Cared for, indeed! He thought with gratitude of the calm morning wakenings, the low voice of his servant murmuring, ‘It is finished Kipling Sahib, the shaving is completed and the chota hazri awaits.’ Beside him, as he opened his eyes at that soft invitation, the tray of tea would be standing ready to his hand. Over by the almirah Baksh would already be storing away the long cut throat razor, scrupulously rinsed and dried, in its travelling case.
‘That tumbler of hot milk laced with opium stopped the typhoid in its tracks. And it wasn’t the only time Baksh has stood between me and death.’
He meant to impress her but his mother merely looked quizzical. She’d better hear the whole story.
‘Very well, Mater, listen to this. A native ruler in Patiala tried to bribe me, to get the CMG to come
