Filmindia (1941)

Concessions o| Tniss (Ilia Caddie Between Uamp Posts and Gardens Ulith The Students Of Bangalore By: Miss Rita Carlyle Secretary to the Editor U {This second article of Miss Carlyle goes in because the readers, the real bosses, want it and not because I like it The Editor) THE first stage in the promised "grand holiday" was over now. It was a night train we had got into at Madras which was due to reach Bangalore early next morning. Mr. Jayantilal had discreetly taken himself to another compartment probably to lead a romantic hue to the enforced solitude between us two or possibly to avoid a boring recitation of the tour by Baburao. Whatever the intention, and I appreciate the spirit of either, Mr. Jayantilal missed the fact that we had one more passenger in our compartment travelling the same way right upto Bangalore. That passenger must have realised next morning that he had never before made a greater mistake than in getting into a compartment with Baburao. His blood red swollen eyes next morning provided good evidence of his debate with Baburao Patel till three in the morning. I was all tired and beaten for the day and no sooner had I retired I was asleep. But with a patented subconscious habit I had to make guttural sounds of approval with closed eyes when Baburao Patel was in the high note of his discussion with the stranger. This was just to convince the old man that I was still taking active interest in his talk. That "active interest" is always essential as "Intellectual food" for us all and it is supposed to be a regular banquet for our brains when Baburao Patel starts serving. This particular banquet between Madras and Bangalore went on well upto the morning, as I have said be fore, and in between when I changed sides and opened my eyes to make sure that I was in a moving train, the train's sound being entirely overcome by Baburao's thun" der, I heard some words like "constitutional deadlock", "totalitarian methods", "Marxism" etc. and I knew that all the thunder had some socio-political significance. EAT AND SLEEP TO LIVE There is one thing about Baburao Patel. He never talks on films, a subject which he knows so well. He hopes to enter the field of politics some day, as I have discovered from numerous political works he keeps reading from day to day, and he practises his future orations on all and sundry whom he meets on trains or at other odd places. On such occasions, mince-meat is made of the lay man politician by our Editor who, I may tell you, is no small politician with his "Mediterranean Strategy", "North Sea Patrol", "Atlantic Blockade", "Soviet seaports in the Black Sea", "Panama Bottleneck" etc. But through all these international seas, he often forgets to eat and sleep regularly, the plain politics of a plain girl like me. And that is why I complain. I don't know when the two of them slept, if they slept at all, but at six in the morning both of them were dressed and ready for the day when I heard "Hullo, Rita, get up you lazy girl. The world is up and awake and you are there sleeping unaware of the fact that the Sun has brought in another day to change the destiny of man." Somehow, I had never thought of the Miss Rita Carlyle, the popular secretary to the Editor. Sun that way. To me, it has always been a permanent fixture up there which compelled me to get up before it was too late and start my working day. And I didn't always like it. But to Baburao Patel, that steady Sun, which has been there, for goodness knows how long, has a social significance so vital to humanity. Sometimes, I wish that this man had been a little lazy. That failing would have looked a human virtue in him. A VIRGIN BED At the Bangalore Cantonment Station, Babiurao woke up Mr. Jayantilal and with him the rest of the passengers in the compartment. You know, "the Sun had brought in another day etc. etc." was enough reason to wake up anyone in any part of the world. Jayantilal seems to like his bed whether at home or in the train. It is reported to be a virgin bed so far and who doesn'1 fancy a bed that way. It is always clean and without complications. The way Jayantilal clings to his bed — affectionately and innocently — it is a sin to tear him off. But Baburao Patel does not believe in sin. He has a pet theory on this word "sin" over which a laboured thought of years has been devoted in justification— but I wiU tell that to you some other day. We reached the Bangalore City station at seven in the morning of the 24th and stumbled into some more garlands. The reception gang was captained by Mr. Mandanna, 35