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Archive for June, 2019

ashokbhatia

SQIt would not be wrong to say that in today’s world, a relentless pursuit of wealth and material belongings has left a deep scar on our souls. Many of us are twiddling our thumbs trying to figure out either how to de-stress ourselves or how to keep fighting those depressive blues. There is a nagging emptiness within and the mind boggles as to why and how it has come about. Most of us have no clue as to what could be done about it.

Redefining ‘Success’ and ‘Happiness’

One way out of this dilemma is to perhaps redefine our concepts of ‘success’ and ‘happiness’. What do these terms really mean? When we dig deeper, we might find that these two are not really dependent on external factors. There is an inner connection somewhere.

Something very elaborate, say a long well-planned vacation, might not yield the emotional high that we expected…

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Kind of moody the guv’nor had been for some days. Not at all his usual bright self. I had put it down to reaction from a slight attack of influenza which he’d been having: and, of course, I took no notice, just performing my duties as usual, until this evening which I’m talking about, when I brought him his whisky and siphon as was customary and he burst out at me.

“Oh, dash it, Jeeves!” he said, sort of overwrought. “I wish at least you’d put it on another table for a change.”

“Sir?” I said.

“Every night, hang it all,” proceeded the guv’nor, “you come in at exactly the same old time with the same old tray and put it on the same dashed old table. I’m fed up, I tell you. It’s the bally monotony of it that makes it all seem so frightfully bally.”

I confess that his words filled me with a certain apprehension. I had heard gentlemen in whose employment I’ve been talk in very much the same way before, and it had almost invariably meant that they were contemplating matrimony. It disturbed me, therefore, I’m free to admit, when Mr. Wooster spoke in this fashion. I had no desire to sever a connection so pleasant in every respect as his and mine had been, and my experience is that when the wife comes in at the front door the valet of bachelor days goes out at the back.

“It’s not your fault, of course,” went on the guv’nor, calming down a trifle. “I’m not blaming you. But, by Jove, I mean, you must acknowledge, I mean to say—I’ve been thinking pretty deeply these last few days, Jeeves, and I’ve come to the conclusion mine is an empty life. I’m lonely, Jeeves.”

“You have a great many friends, sir,” I pointed out.

“What’s the good of friends?”

“Emerson says a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature, sir.”

“Well, you can tell Emerson from me next time you see him that he’s an ass.”

“Very good, sir.”

“What I want—Jeeves, have you seen that play called I-forget-its-dashed-name?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s on at the What-d’you-call-it. I went last night. The hero’s a chap who’s buzzing along, you know, quite merry and bright, and suddenly a kid turns up and says she’s his daughter. Left over from act one, you know—absolutely the first he’d heard of it. Well, of course, there’s a bit of a fuss and they say to him: ‘What-ho?’ and he says: ‘Well, what about it?’ and they say: ‘Well, what about it?’ and he says: ‘Oh, all right, then, if that’s the way you feel!’ and he takes the kid and goes off with her out into the world together, you know. Well, what I’m driving at, Jeeves, is that I envied that chappie. Most awfully jolly little girl, you know, clinging to him trustingly and what not. Something to look after, if you know what I mean. Jeeves, I wish I had a daughter. I wonder what the procedure is?”

“Marriage is, I believe, considered the preliminary step, sir.”

“No, I mean about adopting a kid. You can adopt kids, you know, Jeeves. I’ve seen it in the papers, often. ‘So-and-so, adopted daughter of Tiddleypush.’ It can be done all right. But what I want to know is how you start about it.”

“The process, I should imagine, would be highly complicated and laborious, sir. It would cut into your spare time.”

This seemed to check him for a while. Then he brightened up.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I could do, then. My sister will be back from India next week with her three little girls. I’ll give up this flat and take a house and have them all to live with me. By Jove, Jeeves, I think that’s rather a scheme, what? Prattle of childish voices, eh? Little feet pattering hither and thither, yes!”

I concealed my perturbation. The scheme the guv’nor was toying with meant the finish of our cosy bachelor establishment if it came off: and no doubt some men in my place would at this juncture have voiced their disapproval and probably got the sack for it, the guv’nor being in what you might call an edgey mood. I avoided this tracasserie.

“If you will pardon my saying so, sir,” I suggested, tactfully, “I think you are not quite yourself after your influenza. If I might express the opinion, what you require is a few days by the sea. Brighton is very handy, sir.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m talking through my hat?”

