By Karan Thapar
The door was ajar. Was that an invitation to walk in or simply carelessness? Unsure, I knocked. A loud but distant voice responded. “Come in.” I entered a square room lined with bookshelves rising to the ceiling. The curtains were drawn and the lights were not bright. The rich smell of cigar smoke hung in the air. It was a comfortable, well-used room but it was empty. “I’m in the bath.” It was the same voice. “Sit down and amuse yourself. I’ll join you shortly.” That was how Michael Posner, the man who would become my tutor, introduced himself. I would learn more of his eccentric ways in the years to come but at this first encounter I was flummoxed. I had come to Pembroke for an interview. Although anxious, eager and excited, I was ready for almost anything – but not this. At 18 I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to behave like an adult but the question I could not answer was what would that amount to? I reached for a book and stood by an upright old brass lamp glancing at its pages. I can’t remember its name but it had something to do with the Indian economy. “Ah, there you are.” I turned to find Michael Posner bearing down on me. He was a large man but his smile was equally generous. He thumped my shoulder and more or less simultaneously pushed me into a large armchair. Then he sat down in another in front of me. “What’s that?” Posner reached for the book I had just put down. He seemed to know it. “Well, young man, you want to come up to Pembroke, do you?” “Yes, Mr. Posner.” What else could I have said? The answer should have been obvious. “In that case, what can you tell me about the Indian economy?” It was a trick. And I had created the opportunity by choosing that particular book. I wished I had instead picked up a magazine or a newspaper. Now I had to talk about a subject of which I was completely ignorant. Inwardly I panicked -: 2 :- but outwardly I started to gabble. It was the only way of covering up. I must have spoken for three minutes or more. “Hmmm.” The sound was enough to stop my flow. But Posner was staring at the documents in his hand. I guess they must have been part of my application form. “Not knowing the subject doesn’t seem to be a handicap for you!” Ouch! But there was a hint of a smile and his eyes were gleaming. That was the first time I saw Posner embarrass and applaud with the same sentence. It was his trademark style. Eight months later, my A-levels completed, I arrived at Pembroke. It was a dark sultry October evening and the heavy clouds threatened rain. Having installed myself in my room and unpacked, I headed for the common room. It turned out to be in the same building as Michael Posner’s rooms. As I opened the door to enter I noticed a large figure at the top of the stairs heading down. “Is that the expert on the Indian economy or have I got it wrong?” I blushed. I had hoped Posner would have forgotten the gibberish I spouted at the interview. But not just his size, his memory was also elephantine. “Whatever else you do you should join the Union.” And with that he walked through the door I had just entered leaving in his wake the warm feeling of a pleasant greeting but also a small niggling doubt that I had been put in my place. What was the Union? The very next morning I made a determined effort to find out. An hour later I was a member. And for the next three years my university career centred around its large red brick building hidden behind the old Round Church. Posner had done me a second favour. I can only assume he sensed my ability to talk outstripped my talent for analysis and nudged me in this direction. I was elected to the Standing Committee at the end of my first term and became President of the Union in the penultimate one. I wore kurta pyjamas, achkans, bundgalas and Daddy’s old Edwardian double-breasted dinner jacket. Its broad watered-silk lapels were much admired. It was fun but it wasn’t always frivolous. It made me realise that politics could also be a grind. Yet I can honestly add I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything more. Three months later I graduated with a 2 : 1, which is good but by no means distinguished. Michael Posner must have guessed this would happen when he heard me spouting on the Indian economy. I bet that’s why he pushed me towards the Union. Today I’d say he gave me the right advice.