jaywritings

[jaywritings]

Just a Story

It was a bright, fresh day with a crystal-clear sky and a lovely breeze, adding to the beautiful view of the snowy peaked mountains towering in front of me.

Not that I like mountains much. I usually prefer seas. But it was impossible to not enjoy this moment.

The road too was beautiful- endless and empty, that emptiness which

comes with a peaceful silence.

Emptiness…until.

A shop in the middle of the endless empty road.

I walked up to it cautiously. For some unknown reason, I expected it to be empty. Walking in without any preamble seemed quite natural and ordinary.

It was a pottery shop, apparently.

They were beautiful pots.

I opened the glass door and walked in. There were pots of all colours, from a bright yellow to a dull grey, but still endearing to look at.

“Well, so what do we have here?”

I started, and looked around.

It was a woman, in her sixties. She was in good shape for an old woman. A tall, thin woman with a slightly lined face and short spiky grey hair.

Short spiky grey hair.

I liked her at once.

“I am so sorry.”, I apologized, “I should not have barged in like that, er, should have knocked.”

“That’s more than alright. And please don’t be so formal. It’s been – a long time since someone came here. Thirty years, I think.”

I stared at her.

“Pardon, but, that can’t be true. This is a regular tourist place, people come by here all the time. And get attracted by the merchandise in your shop.”, I added, admiring a shiny blue clay pot with fine intricate yellow designs on it.

The woman looked quite puzzled.

“Shop? Oh, this is not a shop, my dear. More of a…. house. I live here.”

I felt myself flushing red. How come everybody who passed by here took it for a house and then comes along the genius me and took it for an empty shop?

“Oh,”, I said in a small voice, “That’s why they don’t come in.”

“Yes,”, said the woman in an amused voice, “Many few people take it for a shop.”

“I was fooled by all the pottery display,”, I mumbled, “I thought – they were for sale.”

The woman laughed – a clear ringing laugh.

“Oh no,”, she dimpled, ‘no amount of money will take away my pots from me.”

“Sure,” I said desperately. Suddenly, I didn’t like the cosy little shop – sorry, house anymore.

“I better go now.”, I said, “It’s getting late…for lunch.”

The woman slightly cocked her head on one side and smiled.

“It’s been such a long time. Thirty whole years. Won’t you stay a little longer?”

“No, ma’am. I really should go.”

“Very well, then.”, she said slowly, “But will you visit me again?”

“Yeah, sure, anything.”, I said, backing to the door, “Goodbye, Mrs- “

I looked at her questioningly.

“Miss Carter.”, she replied, smiling.

“Oh-Goodbye then, Miss Carter. I am Jay. Jay Carrey.”

[jaywritings]

A Humorous Dinner

“It has been two years,” said George, “since I had taken up the profession of a physician, and I have no intention in denying that these two years were the most humorous in my life.”

“Whatever for?”, said Tom in surprise, trying to slice his soup instead of his beef, and not even realizing it.

“Tom, that’s your soup.”, I reminded him.

Tom glanced at his soup and the steak-knife in surprise.

“Well, I have been slicing my soup.”, he said most sensibly.

We were sitting around the dining table for dinner, (we, that is to say - my brother Tom, his friend George Wilkins, and me.)

George was a tall fellow with a black bushy moustache and small twinkling black eyes. His short black hair was parted neatly in the middle and it clashed marvelously with his black suit and trousers with shiny black shoes. He was a celebrated physician around these areas nowadays; his name has steadily aroused since last year, and it was quite a mystery to us how Tom had ended up being friends with someone like George.

“So, what were we talking about before Jay interrupted us?”, exclaimed Tom loudly, “Ah, yes, I remember. So, George, what did you find so funny about?”

George took his time by taking a small sip of water and beamed at Tom and me. “Well, take a Scottish gentleman I had met some few weeks ago. Tall as a giraffe, with a pince-nez dropping from his nose every second or two. Anyways, he marched into my office with his head high and an unmistakable proud personality. Had back pain, according to him and demanded a solution to get rid of it. God knows how he marched into my office like that if he had back pain, I thought. Well I got that answered soon enough, when I did a quick checkup and found out that there was nothing wrong with him; must have had a small poke on the back somewhere and gone over the moon about it. Then I started explaining the matter to him very thoroughly and patiently, and to my astonishment he begged me to stop for a moment. Then, out came a recorder from his pocket and he ordered me to start again. Said that he doesn’t understand anything doctors say, got a son home to explain all about it to him.”