“By no means, sir. I merely advocate a short stay at Brighton as a physical recuperative.”

The guv’nor thought it over.

“Well, I’m not sure you’re not right. I am feeling more or less of an onion. You might shove a few things in a suit-case and drive me down in the car to-morrow.”

“Very good, sir.”

“And when we get back I’ll be in the pink and ready to tackle this pattering feet wheeze.”

“Exactly, sir.”

Well, it was a respite, and I welcomed it. But I began to see that a crisis had arisen which would require adroit handling. Rarely had I observed the guv’nor more set on a thing. Indeed, I could recall no such exhibition of determination on his part since the time when he had insisted, against my obvious disapproval, on wearing purple socks. However, I had coped successfully with that outbreak, and I was by no means un-sanguine that I should eventually be able to bring the present affair to a happy issue. Employers are like horses. They want managing. Some of us have the knack of managing them, some haven’t. I, I am happy to say, have no cause for complaint.

(Source: Bertie Changes His Mind – the only story in the Wodehouse canon which is narrated by Jeeves)

(Illustration courtesy Suvarna Sanyal)

(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2015/07/05/the-gallery-of-rogue-kids-in-plumsville)

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ashokbhatia

Can we identify a God who can be beseeched to preside over our Internet-ional GaneshaAffairs?

In Hinduism, for example, we are exposed to a mind-boggling variety of divine manifestations. Down the long corridors of time, since the dawn of history, the Hindu pantheon has evolved with a multitude of deities.

The deities offer an eclectic mix – some are highly specialized whereas others are all-purpose ones. Some are removers of any obstacles that a seeker may face in life. Some grant better learning abilities and wisdom. Some bestow immense wealth and prosperity. Then we have the generalist trinity – one is said to have crafted the creation, one runs it smoothly like a true blue CEO while another destroys and reconstructs. The latter two intervene in human affairs as and when they deem it necessary.Ravi_Varma-Lakshmi

In fact, there is no sphere of life which has not been touched by some…

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ashokbhatia

Lord Krishna, whose birthday will be celebrated tomorrow, happens to be one of the most revered and liked gods of the Hindu pantheon. Looked at from a management point of view, he is a leader par excellence. He manages events and people in such a manner that the end result is eventually positive and leads to a greater good.

Here are some facets of his personality which might be instructive for managers at all levels.

A friendly demeanour

When a devotee plans to seek a straight forward favour, like when a much-awaited promotion is due and hard workKrishna_holding_flute has indeed been put in for the purpose, Lord Rama is often the more sought after religious figure. But when a devious request has to be made, say when praying for the transfer of a CEO who keeps disturbing one’s mental peace, the attention invariably turns to Lord Krishna. After all, he…

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ashokbhatia

Just like ‘Ramayana’, the epic of ‘Mahabharata’ also has many management lessons for the present day business leaders and managers. Greed, jealousy, quest for power, trying to achieve goals irrespective of the fairness of the means deployed – all these contradictions in life are very poignantly brought out.

Here are some lessons which could be drawn from the epic.

  • Merit over Birth

When it comes to announcing a successor to his vast kingdom, King Bharata does not choose any of his own sons. Instead, he namesMahabharat King Bharat Bhumanyu whom he considers more capable to manage the affairs of his kingdom. In a dynastic rule, seeds of democracy are thus sown.

In India Inc’s power rankings, professional CEOs are on the rise. Three of the top ten in the 2013 edition of ‘India Inc’s Most Powerful CEOs’ are professionals. Five years back, K V Kamath was the only professional in the top…

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ashokbhatia

The brand called Jeeves stands for impeccable service. It signifies delivery of results which exceed one’s expectations, that too with due respect, politeness and sagacity. The methods may be rough at times, but the neat results obtained do provide satisfaction to all concerned.

On the flip side, the brand also represents cunning. An undercurrent of subterfuge often manifests itself. An excessive control over the affairs of the hapless and mentally negligible masters is a cost to be borne to avail of the service package on offer.

Residents of Plumsville often wonder as to how Jeeves, the well-known gentleman’s personal gentleman, acquired the traits that eventually made him an indispensable asset to the upper crust of English society – the art of shimmering in and out, the detailed knowledge of Debrett’s British Peerage, the knack of solving some tricky problems facing his blue-blooded masters or his pals, and, of course…

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Now, when a friend like Psoumya approaches with a problem of Plummy proportions what is one to do? I mean noblesse oblige and all that rot.

