The Rushdie's

Watched a documentary last night on Salman Rushdie. On the history channel. Salman is the closest I’ve come, I think, to knowing a famous person. I mean I didn’t’ “know” him as such but I did spend a lot of time playing with his two sisters, Sameen and Bunno when I was about ten years old, and I knew his mother Nagin. Salman and I used to frequently pass each other going up or down the stairs. I dont think he even bothered to look at me!

We were all living in this shady retreat in Bombay called Westfield Estate, with lots of gulmohar and copper pod trees around, and quaint bungalows with names like “Sandringham Villa” and Windsor House. (I think the latter was the name of the Rushdie’s home).

They lived in a bungalow, on the first floor and I remember looking out of the window of Sameen's room sometimes and getting a glimpse of the kidney shaped swimming pool at the Breach Candy club. Those days it was still pretty much a club for the whites and I don’t think the membership was open to Indians, as it is today.

The Rushdie’s left India around ’63 or ’64. They just packed their bags and vanished overnight. Sameen, Bunno and I barely got to say goodbye to each other, although Sameen and I wrote to each other for a couple of years and she, knowing of my passion for Cliff Richard even sent me a few autographed photos of him from London. (She had met him once while they were staying there). So coming back to yesterday's programme, it was weird to see her on the small screen, more than forty years later, being interviewed about her famous brother!