daphne) I used to love the Proms. Did you ever go?

(Hari) I'm afraid I never did. Here's Lady Chatterjee.

Thank you, Ramaswami. Is our guest still there?

Yes, madam.

- Hello! - Hello, Aunt Lili.

- You look cosy. - Lady Chatterjee.

Had a good time?

We've been playing records and nattering about home.

Is it really 12 o'clock?

Mm. And there's a tonga boy on the drive smoking a bidi.

He's come for me. I must be going.

- Must you really? - Yes, it's late.

I almost made a grand slam with Judge Menen against the Whites.

Do you know who looked in? Ronald Merrick.

Something official, of course, with the DC.

By the way, he says you're popping round to hear some records.

Oh, yes. Yes, I am.

(Machinery clanging)

(Speaks Hindi)

(Lady Chatterjee) Daphne, is that you?

Hello, Aunt Lili.

Oh, Lord, it's hot.

I wish I'd taken a tonga instead of the bike.

Even the hospital today was like an oven.

Ramaswami will bring you a nimbupani with tons and tons of ice.

Your letter is from Mr Kumar. I know because I had one too.

He thanked me nicely for entertaining him the other evening

and says his Aunt Shalini invites us both to come to dinner -

unfortunately, once more on Saturday, which is my bridge night.

So I must refuse.

Have you anything laid on at the club?

No.

Well, my invitation is for form's sake only.

Mrs Sen Gupta is a widow living in seclusion,

so really it's young Kumar who is returning your hospitality to him.

Do you want to go?

It's rather an honour, don't you think, if she asked?

Hari says they have no gramophone.

Is that a sort of hint I should take yours?

I rather think, even if it is, Mrs Sen Gupta would not approve,

especially if you took our records,

which are all European and would probably offend her ears!

Thank you, Ramaswami.

Have a few quick chota pegs before you dash off.

She may be a good Hindu, so there'll be no alcohol in the house.

Auntie, you're making me quite nervous.

She can't be such an ogre.

I don't think Hari's frightened of his Aunt Shalini.

- Chillianwallah Bagh? - (Speaks Hindi)

Hello.

(Woman speaks Hindi)

(Woman) Chicken tandoori.

I say to Hari, "I hope Miss Manners likes her Indian food."

Oh, yes. Very much.

Uh, Hari - don't we have any iced beer?

- Why don't you offer? - Yes, I'll get it.

- I mean, if you want. - Ooh, yes, please.

Everybody says the rains are late this year - that's why it's so hot.

- But you look beautifully cool. - (Laughs)

Well, what is heat if you are...accustomed? (Chuckling)

You are an English girl, and Hari too.

When first he came to India he suffers from it very much.

My brother Duleep brings him up in England as an English boy.

Yes, I know.

So you must see what fearful shock it is for him to come to this house,

to number 12 Chillianwallah Bagh here in Mayapore.

(Chuckling) Afterwards, I will be showing you photographs

that my brother Duleep sent from England.

From Sidcot, where he's living.

- Do you know this place? - No, I've never been there.

Oh, it's beautiful, this house, and it was Hari's home.

All this he is missing very much.

At first, I feel he is not happy.

But now this is his home,

and Hari tries to be a proper Indian.

Ah! Here is the beer.

Um...haven't we a jug, Hari?

(Speaks Hindi)

I'm telling Miss Manners about your father's house.

When my husband died,

Duleep wrote to me, "Leave Mayapore and come to us in England."

"No, Duleep-ji," I answered him. "My duty, what I have, is here."

Never again I feel we shall see each other.

We Indians are very fatalistic, isn't it?

(Chuckling) Too much, I feel.

Oh, well. Enough of this.

Hari, pour the beer.

Please eat. Chapatis.

(Daphne) Oh, that's Sidcot. (Shalini) Yes.

Oh, what a lovely garden.

Do you miss it terribly?

Not any more.

And this one is of Hari with Colin Lindsey,

who also was at Hari's school.

- At Chillingborough? - Yes.

Often in the holidays, Hari's father is away to do business.

So Hari spends much time at this boy's house,

and almost Mrs Lindsey is becoming his mother too. (Laughs)

Colin is Hari's greatest friend at home.

(Man and woman speaking in Hindi)

(Speaks Hindi) Hari, what is it?

(Hari) What's going on? What's the commotion?

