All language subtitles for The.Jewel.in.the.Crown.S01E01.Crossing.the.River.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

On 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 nonviolence
from Gandhian 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
has come safely in

to lie quietly at anchor
under the blazing sun.

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.

This one is drunk, Sister.

It is what I have been
waiting for

all the time I worked
for you.

To find that only
we've carried home

a useless carcass
of a drunken man --

not the dying,
or it may be 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.

Good morning.

I want to see
the person in charge.

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

It's we
who call her that.

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

Who are you?

I -- I am 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, that you
should come yourself.

In what way can I
assist you?

I should like to carry out
a search.

Of course.

And where shall we begin?

Wherever you want.

Another of
your helpers?

He spent the night with us.

Mr. De Souza, perhaps,
knows his name.

I only know that he
has a hangover, Sister.

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. Krishna Mortias,

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
to earn a few rupees.

All 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.

Sahib.

Then there is only
your night visitor.

Thank you, Sister Ludmila.

We need take up
no more of your time.

Who is that boy?

-His name is Coomer.
-Coomer?

In fact, Kumar.
A nephew by marriage.

I believe of Romesh
and the Senguptas.

Why then do you say Coomer
if it is Kumar?

Ah, why?

It would be interesting
if not best to see what follows.

What?

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

Look here, tell this man

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 will do.

I see.

And your address?

What is all this?
Can anyone just barge in here?

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

I think, Sister, we won't waste
any more 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 a beard.

Then make it
at the Kotwali.

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

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. Sengupta,

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, they say,
by his own hands.

And the boy?

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 volunteer 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.
- 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?

Shall 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.

Was one of Lady Manner'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,

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

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

of which I may not approve.

Then perhaps there are 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 have 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 the work you do,
do you understand that?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Come along.

Good morning, Matron.

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

Miss Manners,
this is Dr. Anna Klaus,

from 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 charm.

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 exercise.

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.

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 madwoman

who calls herself
Sister Ludmila

and bashes around picking up
dead bodies

and people who are 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."

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 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.

Lili: 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 rather short of
relations all of the 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.

Ha! 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 will be
for you and not as a police.

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 in Mr. Kumar
to my party.

Young Mr. Kumar
is a mystery.

Like the smell of India.

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 aeroplanes.

It's strange being a German
and 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, Robin?

I think so.
Excuse me.

Oh, but you won't remember.
Robin was quite the junior then.

Well, I owe Auntie 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.
Srinivasan.

He's the lawyer who always
gets roped in

when any of our 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 my Aunt Shalini
couldn't come.

Oh, dear, how sad.

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

Actually, we have.

At a flower show.

Your roses won second prize.

A flower show?

I wrote a piece 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
what it was.

Well, that was it.

Mr. Kumar 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 is Ramaswami?
You haven't got your drink.

Sahib.

Thank you.

I say, would you like
to see the garden?

But of course you can't
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 Balu.

I got up and picked some
marigolds

for Aunt Lili's breakfast

then trod on one
of these precious beds.

It's all right now, though.

I gave the old rascal
10 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 2.

I went to school there.

Oh, 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.

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 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.

Goodbye.

Bye, Lady Chatterjee.
Thank you.

Goodbye, Mr. Kumar.

Ah, there you are.

Some people from the Tech
are staying on.

I hope they won't be dull.

Well, what did you make
of young Mr. Kumar

who's just bashing off?

I think he's terribly sad.

Now, why do you say that?

Because he seems
so lost.

Does anyone know what's all this
in aid of?

The War Week Exhibition?
Some DC organized it.

A bit of flag-waving
to impress the natives.

Really?
I don't see how.

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, uh, 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?
- Oh, she's very well, thanks.

Oh, this is
Babs Linton.

- Brigadier Reid.
- How do you do?

- Tony Masters.
- How do you do, sir?

- And Reggie Brackenhurst.
- Sir.

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

First public showing
in Mayapore.

Yes, sir, it is.

Well, with Gandhi
and the Congress

putting their spokes
in the wheel,

seems a good way
of showing our mettle.

And not just for the regiment,
the whole thing.

Well, you'd better go
and get yourself some tea

before it's all gone, eh?

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.

I would suggest
a bit more air.

