(distant shouting) DAPHNE: When you think of the history of us in India, there must be ghosts.

Hundreds of thousands, probably.

Hari?

Is that you?

Yes.

Didn't you get my note?

I went to the Sanctuary.

I haven't got a cigarette.

Let me try one of those again.

What were you trying to prove?

That you don't mind our touching?

I thought we'd got beyond that.

No.

We can never get beyond it.

But we have.

I have.

It was never an obstacle anyway.

At least not for me.

HARI: Why did you come to the Bibighar?

I was cycling back to the MacGregor.

And then I stopped to take off my cape.

I thought you might be here.

(distant shouting) You oughtn't to be out alone tonight.

I'll take you home.

Throw that disgusting thing away.

(men speaking softly) (chanting) Sister Ludmila!

I believe you know a girl called Daphne Manners.

I've just come from the MacGregor House.

She isn't home yet.

Have you seen her?

Yes, Mr.

Merrick, she was here.

But left just before it got dark.

No one has come to the Sanctuary tonight because of rumors in the black town.

Why was she here, then?

She sometimes comes.

To help at the clinic.

I see.

I didn't know that.

How often does she come here?

Very rarely.

Alone... was she alone tonight?

Yes, alone.

Where did she plan to go?

Home, so far as I know.

To the MacGregor House.

By the Bibighar Bridge.

Didn't you come that way?

No, I went first to the police post at the Mandir Gate.

Then I remembered she talked once of having been to the Sanctuary.

So I drove here.

Then you probably missed her.

But you say she left at dusk.

I was at the MacGregor House till nearly 9:00 and she hadn't got back yet.

Perhaps she called in at Mrs.

Sen Gupta's.

Ah, yes.

The aunt.

Or somewhere else.

She left at dusk.

(car engine starting) What is it?

Why are you here?

My name is Merrick.

District Superintendent of Police.

Police?

I believe you know an English girl named Daphne Manners.

Has she been here tonight?

No.

Your nephew, Mr.

Kumar?

Hari?

Where is he?

Has not come home.

I know nothing.

Always I am telling him... Very well.

What is it, Robin?

Hospital report on Miss Crane.

The Mission School teacher?

Yes, she was attacked on the road from Dibrapur.

Physically she seems okay, but they're rather concerned about her state of mind.

Oh, poor Miss Crane.

Of course, she always was a trifle odd.

Lili Chatterjee hasn't rung?

No, not a squeak.

Do you think Ronald Merrick was right, saying the Manners girl was heading for trouble?

No, she hasn't come back here.

Well, that's what is strange.

She always rings me if something turns up at the last moment and she can't get home.

Yes, so Mr.

Merrick said.

Are things bad, Robin?

We don't know, Lili.

There's been some trouble over at Dibrapur.

She's not home yet.

Look, would you like to come and spend the night with us?

Are people moving into the funk holes?

The Club is one place, Robin, that I can't go.

Help!

Yes, I'll ring you back.

(gasps) Auntie... Auntie... Oh, Auntie.

No!

Fetch Bhalu.

I'll ring for Dr.

Klaus.

Well, you stupid fellow, do something!

Are you drunk?!

I'll make you now a drink.

Thank you.

Who was it?

Was it Hari?

No.

No, I've not seen Hari.

Not since that night we visited the temple.

Who was it, then?

I don't know.

Five or six men.

I didn't see, it was dark.

They covered my head.

Where did it happen?

The Bibighar.

In the Bibighar?

(car door slams) Whose car is that?

It may be Robin White.

He telephoned.

You'll be all right with Anna.

Can I have a bath?

Will you ask one of the boys to run one for me?

In a moment.

I think Ronald Merrickis here.

Ronald?

Well, there must be questions.

The police will require some details, medical evidence.

I don't want to see anyone.

But if you wish it, I will tell them all they need to know.

I'm glad that it was you.

Thank you, Anna.

That was Ronald.

He came here before looking for you.

That was kind.

But I'm back now.

You told him it's all right?

You sent him away?

But you see, my dear, it isn't, is it?

He wants to know... how many men?

Did you recognize them?

Could you recognize them?

What were you doing in the Bibighar?

You'll have to explain.

You told him it wasn't Hari, didn't you?

You told him.

Superintendent Sahib!

Hers.

It's evidence.

(speaking Hindi) Look, Sahib, what is there?

Leave them.

We'll go to the level crossing, ask the keeper if he's seen anything.

You hear?

There's a light in that shed.

(laughing and voices) Excuse us, sir.