Here is another one of Hari and Colin.

It's Miss Manners's tonga, Aunt Shalini.

I told him to come back at 11:00. Oh, I never noticed the time.

It's been such a lovely evening.

Please come again, any time you want.

Thanks. I'd love to.

What happened to your friend?

- To Colin? - Yes.

Oh, we lost touch.

Oh, there's lightning.

- They must come soon, don't you think? - (Thunder rumbles)

- The rains. - Yes, very soon now.

And everything will be green and fresh like England.

Like England.

Does that remind you?

I wanted to bend down and kiss her, your Aunt Shalini,

when I said goodbye, but I didn't dare.

I'm very fond of her now and grateful, too -

she was the only one of my relatives to give me a home.

And I could see how proud she was. Look!

It's that madwoman, isn't it, from Russia?

She collects dead bodies in the street and dresses like a nun.

(Hari) She isn't mad, and I don't think she's Russian.

We call her Sister Ludmila.

I wrote a piece about her for the Gazette.

The editor didn't want it, said she was a joke.

I think he was afraid it was political,

as if the British didn't care people died in the streets.

Nobody cares - not even the people dying - except for her.

Is that what she does - care for the dying?

She runs a clinic at a place called the Sanctuary.

Doles out free rice - mothers and children, mostly.

- Have you been there? - Mm-hm.

Would you take me? I'd like to see.

If you want. She'll probably ignore you.

Well, how did you get to know her?

By chance.

(J‘ Marching music)

Would you care for a brandy or a liqueur?

There's Curacao or creme de menthe.

- Brandy. - Brandy for the memsahib.

Oh, Turkish.

You have gone to a lot of trouble.

(Merrick) And for me.

(Speaks Hindi)

(J‘ Music ends)

Well. There you are.

I wanted you to hear the Sousa.

And that's a super radiogram.

- Did you get it out here? - It was ordered from Cal.

Most of this stuff is PWD, of course, except the pictures.

Oh, I hadn't noticed.

They're Henry Moores.

What a surprising man you are.

You mustn't think a policeman has no imagination.

I didn't. I meant...how clever of you to find them, that's all.

People sometimes do dismiss policemen as insensitive.

It's not surprising, I suppose.

So far as I'm concerned,

I felt the Indian Police Service was the best job I could do.

Of course, um...there wasn't a war then.

If I'd known what was going to happen, it would've made things different.

But then anybody can say that.

If we knew what was going to happen, our choices wouldn't be the same.

No. No, they wouldn't.

I like this kind of thing too.

(J‘ Rapt piano music)

It's Clair De Lune.

Yes.

What made you think of that?

Do you like it too?

It was one of David's favourites. My brother.

Almost the last time I was with him, we went to the old Queen's Hall.

Before it was bombed.

It's Walter Gieseking, isn't it?

That's who we heard.

- Is it upsetting? I can take it off. - No, it's all right.

I want to hear it.

Go on with what you were saying,

about not being a policeman if you'd known about the war.

When it started, I applied for a transfer.

Nothing doing. They told me I was more valuable where I was.

Which was good, really, and the work is important.

I care a lot about it.

For someone with my background, it seemed to open up a way.

What is your background, Ronald?

I don't know at all.

It's very ordinary.

My father did quite well but I'm only a grammar school boy.

And my grandparents were...

pretty humble sort of people, you might say.

I worked very hard, passed all the right exams.

I've only one regret about my misspent youth, if that's what it was,

and that is I never really had it to spend or misspend.

I suppose that's why it's hard now to do the things others do so easily -

enjoy myself, feel free with people.

I tend to concentrate on the job and life goes by.

So that's what I was doing while all the other chaps were simply having fun.

That's why I never found what you might call the right sort of girl.

It's meant I've often been pretty lonely, keeping to myself.

I know I haven't got much to offer.

That's why our friendship means a lot to me.

Yours and mine,

if you understand.

Understand?

What?

I'm only asking whether, after you've had time to think about it,

you'd consider the possibility of becoming engaged to me.

Oh.

Well, thank you, Ronald.

I thought I'd ask.

Yes, it was very kind.

I'm awfully sorry.

I hadn't really thought much about getting engaged to anyone.

Well, there you are.

You liked the music?

Yes. Yes, I did.

I'm sorry.

It was a marvellous dinner too. You went to heaps of trouble.

