the hungry stones and other stories-第23章

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IV

It　was　the　fifth　night　of　the　waning　of　the　moonand　the　night　was　dark。　No　birds　were　singing。　The　lichi　tree　by　the　tank　looked　like　a　smudge　of　ink　on　a　background　a　shade　less　deep。　The　south　wind　was　blindly　roaming　about　in　the　darkness　like　a　sleep…walker。　The　stars　in　the　sky　with　vigilant　unblinking　eyes　were　trying　to　penetrate　the　darkness；　in　their　effort　to　fathom　some　profound　mystery。

No　light　shone　in　the　bedroom。　Hemanta　was　sitting　on　the　side　of　the　bed　next　the　open　window；　gazing　at　the　darkness　in　front　of　him。　Kusum　lay　on　the　floor；　clasping　her　husband's　feet　with　both　her　arms；　and　her　face　resting　on　them。　Time　stood　like　an　ocean　hushed　into　stillness。　On　the　background　of　eternal　night；　Fate　seemed　to　have　painted　this　one　single　picture　for　all　timeannihilation　on　every　side；　the　judge　in　the　centre　of　it；　and　the　guilty　one　at　his　feet。

The　sound　of　slippers　was　heard　again。　Approaching　the　door；　Harihar　Mukerji　said：　〃You　have　had　enough　time；　I　can't　allow　you　more。　Turn　the　girl　out　of　the　house。〃

Kusum；　as　she　heard　this；　embraced　her　husband's　feet　with　all　the　ardour　of　a　lifetime；　covered　them　with　kisses；　and　touching　her　forehead　to　them　reverentially；　withdrew　herself。

Hemanta　rose；　and　walking　to　the　door；　said：　〃Father；　I　won't　forsake　my　wife。〃

〃What！〃　roared　out　Harihar；　〃would　you　lose　your　caste；　sir？〃

〃I　don't　care　for　caste；〃　was　Hemanta's　calm　reply。

〃Then　you　too　I　renounce。〃



THE　CABULIWALLAH

（THE　FRUITSELLER　FROM　CABUL）


My　five　years'　old　daughter　Mini　cannot　live　without　chattering。　　I　really　believe　that　in　all　her　life　she　has　not　wasted　a　minute　in　silence。　　Her　mother　is　often　vexed　at　this；　and　would　stop　her　prattle；　but　I　would　not。　　To　see　Mini　quiet　is　unnatural；　and　I　cannot　bear　it　long。　　And　so　my　own　talk　with　her　is　always　lively。

One　morning；　for　instance；　when　I　was　in　the　midst　of　the　seventeenth　chapter　of　my　new　novel；　my　little　Mini　stole　into　the　room；　and　putting　her　hand　into　mine；　said：　〃Father！　　Ramdayal　the　door…keeper　calls　a　crow　a　krow！　　He　doesn't　know　anything；　does　he？〃

Before　I　could　explain　to　her　the　differences　of　language　in　this　world；　she　was　embarked　on　the　full　tide　of　another　subject。　　〃What　do　you　think；　Father？　　Bhola　says　there　is　an　elephant　in　the　clouds；　blowing　water　out　of　his　trunk；　and　that　is　why　it　rains！〃

And　then；　darting　off　anew；　while　I　sat　still　making　ready　some　reply　to　this　last　saying；　〃Father！　what　relation　is　Mother　to　you？〃

〃My　dear　little　sister　in　the　law！〃　　I　murmured　involuntarily　to　myself；　but　with　a　grave　face　contrived　to　answer：　〃Go　and　play　with　Bhola；　Mini！　　I　am　busy！〃

The　window　of　my　room　overlooks　the　road。　　The　child　had　seated　herself　at　my　feet　near　my　table；　and　was　playing　softly；　drumming　on　her　knees。　I　was　hard　at　work　on　my　seventeenth　chapter；　where　Protrap　Singh；　the　hero；　had　just　caught　Kanchanlata；　the　heroine；　in　his　arms；　and　was　about　to　escape　with　her　by　the　third　story　window　of　the　castle；　when　all　of　a　sudden　Mini　left　her　play；　and　ran　to　the　window；　crying；　〃A　Cabuliwallah！　a　Cabuliwallah！〃　　Sure　enough　in　the　street　below　was　a　Cabuliwallah；　passing　slowly　along。　　He　wore　the　loose　soiled　clothing　of　his　people；　with　a　tall　turban；　there　was　a　bag　on　his　back；　and　he　carried　boxes　of　grapes　in　his　hand。

I　cannot　tell　what　were　my　daughter's　feelings　at　the　sight　of　this　man；　but　she　began　to　call　him　loudly。　　〃Ah！〃　　I　thought；　〃he　will　come　in；　and　my　seventeenth　chapter　will　never　be　finished！〃　　At　which　exact　moment　the　Cabuliwallah　turned；　and　looked　up　at　the　child。　　When　she　saw　this；　overcome　by　terror；　she　fled　to　her　mother's　protection；　and　disappeared。　　She　had　a　blind　belief　that　inside　the　bag；　which　the　big　man　carried；　there　were　perhaps　two　or　three　other　children　like　herself。　　The　pedlar　meanwhile　entered　my　doorway；　and　greeted　me　with　a　smiling　face。

