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March 194i
he proceeds to punish himself by revising things with a lot of personal hard work.
That time-table soon gives the cue. "Who is our agent in Raichur?" "How many copies does he take?" "Any returns?" "Is he a good paymaster?" "What does he owe us today?" "When did he make us the last payment?" "How many posters do you send him?" "Does he sell any other papers?" "What is the population?" "Any schools or colleges?" "What is the local industry that gives the readers the buying power?" Oh! a hundred questions which need instantaneous replies and correct ones too. For, he knows it all and I often feel that he is merely giving me an exercise. A little mistake and he comes out "I don't think so. Note that down and verify when you go to the office."
IRRESISTIBLE PUNJABIS
He had already reached Madras with these questions when the train stopped at Dadar and Director Kardar and Nanda rushed into the compartment. Both these directors are rather affectionate, having come from the sunny land of the Five Rivers. They don't shake hands. They embrace people. And both of them embraced Baburao heartily. And then they looked at me. My heart jumped into my mouth. Would they do it to me also? A most embarrassing minute passed leisurely. They suddenly smiled and said "Are
Nagiah is perhaps the best singer in the South. He has melody plus emotion. He will he soon seen and heard in VauhinVs "Devata."
you also going Miss Carlyle? And their hands were there for shaking. My heart quietly slid into its original place. Oh, what a relief! The situation was saved and I was on my feet again.
We got down to the platform. The M.S.M. compartment was too small to hold Baburao Patel, Nanda and Kardar all together. Kardar the "my dear" director of the industry, "my deared" Baburao Patel a thou
sand times during the ten minutes that the train stopped at Dadar. With sweet and melodious phonetics, Kardar spoke and sighed in Urdu and every heart on the platform seemed to melt with the pathetic parting of two friends. Nanda, the irresistible go-getter, honest and rough-cut, rapped out "Babu, come back soon. I won't start my picture till you come." By now, a large crowd had collected. The loud affection of these friends can make the Sahara a buzzing place. Poor me, I just looked on and heard. That was the hot stuff Baburao Patel was dealing with every day. They are deep in their affections and quick in their tempers. Between "My dear" and "Babu" the train moved out of Dadar.
"Oh these Punjabees! They are all like that — affectionate and temperamental." That was Baburao's verdict and he settled down with the time-table for more questions about the agents.
LIKES HIS OWN VOICE
My holiday had begun. I was getting complete 'rest' with the thousand and one questions. Years spent in keeping and memorising the statistics were now being revived under a fast volley of questions. Baburao Patel had no one else but me as the only target. In the office the shocks would have been absorbed by a dozen others. But here,
At the party given by Mr. K. Subrahmanyam at his residence. In the centre are seated Mr. Baburao Patel
and Mis8. Carlyle. 23