And I am sorry.

- Are you coming in for a nightcap? - Thanks. Not tonight.

Oh, all right.

And thank you for a lovely evening.

- By the way - Yes?

I hope you don't mind the suggestion

but I'd like you to have the use of this car at night.

I can send my driver to the hospital when you finish late.

The MacGregor House is rather isolated, on the edge of the cantonment,

and there may be trouble brewing up, as I expect you know.

- What sort of trouble? - Anti-British feeling.

Mr Gandhi's Quit India campaign.

If the Indian National Congress party votes in support,

it'll amount to a call to every Indian

to strike and refuse to help us keep out the Japanese.

Gandhi doesn't appreciate the effect this has on the hotheads I deal with -

young Indians with a bit of education and no sense.

That crazy old man sets them on fire with dreams and illusions

and I have to cool them off.

That's why I'd like you to have the use of the car...whenever you want.

It's very kind of you, Ronald, although I'm sure it won't be necessary.

Forgive me if I say it is, as a policeman.

If you insist.

I don't intend to put you under any obligation.

You do understand?

Yes, of course.

I'll see you to the house, then.

Goodnight, Ronald, and thanks again for everything.

Think about what I said - at the bungalow, I mean.

Some ideas take some getting used to, and I'm a patient man.

Yes, of course.

Goodnight.

Good evening, Raju.

(Thunder rumbling)

(Rain falling)

Namaste. Namaste.

- Namaste. - (Coughing)

(Baby crying)

No! Hold the baby! How can I treat unless you hold him still?

Please, let me do it.

Thank you.

Mr Kumar, I have been to the bank.

One day I am sure the manager will say to me,

"Sister Ludmila, this week there is no money."

But not today. I have the money, and we have rain.

So many patients too.

Sister Ludmila, this is Miss Manners.

I brought her here because she wants to meet you.

- To meet me? - How do you do?

Miss Manners works at the Mayapore General Hospital.

But if she comes to help us here, we won't tell, shall we, Sister?

- You wish to help? - If you'd let me.

God tells us what we should do. How can I quarrel with Him?

Ah.

What are you telling me - you have no time to learn?

I honestly believe it's wasting your time and mine.

To learn to speak to your own people and you are calling this a waste of time?

I say it is your life until now you have been wasting.

- Let us begin again. - Hello.

- Oh, hello. - I am willing, Kumar. When you want.

You should be feeling shame

to be speaking always in the language of a foreign power.

(Whispering) Who was that?

A chap called Pandit Baba. He tried to teach me Hindi, but I gave it up.

Because his breath smelt of garlic.

Oh, yes, I told you.

Quite honestly because I was pretty awful too.

- Are you going back to work? - No. Just leaving.

Would you come with me to Subhas Chand's?

I've got to look at some photographs he's taken of me

for Lady Manners, my aunt in Rawalpindi.

It's her idea of a birthday present.

I said, "How ghastly," and that they'd be terrible,

but it's what she wants, so come and help me choose?

- Chuck out the worst, I mean. - If you want.

And after you can come and have tea at the MacGregor House.

- Where's your bike? - It's at the office.

- We can cycle back together, then? - Yes. Yes, righto.

- There, now. - (Woman) Did you see that, dear?

(Thunder rumbling)

Hari, I think it's going to rain again.

Really? Good.

I say! It's really coming down. I'm going to take cover!

- Where? - Bibighar!

Come on!

I'll find some cover at the bottom!

- All right? - No!

Oh, gosh! That was lucky!

It might have caught us in the middle of nowhere!

- What is this place? - Don't you know?

You've never been inside the Bibighar?

(Sighing) I suppose that's like living in London

and never going to see the Tower.

Oh!

Oh, I'm... Mind if I smoke?

So, when did you come here, then?

Oh, Lili brought me.

I don't know. Soon after I came to Mayapore.

Because of all the stories of the ghosts and the building that used to be here

and the MacGregor House, and... Don't you honestly know?

No! Honestly.

Bibighar means "the house of the women".

You must know that at least.

It was built about 200 years ago by the Prince of Mayapore,

somewhere nearby to enjoy himself and keep his courtesans.

Well, then.

A Scotsman called MacGregor appeared on the scene -

an ex-East India merchant -

and he built another house, the MacGregor House.