Especially a pal with whom you have swapped creative juices while working on a series of books, a saga that you have let loose on unsuspecting masses in five bally parts. Add to that more such collaborations are in the works, to be hurled at naïve souls when they are at their most vulnerable.

The Code of the Psenguptas compels you to spring into action, sleeves rolled up and palms spat on. The old bean races like a cheetah resolved to catch the first scene before the curtain is raised, unscheduled maintenance work on Piccadilly notwithstanding.

You see, Psoumya was just pottering about, minding her own business and generally spreading sweetness and light, when she was blind-sighted by this blighter of a friend asking her to compile a list of ten books. Following that she was to publish the list, one measly volume after another, into what has become the tangled web of our lives, FaceBook – that mingled yarn, fusing good and ill together.

Being an artist, and a topping one at that, Psoumya decided to put her own crafty spin on it. With her diligent brush-strokes, she dragged her choice of books onto canvas. She made them wear the frame, Spode-like, around their spines and leather jackets. To cut a long story short, she started making paintings of each book in her list.

And having dipped the wick of her creative soul in the dangerous spirit of graphic novelling, in which yours truly has waded alongside as her comrade in arms, she was ignited with the desire to put words into the mouths of the books. As if all that they held from cover to cover was not good enough. She brought in speech bubbles.

Being a Plummite herself, it was not too long before she plunged for Doctor Sally among her choices. And with jolly old Wodehouse fare literally in the picture, so to say, she rang for her partner in crime to come to her aid.

“What ho!”

“Of all the infernal nuisance …”

“Good morning to you too.”

“I picked Doctor Sally.”

“Did you now? No Psmith, no Blandings, no Jeeves. That’s the most unkindest cut of all.”

“I could pick only one Wodehouse book. Dashed difficult thing too, given he seems to have produced one every alternate day.”

“I wonder what the rest of the volumes have to say about that in your cartoon?”

“They will have some testy tinkerty-tonks up their sleeves, won’t they?””

“Given they will be cut to the quick at not being picked, I doubt they will stop at the unprintable.”

“They are books, for g’s sake. They cannot access the unprintable.”

“Take it from me, old p-in-c, that little technical impossibility won’t stop them. Besides, this is the electronic world. Print is passe and all that sort of thing… Also, given a shelf, they can stand up for themselves … and they don’t lack spines.”

There was what you would call a pregnant silence before she gushed forth:

“I say, can you help me come up with some words for these pestilent perishers?”

“Well, you see, what with this thing and that …”

“Arun, I mean now!”

“Oh, sure, indeed, right-ho, sure thing, happy to help and all that.”

So, that was the gist of it. As rummy old Shakespeare says, if you’re going to do a thing you might as well pop right at it and get it over.

With firmness of purpose we did just that, and in the image above you see the result.

If for some reason you find yourself intrigued about the Psoumya-Psengupta collaborations I surreptitiously hinted at (perhaps because someone took away your all-day sucker at the age of six), I am adding the details of the blasted lot without a blush of shame on our cheeks of modesty.

(Sportswriter Arun Sengupta and artist Soumya Ganesh (Maha) have collaborated in producing a series of graphic novels based on the History of World Cup Football. However, both remain Plummy types. Hence, faced with a FaceBook challenge, they combined to produce something Wodehousean.

Arun Sengupta writes the story behind the Plum-piece. The artwork is by Soumya Ganesh.

Sudden Death: An Illustrated History of World Cup Football as a Mystery Thriller Volumes 1 to 5 by Arun and Maha …published by Criketsoccer … available from Amazon and other outlets)

(This article appeared in the May-June 2019 issue of Nothing Serious, the journal of the P G Wodehouse Society of Netherlands)

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Life is not fair. Once in a while, when one’s Guardian Angels decide to go off to enjoy a long furlough, it decides that merely throwing some brickbats at one is not enough. Instead, it derives a sadistic pleasure in hurling huge rocks at us. These are instances when it is no longer a question of one’s ego to be kept on a tight leash or just managing one’s basket of desires. The challenge in such cases is that of meeting one’s basic needs; of keeping one’s body and soul together. Even one’s survival could be at stake.

On one of those not-so-fine mornings, one gets called by the boss with a stiff upper lip and handed over a pink slip. Given advances in technology, one is told that one’s services are no longer required. Thanks to the Industrial Revolution 4.0, one’s career goes for a toss.

