Whatever the case may be, I can at least say that I have set foot in England! And let me not forget to mention, I made sure to step with my right foot first, just as I had resolved. Despite my meticulous care and scientific precision in placing my right foot forward, London itself seemed utterly indifferent to my arrival. It stood there, cold and unwelcoming, like a wilted face holding a burnt-out ceremonial platter. After all, if fortune favors you, it doesn’t matter which foot you put forward. If luck deserts you, any foot will do—it’s all the same.

No sooner had I landed here than half my enthusiasm seemed to wither away, or rather, it was thoroughly chilled. I cannot quite say why. The moment I set foot in London, my barometer of spirits seemed to plummet. Slowly, I gathered my luggage and stood on the platform. I had no idea what to do next. I didn’t even know which way to go! Everything felt utterly confusing.

If only this were Mogalturru! The moment I returned home from school after a long journey, all the folks at home and the neighborhood boys would come running, crowding around me, playing and joking with me for hours. There’s no need to even mention my mother. “Oh, you’ve come, my boy! First, wash your feet and face, your eyes are sunken, your cheeks are hollow—how are you, my dear?” she would fuss, hurrying me along. After I washed my feet, she would set out some snacks for me. Sometimes, she would even ward off the evil eye. I always felt so embarrassed. “Oh mother, what is this nonsense? You and your superstitions! How much longer are you going to keep doing this?”

"Do you still think I am a little boy?" he had said, feigning a bit of anger. Remembering all this, I suddenly felt a pang of sorrow. Rubbing my eyes, shivering in the cold, I was wondering whether to take the shawl from the next seat and wrap myself up. Just then, as if someone had kicked me up from the netherworld, like a Cook Company’s agent emerging from the depths, he appeared before me—no, not like that, rather like a goddess descending from the heavens to rescue me.

He glanced at me with a mischievous look and said, "Ha Ha! Ah! Good evening. What is your name? Ah! Let me see. You are the Great Mr. Parvateesam, aren't you? Fine, we were hearing a lot about you. Good, fine day. Bit chilly, what?"

(Good evening! Your name is—ah—yes, you must be that great man, Parvateesam. We've heard so much about you. Ah, that's good. It's a bit cold, isn't it?) he greeted me with a pleasant smile, and it felt as if my soul had returned to my body. But he called me “Great Parvateesam.”

He said he had heard a lot about me. How strange! How could he have figured out that I was an important person?