You can see how he enjoys his victory! Nehru comes running to congratulate him. He replies: ‘Live long and continue to be the Jawahar (jewel) of India.’ He has the sahib editor rung up to give up his fast because the battle has been won. In the afternoon, Mussalman women draped in their tent-like burqas arrive in shoals and say, ‘We’ve been fasting with you.’ The old fellow grins. ‘Oh, have you? Let me see your faces. No woman veils her face before her father. I am your Bapu.’ The burqa flaps are thrown back. The old lecher has a good look at the sallow-faced Mussalmannis. ‘This shows what real love can do,’ he says, very pleased with himself.

He rubs more salt in our wounds. He tells us Hindus and Sikhs to read the Quran.

In the afternoon the sky clouds over and it begins to rain. The gods in heaven shed tears at the fate of Bharat.

I don’t remember who started it but the boys are saying that the gods desire human sacrifice before they will restore dharma to its rightful place. The chief says that such honour is reserved for a Karmayogi who the Gita says must act without expectation of reward. What reward can anyone expect for such sacrifice except the gallows? However none of the Delhi boys is considered good enough for the task. One tried and failed.

It is two days after Gandhi has given up his fast. The prayer meeting is over. The Old Fox is at his usual buk buk about loving everyone including those who hate you and poke your mothers and sisters. There is a loud puttaakha. It must be the fart of a passing motor car, I say to myself. But there is smoke and Gandhi chelas running about as if Hanumanji has set fire to their tails. ‘Listen! Listen everybody!’ screams Gandhi. ‘If we panic like this over nothing, what shall be our plight if something really happens?’

No one listens to the Old Man. They run as fast they can. I run too, out of Birla House, get into a taxi and tell the driver to take me phuta phut to the headquarters. When I tell them about what happened, all the chief says is ‘Buss, that’s all?’

He orders that all the papers in the office should be burnt immediately and he orders me to return to Birla House and not budge until summoned. ‘More is yet to come. Victory to the Hindu dharma,’ he intones.