Page 24 - English Class 08

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
chattering : talk quickly for a long time
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?”

With a grave face I contrived to say: “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 Pratap 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 Kabuliwala! A
Kabuliwala!” Sure enough in the
street below was a Kabuliwala

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
Do you like dry fruits?

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