“You are not serious!”, cried Tom with mirth.

“I wonder what the son had to say when he heard what I had to say in his recorder.”, said George, chuckling.

“Tell us more.���, I pleaded.

“I have lots like these, don’t worry.”, he said good-naturedly, “We will be here all night if I have to recount every one of them. Let me tell you about that gentleman from Verona, you will like that one.”

“We are all ears.”, said Tom.

“So,” started George, “One day, I had just dismissed one of my patients and cried “Next!”, when in came a fellow, spinning like a top. Next, he progressed to circling around the office like a lunatic, before I stopped him and offered him a glass of water. ‘Now, dear sir,’ I told him kindly, ‘Whatever’s the matter with you?’ ‘It’s my head.’, he replied to this, ‘it’s been spinning like mad since morning, doctor, and I have been forced to circle round and round like a merry-go-round with it.’”

Tom and I bursted out laughing at this story, and George joined in. Tom wiped the tears from his eyes, and gasped, “Now George, you are making this up.”

“No, I am not.”, smiled George, “I had no idea people like him do exist, I can assure you. And he is not the least, I had once met a woman to rival Mabel.”

We stopped laughing abruptly.

“Mabel?”, said Tom thoughtfully, “You mean the postmaster’s daughter?”

“The very same.”, replied George, “She was remarkable at forgetting, and so was my patient.”

“What happened?”, I asked him eagerly.

“She was a well-dressed woman, had a fair bit of money, judging by her jewelry. I had asked her the matter, and she replied, ‘Well doctor, I do have a disease that has been bothering me for some time, since when it’s impossible to recollect.’ ‘Quite understandable,’ I had said, ‘Do continue.’

It was then that she had started looking a bit uncomfortable.

‘You see I forgot which disease I have, doctor.’, she told me. I was rather taken aback. ‘Oh.’, I said, ‘Well—’

‘I had written it down,’ she continued, and I felt a small ray of hope, ‘but I had kept it in my bag, and now I have forgotten to bring my bag along with me.’

We stared at each other.

‘Perhaps you remember something? It’s impossible for me to suggest every disease in the world.’, I said rather foolishly.

‘Well, doctor, I can say that the disease starts and ends with the same alphabet, the third word comes right after the second word in the alphabet, the fourth and fif—’ ‘How come you remember all of these and yet forget the name of the disease concerned?’, I asked her exasperatedly.

The woman flushed slightly. You see doctor, I am particularly good in English, and I remember every grammar rule possible, even if I read them only once, but you won’t count me for remembering anything else.’

‘That’s very creditable.’, I said politely, ‘perhaps you can call up one of your family members to enlighten us a bit?’

The woman brightened up, then pouted. ‘I forgot my phone.’, she said querulously, ‘And I can’t use anybody’s phones but mine’s because I am hopeless at remembering numbers.’

‘Do you have amnesia, or what?”, I said exasperatedly, and to my surprise, she jumped in her seat joyfully. ‘Amnesia!’ she cried, ‘I have amnesia!’’

Tom was off his seat now; he was laughing so hard. I was chuckling merrily too, so was George, until he caught sight of the clock. “Heavens, it’s eleven; I must dash.” He picked up his coat, and we stood too.

“Why don’t you come along every Sunday dinner George?”, chuckled Tom, “We will have a fine time.”

“We shall see soon enough.”, grinned George, “See you Tom, Jay. I have my job waiting for me tomorrow morning!”

[jaywritings]

Review_of_Planet_of_Troy

Review of ‘Planet of Troy’

‘Planet of Troy’ by author DG Bonnie is a pleasurable mix of science fiction, philosophy, adventure, friendship and love; the book doesn’t consist of one dull moment.

The story itself is easy enough to understand even with the continuous flow of the book; the adventurous parts are most thrilling and interesting.

All characters, major or minor are very interesting to read and study; the author does the book more credit by making the characters so real.

The plot, also, is marvellous - a thrilling war between two planets, the marvellous idea of using animals and birds to assist in the mission, and so more.

The flashbacks in the book also add to the interest and melancholy in the reader, it makes you feel closer to the book and helps you to be a part in the feelings of the character.

