Original subtitles

(newsreel music playing)

REPORTER: For the defense 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 through to the Caucasus,

and with the threat of violent non-violence

from Ghandi and Congress, the defense of India

has become one of the most urgent duties

among all the 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.

(newsreel music playing)

(birds chirping, frogs croaking)

(footsteps crunching ground)

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 is not wounded,

he must be ill.

(sniffing)

(laughing)

This one is drunk, Sister!

It is what I've been waiting for

all the time I've worked for you.

To find that only we've carried home

a 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.

(chickens clucking)

(bleating)

Good morning.

I want to see the person in charge.

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

MAN: It's we who call her that.

Right now, she is busy.

Can I be of help?

Who are you?

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're used to visits from the police,

but not, Mr. Merrick, that you should come yourself.

In what way can I assist you?

I should like to carry out a search.

Of course.

Then where shall we begin?

Wherever you want.

MERRICK: Another of your helpers?

He spent the night with us.

Mr. De Souza perhaps knows his name.

I only know that he has hangover, Sister.

As you see, he's all right now and he's making ready to go.

I'm afraid 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"?

I believe that sometimes people who have never been here

at the Sanctuary have called it that.

But 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.

Only those who cannot afford to lose a day's work

come to us here.

Mr. De Souza is in charge.

You have 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.

(chickens clucking)

These are all your helpers, your regular workers?

No one is regular here.

They come and go.

I take on those who most need to earn a few rupees,

or those who need it most.

Then Mr. De Souza is also irregular?

No, because the Sanctuary is as much his as mine.

Mr. De Souza 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.

SISTER LUDMILA: Who is that boy?

DE SOUZA: His name is Coomer.

SISTER LUDMILA: Coomer?

DE SOUZA: In fact, Kumar.

A nephew by marriage, I believe, of Romesh Chand Sen Gupta.

Why then do you say Coomer if it is Kumar?

Ah, why?

It would be interesting, if not best,

to see what follows.

Tumararnam kya hai?

What?

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't speak Indian.

(speaking Hindi)

Look here, doesn't this man understand?

It's 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 is their duty to question anyone

we cannot vouch for.

And 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 all this?

Can anyone just barge in here, then?

Come to the office, and don't be silly.

I think, Sister, we won't waste anymore of your time.

Enough of that!

This is my property.

In it, I will not tolerate such behavior.

And you.

Stop being silly.

If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.

We seem to have got beyond the stage, Sister,

where a talk in your office 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.

Then make it at the Kotwali.

Sister, does this man have any 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,

this sister of his father.

His father, you know, 20 years ago went to England

and died before this war began.

He made and lost a fortune

and died, they say, by his own hand.

SISTER LUDMILA: And the boy?

DE SOUZA: Came to his Aunt Shalini 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.

They told me to report to Matron.

You're our new voluntary bod, then?

You'll find her a bit grim at first,

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.

Oh, sorry.

One of those things.

Come in.

Matron, I'm Daphne Manners.

I was told to report to you.

Manners.

Now, that's a famous name in Mayapore.

How do you do?

I've been here since the days when your late uncle

was governor of the province.

How is Lady Manners?

She's living in Rawalpindi.

She's very well.

Where shall we start?

Should I show you the Manners Wing?

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

No, with Lady Chatterjee at the MacGregor house.

Lady Chatterjee?

I traveled with her from Rawalpindi

as one of Lady Manners' closest friends.

Of my uncle, too, of course.

Lady Chatterjee is a Rajput princess.

She entertains a wide circle of friends,

both Europeans and Indian.

But this is a British hospital.

And in India, you will soon understand what that means.

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

Of which I may not approve.

Then perhaps they're things that ought to be changed.

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

In the meantime, there are the sick to care for.

What were you doing before you came out?

I drove an ambulance in London in the Blitz.

That must've been exciting.

Yes, I was scared stiff.

You didn't have to bother there what people's views might be.

You saved their lives.

It's the same here.

If you're to satisfy me, you must forget everything

except your work you do, do you understand that?

Yes, yes, of course.

Come along.

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?

Well, Auntie Ethel said in Pindi I ought to give them up.

I suppose they do look rather awful.

Not for that.

I don't approve of specs for young people.

I'll lend you Huxley's book and you must do the exercises.

Look through the trees!

Can you see the hills?

No, not at all.

Never mind.