Well, by now the old prince was dead

and his sons didn't have so many courtesans, I suppose.

Anyway, the Bibighar was empty.

So when MacGregor fell in love with a beautiful young Indian girl,

he installed her here, just around the corner from his home.

And that was fine till, one day,

he called unexpectedly and found her in the arms of her young lover,

a boy of her own race.

And, uh, he killed them both and burned down the Bibighar.

It's the ghosts of those young lovers that people think they see.

And MacGregor too, I shouldn't wonder, if he feels at all sorry by now.

How typically Indian.

- That's just what I thought. - And I don't believe a word.

Neither did I. I do now, though.

What - even the ghosts?

If you think of the history of us in India -

the British, I mean - there must be ghosts.

Hundreds of thousands, probably.

- And I hate it. - What?

India.

I hate all the beggars and the crowds, and the heat and the bugs

and, most of all, myself for being black and English.

I'm sorry. I don't know what to say.

I hated India at first, too.

Doesn't it get better?

- I didn't mean to talk about it. - I knew, really.

Yes, of course.

You won't chuck them away, as you said?

- The photographs you didn't want? - Why?

I just thought one was rather good.

I'd like to have it.

Oh, yes, of course.

They're all pretty ghastly, actually.

- Do you know which one it was? - Yes.

This one.

- Sure you don't mind? - They're only proofs.

They'll all get thrown away except the one we chose for Auntie Ethel.

Now it's stopped.

So we can go.

I don't think I'd better come to the MacGregor House with you.

Why not? Lili isn't there. Not that it would matter.

No, I know it wouldn't matter.

I should go home. Thanks all the same.

I'll be at the Sanctuary again on Tuesday as usual.

If you come round.

Otherwise I don't know when I'll see you.

Oh, I'll see you. Bound to see you... somewhere around.

Goodbye, ghosts!

Aunt Lili?

How are your eyes? Better without the specs now?

Oh...

Yes, I think they are.

If you do the exercises every day... What were you saying?

Do English people ever go inside the temple? I mean, can you?

The local temple. I wanted to see inside.

I've never heard of anyone.

It's not an interesting temple, so tourists never come.

I'm not sure an English girl would be allowed.

I can ask one of the teachers at the tech.

Don't bother. I can ask Hari.

Yes, well, you could do that, I suppose.

- I thought I'd... - I wondered...

Sorry.

I wondered if you were getting bored.

You never go out now except for bashing off to that Sanctuary place.

- Or do you go there only to meet...? - I'm not bored at all.

Just tired after my heavy duties at the hospital,

watching the Indian orderlies emptying the bedpans.

And I'm meeting Ronald Merrick for dinner at the club tomorrow.

Honestly, Auntie.

Thanks for bringing me home, Ronald.

I was going to ask if you'd care to come round to my place again.

On Saturday, if you're free.

Oh, no, I can't. Not Saturday.

I've got something organised, more or less.

- A visit to the local temple. - Oh.

Who's taking you? Mr Kumar?

Yes, he is. Why - had you heard?

Well, not exactly.

People have started talking.

Oh, have they?

You shouldn't be surprised.

It's always tricky going out and about with Indians,

especially at times like these.

Because there's a war? But we're fighting the Japanese.

Then watch how Congress votes on Mr Gandhi's Quit India resolution.

It could be a shock. I tried to warn you about this.

I know. I don't see what it has to do with Mr Kumar.

It might have quite a lot.

He hasn't a very good reputation.

He makes capital out of living in England for a while,

which he seems to think makes him English.

You know what I feel for you.

It's because of that I haven't said anything about this before.

But I feel it's my duty to warn you against this...

association with Mr Kumar.

Oh, stop acting like a policeman.

Well, it's partly a police matter.

Kumar was under suspicion at one time, and still is.

But you must know about all that.

I know nothing at all and I'm not interested.

I met Hari here as Aunt Lili's guest

and people should stop telling me who to have as friends,

especially if the only trouble is the colour of their skins.

That's the oldest trick in the game, pretending colour doesn't matter.

It's basic, it matters like hell.

I'm sorry. I put it very badly.

But I can't help it.

The idea revolts me.

It's all right. It's all right, Ronald, I understand.

- (Starting engine) - Thanks for the meal.

And for bringing me home.

(Telephone)

Lady Chatterjee's.