To add a final and special touch, the book is definitely worth a read; with its adventurous thrills, marvellous ideas coming from the smallest observation, true friendship, the travel of the reader through the personalities of all characters, and most importantly – determination, courage and confidence portrayed from all sides of the book.

[jaywritings]

In the break of dawn, when the rays of the sun were flitting through the window panes, and a cool breeze was roaming all about the place, Johnny shoved off his blanket and stared blearily into space.

[jaywritings]

School Memories - 2) Miss Regina

Miss Regina was our Biology teacher. She was a short, dumpy sort of woman, with thin brown hair and a round pink face. She was a really good teacher, and I liked her classes even though I don’t like Biology much, but her only problem was that she started jumping when she gets to a critical part of a chapter. That made paying concentration to the real thing a bit, well, tough, but who cares about the real thing, anyways?

[jaywritings]

School Memories - (1) Ms Polly

Ms Polly’s maths class was probably the most eventful class in the whole of the seventh grade. She would greet us first with a curt ‘Good Afternoon’, flashing us all a heart-warming frown and order us to sit down. She would then take a quarter of an hour to arrange all her materials, during which we would all whisper loudly, and when you have just been caught in an extremely interesting subject by one of your classmates, she will clear her throat loudly, give the duster a sharp rap on the table and glare at us over her thick pink spectacles. “Yesterday’s homework.”, she will say acidly, and those who haven’t done it will know that they are in trouble and grimace to themselves. She will walk among the benches, snatching the copies from her student’s hands and the toppers will all stand up proudly and give theirs with a lot of drama by saying ‘Please ma’am’, and ‘Thank you ma’am’, flashing a smug smile to those clutching their ears for not doing their homeworks, and finally sit down clearing their throats loudly. Having collected all the copies, Ms Polly would keep them with a loud ‘thump’ on the table, and it is now, with twenty minutes left to the class that she will start the actual teaching.

“Page 124.”, she will say as she scoops up a piece of chalk from the drawer and heads towards the blackboard.

Everybody will glance around the class once and then proceed to doing as directed.

“How much noise does it take to open a page?”, she will bark at all the rustling and fluttering.

“Done ma’am!”, someone will yell.

“Did I ask you, Tom?”, will come the reply.

When we all will at last settle down, (with fifteen minutes to spare), she will again clear her throat, and write on the blackboard in capital letter – PG 124, ALGEBRA, then on the other side – 24/7/20. (14 minutes to spare)

“Write this.”, she will say, underlining the six words she had written so far, and gazing at us imperiously.

The first minute she will look at us stiffly, occasionally barking at us to do our work quietly. The next three minutes will be spent on drinking water and chatting with some teachers who are passing by. Then, she will say, “What takes you so long to finish six words?” We will all keep quiet and glance at each other. (10 minutes)

Then, she will glance at her own book and stare at it for a whole of five minutes, deciding which sum to give. Then she will jerk her head up. (5 minutes left.)

She says, “Exercise 12 A – H to be done in homework.”, she will say. “For now…any doubts?”

And the next five minutes will be spent on doubts, and then the bell will ring, and she will head out of the classroom, shouting in a ringing voice, “I will expect tomorrow’s homework to be done by everybody!”

P.S I WANNA GO BACK SCHOOL

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[jaywritings]

A STRANGE PUNISHMENT

A Strange Punishment

“Sir, Bhola is making faces at me!”

“No Sir! I was only scratching my ear, that’s why my face was looking like so.”

The teacher was in the middle of a nap, he kept his eyes closed and murmured, “Keep quiet! Up to tricks all the time! Stand up!”

Everyone was quiet for about a minute. Then again –

“Hey! Why are you not standing up?” “Why will I stand up?”, came the reply.

“Why, you were told to stand up. Sir said so.”

“Yeah, anything! Sir definitely did not tell me to stand up. Ask Gansha. Hey Gansha, did sir ask me to stand up?”

Gansha was not a very bright boy. He slowly heads toward the teacher and calls out, “Sir, Sir!”

The teacher gets irritated. “What is it?”, he snaps.

Gansha started very apprehensively, “Whom did you ask to stand up, sir?

The teacher glares at Gansha with small eyes. He shrieks sharply, “I told you. Stand up.” He goes off to sleep again.

Gansha remained standing – Again everybody was quiet for a minute. Suddenly Bhola exclaimed, “Wasn’t he asked to stand in one leg?”

