In the Shadow of a Dream Read Online Free Page B

predicted. He was four when Girja Devi died. Her ashes were taken by her son to Benares, to be blessed and scattered on the River Ganges. Six months after his return the boy was handed over to the care of a childless Bhil woman, who once a week called at Sujata’s house to sort the wheat grains before milling it into flour. But the lazy, self-indulgent Sujata was not entirely without a conscience. When Bal was six, she sought to allay her feelings of guilt.
    ‘Bal!’ she called. ‘Now listen well. You are six. Old enough to herd cattle for grazing by the river. Soon it will earn you good money. Then you can help Daadi. She’s been good to you. Made sacrifices for you. But she is old and poor. You owe her a lot. I’ve arranged to have Jaswant, the herdsman, teach you his trade. He’s also old. Maybe in ten, twelve years, you can do his job.’
    The boy nodded but said nothing. He understood what she said and intuitively knew he was facing another time of abandonment and hardship. Fear of the unknown gripped him and made his tiny body tremble. But he refused to plead or cry. He was not going to let Sujata or anyone else see him cry. His helplessness and dependence on adults angered him and hardened the look with which he stared back at Sujata.
    ‘How dare you look at me like that? Where’s my cane. I’ll thrash the life out of you! You, you ungrateful dog!’ The boy ran to the old woman as Sujata tried to jump out of bed, slipped and fell heavily on her ample bottom. The old woman covered her face and tried in vain to hide her giggling with that part of her sari which went over her head and shoulder. Like women of her tribe the sari below her waist was tied like a man’s dhoti. It was this part of the garment the boy clung to, as he took shelter behind her.
    ‘Hai rey ! Bala,’ cried the old woman in alarm. ‘Don’t pull my dhoti !’
    ‘Control yourself, woman!’ Sujata shouted breathlessly and, raising herself with difficulty, she sat down heavily on her charpoy. ‘Take this fan. Fan me. What’s this? Still grinning? Laughing at me? How dare you? It’s not funny.’
    ‘I do not laugh at you, my queen!’ The old Bhil peasant woman lifted her hands in placation and drawing near the cot, fanned urgently. ‘The boy made me laugh. What the boy was doing made me laugh. Another pull at my dhoti and I would have been naked as a langur . Please, don’t be angry. The child means no disrespect…see he smiles. No, no, not to insult you. He is smiling because he understood what I said about my being naked as a monkey.’
    ‘Shut your mouth! Besharam . Have you no shame? Speaking like that in front of the boy. Naked like a monkey, huh! And I don’t care what you say. I think he is laughing at me. Give me that fan. Slap his face for me.’
    ‘No, no my Rani, pity the poor motherless child. See those eyes…those so lovely large brown eyes of his?’
    ‘Hush, Daadi, don’t say that. You will cast the evil eye. Nazar . I know how much you love the boy, but always better to say something negative. Never praise. At least, not to his face. As I said, you will cast the evil eye.’
    The old woman rolled her head in solemn agreement. ‘I shall throw some salt and chillies into the fire, before I cook my meal. That will remove the evil eye.’
    ‘Yes, do that as soon as you can.’ Sujata stared at the boy. The boy stared back with stern disapproval. ‘See, that Daadi . Just see!’ screamed Sujata. ‘That look he’s giving me? Don’t tell me that’s not defiance.’
    The old woman put on a stern expression. Shaking the boy, she turned him around and gave him a gentle push. ‘Go. Go out and play. Soon you will have no time for play. Make the most of it. See those boys there. Join them. They’re playing gilly-danda. ’
    ‘They won’t let me play,’ said the boy sullenly, ‘and I don’t know the game.’
    ‘Go, then, watch. It’s nothing. That small piece of wood, which is pointed at both ends, that’s