for me. And for this what little I get out of my books and from my friends is enough. I always travel third class. While going to America also I shall travel on deck.”
Narayan Hemchandra’s simplicity was all his own, and his frankness was on a par with it. Of pride he had not the slightest trace, excepting, of course, a rather undue regard for his own capacity as a writer.
We met daily. There was a considerable amount of similarity between our thoughts and actions. Both of us were vegetarians. We would often have our lunch together. This was the time when I lived on 17 s. a week and cooked for myself. Sometimes I would go to his room, and sometimes he would come to mine. I cooked in the English style. Nothing but Indian style would satisfy him. He could not do without dal. I would make soup of carrots etc. , and he would pity me for my taste. Once he somehow hunted out mung, cooked it and brought it to my place. I ate it with delight. This led on to a regular system of exchange between us. I would take my delicacies to him and he would bring his to me.
Cardinal Manning’s name was then on every lip. The dock labourers’ strike had come to an early termination owing to the efforts of John Burns and Cardinal Manning. I told Narayan Hemchandra of Disraeli’s tribute to the Cardinal’s simplicity. “Then I must see the sage,” said he.
“He is a big man. How do you expect to meet him?”
“Why? I know how. I must get you to write to him in my name. Tell him I am an author and that I want to congratulate him personally on his humanitarian work, and also say that I shall have to take you as interpreter as I do not know English.”
I wrote a letter to that effect. In two or three days came Cardinal Manning’s card in reply giving us an appointment. So we both called on the Cardinal. I put on the usual visiting suit. Narayan Hemchandra was