The Complete Short Stories

in the afternoon. Maulvi Sahib had to go to the mela for a nightingale fight. Our happiness was beyond imagination when we heard the news. We had already deposited twelve annas in the bank; with the three and a half annas we could see the fair. There would be a lot of jubilation. We could relish revadis, golgappas, enjoy the rides and reach home in the evening. But Maulvi Sahib had laid down a condition that before school got over every boy had to recite his lesson. Those unable to recite it would not be freed. As a result, I got free but Halder was kept in prison. Many other boys had also recited their lessons, so they all left for the fair. I joined them. The money was with me, so I didn’t wait for Halder. It was decided that once he got free, he would come to the fair and then we would see it together. I had promised him that until he came I would not spend a single paisa. But who knew misfortune was to take such a dramatic turn? More than an hour had passed since I had reached the fair, but Halder was nowhere to be seen. Had Maulvi Sahib still not freed him or had he lost his way to the fair? I was looking at the road with desperate eyes. My heart did not allow me to enjoy the fair alone. There was also the doubt that the theft had been exposed and Uncle had taken Halder home. Finally, when evening set in, I ate a few revadis and kept Halder’s share of the money in my pocket and slowly walked towards home. On my way I thought of visiting the school thinking that Halder may still be there, but it was desolate. However, I met a boy who was playing there. The moment he saw me, he burst out laughing and said, ‘Boy, go home, and you will get a thrashing. Your uncle had come. He beat Halder all the way home. He punched Halder so strongly that he fell flat on his face, and then he dragged him from here till home. You had paid Maulvi Sahib’s salary, but he took even that away. Think of some excuse now, otherwise you will also be beaten up.’

I was petrified. The blood in my body dried up. Things had turned out exactly the way I had feared. My feet had become heavy like a maund. Taking a single step towards home had become difficult. I offered obeisance in the form of laddus, pedas and batashas to all the male and female deities whose names I could remember. When I reached the village, I remembered the village deity, because in our region, the wish of the village deity is of utmost significance.

I did all this but as home kept getting closer, my heartbeat kept rising. It seemed as if the sky would fall on me. I could see people running back to their houses leaving their work behind. Even the cattle were returning home. Birds were flying towards their nests, but I was still walking at the same slow pace, as if there was no strength left in my legs. I wished that I had got high fever or hurt myself but if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride them. Death does not come when you want it to. So what can I say about illness? Nothing happened and despite walking at a slow pace, the house appeared in front of my eyes. What would happen now? There was a big tamarind tree right at our door. I hid behind it so that the sky could turn dark and I could stealthily enter the house and sit underneath the charpoy in my mother’s room. Once everybody was asleep, I would narrate the whole story to her. Mother never beat me. I would cry in front of her so that her heart melted. And nobody would ask further about it once the night ended. By the next morning, everyone’s anger would have faded. If all had gone according to plan, then there was no doubt that I could have emerged innocent. But God had something else in mind. A boy saw me and ran inside the house calling my name incessantly. Now there was no hope for me. I helplessly entered the house, and screamed out suddenly like a beaten-up dog that starts yelping when it sees someone approaching it. My father was in the sitting room. His health had not been good for the last few days. He was on leave. I was not sure what he was suffering from. He mostly ate dal, and in the evening, he drank something in a glass that he kept pouring in from a bottle. Maybe this was a medicine prescribed by an experienced quack. All medicines stink and have a bitter taste. This one was equally bad but I don’t know why my father enjoyed drinking it. When we drank such medicine, we would just close our eyes and gulp it down at once. Maybe the effect of this medicine was felt only when one drank it slowly. A few ‘patients’ from the village would sit with my father and keep drinking for hours. They got up with great difficulty to eat. Even at this hour, they were drinking it. When he saw me he shouted in anger, ‘Where were you till now?’

I answered in a hushed voice, ‘Nowhere.’

‘You are learning to steal now. Tell me, did you steal the rupee?’

I turned dumb. A naked sword was dancing in front of me. I was scared to even utter a word.

Father scolded me severely and then asked, ‘Why aren’t you answering me? Did you steal the rupee or not?’

Putting my life at stake, I answered, ‘I did not—’

Before I could utter the whole sentence, my father assumed a monstrous look. Grinding his teeth, he suddenly got up and, raising his hand, walked towards me. I