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

No, neither did I.

Just look at this spread!

Some Indian contractor is making
a packet out of this lot.

Bara, tea for the memsahibs.

Are those sandwiches?

Uh, you girls better pick
what you want.

Come on, Bara,
jaldi, jaldi.

Sorry, 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.

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.

♪ Don't know where

♪ Don't know when

♪ But I know we'll meet again

♪ Some sunny day

♪ Keep smiling through

♪ Just like you

♪ Always do...

Good Lord, I hate
that blasted tune.

What's the matter
with it?

I'm all in favor
of Vera Lynn,

the girl with
the golden whatsit.

I think you're drunk.

I am a little.

Hello, Merrick.

Hello, Ronald.

Enjoy the parade?

I saw you there.

A double whiskey, Joseph.

I'll tell you something,

I'd rather have this
than a military band...

♪ Bom-bom-bom

...going through my head
all bloody afternoon.

I thought the music was 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, uh, sometime.

♪ Some sunny day ♪

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.

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

Shut up, Tony.

Where are you going, Lili?

Where do you think?

The English
have always revered Sikhs,

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 cats
all 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 Ginuwalla Park.

Mrs. Sengupta.

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 madwoman

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?

Well, 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.
- Oh, I will.

And give my love
to the Whites.

I hope our young friend Kumar
has the good manners to turn up.

Of 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 a half an hour.

Yes, Madam.
Sahib is here.

- Where?
- His tonga is just now leaving.

The sahib is 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 would be fine.

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

- 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.

I haven't that 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 have
told you,

Lili won't be here.

Oh.

Oh, I see.

Saturday is one
of her bridge nights.

She's playing with
the VC 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 pulao
with me.

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 Hari anymore.

Ha-ri, 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
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.
Shall we try some after dinner?

Yes, that will be fun.

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-law,

Romesh Chand Sengupta.

He's a rich Bunya.

A merchant.

But he wasn't willing
to cough up,

so I tried
various things.

And ended up
with 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.

Oh.

Well, what shall we
have next?

There's a Victor Silvester
somewhere.

Ooh, yes,
let's have that.

Is it difficult, then,
crossing the river?

Not difficult.

It's just that you become
invisible.

I say, I've almost forgotten

how 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! Sorry.
- No, it's my fault!

I'm gallumphing.
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 gallumphing.

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.

Right.

- Have another go?
- Yes.

I used
to love the Proms.

Did you ever go?

I'm afraid
I never did.

Here's Lady Chatterjee.

Thank you, Ramaswami.
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?

Mm. And there's a tall wallah
in the drive smoking a beedi.

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 your popping
round to hear some records.

Oh. Yes, yes, I am.

Daphne, is that you?

Hello, Aunt Lili.

Hmm.

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. Sengupta is a widow
living in seclusion.

So really it is 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. Sengupta
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 will 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.

Ginuwalla Park?

Hello.

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 ice 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.

What is heat if you are...

accustomed?

You are an English girl.

And Hari, too.

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

My Brother Dileep 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 Ginuwalla Park
here in Mayapore.

Afterwards, I will be showing
you photographs

that my brother Dileep sent
from England.

From Sidcourt
where he's living.

Do you know this place?

No, I've never been there.

It's beautiful,
this house.

And it was Hari's home.

All this he's missing
very much.

At first, I feel
he's 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 jughari?

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

When my husband died,
Dileep wrote to me.

"Leave Mayapore and come
to us in England."

"No, Dileep," I answered him.

"My duty, what I have,
is here."

Never again I fear
we shall see each other.

The Indians
are very fatalistic.

Isn't it?

Too much, I feel.

Oh, well, enough of this.

Hari, pour the beer.

Please eat.

Eat, please.

Oh, that's Sidcourt.

Yes.

Oh, 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.

Hari, what is it?

What's going on?
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.

Oh, there's lightning.

It must come soon,
don't you think?

The rains.

Yes, very soon now.

Then everything will be green
and fresh like England.

Like England.

Does that remind you?

I wanted to bend down and kiss
your Aunt Shalini

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

I'm very fond of her now.
I'm 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 madwoman,
isn't it, from Russia?

She collects dead bodies
in the street

and dresses like a nun.

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.