We'll try again tomorrow.

Drink up!

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

(bell ringing)

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 a lot of her because of my dealings

with the women's purdah hospital.

You know she telephoned today?

Not about you.

About a young Indian

who'd got himself in trouble with the police.

What sort of trouble?

Not politics.

I don't think Anna really knew.

She'd spoken to this mad woman

who calls herself Sister Ludmila

and dashes around picking up dead bodies

and people who are dying.

So I telephoned Judge Menen

and then he rang 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."

(laughs)

I expect we did more harm than good.

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

"Ah, Mr. Coomer,"

the police will 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 sometimes wonder if he comes to the MacGregor House

only to pick things up.

After all, there aren't so many places

where a District Superintendent of Police

can mix with Congress wallahs and hear their news.

And he's a policeman all the time, young Ronald.

Don't you think?

Of course, he may not be with you.

Oh, I don't really know him.

He's good-looking.

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 short of relations all of a sudden.

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

and 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 all the people at the Gymkhana Club?

"I say, Daphne,

"Lady Chatterjee's not really your aunt.

I mean, she can't be!"

Oh, 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.

But I shan't ask Ronald Merrick.

I'll ask him to dinner so if he comes,

it'll be for you and not as a policeman.

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, the smell of India.

Your father didn't tell you that.

They burn it.

I shall ask young Mr. Coomer to my party.

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

(chuckling)

(newsreel music playing)

REPORTER: The hideous sight of a fire-swept Burmese town by night,

the awful result of a Japanese attack

on a completely undefended town

from which the population fled

as the place is gutted by wholesale fire.

From scenes such as this, the panic-stricken people

of many towns in 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 airplanes.

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, Sir Henry and Lady Manners,

years and years ago, didn't we, Will?

I think so, excuse me.

Oh, but you won't remember.

Robin was quite the junior then, of course.

Well, I owe Aunt Ethel an enormous letter,

so 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 Vassi, over there... Srinavasan.

He's the lawyer who always gets roped in

when any of our Congress people get in hot water.

Judge Menen talking to my husband...

Terribly amusing.

You must meet him.

You must be Mr. Coomer.

I'm Lili Chatterjee.

How do you do, Lady Chatterjee?

I'm afraid my Aunt Shalini couldn't come.

Oh dear, how sad.

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

Actually, we have.

At the flower show.

Your roses won second prize.

The flower show?

I wrote a piece about it for the Mayapore Gazette.

Of course, now I remember!

Daphne.

This is Mr. Coomer.

I told you there was something I knew

and couldn't remember what it was.

Well, that was it.

Mr. Coomer works for the Mayapore Gazette.

How do you do?

I'll leave you two together and look after the old fogeys.

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 so well?

England.

England, of course.

I mean, how stupid of me.

Now, where's Ramaswami?

You haven't got your drink.

Sahib.

Thank you.

I say, would you like to see the garden?

Of course, you can from here.

What I mean is, 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 both killed last year

in the desert, just 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.

It makes us rather the same.

How the same?

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

And now we've both come along...

I don't feel the same.

It's not the same.

Well, you came back...

Back?

How could 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.

Goodbye, Lady Chatterjee.

Thank you.

Goodbye, Mr. Coomer.

Ah, there you are!

Some people from the Tech are staying.

I hope they won't be dull.

Well, what did you make of young Mr. Coomer

who's just bashing off?

I think he's terribly sad.

Now, why do you say that?

Because he seems so lost.

♪♪

(music continues)

Does anyone know?

What's all this in aid of?

The Warwick exhibition, some show the OC's organized.

A bit of flag-waving to impress the natives.

Really?

I don't see how.

There don't seem many of them here.

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.

Some official do.

Yes, yes, it was.

How is Lady Manners?

Oh, she's very well, thanks.

Oh, this is Babs Linton.

Brigadier Reid.

How d'you do?

Tony Masters.

How do you do, sir?

And Reggie Brocklehurst.

Sir.

Well, let's hope this down goes well.

First public showing of the Berkshires in Mayapore.

Yes, sir, it is.

With Gandhi and the Congress

putting their spokes in the wheels,

it seemed a good way of showing our mettle.

Not just for the regiment, the whole thing.

You'd better get 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.

Well, sir.

What would you like to do?

The parade starts in about half an hour,

so I would suggest...

I say, Daphne, I didn't knew 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.