It's good liquor, Superintendent Sahib, not hooch we are drinking.

Take them to police headquarters.

Where's your friend, then?

Please, who is that?

It doesn't matter.

I know where to find him now.

MRS.

SEN GUPTA: Hari!

Hari, he is here!

MERRICK: Out of the way, Mrs.

Sen Gupta.

What is it?

It's all right, Aunt Shalini.

If you'll wait downstairs, Mrs.

Sen Gupta.

We shan't be long.

What is this trouble?

Please, Aunt Shalini, do as Mr.

Merrick says.

Who gave you permission to burst into my room, Merrick?

You've just taken these off.

Yes.

Then, put them on again.

Why?

Why?

Because you're coming with me.

We're going to have another of our little chats.

Like we had before, after I found you at the Sanctuary.

What about?

Are you going to dress yourself, or shall we do it for you?

I'll dress myself.

Here's another one!

It's Hari Kumar!

Hello, Hari!

Have you been drinking, Kumar?

Hey, Hari!

You know that fine English fellow?

British public school.

(speaking Hindi) Those bastards, they'll beat him up!

Put your things there.

Is this a medical inspection?

There's no doctor here.

You've been intelligent enough to wash.

We almost caught you at it, didn't we?

(speaking Hindi) What's this about?

You still haven't told me.

You've no right to do this without making a charge.

I shan't answer any of your questions until you tell me why I'm here.

SV Vidyasagar.

Narayan Lal, Bapu Ram.

Puranmal Meta, Gopi Lal.

These men are all friends of yours.

And as you saw, we have them under lock and key.

I hoped we might have a talk.

She wasn't a virgin, was she?

You know what's been going on.

Government arrested Mr.

Gandhi at 4:00 this morning.

Since then riots have broken out at various places.

Gangs of hooligans have appeared.

On the road to Dibrapur an Englishwoman, Miss Edwina Crane, was stopped in her car and assaulted.

The Indian schoolmaster who was with her was killed.

I thought we could talk about these things.

A lot of things.

What do you know about a man called Pandit Baba?

Those young men upstairs, they admire you, don't they?

They'd do anything you say.

And they believe what Gandhi tells them, that this is the moment to strike for freedom from British rule.

They've seen the Japanese drive us out of Singapore and Burma.

Now let them drive the British out of India and hand it to them on a plate.

Well?

That's what Pandit Baba preaches.

And they believe him.

But do you?

They're rather foolish.

Well, they haven't had your English public school education.

Chillingborough.

One of the best.

Perhaps the best, you'd say.

Why didn't you go to the Sanctuary tonight?

She was there.

It might be a help to you if you could tell me something about Pandit Baba.

He came a few times to your aunt's house.

He's the kind I really despise.

Stirring up young fellows like Vidyasagar to get themselves arrested and lying low himself?

Did you quarrel with the old devil?

How did you get those marks on your face?

I've told you, Merrick, I shan't answer any of your questions until you tell me why I'm here.

We're making inquiries about a woman who is missing.

An Englishwoman.

You know which one.

The one who likes black cock.

And the more, the merrier.

You bastard.

I haven't seen Miss Manners for three weeks since we visited the temple.

You bastard, Merrick.

All the same, you do know why you're here, because of Miss Manners.

As you just told me.

Though that isn't only what I want to talk to you about.

In some ways it's irrelevant.

Still... we have time.

I'm speaking of the past.

Till now you and I have been just symbols to one another.

Now our relationship has to become real.

Tonight.

It's not enough to say that I'm English and you're Indian.

That I'm the ruler and you are one of the ruled.

Some people talk of comradeship between your kind and mine And there is a comradeship of a sort, and it's basic.

But do you really know on what it's based?

On fear.

Contempt on my side and fear on yours.

We have to find out about that, too.

To live with it and act it through, this relationship between us so that neither of us will ever be able to forget it again.

Or ever again be tempted to pretend that it doesn't exist or claim that it was something else.

Contempt and fear.

I think you want to talk.

I think you want to tell me where you were tonight.

After you left the office of the Mayapore Gazette at 6:15, and the time I arrested you at Mrs.

Sen Gupta's.

More than three hours.

Miss Manners says... that you stopped her outside the Bibighar, just for a chat.

She was attacked.

And she says she was dragged into the gardens and raped.

First by you and then by your friends.

That's what she told me.

But I don't believe her.

I think I know the truth.

But I want to hear it from you first.

What do you say?

No.

What is this?

Why do you push me around?

I am not giving you trouble, I've told you!

