ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

All communications with reference to the production of this play should be addressed to. Mr. K. N. Das Gupta,

14, St. Mark's Crescent,

London N.W. 1.

SCENE. Abode of Peace.
TIME. Afternoon.

Enter children playing in the park. Enter Ram Lal who sits on a garden seat and scribbles on a paper. COHEN:

Look! There is Mr. Ram Lal, making up verses.
He calls them Slokas.

(O'BRIEN goes to Ram Lal)

O'BRIEN:

Please can you tell me the time ?

RAM LAL:

Time! Who can tell? Probably billions and billions o'clock. I do not know when it began nor when it will end

JONES:

Dinayaminyau sayampratah
Sisiravasantah punar ayatah.

What does all that mean?

RAM LAL:

Day and night, morn and eve, winter and spring, all go and come back.

(He gives them some sweets)

Life is like a waterdrop on the lotus leaf. The company of the good, even for a moment, is the only sure bark on which to cross this mundane ocean. O'BRIEN:

Oh, you are really good.

JONES:

What a lovely daisy!
RAM LAL:

Yes, beautiful. It is like the British Empire.
Look at its petals, each distinct from the other,
like English, Indians, Canadians, Australians,
Africans, but all are attached to one place.
What do you call it ?

JONES:

England!

COHEN:

The heart of gold.

RAM LAL:

That's right. All are united to the stem by the bond of love. Each has a separate existence, a special mission to fulfil, but their final goal is the same. East is East, West is West, but the twain must meet on the common ground of humanity. This is the true Union of the East and West.

SMITH:

Have you got a cigarette picture, please, sir? RAM LAL:

Cigarettes? (He takes out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, gives him the picture, and tries to strike a match) Look! How quietly these matches lie. A little friction. A spark is kindled. The flame can either illuminate or destroy. It is the same with children. One can make them saint or devil.

MACDONALD:

Can you make me a saint ?

RAM LAL:

Look at this huge tree. It was once a slender
shoot. Its lustrous leaves are now waiting to push
to the sunlight to make new canopies of flower
and fruit, where birds can find home and men and
cattle under its roof find shelter from the sun and
rain. I could have burnt it, bent it, broken it,
when it was young-I cannot do it now.
(Enter another group of children. They run to
RAM LAL.)

Boy 1:

Oh, Mr. Ram Lal, we have brought our costumes to play The Throne of Justice,

SMITH:

The Throne of Justice! What's that?

RAM LAL:

66

I will tell the story. Half a century before the Christian era there lived a King, from whom we reckon our epochs he was so great, wise and noble. His name was Vikramaditya, the "Son of of Power." Nine illustrious men of genius are said to have adorned his Court. These were called the Nine Gems." Long after his death some boys like you were playing over the ruins of his city. Their leader dispensed justice to his playmates so wonderfully that a neighbouring King heard of it, came and discovered that the boy was sitting on the green mound beneath which the throne of Vikrama was buried.

Boy 2:

Oh, that is what made him so wise!

Boy 3:

Now let us play the game.

RAM LAL:

Who'll be the judge?

Boy 4:

Oh, let me !

RAM LAL:

Alright!

Boy 1:

This will make a fine throne (indicating a log).

Boy 2:

It is made of real gold.

RAM LAL:

And supported by twenty five marble angels. CHILDREN:

We'll be the nine gems.

RAM LAL:

All dress yourselves while I tie this turban on his head. (Ties turban on 4th Boy's head) Come along now, take your places.