Are those sandwiches?

You girls had better pick what you want.

Come on, bearer, jaldi, jaldi!

Sahib.

What's on after the parade?

I think the sepoys are going to do some wrestling.

Oh, I couldn't bear to see that!

Well, there'll be boxing too, 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.

I suppose you're here for The Gazette.

KUMAR: 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 the boy who was at Chillingborough.

Chillingborough?

Good Lord!

(brass band playing)

(Vera Lynn's We'll Meet Again playing)

♪ We'll meet again ♪

♪ Don't know where, don't know when ♪

♪ But I know we'll meet again some sunny day ♪

♪ We're smiling through just like you always do ♪

Oh, Lord, I hate that blasted tune.

What's the matter with it?

I'm all in favor of Vera Lynn.

Girl with the Golden whatsit.

I think you're drunk.

I am a little.

Hello, Merrick.

Hello, Ronald.

You enjoy the parade?

I saw you there.

A double whisky, Joseph.

I'll tell you something.

I'd rather have this than a military band.

Bom-bom-bom!

Been going through my head all bloody afternoon.

Oh, I thought the music was very good.

I like military bands.

Do you?

I've 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.

Well, I've got what it takes if that's what you're after.

Oh, shut up, Tony!

Where are you going, then?

Where do you think?

(men laughing)

(bell ringing)

LILI: 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

while 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.

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.

I spoke to Anna Klaus and she told me what she'd learned

from that mad woman who runs the sanctuary place.

But 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.

Come in, Aunt Lili!

I'm bashing off now.

I'll be back about midnight, I expect.

Have a good time!

Oh, I will.

And give my love to the Whites.

I hope our young friend Kumar

has the good manners to turn up.

Course he will.

Raju took my note round 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 probably want dinner in about half an hour.

Yes, madam.

Sahib's here.

Where?

His tonga is just now leaving.

The Sahib's coming up the steps.

Hello. Hello, I'm sorry if I'm late.

No, it's all right.

I had to go to the station to get a tonga.

You're not late at all.

Do you like gin fizz?

That's what I'm going to have.

Yes, that'd be fine.

Raju, two gin fizzes, please.

Yes, madam.

(speaking in Hindi)

Sorry?

Ice?

Oh, yes, please.

I'm afraid my Hindi still isn't very good.

I did take some lessons,

but my teacher was too fond of garlic,

so I had to give them up.

Well, 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 about half an hour,

so we'll have time for the other half.

Perhaps I should've 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 was going out.

And I hate bridge.

Well, I didn't want to be alone.

I wanted someone to talk to about home

and eat an enormous chicken pilau with.

I was afraid if I told you 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.

It is Hari Kumar.

Yes.

Not Harry any more.

Hari.

As in Mata Hari.

(laughs)

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 this morning

and bought a pile of new records.

Glenn Miller,

the Ink Spots, that sort of thing.

Jazz and swing.

Lili's got a portable.

Should we try some after dinner?

Yes, that'd be fun.

(swing band music playing)

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.

Well, rather, there was.

But it belonged to my aunt's brother-in-law,

Romesh Chand Sen Gupta.

He's a rich bania.

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.

(music stops)

Well, what shall we have next?

There's a Victor Silvester somewhere.

Oh, yes, let's have that.

Is it difficult, then, crossing the river?

Not difficult.

It's just that you become invisible.

(dance band music playing)

I say.

I've almost forgotten how

and I 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, dammit, sorry.

No, it was my fault.

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.

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, that sort of thing.

But it turned out I wasn't.

(upbeat music playing)

Right.

Have another go?

Yes.

(music continues)

(horse's hooves approaching)

(horse neighs)

DAPHNE: I used to love the Proms.

Did you ever go?

KUMAR: I'm afraid I never did.

Here's Lady Chatterjee.

Thank you.

Is our guest still here?

Yes, Madam.

Hello!

Hello, Aunt Lili.

You look cozy.

Lady Chatterjee.

Had a good time?

We've been playing records and nattering about home.

Is it really 12:00?

Mmm.

And there's a tonga-wallah in the drive smoking a bidi.

Oh, yes, 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.

(loud clatter of press machine)

(indistinct chatter)

(birds chirping)

Shukriya.

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 nimbu pani

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 honor, 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.

And I'd advise you to 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 at all.

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.

(baby crying)

Chillianwallah Bagh?