Or, a CEO who has built an enviable reputation for herself over the years, comes under the cloud of a corporate scandal which gets eagerly sniffed at by various regulatory agencies. This prompts her to put in her papers and face the legal consequences. The media, of which she was a darling till the other day, decides to start shaming her. A severe loss of prestige comes about. A glorious career comes to a sudden halt. Her feelings in a situation of this kind could not be much different than those of Napoleon after his Waterloo debacle.

Some once-in-a-blue-moon experiences

Allow yours truly to share few experiences from his personal life.

A low point in the career

While working in a company which was steadily going downhill due to very high overheads and also an unhealthy level of internal bickering and politics, a highly embarrassed moment had to be faced. In a meeting of all senior managers, I was somehow singled out to be publically lynched for much of what was going wrong with the operations. The unfairness of it, and that too delivered in wide public view, left me shaken to my core. Whereas all those who know me personally can vouchsafe for my chin-up attitude towards life, on this particular occasion, I confess that suicidal thoughts plagued my mind. Always appreciated for my work and sincerity, this was indeed the lowest point in my career.

Late evening, though, my boss offered his sincere apologies. Thoughts of a spiritual nature and a dash of equanimity helped me to regain my sangfroid, so to say. A few months down the road, I moved on to a much better position in another outfit.

The kidnapping fiasco

While working in a very senior position in a small town in India, on one fateful night, I and my son were kidnapped by a gang of four and kept in captivity overnight. They were under the impression that I was the owner of the business I was working with at the time. They had a ransom demand which I had no way of fulfilling.

While held in captivity, I could imagine the sequence of events if they decided to bump me off and dump the body at a desolate location. But faith in a higher power saw me regaining my confidence. Despite a language barrier, I could explain my financial constraints to them. We could eventually manage to get released without much physical harm by the time the next day dawned.

Swift police action followed. Based on my cell phone records, the miscreants were identified and nabbed. But it took me a very long time to mentally recover from the trauma suffered.

Partition blues

One of the heavy costs paid by the society at large when India became independent in 1947 and a new country known as Pakistan got carved out of it was the riots which broke out. Families had to leave their properties, home and hearth behind, and run across the newly formed border to safer sanctuaries. According to UNHCR estimates, partition led to a displacement of some 10-12 million persons along religious lines.

My wife’s Hindu family, located then at Bahawalpur in Pakistan, was one such which faced a trauma of this kind. Interestingly, it was a Muslim family which stitched ‘burqas’ for the entire family and assisted them in fleeing to India. From being rich landlords in Pakistan, overnight they became paupers.

It was by sheer dint of her father’s hard work and resilience that they rebuilt their lives in India from scratch. Prosperity and happiness rules the family today, thanks in part also due to the innate faith they have in their family deity. An old cot from Pakistan, donated by the family, is one of the items on display now at the Partition Museum at Amritsar in the Punjab province of India.

Crucial enabling factors

With the benefit of a 20/20 hindsight, one can analyze and identify the crucial underlying factors which enabled a successful handling of such challenges. If the low point in career could be handled with the help of humility and one’s own job knowledge, skills and attitude, the kidnapping incident could be overcome with faith and an inclination to surrender to a higher power. As to the partition catastrophe, hard work backed by my father-in-law’s own skill-bank and innate faith eventually led to success.

It is not difficult to discover traces here of what Bhagavad Gita proposes.

अमानित्वमदम्भित्वमहिंसा क्षान्तिरार्जवम् |
आचार्योपासनं शौचं स्थैर्यमात्मविनिग्रह: || 13.8||
इन्द्रियार्थेषु वैराग्यमनहङ्कार एव च |
जन्ममृत्युजराव्याधिदु:खदोषानुदर्शनम् || 13.9||
असक्तिरनभिष्वङ्ग: पुत्रदारगृहादिषु |
नित्यं च समचित्तत्वमिष्टानिष्टोपपत्तिषु || 13.10||
मयि चानन्ययोगेन भक्तिरव्यभिचारिणी |
विविक्तदेशसेवित्वमरतिर्जनसंसदि || 13.11||
अध्यात्मज्ञाननित्यत्वं तत्वज्ञानार्थदर्शनम् |
एतज्ज्ञानमिति प्रोक्तमज्ञानं यदतोऽन्यथा || 13.12||

Humbleness; freedom from hypocrisy; non-violence; forgiveness; simplicity; service of the Guru; cleanliness of body and mind; steadfastness; and self-control; dispassion toward the objects of the senses; absence of egotism; keeping in mind the evils of birth, disease, old age, and death; non-attachment; absence of clinging to spouse, children, home, and so on; even-mindedness amidst desired and undesired events in life; constant and exclusive devotion toward Me; an inclination for solitary places and an aversion for mundane society; constancy in spiritual knowledge; and philosophical pursuit of the Absolute Truth—all these I declare to be knowledge, and what is contrary to it, I call ignorance.

