I took stock of the situation. “Strained” was hardly the appropriate word to describe the extant state of relations between myself and my landlord. “Full-scale thermo nuclear war” would be ‘mot juste’ description. In the immediate past, I had called him to his face “blood – sucking Shylock”, “two timing schemer”, “daylight robber” and “Hitler” and paid me back in the same coin and scaled similar heights of literary allusion by calling me, in full public view, “Shifty-eyed hellhound”, “socialist rabble rouser”, “habitual trouble maker”, “goonda” and “Rent controller’s stooge.”

“What I mean, sir, “I said,” Let’s forget the past and bury the hatchet!” “You dig so much as an inch for your hatchet burial job and I won’t be answerable for the consequences!”

I decided that my relations with my landlord could do with a generous dollop of “Entente Cordiale”.

The next morning, I spotted the old buster.

I beg your pardon-the saintly landlord in his front garden squirting whale oil on rose slugs.

“Good morning, sir, “I said with ersatz cheerfulness and wearing a false ingratiating smile, “I want to mend fences with you”

The old man looked up and scowled viciously. “Oh, it’s you snarled out of the corner of his mouth, “speaking of mending fences, when are you going to repair my compound fence that your noisome and pesky children have damaged? I’ve got a good mind to proceed legally and take out a writ of mandamus under section 173 (a) of the Indian code seeking punitive damages!”

I was taken aback by this unexpected turn of events, but I continued to extend the olive branch.

“What I mean, sir, “I said, “Let’s turn over a new leaf!”

“Speaking of leaves,” said the landlord, “how many times have I asked your wife not to sneak into my garden before dawn and steal leaves for her ikebana? I’ll call in the bailiffs from the small cause court and have you both evicted!”

I was close to tears, but I persisted with my peace over tunes”.

“What I mean, sir, “I said,” Let’s forget the past and bury the hatchet!”

“You dig so much as an inch for your hatchet burial job and I won’t be answerable for the consequences!” The landlord vowed grimly.

“What I mean, sir, “I said, “Let’s kiss and make up!”

The landlord looked at me shell shocked as though I had offended his delicate moral scruples and any more ‘double entendre’ dialogue in similar vein and he would have me reported to the censor board for filling criminal charges under the anti-obscenity laws.

I took one last desperate plunge. “What I mean sir, “I said, “I want a new accommodation with you!”

“I’d want a monthly rental of Rs 25,000 and 10 months deposit for any new accommodation, “said the landlord with crushing finality. So it ended in fiasco my maiden essay into “entente cordiale.”