Memories of Ms Gooding

As disclosures from Patrick French’s authorised biography of V.S. Naipaul tumble out about his wayward ways with women...

As disclosures from Patrick French’s authorised biography of V.S. Naipaul tumble out about his wayward ways with women, an encounter with one of them comes to mind. More than two decades ago, Naipaul, researching his book, India: A Million Mutinies Now, showed up in the then-sleepy town of Chandigarh. Staying in the city’s only 3- star luxury hotel, the famous writer was a recluse. Moreover, his notorious arrogance kept all aspiring writers, nosey journalists, social climbers and university dons away.

But a persevering, diehard admirer of Naipaul like me couldn’t be kept away so easily. So I rang up the hotel and in a confident voice asked the operator to connect me to Naipaul’s room. For a few agonisingly anxious moments, there was a “please hold-on” pause, and then a person with a clipped English accent answered with a gruff “Yes?” But before I could even begin my well-rehearsed lines about not being a prying journalist or an English don but merely an architect-academic, who happened to be an ardent admirer of his writings, there was a curt “No!”

However, I mustered courage and rang up again. This time, a gentle, female voice with a quaint English accent answered the phone. And before it could be put down again, I fervently re-played my well-rehearsed lines, this time dripping with literary passion. There was at first an uncertain silence, and then a husky, “Please hold on.” “Vidia, there is this senior professor of architecture,” I could hear in the background, followed by some discussion — and finally the reply from a transformed Naipaul himself. Yes, we would meet at a select dinner that evening.

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He arrived at the club with a beautiful, tall, elegant femme fatale, a dazzling woman — a counterfoil to the short, dark, brooding gravitas of Naipaul himself. Rahul Singh, then the editor of a newspaper, escorted them and eased the social awkwardness of the memorable evening. Though most of the brilliant talking was done by Naipaul, the lady charmed everyone with her half-smiles and her exotic persona.

She was certainly not Sir Vidia’s shadow, but the star of that memorable night. That mystery woman was his mistress, the Anglo-Argentinian Margaret Gooding.