Four hours after receiving the news that she had been selected for the Rs.1520000 Nobel Peace Prize,Mother Teresa,Calcutta's "living saint",quietly rode a streetcar wearing a Rs.18 white sari with a blue border and headed for the "Writers' building ,the communist state' secretariat.There she humbly sought an interview with the ever busy chief secretary ,the not so busy peons,unaware that they were talking to a Nobel laureate,brusquely ordered her to "come back later".
Towards the evening ,as tickers in newspaper offices of the city brought the Oslo datelined news,the city bent over backwards to pay homage. However,the sense of pride was largely justified.Mother Teresa,with her Slavonic English and broken but crisply colloquial Bengali,belonged to Calcutta.She could not have helped it because perhaps in no other city is poverty so glaring .No other city ,perhaps ,needs Mother Teresa as much as Calcutta does.
"Its the victory for the poor",was all she said with her wrinkled face resting on her gnarled hand.
Towards the evening ,as tickers in newspaper offices of the city brought the Oslo datelined news,the city bent over backwards to pay homage. However,the sense of pride was largely justified.Mother Teresa,with her Slavonic English and broken but crisply colloquial Bengali,belonged to Calcutta.She could not have helped it because perhaps in no other city is poverty so glaring .No other city ,perhaps ,needs Mother Teresa as much as Calcutta does.
"Its the victory for the poor",was all she said with her wrinkled face resting on her gnarled hand.
