The Far Pavilions - Mini

Throughout that time in India, the British were in a continual state of war

with the fiercely independent tribes along their northwest frontier.

An extraordinary regiment was raised to deal with them.

It was named... The Corps of Guides,

and it's headquarters were here at Mardan.

Composed entirely of native volunteers, Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims,

and led by a handful of specially selected British officers,

they wrote some of the most glorious chapters

in the annals of military history.

In 1865 I had the honor to be Commandant,

which was when this story really began.

Keep him here.

Sahib!

There's a birth certificate here, sir.

We'll see.

Pelham-Martyn, Pelham-Martyn.

Pocketbook.

I knew his brother very well. Hell of a good man.

What's this?

Some sort of a good luck charm, I suppose.

He'd better have that back. I fancy he's going to need it.

There's not doubt about it, Geoffrey.

This brat from the bazaar is the son of Hilary and Isobel Pelham-Martin.

How the hell he managed to survive the Mutiny, I don't know.

...Yes, yes, Ash-Baba, we are playing a game,

that your name is Ashok, and that you are my true son.

What is your name, my son?

Ashok.

Yes.

[Sita escapes the cholera and the Mutiny, and takes Ashok far to the north]

[They pass through areas where all foreigners have been slaughtered]

[Finally they arrive in a state where Sita makes a home

[and Ashok is hired as servant to the royal prince]

[Ashok becomes friendly with Anjuli, the half-sister princess, to Prince Lalji]

[Ashok and Anjuli looking at the Far Pavilions]

[Koda Dad becomes a father to Ashok]

[Anjuli gives Ashok a mother-of-pearl fish emblem]

[Ashok breaks it in two, and gives half back to Anjuli, saying...]

[that someday they will meet again and put it back together]

[A snake threatens Prince Lalji, probably put there by assassins]

[Ashok rushes in, grabbing the prince and kills the snake]

[By touching the prince, Ashok committed a serious violation]

Instead of executing Ashok, Buji Ram brands his chest]

[With the help of Koda Dad Ashok and Sita escape the palace]

[While making their escape to the north, Sita dies]

[Ashok then makes his way to the Corps of Guides]

Well, young fellow, like it or lump it you're going to be

shipped back to London, and licked into shape.

[After seven years in England, learning English, attending school]

[becoming acclimatized to English society]

[Ashok-now called Ashton or Ash-returns to India]

Amazing country, Pelham-Martyn.

Isn't it, Garforth?

Don't you think we've been cooped up

in this compartment long enough for us

to be on Christian name terms, by the way?

I like that, mine's George.

Ashton, commonly known as Ash.

I do hope you won't be too bored out here, dear.

Bored?

In India, Mrs. Harlowe?

However could she be?

Belinda's just had her first season in London, Mrs. Viccary.

That must have been fun. Being presented at court.

Yes, it was at first.

But after three months of parties and dances

meeting the same silly girls and same stuck-up young men

night after night,

quite honestly I couldn't wait to get back here.

There's gratitude for you!

After all the money that Papa's spent on you.

Will you husband be meeting the train, Mrs. Harlowe?

Oh, alas, no.

The Frontier Regiments are preparing for the autumn maneuvres.

Mine can't get away, either.

Oh, I didn't realize he was in the army.

He's not, Mrs. Harlowe,

he's a prodistry officer.

Oh!

Army?

Corps of Guides, as a matter of fact.

I say.

Yes, the Regiment more or less adopted me as a boy.

Oh, you're a lucky devil.

I can't say I appreciated it at the time,

being shipped home and drilled into conformity.

Oh, I'm the same.

What's your line?

Oh, me?

I'm to be the assistant undermanager of the

Pashawar Branch of Brown and MacDonalds'.

A boxwallah, to you.

The dregs of Anglo- Indian society.

You said it, not me.

[I rest only and wait to be reborn]

[and that makes life- if the gods are kind-]

[it may be that we shall meet again]

[Yes, surely, even though you are not my son]

[but the son of an Angrezi (Englishman), a Sahib]

[The Bombay mail-train arrives in Delhi]

[Hugh Chiverton comes to meet Mrs. Harlowe and Belinda]

Debbie!

There you are!

Hugh!

How lovely to see you.

Where's

Presenting the prize at his own wretched pony club Jimkarna.

Hello, Uncle Hugh.

Why, Belinda, I wouldn't have known you,

Isn't it wonderful what a season in London can do?

This is Edith Viccary.

She's traveling with us to Peshawar.

My uncle Hugh.

Hugh Chiverton, Indian Civil Service.

That's Mr. Garforth and Mr. Pelham-Martyn.

We met on the boat.

Gentlemen.

How do you do?

Pleased to make your acquaintance.

They're going on to Peshawar with us.

You must all come and dine with us before you leave.

Ashok!

[Zarin Kahn a childhood friend of Ashton's]

Yes, yes, thank you.

Would you excuse me?

[The English are not at all pleased with this turn-of-events]

Zarin!

Zarin!

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

But he's a native!

Extraordinary behavior.

Why didn't anyone tell me you'd me here?

Because nobody knew!

I just asked the Commandant for some leave

and I came here without telling anybody.

Well, how did you recognize me?

But, you haven't changed since we were boys together.

Look at you.

How's your father? Is he well?

Ah, yes, he flourishes,

but see who I brought.

A bearer. His name is Gul Baz.

Salam, Sahib.

Salam, Gul Baz.

Go and seek out the sahib's luggage.

Yes, and the memsahib's, too.

[Ashton looks for the party he just left]

Oh, damn.

I'm fearfully sorry about this morning, Belinda.

Please don't apologize.

We managed wonderfully well without you.

Didn't we, Mama?

Yes.

Thanks to dear Mr. Garforth.

Oh, my pleasure, Ma'am.

Pelham-Martyn.

You aren't any relation to the Dorsest Pelham-Martyns

I suppose?

Sir Matthew's my uncle, sir.

Is he, really?

Old Ash, here, is northern, aren't you.

Un-huh.

Oh, didn't you know?

Mary was telling me a bit about it

on the train from Bombay.

And not only that...

he was rescued from the Mutiny

by his Hindu foster-mother.

Huh, and they had the most tremendous adventures together.

Of course, that was before he fetched up in the Guides.

Put a sock in it, George, will you?

No, go on. It sounds marvelously romantic.

Furthermore, it proves my point,

there are some good Indians.

The problem is finding them.

Oh yes, absolutely.

And joking apart

with the best will in the world

one simply can't feel the same about them

since the Mutiny.

But, it can't happen again.

Don't you agree?

I think that rather depends upon us.

Providing we treat them justly,

there's no reason for them to rise

against us again.

That's what you mean, isn't it?

Not exactly.

I mean, it's their country.

I say, steady on old chap.

Be fair, George, we stole it from them.

And a damn good job!

Considering the hash they made of running the place

before we did.