Leaving the Indian Civil Service was stupid on my part but the deed was done. I contacted Lord Darlington, then Postmaster General. He asked me to tea at the Carlton Club. I turned up punctually. The hall porter would not let me in.
I waited outside. Lord Darlington arrived in his Rolls Royce. He took me in much to the surprise of the concierge. Viscount Bearsted, chairman of the Shell Transport and Trading Company and son of Samuel, the founder of the Shell complex, was there. “I am very interested in this young man. He is an Oxford Blue and a Gold Medallist at the recent Olympics in Amsterdam. Please see what you can do for him.” “Come and see me tomorrow at 10 a.m.,” I could not believe my eyes. Next morning I walked across St James’s Park. I was asked to join Burmah Sheel the following Monday.
I was the first Indian to be appointed to a covenanted mercantile assistant in the Royal Dutch-Shell Group. I was on probation for three months during which I was paid only £200 p.a. News got round that I was an eminent hockey player. I could not very well refuse to play for the Shell team though it was third class. The matches were generally at Teddington. After three months my appointment was confirmed and I had to sign the covenant. My salary jumped to £750 p.a. I had the last laugh over my ICS friends who began on Rs 450 a month. The General Manager in Calcutta was informed that I had proved my worth and would be sent to the Calcutta branch. News appeared in the Calcutta Statesman much to the annoyance of jute-wallahs.
My passage was booked, first class of course. After arriving in Calcutta, I spent the weekend understanding the topography of the city. I called on Sir Rajendra Nath and Lady Mookerjee at Hariington Street as advised by Noshu. Biren Mookerjee, the younger son, was also there. I knew him at Cambridge. I searched through the telephone directory to discover people I knew. The world is small. I found many names.
On Monday I dressed in my expensive thick silk suit to report for duty. I had no car, so I jumped into the tram opposite the Cathedral. I got off at Dalhousie Square opposite Hong Kong House, the Burmah Shell office. I went up the lift to the first floor, the Baboos staring at me. I had no Sola topee. The Sola topee made you a saheb. I went to the reception desk manned by an old Parsee. He asked me if I had come for a job. I told him I was from the London office.
On Tuesday I went up by the same lift. I was sent for by the Branch Manager. “You came up by the Baboos’ lift. Remember you are a covenanted assistant. There is a lift on the other side”. I was dumbfounded. In London you found top businessmen in the same bus or class in the underground railway. The Company manual with its list of clubs where no Indians were then allowed created its own problems. I was not interested in trying to be British. The secretary of the Mohan Bagan club came to see me in the office and invited me to be Captain of its hockey team. Here was my opportunity. I built up its team and, sure enough, it headed the league and won the Beighton Cup. This achievement did not go in my favour in the firm.