- (Hari) Miss Manners... - Yes?

- (Clattering upstairs) - Now she is here. Please hold on.

- Madam? - Is it for me? I've got to dash.

Mr Kumar, madam.

Oh.

Oh, thank you, Ramaswami. Hari?

Yes, I had your note.

- About the temple. - (Daphne) Any chance?

Well, I had to speak to my uncle. Romesh Chand, yes.

(Daphne) Oh, that's wonderful. Thank you.

- That's if you really want to go. - Well, of course I want to go.

Why not come to dinner and then we'll go on?

- I don't think I can. - Then come for a drink after.

- I'll try. - Yes. All right.

I'II expect you in a tonga about six o'clock?

- OK. - Hari?

- Yes? - Sure you don't mind?

No! Just surprised.

- Surprised at what? - At you wanting to visit a temple.

- But I'd love to. - Yes, tomorrow, then.

Coming to the coffee shop?

You are going to the temple to make puja?

Someone wants to see it.

- "Someone"! Ah. - Come on, Vidya.

What's this idea you have, going with English memsahibs?

I could show you some real girls.

How shall we make you a good Indian if you carry on like this?

And what is a good Indian? No, really! I want to know.

(Newsreel) 'WeII-trained fighting manpower

'and their armoured fighting vehicles for the Defence of India

'and, when the time comes to take part,

'in the Allied counteroffensive against Japan.

'Japan's first rush carried right through to the threshold of India and Australia,

'while Hitler hacked through from the west.

'That was the moment Congress chose to call upon Britain to quit.

'To agree would indeed have been quitting - quitting China, quitting Russia,

'quitting our empire and all our allies -

'really quitting, India.'

(J‘ Chanting)

(J‘ Ritual singing)

(Intoning in Hindi)

(J‘ Singing in Hindi)

Thank you.

What for?

Taking me to do puja.

Can I have one?

If you want. They're Indian.

You're smoking again.

Yes, like a good Indian.

I smoke bidis. I do puja.

I know what else you've been trying to do since you came - put me off.

- What do you mean, put off? - Put me off you!

- Like everybody has tried. - Who's that?

Everybody. People like Ronald Merrick. He thinks you're a bad bet, by the way.

Well, he should know, I suppose.

Bad bet? What am I supposed to be - a racehorse?

I don't care a damn what Merrick thinks of me.

Why should you? You've never even met him.

- I should say I've met him. - Have you?

- If that's what you'd call it. - How?

When I was drunk and he picked me up at the Sanctuary!

Picked you up?

That was Ronald, Ronald himself, when you were arrested?

Course it was him! Why not?

I thought you knew.

No.

You'd better tell me.

- Tell you what? - What happened!

They found me on the wasteland by the river,

Sister Ludmila and her friends, drunk as a coot.

In the morning, Merrick showed up while I was washing at the pump.

He shouted at me in Hindustani

so I answered back, and his henchman beat me up.

Then they took me in for questioning.

I can't believe...

What did you think when Lili asked you to her party?

I was amused.

Were you?

You must have known!

That day in War Week when you came up and did your lady bountiful bit.

He was watching. You knew that, didn't you?

Did that amuse you, Hari?

And did it just amuse you every time we've been together?

Yes, you could put it that way if you want.

But you've been very kind, and I'm grateful.

I didn't mean anything as kindness.

I didn't want...

Good night, Hari.

Good night.

(J‘ Gramophone playing Roll Out The Barrel)

Hello. Long time no see.

Not been around much.

Can I get you the other half?

I'll buy you one.

Oh, I'm still on duty, as it happens.

I spent most of the day

with the Deputy Commissioner and Brigadier Reid.

We heard this afternoon

Congress committee voted in favour of Gandhi's resolution.

The little man in the dhoti has called on his followers to do or die,

so...we'll see.

And is it going to be exciting?

That depends.

The government has its own plans, of course.

It could mean strikes, arson, civil disturbance - that's why I'm here.

We're arranging to bring women and children to the club if things get rough.

So, um, you'll know where to come.

And Lili?

There'll be similar arrangements at the other club for them.

Oh.

How did you enjoy your visit to the temple?

Oh, all right. Bit of a racket, though.

Well, you know.

You can't go anywhere without digging out the baksheesh, can you?

Yes, that's true.

- Good night, Mr De Souza. - Good night, Sister.

