And in his left hand he carried a small pot, a ghoti. Wearing a pair of old, pointed nagra shoes, he was walking on the path across this field, heading for that very mountain. I called to him and asked, ‘Where are you going?’ He replied, ‘I don’t know, wherever.’ ‘Why are you going there?’ I enquired. ‘In search of work,’ he answered . . . Achchha Pishemoshai, does work have to be searched for?

Madhabdatta:Indeed it does. So many people go about in search of work.

Amal:Fine. I too shall wander about in search of work.

Madhabdatta:And if you don’t find any?

Amal:If I don’t find any, I’ll search again . . . . And then that man in the nagra shoes went away. I stood at the door, watching him. Over there, where the waterfall descends in a stream beneath the fig tree, he put down his lathi, his bamboo stave, and gently washed his feet in the stream—then, opening his bundle, he took out some chhatu, mashed the dried grain with water and began to eat it. Having eaten, he retied the bundle and heaved it on to his shoulder. Rolling the edge of his loincloth above his ankles, he stepped into the stream and waded across so comfortably . . . . I’ve told Pishima I’ll go and have chhatu beside that waterfall one day.

Madhabdatta:What did Pishima say?

Amal:Pishima said, get well first, then I’ll take you to the waterfall’s edge and feed you some chhatu . . . . When will I get well?

Madhabdatta:It won’t take long now, baba!

Amal:Not long? But as soon as I am well, I shall go away.

Madhabdatta:Where will you go?

Amal:Away I’ll go, wading through so many winding streams, crossing each waterfall in turn—in the afternoon, when everyone is asleep behind closed doors, I’ll be off somewhere, so far away, just wandering about, searching for work.

Madhabdatta:Achchha, get well first, then you . . .

Amal:Then don’t ask me to become a pundit, Pishemoshai!

Madabdatta:Tell me, what do you want to become?

Amal:I can’t think of anything now. Achchha, let me think about it first, and then I’ll tell you.

Madhabdatta:But you must not call out to alien strangers and chat with them, as you did.

Amal:I feel very attracted to strangers from other lands.

Madhabdatta:What if the man had kidnapped you?

Amal:Then it would have been fun. But nobody kidnaps me, after all—everyone just keeps me confined.

Madhabdatta:I have work to do; I’ll be off . . . . But look here baba, don’t go out at all.

Amal:I shan’t. But Pishemoshai, I’ll remain in this room overlooking the street.

2

Enter Dahiwala

Dahiwala:Dahi—dahi—delicious dahi!

Amal:Dahiwala, Dahiwala, O Dahiwala!

Dahiwala:Why do you call? Will you buy some yogurt?

Amal:How can I? I have no money.

Dahiwala:What a strange little boy! If you won’t buy, why waste my time?

Amal:I’d go away with you, if I could.

Dahiwala:With me!

Amal:Yes. Hearing your faraway call as you pass by, I feel a yearning in my heart.

Dahiwala(setting down the bankh for carrying dahi): Baba, why are you sitting here?

Amal:The Kobiraj has forbidden me to step out, so I sit here all day.

Dahiwala:Aha, my child, what is the matter with you?

Amal:I don’t know. I have no education at all, so I don’t know what’s wrong with me . . . Dahiwala, where do you come from?

Dahiwala:From my village.

Amal:Your village? Is your village v-e-r-y far away?

Dahiwala:Our village is way away, beneath the five-peaked mountain, on the edge of the river Shamoli.

Amal:The five-peaked mountain . . . river Shamoli . . . who knows, maybe I’ve seen your village . . . but I can’t remember when.

Dahiwala:You’ve seen it? Did you ever visit that place beneath the mountain, then?

Amal:No, I have never been there. But I feel I have seen it. Your village lies beneath some very old, very tall trees . . . beside a red-earth path. Isn’t it?

Dahiwala:You’re quite right, baba!

Amal:There, on the mountain slope, all the cows are grazing.

Dahiwala:How extraordinary! Quite right. Indeed our village has grazing cows, many of them.

Amal:The women fetch water from the river, carrying it in pots on their heads . . . They wear red saris.

Dahiwala:Wah! Wah! Absolutely true! All the women from the cowherds’ colony fetch water from the river, indeed.