ABSTRACT
In post-war England, certain shortages were no less, if not more serious than in the days of conflict. Among the cereals, rice was one of those things which people in Europe could manage to do without and so had disappeared from the market for many years. I and my family, being brought up on it, felt the shortage very much. But through the kindness of some privileged compatriots, we were about to have a real Chinese luncheon with rice on January 30, 1948. Friends and family were with me around the table in our quiet home in Oxford. But we never knew what we were eating during that meal. A few minutes before we started we heard on the wireless that Mahātmā Gāndhi had just been assassinated.
