listener. For, in that way, he was able to get some flavour of life in this India that was so different. The train now passed through the suburban rail traffic. The blue carriages carried the letters, GBMR, on the side.
“Greater Bombay Metropolitan Railway,” explained Khan Sahib. “See the tiny Union Jack painted on each carriage? A gentle reminder that we are in British territory.” The train began to slow down beyond Dadar and stopped only at its destination, Victoria Terminus. The station looked remarkably neat and clean.
The staff was mostly made up of Anglo-Indians and Parsees along with a handful of British officers. As he emerged from the station, Gangadharpant found himself facing an imposing building. The letters on it proclaimed its identity to those who did not know this Bombay landmark: EAST INDIA HOUSE HEADQUARTERS OF THE EAST INDIA COMPANY Prepared as he was for many shocks, Professor Gaitonde had not expected this. The East India Company had been wound up shortly after the events of — at least, that is what history books said.
Yet, here it was, not only alive but flourishing. So, history had taken a different turn, perhaps before . How and when had it happened? He had to find out.
As he walked along Hornby Road, as it was called, he found a different set of shops and office buildings. There was no Handloom House building. Instead, there were Boots and Woolworth departmental stores, imposing offices of Lloyds, Barclays and other British banks, as in a typical high street of a town in England. * Now known as Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus He turned right along Home Street and entered Forbes building.
“I wish to meet Mr Vinay Gaitonde, please,” he said to the English receptionist. She searched through the telephone list, the staff list and then through the directory of employees of all the branches of the firm. She shook her head and said, “I am afraid I can’t find anyone of that name either here or in any of our branches. Are you sure he works here?” This was