‘Because, because, as your Sankara says,’ smiled Malraux, ‘because, in your dream you can see your own dead body. So is one alive when awake or asleep in sleep? Or is all, all, like that girl in Nubia ever awake, and so out of death? Sir,’ continued Malraux, with a quiet passion, ‘Sir, that is the greatness of your country. It can turn defeat into victory. Wait till the British go. I prophesy they want you back, not as Empire, as, as, say, their Holy Grail.5 The British were seeking the Holy Grail—and their destiny, King Arthur and all that, took them to India. So Columbus landed in America. India was what they were all seeking. That was what Europe was seeking—Europe’s Holy Grail. India does not belong to you, Mr Nehru, though you may say so—it belongs to Me,’ said Malraux, beating his chest, ‘a Moi. India is the world’s Holy Grail. Please never forget us, Mr Nehru. I promise to visit you, when India is free. Remember me. Keep India from duality.’ With this Malraux rose.

Panditji was both moved, moved to the depth, and must have almost felt, Malraux was a younger brother—Europe after all was our younger brother—and as we the four of us walked out of the Shanghai (or whatever that restaurant was called) the Chinese butlers looked at us with deep respect. Not because of India, but because of China, because of Malraux’s Condition Humaine. At the door, as Malraux said goodbye to Panditji, how like a schoolboy Malraux looked. ‘Duality and death are the only two enemies of man. When you become the prime minister of India, or if you will, because Mahatma Gandhi will never become an official of any government—he is too much the chief of all men—remember me, and let me tell you finally what I have to say. Let the great Sankaracharya,6 let him guide India. Such my prayer.’