Indian Summers

One word to anyone at all and you will hang.

- Aafrin? - Hm?

Look at me.

However harsh this may seem, you have to remember,

in the end, our own happiness, our family's happiness...

It is nothing.

I know.

It has no value.

There can be no ties you are not willing to cut.

I know.

Not your sister?

Not some sweetheart?

There's no-one.

Sure? No-one at all?

I am here for you.

Yeah!

Run!

Ripped By mstoll

How are we, sir?

Would you leave us?

- Heart attack. - Christ.

Why throw an empty grenade at the Viceroy of India?

Do you have it?

It's an old Mills Grenade.

Used them in the Great War. Nothing in it.

A childish prank?

No, no. Look at the timing.

Today in London, the mother of parliaments

is going to pass into law a government act

bringing historic reform to India.

New powers, new responsibilities.

Whoever perpetrated this attack wants to make a splash.

They want to say to the world, "India rejects this bill.

India wants freedom on her own terms or not at all."

Who else knows about the grenade?

- Very few of us. - Well, let's keep it that way.

What about the boy who threw it?

- Obligingly gave us the slip. - Oh, Christ.

Whoever did this, I swear to God, we'll find him.

I said, don't touch!

Go on.

Put it on. Go on.

- Satisfied? - Shall we ring for tea?

- Sooni, stop it! - Don't take it off!

You need any assistance, sahib?

No, thank you, Manish.

Tell me, Uncle. Who else occupies this office?

No-one but the sahib.

- No-one but the sahib! - Sooni, go! I have to work.

I missed you!

Well, if that's how you show it,

I pity your husband, whoever he will be.

Oh, pardon me, your Reverence!

I thought after two years in Bengal you might be...

- What? - Less of a stick-in-the-mud.

You should have seen it, Sooni.

The way people are out there, in the rice fields.

They're all thin as sticks.

Little children, hungry, with no hope,

except for more of the same.

And when the rains come down,

whole villages washed away. I thought...

Where is King and Empire for these lost souls?

Nowhere! Not to be seen.

So why work for them?

Can you keep a secret?

Depends what it is.

In everything I do...

...I am your brother...

...and always will be.

What does that mean?

It means I missed you too.

I should think so.

Look at you, hm?

- My pretty little sister! - Aafrin!

One day Mummy's going to be

planning your nice big Parsi wedding!

And who are you getting married to, huh?

It was a small heart attack.

Oh. Poor chap.

How does one have a "small" heart attack?

Start with a small heart, I suppose.

I'm having a hat made for the opening.

- Want to see it? - Cynthia, will you listen?

Ralph, do you know,

when I heard he'd been taken ill, my first reaction was...

...if the Viceroy were to, you know,

shuffle off into the next life now,

would it be so dreadful?

- I am rather fond of him... - Oh, no, of course you are!

But then I thought, he may still be breathing,

but he can't very well carry on, can he?

Heart giving out every time a small child

plays an amusing practical joke.

That's not quite how I would put it.

Take my advice.

When old Willingdon finally comes to...

There's no-one he trusts like you. No-one.

So you look him straight in the eye, and you tell him,

"So glad you're well, sir, but listen to me.

Hot summer ahead of us. Empire in the balance.

It is the right thing,

it is the proper thing,

to go home. Go home now."

Enjoy his retirement, lucky chap!

Cynthia, I'm not going to...

He will do as you tell him. And meanwhile,

London scratches its sorry skull:

"Hm, who've we got on the ground?"

Ralph Whelan!

Fit as a flea, India's in his bones!

Who better for a smooth transition?

You make it sound like a coup.

Oh, come on, don't say it didn't occur to you.

It has, hasn't it?

This is your chance, my darling.

Viceroy of India, one year early.

Take it, take it, take it.

I'll think about it.

You do that.

Oh, there's someone I have to meet, but I need to be, er...

discreet.

Oh? And who might this someone be?

I can't say.

Dirty dog. I've seen the pair of you.

Go on, give her a wave. I shan't look.

Will that do?

Don't worry, I won't say a word.

Still, that poor wife of yours... Come on.

Now.

I want you to guard this with your life.

What's this?

I keep a little room. Very discreet...

Hello, Brute.

I thought you were drawing a cat. Don't tell me.

He ran off, the rascal! Which way did he go?

- Right there! - Really?

Keep those peepers peeled. Let's see if we can't hunt him down.

Excuse me. My name is Dalal, sir.

Mr Whelan asked for me to come at once.

Did he indeed?

He is still living here, sir.

- If this is about money... - I'll be back in a minute.

- Ah! Here she is. - Sorry, I wasn't tired.

- Miss Whelan. - Oh, er, not any more.

Her name is Mrs Havistock.

What brings you out to India, sir?

I landed a job with Imperial Bank,

prospects fair to middling. I thought, why not?

Alice and I met the day I arrived in Bombay,

- can you believe? - That is fortuitous.

- Yes. A quick wedding, no fuss. - As long as you're both happy.

- We are. - Yes, very.

I suppose you're new to Simla?

No. I was here three years ago.

Ah. Married?

Not at present.

There he is! Dalal!

Sir.

Let's try that again, shall we?

Dalal.

- Whelan. - That's more like it.

And Mrs Whelan. Congratulations to you both.

My congratulations on your latest promotion.

- Where are we now? - Home Department.

I am Under-Secretary.

I see you've met Charlie, my brother-in-law.

Oh, he certainly has.

Sahib?

What's this?

Oh, it came about an hour ago.

From your little reporter friend.

- Mr Khan? - Mm.

How odd.

Ralph?

Somebody is trying to hurt us, Aafrin.

My God.

No, the pamphlet's all true .

- May I, sir? - Yes.

Don't be afraid. It's empty, thank Christ.

Not that the Viceroy knew it.

He must have had a wretched fright.

Worse than that, he had a heart attack.

What's the latest from the doctor?

No change. Complete bed rest.

The fact is, until now, we've managed to

keep this whole business from seeing the light of day.

That's the last thing the terrorists want.

We need to find the author of this scandal sheet.

Sir, I will do everything in my power.

Thank you. Good.

They'll want to get this pamphlet down to the plains.

So we'll need to stop the trucks.

I'll set up a check-point.

Would you issue an emergency notice banning any distribution?

Right away.

On the usual grounds, incitement to violence.

I'll head to the printers myself.

- I can just as easily do that. - No, no, no, no need.

Good man.