Mr Kumar?

Good evening, Sister.

Clinic is over. No one is here but myself and Mr De Souza.

- Will you come in? - Thanks.

As I tell you, no one is here tonight.

Miss Manners did not come.

No. She comes on Tuesdays, as a rule.

So it is I you have called to see, perhaps to talk?

Yes.

I've been drinking!

No, not like the night you picked me up.

On the wasteland by the river.

Such anger in your face. Such passion of rejection.

Was it hate or love?

So I prayed for you, and after, when I saw you here together,

I thought that it was love and she loved you too.

You thought I was drunk for Miss Manners?

- It was not? - No!

And tonight again?

No - it was the day I saw a chap called Colin Lindsey,

my closest friend.

We were at school together.

After I came to India we swapped letters, rather a lot at first,

and then we lost touch.

Not many letters after the war began.

He became a captain.

Said if his regiment came to India,

he'd come to Mayapore and see me - just like the old days, you see?

He hadn't the least idea how I was living. I'd never told him.

Thought of me as a rajah, hunting tigers, sticking pigs.

Well, I never heard from him again.

Except his regiment did come to India, even to Mayapore,

and I did see him.

(Hari) 'One afternoon on the maidan.

'I'd gone there to report a cricket match for the Gazette.

'Someone hit a four and they ran.

'And then I saw him - Colin.

'In his uniform but just the same - Colin!

'And then he saw me, and didn't see me.

'In my Bapu clothes, under my topi,

'he didn't realise there was one black face he should remember!

'Didn't you know? We all look alike!

'I'd become invisible - even to him.

'Invisible.'

Kumar! I say, Kumar!

Look here, you fellows, this is Mr Coomer. Harry Coomer.

Very pukka. Very public school.

- I say, I say. - (Speaking Hindi)

(Hari) 'They all laughed at me, and in truth I was ridiculous.

'An Indian incapable of being anything except an Indian -

'something totally alien to me.

'So I went, and we drank a lot of homemade hooch

'in a hut near the road by the Bibighar Bridge,

'where I began to learn to be an Indian.

'And they burnt the symbol of my English shame,

'and then they carried me home.'

That's what Vidya said later. I didn't know.

They carried me almost to my door. They were ashamed to see my aunt.

Mrs Sen Gupta?

I must have wandered after them onto the wasteland, where you found me.

There it is.

But you were foolish.

When Mr Merrick came here looking for a wanted man

and you answered him - so English, so superior.

(Mimicking Merrick) "Is your name Coomer or Kumar?"

"Actually, it doesn't matter. Either will do."

"Do you know anyone that's been convicted of political offences?"

"No."

"Do you know anything of Pandit Baba?"

"Oh, yes, Superintendent, sahib. I certainly do."

Who is this - Pandit Baba?

A guru who smells of garlic and, to Merrick, of something worse.

"Where did you get drunk?" "Shan't teII."

"Why did you get drunk?"

"Because I hate this whole, damn, stinking country -

"those who live in it and those who run it.

"That goes for you too, Merrick."

You told him that?

Just so. That, he will not forget.

Or forgive?

He wants to be so British. Just doing his job.

When we parted, he shook hands.

"Goodbye, Kumar. Keep out of trouble."

And I have.

Honestly, Sister.

Only a little drunk.

Was that the telephone? Is it for me?

Lady Chatterjee, madam.

(Bell tolling)

No, I'm all right.

It was really to be expected, after all.

Yes, I shall be here.

(Speaks Hindi)

That was Judge Menen.

They arrested the Mahatma this morning at four o'clock,

and a few of the chums round here.

You'd remember Vasi, my lawyer? He's one.

One knows about these things, of course.

All the same, when it happens... a bit of a shock.

You're going to work today?

Sorry, yes. It's my Sunday on.

(Newsreel) 'A question mark has been written across the face of India.

'With Japan knocking at India's gates,

'the Congress Party, led by Gandhi and President Azad,

'used hooligans and agitators to press for a civil disobedience campaign.

'Disturbances broke out in many cities

'but a strong government and Indian police helped to curb the outbreaks.

'Demonstrators flooded the public parks for mass meetings,

'presided over by orators not representative of India's millions.

'Every effort was made to prevent bloodshed,

'but the lawless element found it a grand opportunity

'to run loose and stir up trouble.'