What will you do?

Superintendent Sahib.

Well, Kumar?

Here's one of your friends.

He's come to hear you confess.

It wasn't your fault, was it?

She egged you on.

Just say, "Yes, I was the one who organized the rape," and you'll be released from that contraption and you won't be beaten anymore.

Mercy!

Oh, mercy on us.

Why don't you speak?

You were led by Kumar.

How many times did he enjoy her?

Why should you suffer for what he has done?

No, Superintendent Sahib.

(speaking Hindi) I know nothing!

I'm telling nothing.

Mercy of God, why are you treating this fellow so?

(speaking Hindi) I know nothing, Kumar!

I have told them nothing, believe me!

(speaking Hindi) Fear and contempt.

Poor Vidyasagar.

You heard his terror.

Why not admit it now?

Why should those boys suffer for it?

Why should you?

She egged you on.

Just say, "Yes, that's how it was," and the pain will stop.

Just say it once.

(gasps) Just say it once.

(gasps) DAPHNE: We've never seen each other.

You've been at home.

You know nothing, you saw nothing.

Promise me.

There's nothing I can do.

Nothing I can do.

Nothing.

Kumar?

You want to drink?

I understand it all, you see, because I'm not really one of them.

Not pukka sahib.

Grammar school boy.

I know their contempt even though they'd hide it in front of you.

There is no love.

No true love between human beings.

But only power and fear.

You want more water?

I'll give it to you.

But first, you must admit it.

Admit you're grateful to me for what you've had.

Be honest.

Swallow your pride.

There's no love.

No justice.

Only power and fear.

Drink if you'll admit it.

And you'll thank me for it.

Drink again.

You see.

What do you say?

Thank you.

Now you can sleep.

And tomorrow you can confess.

(door closes) Look here, Daphne, I'm awfully sorry about this, but there are questions.

Official questions that I have to ask, as the DC.

It's all right, Robin.

LILI: If it's not too long.

You say you stopped by the Bibighar to take off your rain cape?

Well, originally.

Originally?

Yes.

Everything was quiet.

Except the frogs.

I suddenly wondered if I'd see the ghosts.

Lili told me once the place was haunted, so I sort of said, "Steady, the Buffs" and went in.

And then?

Well... Of course there wasn't anything.

So I sat on the edge of the platform and smoked a cigarette.

And suddenly they were there, almost nowhere.

You didn't see them?

It was all so quick without any warning.

Yes, I see.

Look, I am sorry to press this.

But is there anything you can remember about them, any one of them?

I don't think so.

I mean, they all look alike, don't they?

Especially in the dark.

I'd say they were dressed like peasants.

Are you sure?

Yes.

Peasants or laborers.

They smelt like that too.

Did they smell of drink?

I didn't notice.

Not specially.

And how many?

Five or six.

You can't be sure?

All I can remember is being attacked by as many of them as there were.

Five or six, men of that kind.

Laborers, hooligans.

That awful smell you get in third-class compartments on Indian trains.

I'm sorry.

I don't want to talk about it.

Yes, I think it is enough now, Mr.

White.

Yes, of course.

And I must go, as well.

I will ask one of the boys to make you a cup of tea.

Raju brought me these flowers on my breakfast tray.

I'm sorry.

(shouting) Do or die, do or die!

What can I do, Mr.

White?

Only I am teaching tradition of Indian weaving in college here.

Why should they listen to me?

I believe they would, Pandit Sahib.

That's why I asked the principal for a chance to talk.

While there's time.

They're staging a mass satyagraha, a march across the Bibighar Bridge.

I shall do everything I can to hold back Government's response.

But at what point does nonviolence turn into violence?

Sometimes I think even the Mahatma doesn't understand the consequences of his own actions.

It is not the Mahatma who acts.

It is Government which acts.

What should I be saying to my students?

"The elephant treads on your toe, but you must not cry out"?

Their Congress leaders are arrested.

I was forced to that.

And now because an English girl claims she was attacked six young men are thrown into jail.

Stories are put about these men have been beaten.

Hindu boys made to eat beef by Muslim jailors.

Precisely the sort of wild talk that leads to trouble.

It is wild talk, Mr.

White.

If I am believing it.

Panditji.

We must trust each other.

Lives may be lost, not yours or mine.

Life is illusion.

This is what I am teaching.

There are others who could have helped.

I signed the orders for their arrest.

As a philosopher, perhaps one day you can explain to me why it is that life compels us to do what we know is wrong.

Do nothing and stay pure.