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 them 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?
- Mm-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.

Would you care
for a brandy?

Or a liqueur?

There's Curaçao
or crême de menthe.

Brandy.

Brandy for the memsahib.

Oh, Turkish.

You have gone to a lot
of trouble.

And for me.

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.

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, uh...

there wasn't a war then.

If I'd known what was
going to happen,

it would have made things
different.

But then, uh...
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.

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.

If it upsets 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.

Well, 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.

And my grandparents were...

pretty humble sort of people,
you might say.

I worked very hard,
passed all the right exams.

I have 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 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 haven'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 around
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 of that,
it will 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

this has on the sort of hotheads
I have to deal with.

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

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.

Good night, 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.

Namaste.

Namaste.

Namaste.

Oh, woman!
Hold the baby!

How can I treat unless
you hold it still?

- Please, let me do it.
- Thank you.

Mr. Kumar,
I have been to the bank.

One day, I am sure
Mr. Guvendas, 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 to the Sanctuary
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?

Aaaah.

What are you telling me?

You are 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.

Who was that?

Chap called Pandit Baba.

Tried to teach me Hindi once,
but I gave it up.

'Cause his breath smelled
of garlic?

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 Subath 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,
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.

- Have you got your bike?
- It's at the office.

We can cycle back together,
then.

Yes. Yes, right-o.

There now.
Did you see that, dear?

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

Really?

Good.

I say,
it's really coming down.

- Better take cover!
- Where?

Bibighar!

Come on!

I'll find some cover
at the bottom!

- All right?
- No!

Oh!

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?

Oh! I suppose that's like
living in London

and never getting to see
the Tower.

Brrrr!

Oh!

Oh, 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 that 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.

And it's the ghost
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're not going to chuck them
away, as you said?

The photographs you didn't want
from Subath Chand?

Why?

I just thought one
was rather good.

I'd like to have it.

Oh, yes, of course.

But 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.

Actually, 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 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?

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.

But I can ask.

One of the teachers
at the Tech would know.

Don't bother: I can ask Hari.
He should know.

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

- I thought I'd try --
- I wonder --

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 of 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 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.

'Cause 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
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've 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.

Thanks for the meal,
and for bringing me home.

Lady Chatterjee's.

Miss Manners.

Yes.

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.

Oh, 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.

Come here to dinner at the
MacGregor 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'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 to.

Yes, tomorrow, then.

Come to the coffee shop.

You are going to the temple
to make puja?

Someone wants to see it.

Someone?

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?

What is a good Indian?

Really. I want to know.

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 counteroffensive 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.

Thank you.

What for?

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 beedies, I do puja.

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

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

I don't see why you should.
After all, you've never 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.

And 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.

Then 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 have known.

That day in War Week 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'd 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.

Hello.
Long time, no see.

Not been around much.

Can I get you
the other half?

I'll buy you one.

No, 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.

The government has
its own plans, of course.

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, uh...
you'll know where to come.

And Lili?

There will 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.

But 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 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 out 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?

He hadn't the least idea
how I was living.

I'd never told him.

Thought of me
as a raja.

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 didn't see me.

In my bapu clothes
under my topi, he didn't realize

there was one black face
he should remember.

Well, 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. Kumar.

Hari Kumar.

Very pukka,
very public school.

I say, I say.

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.

Ho ho!

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

in a hut near the road
by the Bibighar Bridge,

where I'd 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. Sengupta.

And I must have wandered off
onto the waste ground,

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.

"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 this -- Pandit Baba?

A guru who smells of garlic --

and obviously to Merrick
of something worse.

"Where did you get drunk?"
I shan't tell you.

"Why did you get drunk?"

Ah, that I will.

Because I hate this whole damn
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.

Obviously, 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 chaps around 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.

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.

May not be, actually.

Where do they keep
wound dressings?

Uh, 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 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 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 3.

Miss Crane.

♪ 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.

♪ 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...

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 school children.

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.

The sky is blue.

This is the queen.

The queen.

That is her crown.

The queen, the 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.

Ha.

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.

Oh, I shall be all right.
Even if it rains.

Goodbye, Sister.

Goodbye.
And God go with you.

Goodbye!

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?

Uh, 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 wond--

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 damn mess!

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?