So　precarious　was　the　position　of　my　hero　and　my　heroine；　that　my　first　impulse　was　to　stop　and　buy　something；　since　the　man　had　been　called。　　I　made　some　small　purchases；　and　a　conversation　began　about　Abdurrahman；　the　Russians；　she　English；　and　the　Frontier　Policy。

As　he　was　about　to　leave；　he　asked：　〃And　where　is　the　little　girl；　sir？〃

And　I；　thinking　that　Mini　must　get　rid　of　her　false　fear；　had　her　brought　out。

She　stood　by　my　chair；　and　looked　at　the　Cabuliwallah　and　his　bag。　　He　offered　her　nuts　and　raisins；　but　she　would　not　be　tempted；　and　only　clung　the　closer　to　me；　with　all　her　doubts　increased。

This　was　their　first　meeting。

One　morning；　however；　not　many　days　later；　as　I　was　leaving　the　house；　I　was　startled　to　find　Mini；　seated　on　a　bench　near　the　door；　laughing　and　talking；　with　the　great　Cabuliwallah　at　her　feet。　　In　all　her　life；　it　appeared；　my　small　daughter　had　never　found　so　patient　a　listener；　save　her　father。　　And　already　the　corner　of　her　little　sari　was　stuffed　with　almonds　and　raisins；　the　gift　of　her　visitor；　〃Why　did　you　give　her　those？〃　　I　said；　and　taking　out　an　eight…anna　bit；　I　handed　it　to　him。　　The　man　accepted　the　money　without　demur；　and　slipped　it　into　his　pocket。

Alas；　on　my　return　an　hour　later；　I　found　the　unfortunate　coin　had　made　twice　its　own　worth　of　trouble！　　For　the　Cabuliwallah　had　given　it　to　Mini；　and　her　mother　catching　sight　of　the　bright　round　object；　had　pounced　on　the　child　with：　〃Where　did　you　get　that　eight…anna　bit？　〃

〃The　Cabuliwallah　gave　it　me；〃　said　Mini　cheerfully。

〃The　Cabuliwallah　gave　it　you！〃　cried　her　mother　much　shocked。　　〃Oh；

Mini！　　how　could　you　take　it　from　him？〃

I；　entering　at　the　moment；　saved　her　from　impending　disaster；　and　proceeded　to　make　my　own　inquiries。

It　was　not　the　first　or　second　time；　I　found；　that　the　two　had　met。　　The　Cabuliwallah　had　overcome　the　child's　first　terror　by　a　judicious　bribery　of　nuts　and　almonds；　and　the　two　were　now　great　friends。

They　had　many　quaint　jokes；　which　afforded　them　much　amusement。　　Seated　in　front　of　him；　looking　down　on　his　gigantic　frame　in　all　her　tiny　dignity；　Mini　would　ripple　her　face　with　laughter；　and　begin：　〃O　Cabuliwallah；　Cabuliwallah；　what　have　you　got　in　your　bag？〃

And　he　would　reply；　in　the　nasal　accents　of　the　mountaineer：　〃An　elephant！〃　　Not　much　cause　for　merriment；　perhaps；　but　how　they　both　enjoyed　the　witticism！　　And　for　me；　this　child's　talk　with　a　grown…up　man　had　always　in　it　something　strangely　fascinating。

Then　the　Cabuliwallah；　not　to　be　behindhand；　would　take　his　turn：　〃Well；　little　one；　and　when　are　you　going　to　the　father…in…law's　house？〃

Now　most　small　Bengali　maidens　have　heard　long　ago　about　the　father…in…law's　house；　but　we；　being　a　little　new…fangled；　had　kept　these　things　from　our　child；　and　Mini　at　this　question　must　have　been　a　trifle　bewildered。　　But　she　would　not　show　it；　and　with　ready　tact　replied：　〃Are　you　going　there？〃

Amongst　men　of　the　Cabuliwallah's　class；　however；　it　is　well　known　that　the　words　father…in…law's　house　have　a　double　meaning。　　It　is　a　euphemism　for　jail；　the　place　where　we　are　well　cared　for；　at　no　expense　to　ourselves。　　In　this　sense　would　the　sturdy　pedlar　take　my　daughter's　question。　〃Ah；〃　he　would　say；　shaking　his　fist　at　an　invisible　policeman；　〃I　will　thrash　my　father…in…law！〃　　Hearing　this；　and　picturing　the　poor　discomfited　relative；　Mini　would　go　off　into　peals　of　laughter；　in　which　her　formidable　friend　would　join。