If that was the Mahatma's message, he has another one today.

And what will come of it?

REPORTER: The answer is that if India is to be free, she must first be defended.

And she will be defended by British troops and by their Indian brothers in arms.

For Congress does not speak for all India.

(military marching music) India's future must and will be made secure.

The fair-minded people here and in India will see to it that she has her rightful place in the sun.

(gunfire) (screaming) No!

(gunfire) Aunt Lili.

I thought you were asleep.

Why did you close the window?

There's a storm.

I've been listening.

I heard gunfire.

Aunt Lili, tell me, what's going on?

Connie White telephoned.

There have been riots in the town for the last two days.

It seems the Army opened fire and there was a panic.

People were killed.

Why?

You're hiding something.

It's no use, Auntie, I want to know.

It was a demonstration about the boys who've been arrested.

Six Hindu boys.

They're calling them the Martyrs of Bibighar.

What boys?

They weren't boys, I told Robin.

One of them is Hari.

When?

The night it happened.

Connie told me.

It seems they found your bicycle in a ditch in the Chillianwallah Bagh, near Mrs.

Sen Gupta's.

And they found Hari there with cuts on his face.

Who found him?

It was Ronald Merrick.

Of course.

Do they think they'll get away with it?

I told you Hari wasn't there.

It won't stand up in court because I'll stand up in court and tell them everything.

My God, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?

It was Ronald who found my bicycle and planted it.

So you can send for Robin, and Auntie... You believe me, don't you?

It wasn't Hari.

I was afraid for you.

Now I'm afraid for all of us.

Because of you.

Of me?

You don't shrink from anything.

Even your mistakes, your marvelous mistakes.

Like Pandora who bashed off to the attic and opened her blasted box.

And you then returned to number 12 Chillianwallah Bagh?

MERRICK: Yes, sir.

And there arrested Kumar?

Yes, sir.

WHITE: And this was at 9:40 p.m.?

MERRICK: Yes, sir.

WHITE: And that's when you observed these cuts and abrasions on his face?

Never mind the cuts, he hasn't said a word yet about how he found my... Miss Manners?

It doesn't matter.

Might you have marked one of the men, or what can you tell us about these cuts?

Why ask me about them?

Ask Mr.

Kumar.

I don't know.

He wasn't there.

I'm sorry.

Oh.

Oh, my dear.

Oh God, I can't... My glasses.

I can't find them.

Damn those stupid specs.

Put your arms around my neck.

No, it's here somewhere.

What?

My bicycle.

I didn't bring mine.

They must have taken yours.

I'll look for it in the morning.

It's all right.

It's all right, I'll take you home.

No, I've got to go home alone.

We've not been together.

I've not seen you.

Daphne.

Let me go.

You've not been near me.

You don't know anything.

Listen, you must... Hari, please!

I've got to be with you.

I love you!

Please, let me be with you!

You mustn't.

No.

We've never seen each other.

You've been at home.

You saw nothing, you know nothing!

Promise me.

Oh.

There's nothing I can do.

Nothing I can do.

Nothing!

I promise!

He was asked.

He wouldn't say.

Mr.

Kumar has consistently refused to give any account of his movements.

Perhaps he had a scrap with the police.

It wouldn't be the first time he was hit by a police officer.

Do you want that observation included in the record?

No, I'm sorry.

Judge Menen, have you any questions you'd like to put to the District Superintendent?

MENEN: No questions.

Thank you, Mr.

Merrick.

That concludes your examination at this inquiry.

You were present when your evidence was read to the inquiry.

Is there anything you'd like to add?

No.

Nothing.

There is one thing that I should like to ask.

Mr.

Merrick gave evidence that your photograph was found in Mr.

Kumar's bedroom.

Was it one that you gave him?

Yes.

At his request?

It was one I'd had taken and didn't want to keep.

Yes.

Judge?

Yes.

I see, Miss Manners, that you have refused to identify the men in custody.

You did so again the other day.

I must ask, why do you refuse this?

I refuse to attempt to identify them because they must be the wrong men.

I shall say so in court if necessary.

I understand why you should feel this in the case of the man Kumar.

But you must see, in the case of the other men your refusal to attempt identification might be interpreted as willful obstruction by the principal witness.

And that might help to prove the prosecution's case by casting doubt on your reliability.

Well, what do you say?

MENEN: I assume... and shall continue to assume you are telling the truth.

This whole inquiry is based on that assumption.

In your statement you say you had a brief impression that the men who attacked you were peasants or laborers.

