குஷ்வந்த் சிங்- தொடர்ச்சி

குஷ்வந்த் சிங்கும் நானும் என்ற முதல் பகுதியைப் படித்து விட்டு இந்தப் பகுதியைப் படிக்குமாறு கேட்டு கொள்கிறேன்.

THE EDITOR"S PAGE

The obit on the poet (Tagore) reads as follows:

It was a rainy Sunday morning when I had the opportunity to meet the Nobel Prize winner. Tagore was at a seaside resort in Switzerland, the charming landlocked country of Europe. I was just returning after a two-month holiday-cum-research tour of Polynesia, Hawaii and Las Vegas. I was working on a novel for my publishers Tom, Dick and Harry. This novel was also to be published in America by Funk, Wag and Kneel Inc. New York.

"I had earlier phoned Tagore for an appointment. 'Sunday, 7.30. Will it suit you?' he asked in a clear voice. 'Oh, anything will suit me except my suits stitched in India,' I said. There was a hearty laughter at the other end of the phone. Surely, Tagore was man with a high sense of humor!
"When I went on the appointed day, I was slightly late -- to be exact, by about 8 hours. Tagore received me at the porch and offered me Nimbu-de-juice, a delicious drink (certainly I did not expect the poet to offer Scotch). For the next forty minutes we discussed the current literary trends. I was then vaguely planning a novel, later to be titled 'A Train to Pakistan' (published by Hind Pocket Books or Orient Paperbacks or Pearl Publications. I don't exactly remember the name of the publisher, which is not quite material. The book is priced at Rs.4 ,which is quite material).
"Tagore asked me what I was doing. 'Nothing of importance,' I said. 'Oh, you Sardarjis are modest to a fault. With your remarkable talent, whatever you do will be important and will certainly make a great impact on the minds of intellectuals. Now, since we are alone, I can tell you this. Your writings are quite outstanding and you are sure to be awarded Nobel Prize."
"Tagore was a great soul with a great heart. He is gone. I only wish that his statement comes true."
About Miss Marilyn Monroe, the parody reads as follows:
"Marilyn had a soft  corner for me. It was just by chance I was seated
next to her in Pan-Am jet from New York to London. 'Mr. Kushwant, I presume. I am Marilyn Monroe,' she introduced herself. 'Your name is familiar. But I am unable to place you,' I said hesitatingly.
"You must have seen a naked picture of a Hollywood actress in LIFE. It was mine," she said. Then I rememeberd

And Karl Marx:
"An outstanding thinker and remarkable writer who was fascinated by my writings. In fact he told a common friend of ours -- why should I withhold his name, he was Winston Churchill -- well, Marx was telling  Winston that he was keen to translate my novel into Russian. Winny -that was how I used to address him -- later told me this when we met at  Buckingham Palace for a party. I was thrilled by this  piece of news but I had to politely decline the offer since another friend of  mine was already at the job. If my readers would not say that I am dropping  names, I can say that the friend was no other person than Tolstoy.
"This is what  one 'K' can write about another 'K" in this moment of great anguish."

If this be  the truth about me, it is time for me to take an overdoes of barbiturates.
 (Illustrated Weekly May 25. 1975