Without much difficulty, I managed to secure a room in the house of a railway porter. After that, I brought my luggage and took up residence here. Though the place wasn’t particularly clean, it was at least moderately tidy and somewhat comfortable. The landlord and his wife treated me with great respect. When they heard about the incident at the hotel, they were deeply sympathetic. Well, what’s done is done, I thought, and decided to stay here for a week.

The atmosphere here is very pleasant. It is wonderfully peaceful. There are no noises of any kind; it is utterly silent. In this manner, four days passed by in complete ease. Once or twice, I happened to see the girl who had traveled with me on the train to the seaside. She would come by, chatting in a lighthearted, witty, and clever manner—always managing to amuse without offending, and to jest without being the butt of the joke herself.

One night, after returning to my lodgings and having my meal, a rather amusing incident occurred. This isn’t exactly something one ought to broadcast to everyone, but since there’s no way around it, I must tell you.

I was suffering from constipation. I had to spend quite a long time sitting in the lavatory. In the mornings, this would cause inconvenience to the other tenants, so I had developed the habit of conducting my business at night. Now, did the people here discover this little secret of mine?

Barrister Parvateesam

The main difficulty here is that, to go to the lavatory, one must pass through the landlord’s kitchen. Every day, I would wait until they had finished their meals, wrapped up all their chores, and the husband and wife were sitting together, chatting. They would watch my comings and goings with amusement. Since there was no tap in that room, I would take a small jug of water with me, trying my best not to be seen by them.

One day, the landlady happened to notice this and mentioned it to her husband. For two days, they debated why I was carrying water with me. They couldn’t come to any conclusion. Perhaps I had some secret ailment, they thought, and maybe I was taking some special lotion water for it. If that was the case, it might not be good to keep me here. They decided that this matter must be clarified at once.

So, that night, as I was returning from the lavatory, they asked me to sit down. Wondering what this new formality was, I set the jug down and sat. After some small talk, they said, “Are you comfortable here? You don’t have any problems, do you? If you need anything or if there’s any lack, please tell us frankly. We’ll do whatever we can.”

Pleased, I replied, “I have no difficulties at all. Your kindness makes me very happy. I’m even thinking of staying another week or so.” They seemed quite delighted. After a couple more minutes of conversation, the landlord, with a hint of nervousness, said, “I wanted to ask you a question. Please don’t mind.”

“Of course, ask away! Why such a preamble?” I said.

He asked, “Why do you take this jug with you?”

“For water,” I replied.

“But why?” he pressed.

I turned pale, wondering why he was asking this question, and for a moment, I pondered what to say. Then the answer struck me, and I replied frankly, “In our country, we don’t use paper; we wash ourselves clean with water.”

By the time I finished, they both burst out laughing, and, relieved, explained their doubts and apologized for any offense. I laughed along and returned to my room.

Life was moving along smoothly, without any bumps or troubles. My studies were progressing well. I made all the necessary arrangements to prepare for the barrister’s exam and left for Lincoln’s Inn in London. At home...

Mokkapati Narasimha Shastri, 275

News reached me that all was well at home. My father had firmly resolved that I should not return until I completed my studies. Having no other recourse, he resigned himself to the circumstances and settled down. Here, too, my studies were progressing with great enthusiasm. I was studying diligently. I had earned a reputation as a bright and intelligent student. Day by day, my circle of friends was growing.

I was even elected as an assistant secretary in the Indian Association. I was participating more frequently in meetings and gatherings there. In this way, my acquaintances were increasing as well.

It has been over a year since I arrived. If, by the grace of God, things continue like this for another two or three years, I hope I can return to my homeland in comfort. Dreaming such dreams, I whiled away my time.

At first, I often consulted with my private tutor. In class, I learned not only from the prescribed textbooks but also began reading many other works—books on social, political, and economic systems.

Barrister Parvateesam

Moreover, I found myself reading more and more books related to literature, the arts, and logic. When I was about to set out, I was happy, thinking everything was going well, but soon I began to see signs that all my dreams were about to be turned upside down. Reading the newspapers, I saw daily hints—sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant—that the world was on the brink of upheaval. In Russia, the Tsar’s empire was teetering on the edge of collapse. Germany was amassing tremendous power and making a colossal attempt to swallow the whole world. Wherever one looked, there was only unrest and uncertainty—no sign of peace or stability. What was going to happen? How would these terrifying circumstances unfold? Everyone, every single day, questioned themselves and each other, spending their time in fear and anxiety.

War was inevitable. Germany suddenly attacked France, advancing over the black soil as swiftly as a chariot on the open road, like the Juggernaut’s rath yatra, moving forward by the