India -- History -- Autonomy and independence movements -- Fiction
Amulya also fixed his gaze on me. Though not my own mother's
child, yet the dear lad is brother to me; for mother is mother
all the world over. With his guileless face, his gentle eyes,
his innocent youth, he looked at me. And I, a woman--of his
mother's sex--how could I hand him poison, just because he asked
for it?
"The money, Queen!" Sandip's insolent demand rang in my ears.
For very shame and vexation I felt I wanted to fling that gold at
Sandip's head. I could hardly undo the knot of my __sari__,
my fingers trembled so. At last the paper rolls dropped on the
table.
Sandip's face grew black ... He must have thought that the rolls
were of silver ... What contempt was in his looks. What utter
disgust at incapacity. It was almost as if he could have struck
me! He must have suspected that I had come to parley with him,
to offer to compound his claim for five thousand rupees with a
few hundreds. There was a moment when I thought he would snatch
up the rolls and throw them out of the window, declaring that he
was no beggar, but a king claiming tribute.
"Is that all?" asked Amulya with such pity welling up in his
voice that I wanted to sob out aloud. I kept my heart tightly
pressed down, and merely nodded my head. Sandip was speechless.
He neither touched the rolls, nor uttered a sound.
My humiliation went straight to the boy's heart. With a sudden,
feigned enthusiasm he exclaimed: "It's plenty. It will do
splendidly. You have saved us." With which he tore open the
covering of one of the rolls.
The sovereigns shone out. And in a moment the black covering
seemed to be lifted from Sandip's countenance also. His delight
beamed forth from his features. Unable to control his sudden
revulsion of feeling, he sprang up from his seat towards me.
What he intended I know not. I flashed a lightning glance
towards Amulya--the colour had left the boy's face as at the
stroke of a whip. Then with all my strength I thrust Sandip from
me. As he reeled back his head struck the edge of the marble
table and he dropped on the floor. There he lay awhile,
motionless. Exhausted with my effort, I sank back on my seat.
Amulya's face lightened with a joyful radiance. He did not even
turn towards Sandip, but came straight up, took the dust of my
feet, and then remained there, sitting on the floor in front of
me. O my little brother, my child! This reverence of yours is
the last touch of heaven left in my empty world! I could contain
myself no longer, and my tears flowed fast. I covered my eyes
with the end of my __sari__, which I pressed to my face with
both my hands, and sobbed and sobbed. And every time that I felt
on my feet his tender touch trying to comfort me my tears broke
out afresh.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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