“Alright then, I’ll be ready in just half an hour,” said the elder girl, disappearing inside. The younger one immediately followed her, but paused at the door, turned back for a moment, and with a sly grin said, “My sister says half an hour just for the sake of conversation, but rest assured, we’ll be ready in an hour at the very least.” She stuck her tongue out at me in mockery, and as I made to stand up, she darted into the kitchen on one foot.

Not even a week had passed when our exam results were announced. Our private tutor, beaming with joy and surprise, congratulated me heartily, embracing me with a wide smile as he told me I had passed with a second class. I expressed my gratitude with all due humility, served him a little tea and some snacks, and sent him off. He left in high spirits. “Will I see you again?” he asked. “Certainly,” I replied. “Your job isn’t done yet. You’ll have to help me get admitted to the university, and even after that, you’ll have to guide me for a while until I find my footing.” “Sure, sure!” he laughed, and took his leave.

Upon arriving in Edinburgh, I learned that there was an Indian Association in the city, and visited it on my very first day. However, I didn’t go again for some time. Recently, I took Raju along and went there once more. Raju advised me to become a member, and I agreed. The Association seemed quite a substantial establishment. There were about 100 to 150 members, hailing from all corners of our country. Every day, students would come here—either on their way to the university, or in the evenings after classes, or during breaks between lectures—to sit and chat, read books from the library, or peruse newspapers. Among them, there were about thirty to thirty-five Telugu fellows alone. With so many of our own people around...

Until recently, it seems, they were never members here. This whole business, like a passing craze, suddenly inspired all our Telugu folks with the urge to come here and study at least once in their lives, and so quite a few have managed to make their way here. For passing the time, this library is the only option—there are no other arrangements for games or music or any such amusements. However, from time to time, they do organize lectures by inviting people from our country, from their country, by great poets and scholars.

Once, in this very manner, they invited a gentleman who had served as a district collector in our country, and later as a member of some revenue board, and who had retired from service. They had him deliver a lecture. For some reason, nobody liked his speech. He still seemed unable to let go of the notion that he was a collector, that he was superior to ordinary mortals, a sense of status and self-importance that should have been shed