WAITING FOR A VISA 677
After the Parsis were gone I sat for some time engaged in thinking to find a way out. I had hopes that I would soon get a State bungalow and my troubles would be over. My problem was therefore a temporary problem and I thought that going to friends would be a good solution. I had no friends among the untouchables of Baroda State. But I had friends among other classes. One was a Hindu, the other was an Indian Christian. I first went to my Hindu friend and told him what had befallen me. He was a noble soul and a great personal friend of mine. He was sad and also indignant. He, however, let fall one observation. He said, “If you come to my home my servants will go”. I took the hint and did not press him to accommodate me. I did not like to go to the Indian Christian friend. Once he had invited me to go and stay with him. But I had declined preferring to stay in the Parsi inn. My reason was that his habits were not congenial to me. To go now would be to invite a rebuff. So I went to my office but I could not really give up this chance of finding a shelter. On consulting a friend I decided to go to him and ask him if he would accommodate me. When I put the question his reply was that his wife was coming to Baroda the next day and that he would have to consult her. I learnt subsequently that it was a very diplomatic answer. He and his wife came originally from a family which was Brahmin by caste and although on conversion to Christianity the husband had become liberal in thought, the wife had remained orthodox in her ways and would not have consented to harbour an untouchable in her house. The last ray of hope thus flickered away. It was 4 p.m. when I left the house of my Indian Christian friend. Where to go was the one supreme question before me. I must quit the inn and had no friend to go to ! ! The only alternative left was to return to Bombay.
The train to Bombay left Baroda at 9 p.m. There were five hours to be spent. Where to spend them ? Should I go to the inn ? Should I go to my friend ? I could not buck up sufficient courage to go back to the inn. I feared the Parsis might come and attack me. I did not like to go to my friend. Though my condition was pitiable I did not like to be pitied. I decided to spend the five hours in the public garden which is called Kamathi Baug, on the border of the city and the camp. I sat there partly