A little dark boy in his knickers was pestering one of P V Narasimha Rao’spersonal assistants to get him an autograph of his celebrity client in thewaiting room outside Rao’s suite in Bangalore’s Raj Bhavan in July. Theboy’s father, the master masseur, was adding pressure with a supplicatecontortion on his face. The assistant, with a moustache gently rolled up at theedges and a frown that by default encompassed all on Rao’s entourage waspleading helplessness. "He does not like doing all this, he does not listento me, why don’t you let me alone," the assistant was saying in a gruffAndhra voice.