These　were　autumn　mornings；　the　very　time　of　year　when　kings　of　old　went　forth　to　conquest；　and　I；　never　stirring　from　my　little　corner　in　Calcutta；　would　let　my　mind　wander　over　the　whole　world。　　At　the　very　name　of　another　country；　my　heart　would　go　out　to　it；　and　at　the　sight　of　a　foreigner　in　the　streets；　I　would　fall　to　weaving　a　network　of　dreams；　the　mountains；　the　glens；　and　the　forests　of　his　distant　home；　with　his　cottage　in　its　setting；　and　the　free　and　independent　life　of　far…away　wilds。　　Perhaps　the　scenes　of　travel　conjure　themselves　up　before　me；　and　pass　and　repass　in　my　imagination　all　the　more　vividly；　because　I　lead　such　a　vegetable　existence；　that　a　call　to　travel　would　fall　upon　me　like　a　thunderbolt。　　In　the　presence　of　this　Cabuliwallah；　I　was　immediately　transported　to　the　foot　of　arid　mountain　peaks；　with　narrow　little　defiles　twisting　in　and　out　amongst　their　towering　heights。　　I　could　see　the　string　of　camels　bearing　the　merchandise；　and　the　company　of　turbaned　merchants；　carrying　some　of　their　queer　old　firearms；　and　some　of　their　spears；　journeying　downward　towards　the　plains。　　I　could　seebut　at　some　such　point　Mini's　mother　would　intervene；　imploring　me　to　〃beware　of　that　man。〃

Mini's　mother　is　unfortunately　a　very　timid　lady。　　Whenever　she　hears　a　noise　in　the　street；　or　sees　people　coming　towards　the　house；　she　always　jumps　to　the　conclusion　that　they　are　either　thieves；　or　drunkards；　or　snakes；　or　tigers；　or　malaria　or　cockroaches；　or　caterpillars；　or　an　English　sailor。　　Even　after　all　these　years　of　experience；　she　is　not　able　to　overcome　her　terror。　　So　she　was　full　of　doubts　about　the　Cabuliwallah；　and　used　to　beg　me　to　keep　a　watchful　eye　on　him。

I　tried　to　laugh　her　fear　gently　away；　but　then　she　would　turn　round　on　me　seriously；　and　ask　me　solemn　questions。

Were　children　never　kidnapped？

Was　it；　then；　not　true　that　there　was　slavery　in　Cabul？

Was　it　so　very　absurd　that　this　big　man　should　be　able　to　carry　off　a　tiny　child？

I　urged　that；　though　not　impossible；　it　was　highly　improbable。　　But　this　was　not　enough；　and　her　dread　persisted。　　As　it　was　indefinite；　however；　it　did　not　seem　right　to　forbid　the　man　the　house；　and　the　intimacy　went　on　unchecked。

Once　a　year　in　the　middle　of　January　Rahmun；　the　Cabuliwallah；　was　in　the　habit　of　returning　to　his　country；　and　as　the　time　approached　he　would　be　very　busy；　going　from　house　to　house　collecting　his　debts。　This　year；　however；　he　could　always　find　time　to　come　and　see　Mini。　　It　would　have　seemed　to　an　outsider　that　there　was　some　conspiracy　between　the　two；　for　when　he　could　not　come　in　the　morning；　he　would　appear　in　the　evening。

Even　to　me　it　was　a　little　startling　now　and　then；　in　the　corner　of　a　dark　room；　suddenly　to　surprise　this　tall；　loose…garmented；　much　bebagged　man；　but　when　Mini　would　run　in　smiling；　with　her；　〃O！　Cabuliwallah！　Cabuliwallah！〃　and　the　two　friends；　so　far　apart　in　age；　would　subside　into　their　old　laughter　and　their　old　jokes；　I　felt　reassured。

One　morning；　a　few　days　before　he　had　made　up　his　mind　to　go；　I　was　correcting　my　proof　sheets　in　my　study。　　It　was　chilly　weather。　　Through　the　window　the　rays　of　the　sun　touched　my　feet；　and　the　slight　warmth　was　very　welcome。　　It　was　almost　eight　o'clock；　and　the　early　pedestrians　were　returning　home；　with　their　heads　covered。　　All　at　once；　I　heard　an　uproar　in　the　street；　and；　looking　out；　saw　Rahmun　being　led　away　bound　between　two　policemen；　and　behind　them　a　crowd　of　curious　boys。　　There　were　blood…stains　on　the　clothes　of　the　Cabuliwallah；　and　one　of　the　policemen　carried　a　knife。　　Hurrying　out；　I　stopped　them；　and　enquired　what　it　all　meant。　　Partly　from　one；　partly　from　another；　I　gathered　that　a　certain　neighbour　had　owed　the　pedlar　something　for　a　Rampuri　shawl；　but　had　falsely　denied　having　bought　it；　and　that　in　the　course　o