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 came,” Gandhi said. “He said you were honest and had no axe to grind. You don’t have several irons in the fire. He said you were a solid man. I can see that by looking at you,” he laughed.

“Yes, solid, at least physically,” I said.

“I have talked freely and frankly to you,” he declared. “I think you are a sahib loke.”

He laughed and I asked for help. “Did you say ‘sahib bloke’? Is that the English word bloke?” The whole company roared with laughter.

“No, loke,” he laughed. One secretary interpreted it as meaning “two gentlemen.” Mahadev Desai, sitting there with a thick mudpack diaper pinned on his head like a Cossack’s cap, said it meant “superfine.”

“Miss Katherine Mayo (author of Mother India),” Gandhi said when the laughter died down, “came here and I was good to her, and then she wrote only filth. You know what I have called her?”

“No,” I said. “Drain inspector,” Gandhi said.

“I come from a very poor family,” I said. “I know what it means to be hungry. I have always sympathized with the downtrodden and the poor. Many Americans feel the greatest friendship for India. I think it very unfortunate, therefore, that you have recently uttered some unfriendly words at the expense of America.”