‘Seeing the turbulence in my own home put me off marriage even more. Perhaps the strongest influence on me was that of my college principal, who was an unmarried lady. I’m now convinced that only sober, stable teachers should be given the responsibility of educating young college students. Wayward professors, with a weakness for the good things in life, have an undesirable effect on young minds.
‘I’m saying all these profound things to you over here, but I know I’ll forget them all the minute I reach home. The world I live in is totally polluted. There everyone wants to see me drenched in decadence; they have a vested interest in me living that life. You are the first man to have faith in me, to have behaved like a gentleman with me. For God’s sake, don’t forget me now.’
Apte looked sympathetically at Miss Joshi, ‘I shall consider myself fortunate if I can be of any use to you. Miss Joshi, we are all human and none of us is perfect. We make mistakes and go astray either because of the circumstances around us or because of the way we are brought up. By changing our circumstances we can save ourselves but if we lose our values then things become more difficult. Your soul is pure and beautiful, it’s just circumstances that have enveloped you in darkness. Now that you are able to discern and think clearly, the dark clouds shall surely part and let the light in. But you have to be prepared to renounce all that is around you.’
‘You will have to help me.’
Apte looked at her with piercing eyes and said, ‘Sometimes the doctor has to force the medicine on the patient.’
‘I’m prepared for everything. Even the most bitter medicine . . . if it is coming from you. Will you be kind enough to come to my house tomorrow?’
‘Certainly.’
Miss Joshi was leaving now. ‘Don’t forget, I’ll wait for you. And bring your bodyguard along,’ she said, picking up the little boy in her arms and giving him a hug.
Miss Joshi was on top of the world as she left. It felt as though she was treading on air. A thirsty, weary traveller had spotted an oasis at last.6
The next morning Miss Joshi sent out invitations for the evening. A party was being organized in honour of Apte. Mr Johri smiled as he saw the invitation. There was no way that fellow could get away now. Miss Joshi had really done a good job. Well, it was her area of expertise, after all. ‘I’d thought this Apte would be smarter than this. But it appears these revolutionary types only know how to make grand speeches,’ Mr Johri said to himself.
The guests started to pour in from four o’clock itself. Senior officials, rich industrialists, intellectuals and editors of leading newspapers arrived with their wives. Miss Joshi had adorned herself in her finest clothes and jewellery, and caused a stir in whichever group she moved. Delicious aromas wafted out of the bungalow as strains of soothing music filled the air.
By five Mr Johri was there too, and shaking hands with Miss Joshi, he smiled and said, ‘I wish I could kiss your hand right here. Now I’m convinced that that fellow can’t escape from your clutches.’
‘Miss Joshi was born to play with men’s hearts,’ said Miss Petit.
‘I’ve heard Apte is an uncouth sort of a fellow,’ commented Mr Sorabji.
‘What else can you expect from someone who has never ever been to a university?’ quipped Mr Bharucha.
‘Let’s pull his leg while he’s here.’ Mrs Bharucha giggled.
‘I’ve heard he’s a non-believer . . . doesn’t follow any rituals either,’ Mahant Virbhadra’s voice was heard from behind his thick beard and moustache.
‘I too am a non-believer. I have no faith in any God,’ declared Miss Joshi.
‘That may be so, but you have converted any number of non-believers into believers!’ the Mahant said.
‘How right you are, Mahantji!’ Mr Johri laughed.
‘So, Mahantji, is it Miss Joshi who has turned you into a believer?’ Mrs Bharucha probed.
At that moment Apte entered with the blacksmith’s son holding his hand. He was dressed like anyone else in the room. The boy was equally well turned out. Looking at Apte that evening, people realized what a handsome man he actually was. With his head held high, he appeared a well-bred gentleman, born and brought up in these elite surroundings. Everyone watched him closely, waiting for him to make a mistake so they could ridicule him, hoping he would make a slip somewhere giving them an occasion to jeer at him.
But Apte sailed through the evening with an almost professional ease. Each step he took, each gesture he made displayed his familiarity with the accepted social graces. Those who had till now looked at him condescendingly were suddenly envious of him. And so started a spate of bitter, cynical remarks. Much to the dismay of some, Apte seemed a master of witticisms too. Every lethal verbal attack directed at him met its match, but Apte’s responses were completely devoid of venom or malice. Each word he uttered was steeped in simplicity and honesty, and said in a manner that won over the heart of the listener. Miss Joshi was delighted with Apte’s wit.
‘Which university did you study in?’ asked Mr Sorabji.
‘If I had studied in a university I would have been heading the education department today,’ Apte replied.
‘I always thought of you as a dangerous creature,’ Mrs Bharucha confessed.
‘You’ve probably never seen me in the company of ladies,’ Apte smiled.
Suddenly, Miss Joshi went into her bedroom and got rid of all her finery. There was a determination on her face while her eyes shone as though she were possessed by some divine power. She looked at