With this impression in your mind, why do you refuse to cooperate in helping us as best you can to decide whether the men being held are held on sufficient grounds?

No, I won't cooperate.

One of these men is innocent.

And if one is innocent, I'm not interested in the others.

The men who raped me were peasants.

The boys you've got locked up aren't, so they're almost certainly innocent, too.

For one thing they're all Hindus, aren't they?

Yes, they're all Hindus.

One of the men was a Muslim.

He was circumcised.

If you want to know how I know, I'm quite prepared to tell you.

Or you can leave it at that.

One of the men was a Muslim.

They are all hooligans.

Apart from that I can't tell you a thing.

For all I know they could have been British soldiers with their faces blacked.

Very well.

Thank you, Miss Manners.

I have no more questions.

We're sorry to have had to subject you to this examination.

Anna.

I think we've won.

LILI: "My dear Ethel.

"We go on here much as before.

"I am glad Daphne herself has written so much you to you and awfully glad that she will come to you to bear her child."

"Do you remember Miss Crane "with her picture of Queen Victoria?

"During the riots she was attacked on the road.

"The Indian schoolmaster who was with her, dead in her arms.

"Afterwards she dressed in white, "like a good Indian widow in mourning, and now she too is dead."

"Yesterday we had the inquest-- the usual stupid verdict.

For I'm sorry to say that she committed a sort of suicide."

What am I here for?

Why have they brought me here?

I want to see the Governor.

I must be told the case against me.

I haven't seen a lawyer for seven weeks!

I must go and change now.

If you'll excuse me, Connie.

Well, you know, it's Daphne I've come to see.

I'll tell Ramaswami we'll have dinner in half an hour.

What's going on between you and Aunt Lili?

Oh, don't worry, it's not an official visit by Mrs.

Deputy C, as Lili likes to call me.

Isn't it quiet at the MacGregor?

Hard to believe it's only a couple of months.

Robin doesn't know I'm here and I shan't tell him but I thought you ought to know they've sent Hari Kumar away.

They've put him and the other boys in prison.

What for?

All the papers went to the commissioner, so it's out of our hands now, but I wanted you to know.

In case there's anything you can tell me.

What sort of thing, for heaven's sake?

Well... it all seems to start with a man called Pandit Baba.

Pandit Baba?

What on earth has Pandit Baba got to do with the rape?

Oh, but that's the point.

Hari Kumar isn't being sent to prison for the assault.

He's being sent for political reasons partly because he knew this man.

Hari knew Pandit Baba, I know Hari.

Why don't they send me to prison, too?

That's a decision they reached under the Defence of India Rule.

But it's a farce!

Hari can prove it.

It's a ridiculous, monstrous farce.

Well, that is just what puzzles me.

The other boys denied everything.

They shouted and wept and insisted they were innocent of everything except drinking hooch.

And they were lying.

But Hari was different.

He was examined personally by Robin, and to every question he said nothing.

The only thing he ever said in his defense was, "I wasn't at the Bibighar.

"I haven't seen Miss Manners since the night we visited the temple."

Of course, the men took his silence as a confession of guilt.

But I'm a woman like you.

I think of Hari Kumar.

And I listen to my husband talking about him to old Menen and I think it's wrong.

A man doesn't say nothing unless he's trying to put a noose around his neck.

He fights for his life and his freedom.

Because he is a man.

I expect it's frightfully silly of me, but you know, if Hari Kumar had been an Englishman, I think I could have understood it better.

And even then, it would have to be a silence imposed on him by a woman.

But he is.

That's where you're wrong.

That's the joke.

He is, you see.

♪ For in spite of all temptations ♪ ♪ To belong to other nations ♪ ♪ He is an English man ♪ ♪ He is a... he is... ♪ (sobbing) I'm going mad.

Like poor Miss Crane.

(moaning) I saw her in the hospital, Miss Crane.

She'd been attacked on the road.

The Indian she was with was killed.

Yes.

"There's nothing I can do."

That's what she told me.

When she got home she went into this hut, her garden shed, and soaked the walls with paraffin.

It was in the paper.

That's how she did it.

A circle of fire.

It's wrong to say you commit suttee, isn't it?

It's a state of grace.

You enter into it.

Drink this.

What is it?

It won't harm the baby?

Anna, you wouldn't.

What, you think that?

No.

Sorry.

It will just give you a quiet night.

Expectant mothers must be contemplative, like nuns.

But what am I to do?

I have to get him back.

You see... I can't live without him.

This you must learn to do.

To live without.

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org