(Footsteps approaching)

Hello, Babs. Last job of the day.

May not be, actually. Where do they keep wound dressings?

Bottom left.

There's a bit of a flap on. Matron's looking for you.

They've brought in a missionary lady who was attacked on the road.

Who by? What do you mean?

They found her on the roadside between here and Tanpur,

sitting in the rain nursing an Indian schoolmaster who'd been with her.

They'd been attacked by rioters and the man was dead.

I know what I'd like to do to them.

Anyone who trusts an Indian is a bloody fool!

Matron wants you to sit with her till a relief comes on.

They've cleaned her up. She's on ward three. Miss Crane.

(Indian children) 'J‘ There's a friend for little children

'J‘ Above a bright blue sky

'J‘ A friend who never changes

'J‘ Whose love will never die...'

There was nothing I could do.

Nothing!

(Miss Crane) J“ There's a friend for little children

J“ Above the bright blue sky

J“ A friend who never changes

J“ Whose love will never die

J“ Our earthly friends will fail us

J“ And change... J“

Miss Crane.

Oh, there you are.

I'm most grateful for all this.

Is my luggage there, do you know?

Yes, it is.

I've been wondering if I brought the sweets.

To give the children.

Would you mind?

Of course.

It isn't locked.

"Treasures on earth..."

You'll find them in a tin.

Yes! Here they are.

Boiled sweets for the schoolchildren.

They're here all right.

Is this your picture?

Let me see.

Oh, yes, that's mine.

Do you know what it is?

The Jewel In The Crown.

I use it to teach the children English.

The queen is Victoria on her throne.

The sky is blue.

(Children chanting) 'The sky is blue.'

This is the queen.

(Children chanting) 'This is the queen.'

That is her crown.

(Children chanting) 'That is her crown.'

They usually think the jewel is the one the prince is offering,

but I tell them, "No, the jewel is India, you see."

It's an allegory.

The jewel is India.

Now, you mustn't talk too much. You'll get tired.

Disraeli's there.

1877, the year he persuaded her to call herself Empress of India.

It was a sort of promise.

A promise not fulfilled.

There's nothing I can do, you see.

Please, Miss Crane - please rest.

It was too late.

I stayed with her about an hour after that.

She was quieter then.

I meant to get here for clinic. That's why I'm late.

There were rumours in the black town today. No one has come.

No one.

I must get home, then...

before it's dark.

It would be wise, I think. Well, good to talk.

Do you know this image - the image of the dancing Shiva?

Dancing in a circle of cosmic fire.

The circle of creation and destruction, of dark and light.

And wholeness.

He's got wings.

Gives you a flying feeling,

as if you could leap into the dark with him and not be harmed.

What was she trying to tell me?

What did she say about a promise that was not fulfilled between us and India?

Miss Crane spoke of this?

"There's nothing I can do."

Perhaps she didn't mean that.

It's something I've been thinking.

About a leap in the dark?

About us and India.

(Laughing) I'm really dreaming.

I must be half asleep, I think.

It's stopped raining, anyway.

And the sun is out.

You must be careful. It will be dark soon.

There are rumours of trouble, one hears, in Tanpur and Dibrapur.

I shall be all right, even if it rains.

(Laughing)

- Goodbye, Sister. - Goodbye.

And God go with you.

'Bye!

(Glass shattering)

(Men chanting)

(Horn blaring repeatedly)

Lady Chatterjee, I'm sorry to disturb you. Are you all right?

Why, yes. It's good of you to be concerned, though, Mr Merrick.

- Will you come in? - No, thank you.

(Laughing) I expect you've come to see Daphne. She's at the club.

Yes, that's what they said at the hospital. But she isn't there.

Oh, isn't she? Well, then, I...

- I'm sure she's all right. - Is she with Hari Kumar?

No, I don't think so. I'm sure she isn't.

- At this hour, where can she be? - She'll be in soon.

- Come in and have a drink. - I don't think I should, thanks.

- There's rather a lot going on. - Oh.

- Is it serious? - It seems to be.

What a damn mess!

Some of the people you know are locked up - Mr Desai and Srinivasan.

Yes, I know.

But here I am.

You know...l asked her to marry me.

- Didn't she tell you? - No, she never told me.

And you've no idea where she can be?

- (Engine starting) - (Merrick shouts in Hindi)