I was somewhat in awe of Arthur; he was a few years older than me and already in his second year of formal Sanskrit and Tibetan studies when I arrived a the Sanskrit University in the spring of 1966. He was also gaining knowledge informally from Tarthang Tulku; he was also not averse to throwing off the shackles of academia and enjoying himself in a manner that in later years he renounced to the point of abstinence.
Arthur had a lovely sense of humour, deadpan deliveries in his dry, droll New York City drawl.
I was living in Delhi, summer '68, when I heard that Arthur had been arrested and thrown into Banaras Central Jail. No-one knew quite why; rumours abounded. How terrible! What sufferings might he be enduring? The Horror!
Fortunately, the truth was more benign. In those far off days, us Brits did not need visas and could remain as long as we wanted. American citizens, though, were required to have a tourist visa, one year or less, sometimes renewable. And like many others, Arthur simply stayed on in India after his visa expired.
The Foreigners Registration Police, headed by the redoubtable Superintendent "Hairy Ears" Tripathi, turned pretty much a blind eye to visa irregularities of a few months or so, but Arthur had overstayed by nearly three years and that was a little too much for even the notoriously lazy and corrupt officials. Arthur was put on trial and sentenced to three months in the Central Jail.
When I next saw him I started to commiserate. "Oh Arthur, that must have been terrible".
He gave me his sly East Coast grin, laughed; "Nico, I had a great time there"!
Some context: Westerners, apart from tourists and diplomats, were still rare in India at that time. So Arthur was an instant celebrity amongst the prisoners and soon came to the attention of the boss prisoner, the Chief Goonda (Gangster), the man who ran the jail from the inside.
Who made sure that Arthur had anything he wanted, good food, proper bed, a servant for his dhobi (laundry) and fetch and carry, and above all, protection.
