Christianity, Conversion to -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
His eyes frequently sought that part of the house in which he knew were
the women's quarters. The small jealously-shuttered windows gave no
hint of what was passing behind the Venetians. Was Dorama there? Did
she seek for a glimpse of her husband as eagerly as he craved for a
sight of his wife?
He paced up and down, book in hand, his thoughts busy elsewhere. The
luggage was ready in its new form, and it was to be carried off that
very night. In the small hours of the following night he would quietly
slip away, and thus cut himself adrift for ever from the home of his
birth.
Again he searched the landscape. A strong desire to see and speak once
more with his wife lay at the back of his mind. He wanted to tell her
of his plans; to ask her to wait and to beg of her to join him as soon
as he had a shelter to offer her.
He cudgelled his brains for some device by which a message might be
conveyed in safety, and could only think of the sweeper. The pariah
servant had no opportunity, however, of approaching the lady Dorama
within speaking distance. Even if chance favoured the messenger he
would be unable to carry out his mission. At the mere sight of him she
would shrink away with all the prejudice of her caste, and resent the
smallest breach of the caste law. The pariah, by the unwritten law,
could not do otherwise than maintain the prescribed distance between
her and himself. If he dropped a letter in her path or placed it where
she might find it, his contaminating touch would be sufficient for her
avoidance of the missive. Moreover, a written letter was of no use.
She could neither read nor write. His only hope was in a chance
interview, and as the hours slipped by the hope grew fainter.
The following day passed heavily. The luggage was safely removed
without accident. His books and writing materials were gone with the
rest of his property, and he would not see them again till he arrived
at the distant station. He had biscuits with him and some
pomegranates. The sharp sweetness of the juice served to assuage his
thirst.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account