(speaking in Hindi)

Okay.

(speaking in Hindi)

Hello.

Chicken tandoori.

I say to Hari,

"I hope Miss Manners likes our Indian food".

Oh, yes, very much.

Hari, don't we have any iced beer?

Why don't you offer?

Yes, I'll get it.

I mean, if you want.

Oh, yes, please.

Everybody says the rains are late this year,

that's why it's so hot.

But you look beautifully cool.

(laughs)

What is heat if you are... accustomed?

You are an English girl.

And Hari too.

When he first 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.

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.

Haven't we a jug, Hari?

(speaking 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, Duleepji," 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?

Too much, I feel.

Well, enough of this.

Hari,

pour the beer.

Please eat.

Take chapattis.

DAPHNE: That's Sidcot?

SHALINI: Yes.

What a lovely garden.

Do you miss it terribly?

Not anymore.

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.

Colin is Hari's greatest friend at home.

(voices outside)

Hari, what is it?

HARI: What's the commotion?

Here is another one of Hari and Colin.

It's Miss Manners' tonga, actually.

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 after you came to India?

To Colin? Yes.

Oh, we lost touch.

That was lightning.

They must come soon, don't you think?

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.

Of all my relatives, she was the only one

who gave me a home.

And I could see how proud she was.

Look.

It's that mad woman, isn't it, from Russia?

She collects dead bodies in the street

and dresses like a nun.

KUMAR: She isn't mad, and I don't think she comes from Russia.

We call her Sister Ludmila.

I wrote a piece about her for the Gazette.

The editor didn't want it.

He said she was a joke.

In fact, I think he was afraid it was political,

as if the British didn't care that people were dying

in the streets.

I told him nobody cared, not even the people

that were 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?

Mmm-hmm.

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.

(marching band music playing)

Would you care for a brandy or a liqueur?

There's curacao or creme de menthe.

Brandy.

Abul, brandy for the Memsahib.

Ooh.

Turkish.

You have gone to a lot of trouble.

MERRICK: And for me.

Ab jao!

(record finishes playing)

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's 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.

Oh, 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, there wasn't a war then.

If I'd known what was going to happen,

it would have made things different.

But then, anybody can say that.

If we knew what was going to happen,

our choices wouldn't be the same.

DAPHNE: No, no, they wouldn't.

I like this kind of thing too.

(classical piano music plays)

It's Clair de Lune.

Yes.

What made you think of that?

Do you like it, too?

It was one of David's favorites.

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.

Does it upset you?

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 in a way.

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.

My grandparents were...

pretty humble sort of people, you might say.

I worked very hard, passed all the right exams.

I've 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 I find it hard now

to do the things that other people 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 marvelous dinner, too.

You went to heaps of trouble.

And I am sorry.

Are you coming in for a nightcap?

Thanks.

Not tonight.

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

when you come home at night.

I can very easily send 'round 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 India National Congress Party votes in support of that,

it'll amount to a call to every Indian to go on strike

and refuse to help us keep out the Japanese.

I don't believe Gandhi has the least idea

what effect all this has

on the sort of hot heads I have to deal with...

Young Indians with a bit of education and no sense at all.

And 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.

Good night.

Good evening, Raju.

(thunder rumbling)

(thunder rumbling)

(heavy rain)

Namaste, namaste.

(man coughing)

(baby crying)

Woman, 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 the rain.

So many patients, too.

Sister Ludmila, this is Miss Manners.

I brought her to the Sanctuary because she wants to meet you.

To meet me?

How do you do?

Miss Manners works at 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...

BABA: What are you telling me?

You are telling me you have no time to learn?

KUMAR: I honestly believe it's wasting your time

as well as mine.

BABA: 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'm willing, Kumar, when you want.

You should be feeling shame to be speaking always

in the language of a foreign power.

Who was that?

Chap called Pandit Baba.

He tried to teach me Hindi once, 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.

Will 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 for me,

so she told Lili.

I said, "How ghastly, won't they be terrible,"

but it's what she wants.

Come and help me choose?

Chuck out the worst, I mean.

(chuckles)

If you want.

And after, you can come and have tea

at the MacGregor House.

Have you got your bike?

It's at the office.

We can cycle back together, then.

Yes.

Yes, right-ho.

There, now.

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.

Better take cover.

Where?

The Bibighar!

Come on!

