My friend Ben Saldanha of PTI in Panjim filed a report based on my interview; so did Joshi of The Times of India bureau. As a representative of a news agency, Saldanha, of course, had to be objective and he was. As a matter of fact, he would often feed me stories about the other two parties, based on the 'inside' information he had received. He himself couldn't use that information for his news agency, but I could. And whenever I mentioned this 'fact' to my editors, I was told to just let it pass. Now, as the campaign was getting into high gear, another friend L. S. Bhandare, an architect by profession, who represented UNI (United News of India) told me that the United Goans' campaign (workers dashing about in open trucks with loud music and handing out campaign literature) reminded him of elections in London, England. He too drew my attention to how successfully the UG party was appealing to the voters. Convinced But having persuaded myself willfully with auto-suggestion, and having been on a one-track crusade, I remained convinced that Congress would win the day. On the eve of the election, a day of pause in electioneering, I wrote an upbeat story (about three takes) and handed it to Mr. Salkhade, the news editor from Maharashtra. He scanned the intro and set it in the tray of stories for the front page. Then he looked up and said to me, "You know, Kakodkar is going to be the chief minister of Goa." It was about 4 p.m. Something in the tone of his voice gave me pause. Then a wild notion entered my head, a spur-of-the-moment impulse, with no rhyme or reason, a mad folly that sometimes seizes lovers at play. I phoned Kakodkar. "Hello, Purushottam." Although only 28, I was now on first-name basis with him. "Hello Ben." "It's a day of rest for you today. Is everything okay?" "Fine." "I've just finished writing my lead story for the paper tomorrow. Looks like Congress will win with an overwhelming majority. You must be pleased with the campaign. What do you think?" "We have to wait and see," he said in a voice devoid of any emotion, but not exhausted. In this respect, Kakodkar came across as cool and circumspect, a man in full control of his emotions. Mr. Salkhade was busy editing copy at the other end of the newsroom, beyond earshot. That wild notion came rushing again, prompting me to make the pitch, even if it was only hypothetical. "Purushottam, can I ask you something?" "Sure, of course." "You know our paper has been very good to you and the Congress. And I, more than anybody else, have been responsible for all the publicity you've received. Soon you'll become the chief minister of Goa. Now I want to ask you: what will you do for me?" A pause and, "What do you mean?" "What I mean is, if you become the chief minister, can I be your press secretary?" "I can't answer that." "Why not?" "I can't do it."