Child of Spring Read Online Free Page B

add, “I’ll teach you the
Angrezi
alphabet since you are so clever!” Yes, then she’d be sweeter than buttermilk. She’d be as lovely as a motia flower, like the ones blooming in her garden!
    By now the road was bustling with the sights, sounds, and smells of a town up and ready for business. Bicycle and rickshaw bells sent pedestrians scurrying; the peanut man’s singsong cry was sharp and clear: “Peanuts! Hot, hot peanuts!” The sugarcane press cranked out brown juice, the knife grinder’s stone spun sparks, and urchins laughed and played. So many exciting things happened in a busy street.
    But Little Bibi was waiting and there was no time to get distracted.
    I stood at the Big Gate and peered down one end of the road and up the other, calling, “Rickshaw, rickshaw!”
    As if he heard me, Ramu the rickshaw wallah pedaled around the corner, whistling a popular song from a movie. I flagged him down.
    “Looking for a ride, little miss?” Ramu wiped his brow with his head cloth.
    “Little Bibi needs a rickshaw ride to school and we’re paying two rupees for the ride. Take it or leave it,” I told him in my best grown-up voice.
    “
Baap re!
You drive a hard bargain, little sister.”
    “And I suppose with the money you’ll buy a black bead necklace for Rukmani, the chicken thief?” I teased.
    “Arrey baba,”
Ramu sighed. “Pity a poor man. Would you put in a good word for me with Rukmani?”
    I gritted my teeth. Ramu was such a fool. Didn’t he know that in addition to being a chicken thief, Rukmani was a brazen hussy? Didn’t he realize that behind his back she winked at cross-eyed Ganga the Milk Boy precisely because he had a rich father? Lali and I had tried again and again to save Ramu from Rukmani, but he was utterly smitten. The poor man was a fool in love and there was nothing that we could do about it.
    I left Ramu dusting off the seat of his rickshaw with his head cloth and ran back into the Big House. “Little Bibi,” I panted. “Your rickshaw is here! For only two rupees!”
    “You sure took your time!” said my young mistress. She didn’t even thank me for my shrewd bargaining.

Chapter 5

    T he Big House was still and silent. Big Master was at his office and Memsaab was visiting friends in the elegant parts of town.
    I grabbed the hand broom and went into the dining room. The shiny brown tabletop spread out before me; turbaned men in brocade tunics and pearls stared solemnly from gilded frames that hung on the wall.
    I pulled a chair out, dusted the back of my
lengha,
and sank into the seat. How soft the damask was! I drummed my fingers on the table. “Fetch hot rice from the kitchen!” I cried. “Hurry! Hurry!”
    I imagined that Little Bibi was my servant and I was ordering her around. “Hurry up!”
    “Yes, Basanta.”
    “Shoo away the fly!”
    “Right away, Basanta.”
    “
Tch
. Don’t dip your fingertips in the glass!”
    “Very sorry, Basanta.”
    “How many times must you be told? If you talk when you serve, you spit in the food!”
    “A thousand pardons, Basanta!”
    Little Bibi running to my beck and call! It was just too sweet. I stood, patted the seat to erase all telltale traces of my bottom, and rearranged the chair so that it was back to its exact place. Then I picked up the broom and got to work.
    Though my strokes were steady, soft, and low, just the way Amma had shown me, the reeds still sent puffs of dust flying.
Swish … swish … swish.
I swept up rice kernels on the floor in the dining room, dust balls in the hallway, and bobby pins and movie magazines strewn in Memsaab’s room.
Swish … swish … swish.
Through the Red Room and the Green Room I went, and next into the passageway, where the light was dim. The tall mahogany bookcase, filled with very old books with gold lettering, stood against the wall.
    I straightened my back, now a little stiff from bending so much.
Oo Maa!
I was only half done! The clock in the hall struck ten and the sound