We'll find some cover at the bottom.

All right?

No!

Gosh, that was lucky.

It might've caught us in the middle of nowhere!

What is this place?

Don't you know?

You've never been inside the Bibighar?

I suppose that's like living in London

and never going to see the Tower.

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

as 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 that when MacGregor fell in love

with a beautiful Indian girl, he installed her here.

Just around the corner from his home.

And that was fine till one day,

he called unexpectedly

and he found her in the arms of her young lover...

A boy of her own race.

And he killed them both and burned down the Bibighar.

And 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.

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're not going to chuck them away, as you said?

The photographs you didn't want from Subhas Chand?

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 stopped.

So we can go.

Actually, I don't think I'd better go

to the MacGregor House with you.

Why not?

Lili isn't there.

Not that it would matter.

No, I know it wouldn't matter.

But 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 or how.

Oh, I'll see you.

Bound to see you, somewhere around.

Goodbye, ghosts!

Aunt Lili.

How are your eyes?

Better without the specs now?

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.

But I can ask.

One of the teachers at the Tech would know.

Oh, don't bother, I can ask Hari, he should know.

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

I thought I'd try...

I wondered...

Sorry.

I rather 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 bed pans.

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.

No, I can't, not Saturday.

I've got something organized, 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 I thought we were fighting the Japanese.

Then you'd better watch Congress and how it votes

on Mr. Gandhi's "Quit India" resolution.

It could be a nasty shock.

I tried to warn you about this before.

Yes, I know.

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

It might have quite a lot.

He hasn't a very good reputation.

He tries to make capital out of the fact

that he lived in England for a while,

which he seems to think makes him English

for some reason.

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 that's good enough for me.

And I'd be grateful if people would stop telling me

who I can have as my friends and who I can't,

especially if the only trouble with them

is the color of their skins.

That's the oldest trick in the game,

pretending color doesn't matter.

It does 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.

(engine starting)

Thanks for the meal, and for bringing me home.

(phone ringing)

Lady Chatterjee's.

Miss Manners.

Yes.

(footsteps)

Now she's 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.

Any chance?

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

That's wonderful, thank you.

That's if you really want to go.

Well, of course I want to go, that's why I asked.

Good.

Why don't you come here to dinner at the MacGregor

and then we'll go on?

I don't think I can.

Then come in for a drink after.

I'll try.

Yes.

All right, I'll expect you in a tonga,

about 6:00?

Okay.

Hari?

Yes?

Sure you don't mind?

No, just surprised.

Surprised at what?

At you wanting to visit a temple.

But I'd love it.

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 can show you some real girls.

How shall we make you a good Indian

if you carry on like this?

What is a good Indian?

Really.

I want to know.

(newsreel music playing)

REPORTER: Well-trained fighting manpower

and their armored fighting vehicles

for the defense of India and, when the time comes,

to take part in the allied counter-offensive against Japan.

Japan's first rush carried right through

to the threshold of India and Australia

while Hitler hacked his way 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.

(chanting)

(singing and drumming)

(singing)

(singing and drumming)

(speaking Hindi)

(praying)

(praying continues)

(singing)

(singing and drumming)

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.

And I know what else you've been trying to do

ever since you came.

You've been trying to put me off, haven't you?

Put off?

What do you mean, "put off"?

Put off, put off.

Put me off you.

Like everybody else has tried.

Oh, yes, who's that?

Everybody.

People like Ronald Merrick.

He thinks you're a bad bet, by the way.

Well, he should know, I suppose.

Good bet, bad bet.

What am I supposed to be, a racehorse?

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

Well, I don't see why you should.

After all, you've never even met him.

I should say I've met him.

Have you?

If that's what you 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?

Of 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,

which gave his henchman a chance to beat me up,

and they took me in for questioning.

I can't believe...

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

I was amused.

Were you?

You must've known!

That day in War Week when you came up.

When you were with your friends and came up

and did your Lady Bountiful.

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.

(The Andrew Sisters "Roll Out The Barrel" on radio)

Hello.

Long time no see.

Not been around much.

Can I get you the other half?

I'll buy you one.

I'm still on duty, as it happens.

I've spent most of the day with the Deputy Commissioner

and Brigadier Reid.

We heard this afternoon Congress committee voted

in favor 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.

Government has its own plans, of course.

It could mean strikes, arson, civil disturbance.