Here, one has a virtual ready reckoner of certain mental and emotional attributes, moral attitudes and ethical principles. These are held to be the essential prerequisites for one to discover – and act in tandem with – the Self within.

 

तमेव शरणं गच्छ सर्वभावेन भारत |
तत्प्रसादात्परां शान्तिं स्थानं प्राप्स्यसि शाश्वतम् || 18.62||

Surrender exclusively unto Him with your whole being, O Bharat. By his grace, you will attain perfect peace and the eternal abode.

Much like a Senior Vice President who gets promoted as a CEO after the seniors notice a potential in her to shoulder a higher responsibility, coupled with a match between the value system of the incumbent and that of the business, and a deep sense of loyalty (read surrender) to the organization, Lord Krishna also stipulates the condition under which His grace would help a person to attain perfect peace – exclusive surrender. A conscious realization that it is not one’s own efforts alone which get success in life, and that it is one’s destiny also which plays a crucial role, helps one to surrender in such a manner. 

Challenges and evolution

Each of the demeaning experiences faced by yours truly led to some inner growth. A public rebuke made me learn the value of sensing dangerous turbulence on the flight path in advance, and punching the eject button in the cockpit before things spun out of control. Likewise, the kidnapping incident taught me the importance of having some acquaintance with the law and order and regulatory agencies in the country. As an additional perk, each incident revealed the true friends and foes of those around me at the time. An enriching string of experiences, one would say in retrospect.

When a pink slip gets dished out, one finds an opportunity of reassessing one’s strengths and weaknesses and act on them. A fall from grace eventually ends up increasing the depth of one’s inner reservoirs of patience, equipoise and fortitude.

Challenges come in all sizes, hues and degrees of seriousness. Each challenge faced by one in life eventually results in speeding up one’s progress on the tricky path of evolution. One gains maturity and experience. One learns to be grateful when one is feeling unduly elated, and graceful when feeling totally down. One learns to be more careful and patient. Challenges are blessings which bring about changes which uplift and enrich one.

(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2011/10/05/divine-grace-works-all-the-time)

 

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ashokbhatia

Dear All,

As an Executive Secretary of the Animal Division of the International League of Happiness, I hereby appeal to all of you, especially sociologists, linguists, litterateurs, politicos and legal luminaries amongst you, to quickly evolve a purely vegan code of conduct for the usage of English and also to push through some judicial reforms, thereby facilitating happiness in the animal world.

Several species of animals are miffed at direct as well as indirect references to the members of their respective tribes, often in a derogatory manner. They believe that the tendency of Homo sapiens to use references to animals of any kind is to be curbed. They also plead for some legal reforms to be pushed through.

Some of the species which have already registered a protest with us are as follows:

  • Potato Chip, the famous race horse, takes a jaundiced view of the fact that politicians…

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What happens when a banking professional like Suvarna Sanyal, who has spent a life time poring over bulky ledgers and checking debit and credit figures, turns his attention to one of the popular stories dished out by P G Wodehouse? Well, he simply whips up a series of illustrations which figure some of the better known characters from the canon in some selected scenes from the story!

Savour below the results of his labour of love which, incidentally, have already undergone a scrutiny under the precise microscope of an expert in all Plummy matters.

 

‘The day was so warm, so fair, so magically a thing of sunshine and blue skies and bird-song that anyone acquainted with Clarence, ninth Earl of Emsworth, and aware of his liking for fine weather, would have pictured him going about the place on this summer morning with a beaming smile and an uplifted heart.’

 

‘Instead of which, humped over the breakfast-table, he was directing at a blameless kippered herring a look of such intense bitterness that the fish seemed to sizzle beneath it. For it was August Bank Holiday, and Blandings Castle on August Bank Holiday became, in his lordship’s opinion, a miniature Inferno.’

 

Breakfast over, Lord Emsworth’s sister, Lady Constance Keeble, looked brightly at him across the table.

 

Lord Emsworth left the table, the room and the house, but on reaching the yew alley some minutes later was revolted to find it infested by Angus McAllister in person.

