Pramod Mehta The incorrigible friend I last met in 1968 or thereabouts. Tall (not a six-footer like me, though), handsome, with his deceptively innocent good looks, fluent talker who could charm his many friends and acquaintances. Women found him irresistible. His peccadilloes with some of them tended to land me, his constant companion during those heady times, in trouble while he himself walked away smiling mischievously, with me holding the baby as it were, pardon the mixed metaphor.
This promises to be a longish post, but before I proceed further with the story, will Mr Pramod S Mehta, please come forward and let me know where he is today, is he still in Canada where he moved in the1960s? This is a desperate call tohim as I have failed in my attempts so far to trace him.
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