That's why I'm here.

We're making arrangements to bring women and children

together at the club if things get rough.

So, 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.

A 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.

(goats bleating)

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.

(laughs)

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 that she loved you too.

You thought it was for Miss Manners

that I was drunk that night?

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 ever came to India,

he'd come to Mayapore and see me.

Just like the old days, you see.

Hadn't the least idea how I was living.

I'd never told him.

He 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.

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 he didn't see me.

In my babu clothes under my topi,

he didn't realize there was one black face he should remember.

Didn't you know?

We all look alike!

I'd become invisible, even to him.

(applause)

Invisible.

Kumar!

I say, Kumar!

Look here, you fellows, this is Mr. Kumar,

Harry Kumar.

Very pukka, very public school.

"I say, I say!"

(laughing)

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.

Well, that's what Vidya told me later.

I didn't know.

They carried me almost to my door

because they were too ashamed and didn't want to see my aunt.

Mrs. Sen Gupta.

I must've wandered after them on to the wasteground

where you found me.

And 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.

"Is your name Coomer or Kumar?"

"Actually, it doesn't matter.

Either will do."

"Do you know anyone that's been convicted

of political offenses?"

"No."

"Do you know anything of Pandit Baba?"

"Oh yes, Superintendent Sahib, I certainly do!"

Who is that Pandit Baba?

A guru who smells of garlic

and, obviously to Merrick, something worse.

"Where did you get drunk?"

"Shan't tell you."

"Why did you get drunk?"

"Ah, that I will.

"Because I hate this whole damned stinking country...

"the people who live in it and the people who run it, too.

And 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.

No, I'm all right.

It was really to be expected, after all.

Yes, I shall be here.

Namaskar.

That was Judge Menen.

They arrested the Mahatma this morning at 4:00.

And a few of the chums 'round here.

You remember Vassi, 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 music)

REPORTER: A big question mark

has been written across the face of India.

With Japan knocking at India's gates,

the Congress party led by the now interned Gandhi

and President Azad made use of hooligans and agitators

to press for a mass civil disobedience campaign.

Disturbances broke out in many cities,

but a strong government and the fine work

of the Indian police greatly helped to curb the outbreaks.

Demonstrators flooded the public parks

for mass meetings presided over by orators

who by no means represent

the vast majority 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.

Hello, Babs.

Last job of the day.

It 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 brought in a missionary lady

who was attacked on the road.

Who by?

What d'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 in the car, apparently.

They'd been attacked by a gang of rioters

and the man was dead.

I know what I'd do if I got my hands on them.

Anyone who trusts an Indian is a bloody fool,

if you ask me.

Anyway, matron wants you to sit with her

till the relief comes on.

They've cleaned her up a bit.

She's in the side ward of number three.

Miss Crane.

CHILDREN: ♪ There's a friend for little children ♪

♪ Above the bright blue sky ♪

♪ A friend who never changes, whose love will never die ♪

♪ Our earthly friends may fail us... ♪

There was nothing I could do.

Nothing.

(weakly): ♪ There's a friend for little children ♪

♪ Above the bright blue sky ♪

♪ A friend who never changes ♪

♪ Whose love will never die ♪

♪ Our earthly friends may fail us ♪

♪ And change with... ♪

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.

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: The sky is blue.

This is the queen.

CHILDREN: This is the Queen.

That is her crown.

CHILDREN: 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.

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 in time for clinic.

That's why I'm late.

There were rumors 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.

Though 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.

It gives you a sort of flying feeling.

As if you could leap into the dark with him

and not come to any harm.

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.

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 rumors of trouble.

One hears of things in Tanpur and Dibrapur.

Oh, I shall be all right.

Even if it rains.

(laughs)

Goodbye, Sister.

Goodbye.

And God go with you.

Bye!

♪♪

(crowd chanting)

(horn honking)

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.

I expect you've come to see Daphne, but 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 wonder...

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 time of night, where can she be?

She'll be in soon.

Come in and have a drink.

No, I don't think I should, thanks.

There's rather a lot going on.

Oh, is it serious?

It seems to be.

What a damned mess!

(distant shouting)

Some of the people you know are locked up.

Mr. Desai and Srinivasan.

Yes, I know.

But here I am.

You know, I asked her to marry me.

Didn't she tell you?

No.

She never told me.

And you've no idea where she can be?

(car engine revs)