Lord Emsworth told McAllister he is off to the village to judge the cottage gardens and will see him later.

 

‘It is always unpleasant for a proud man to realize that he is no longer captain of his soul; that he is to all intents and purposes ground beneath the number twelve heel of a Glaswegian head-gardener.’

He recalls the greatness of his brave and bold ancestors, whereas he himself reels under the tyranny of his sister and his head-gardener.

 

As he came to the last cottage garden, he unlatched the gate and pottered in.  A hairy, nondescript dog opened one eye and looked at him in a suspicious manner.  And when Lord Emsworth sniffed one of the flowers, the world became full of hideous noises.  He suddenly had a passionate desire to save his ankles from harm.’

At the sound of the girl’s voice, the mongrel suspended hostilities and writhed on its back with all four legs in the air.  And that was how Lord Emsworth met Gladys, and she introduced herself and her brother Ern, who was carrying a bunch of flowers.

 

‘Lord Emsworth looked at the girl almost reverentially.  Not content with controlling savage dogs with a mere word, this super-woman actually threw stones at Angus McAllister, and copped him on the shin.’

 

On learning that they would be at the Fetê in the park later, he made a vague rendezvous.

 

Clarence runs into Constance, who plans to tick off the kids who had misbehaved on their last visit to the Castle lawns.

 

‘It always seemed to Lord Emsworth that the annual Fête at Blandings Castle reached a peak of repulsiveness when tea was served in the big marquee.  It occurred to him that it would be a prudent move to take off his top hat before his little guests appreciated its humorous possibilities, but even as he raised his hand, a rock cake took it off for him.’

 

He craved solitude and made for the nearby cowshed, where he was surprised to meet a sobbing Gladys.

‘Tear-stains glistened on her face, and no Emsworth had ever been able to watch unstirred a woman’s tears.  He was visibly affected.

“Why,” he asked, “could Ern not have pinched them for himself?”’

 

Gladys recounts the encounter between Lady Constance and Ern. She concludes by saying she had told Ern she would “bring ’im back somefing nice.”

Lord Emsworth thought ‘it was like listening to some grand old saga of the exploits of heroes and demigods.’

He was further surprised to learn that Gladys had herself had no tea!

‘Do you mean to tell me that you have not had tea?’

‘No, sir. Thank you, sir. I thought if I didn’t ‘ave none, then it would be all right Ern ‘aving what I would ‘ave ‘ad if ‘ad ‘ave ‘ad.’

 

Five minutes later, Beach the butler answered the summons of a bell in the library, where he found his employer in the company of a young person in a velveteen frock.

After doing herself well at the tea-table, and clutching a well-filled parcel destined for Ern, Gladys was asked by Lord Emsworth if Ern would like something else.

‘Could he ‘ave some flarze?’

‘Certainly, certainly, certainly,’ he said, though not without a qualm. ‘Take as many as you want.’

 

When from his potting-shed Angus McAllister saw a small girl in a velveteen frock picking his sacred flowers, and realised that it was the same small girl who had copped him on the shin with a stone, he came out of the potting-shed at forty-five miles per hour.

Gladys did not linger, but scuttled to where Lord Emsworth stood and, hiding behind him, clutched the tails of his morning-coat.  Lord Emsworth’s knees shook at the spectacle of the man charging down on him with gleaming eyes and bristling whiskers.  But at that moment, Gladys, seeking further protection, slipped a small, hot hand into his.  It was a mute vote of confidence, and Lord Emsworth intended to be worthy of it.

 

Lord Emsworth pressed home his advantage while he could.

‘Angus McAllister made his decision.  Better to cease to be a Napoleon than to be a Napoleon in exile.’

 

Lord Emsworth was shaken but a novel sensation of being a man among men thrilled him.  He almost hoped that his sister Constance would come along and start something while he felt like this.

He got his wish, and asked her what the matter was.

 

He turned to Gladys.

Lord Emsworth had eventually proved worthy of his glorious ancestors.

 

This is how love conquers all. The desire to please the party of the other part. The need to be worthy of her trust and affection. Even spines made of cottage cheese get transformed into those made of chilled steel!

 

(Related Posts:

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2019/05/09/lord-emsworth-and-the-girlfriend-a-viewpoint

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2019/05/30/lord-emsworth-and-the-girl-friend-when-nature-stands-still

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/04/16/great-wodehouse-romances-lord-emsworth-and-the-girl-friend-by-ken-clevenger)

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