Page 30 - English Class 08

laid flat on the paper. This touch of his own little daughter had been always on his heart, as

he had come year after year to Calcutta to sell his wares in the streets.

Tears came to my eyes. I forgot that he was a poor Cabuli fruit-seller, while I was—. But
no, what was I more than he? He also was a father.
That impression of the hand of his little Parbati in her distant mountain home reminded

me of my own little Mini.

I sent for Mini immediately from the inner apartment. Many difficulties were raised, but
I would not listen. Clad in the red silk of her wedding-day, with the sandal paste on her
forehead, and adorned as a young bride, Mini came, and stood bashfully before me.

The Kabuliwala looked a little staggered at the apparition. He could not revive their old
friendship. At last he smiled and said: “Little one, are you going staggered : very surprised
to your father-in-law’s house?”

But Mini now understood the meaning of the word “father-in-law,” and she could not
reply to him as of old. She flushed up at the question, and stood before him with her bride-
like face turned down.

I remembered the day when the Kabuliwala and my Mini had first met and I felt sad.

When she had gone, Rahmun heaved a deep sigh and sat down on the floor. The idea had
suddenly come to him that his daughter too must have grown in this long time and that he
would have to make friends with her anew. Assuredly he would not find her as he used to
know her. And besides, what might not have happened to her in these eight years?

The marriage-pipes sounded and the mild autumn sun streamed round us. But Rahmun
sat in the little Calcutta lane and saw before him the barren mountains of Afghanistan.

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