Gansha said, “Sir said nothing of that sort, he just said ‘Stand’.”

Bishu, another boy, exclaimed, “Sir pointed with one finger, meaning you have to stand in one leg.”

Gansha cannot deny that the teacher had indeed pointed at him with one finger.

Bishu and Bhola started nagging, “Immediately stand up in one leg, or else I am complaining.”

Poor Gansha got terrified, so he stood in one leg.

Immediately, Bhola and Bishu started quarrelling between themselves, one says he should stand in the right leg, the other says he should stand in the left leg. Gansha was quite in a fix! He again asked the teacher, “Sir, which leg?”

The teacher at that time was snoring very loudly, in another world. Ganesh’s question jerked him suddenly out of his dreamland, with the result that he got in a violent fit of coughing. Gansha did not expect such a reply to his quite simple question, he gasped, “Oh dear, what will happen now?”

Bhola shrieked, “Bring water.”

Bishu shrieked, “Pour it on the head.”

Gansha immediately brought forth a pitcher brimming with water from somewhere, and poured it out neatly on the teacher’s head.

The teacher stopped coughing immediately, but his expression made the pitcher in Gansha’s hands tremble with anticipation.

Everybody was quite grim and serious in fear, it was only Shyamlal, whose face was naturally a bit happy-go-lucky type, he couldn’t help smiling. All of the teacher’s anger went towards him. He roared at Shyamlal, “Come here!” Shyamlal sobbed, “What did I do, sir? It was Gansha who poured the water!”

The teacher was a good-natured person, he left Shyamlal and turned towards Gansha. He noticed the pitcher in Gansha’s hands.

Gansha did not wait for any question, he said, “It was Bhola, sir, he told me.”

Bhola exclaimed, “I only told him to bring water. Bishu told him to pour it on the head.”

Bishu exclaimed, “Did I tell him to pour it on sir’s head? He should have poured it on his own head, would have had a clearer head.”

The teacher glared at everybody for a while, then pronounced, “Fine! I am letting you all go, you are kids after all. But, beware, never repeat this again.”

Everybody sighed in relief, but why Sir suddenly turned so soft, nobody found out. God knows what prank he remembered from his own childhood. Illustrated from Bengali short story ‘Ajob Shaja’, written by Sukumar Ray

[jaywritings]

[jaywritings]

A room without books is like a body without a soul.......

Marcus Tullius Cicero

[jaywritings]

Review of 'The Night Train at Deoli and Other Stories' by Ruskin Bond

‘The Night Train at Deoli and Other Stories’ is a simply superb collection of some of Rusty’s short stories; each chapter is of an interesting and entirely different matter, thus, never having a bored reader. From a new and fresh friendship with Koki in ‘The Window’, to a complete spine-thriller in ‘A Face in the Night’, Rusty progresses to anecdotes; ‘Panther’s Moon’, ‘Bus Stop, Pipalnagar’, and ‘Sita and the River’ are simply a pleasure to read; your imagination runs high and you travel from one world to another. The story ‘The Eyes have it’ keeps you stunned for some moments after finishing the story, (and your mouth is a complete ‘O’), then the ‘The Woman on Platform 8’ leaves you in a complete mystery, ‘The Monkeys’ gets you caught awestruck, and ‘A Prospect of Flowers’ leaves you mesmerised, and so, so more!

Lastly, I would advise you to read this book, and why only this, there are hundreds of Rusty’s books brimming in bookstores; and even better, several of these hundreds of books are free in Kindle; you have just to choose one and enjoy!

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[jaywritings]

Review of 'Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini.

I just finished ‘The Kite Runner’ by Khaled Hosseini. It was great.

The story starts with the friendship of two boys – Hassan and Amir; (the latter is the storyteller.) Amir talks about what he feels about his surroundings, how he thinks he is a disappointment to his father, what he feels about his friendship with Hassan, and his passion in kite flying. While Amir was an excellent kite-flyer, Hassan was an excellent kite-runner. Somehow Hassan could sense where a cut kite was going to land, so he would run to that place beforehand, and by some strange magic, the kite would exactly come into his hands. Amir was often flabbergasted at this, and depended on Hassan to get him the last cut kite of the tournament.

Then suddenly, in the winter of 1975, the Russians invaded Afghan, forcing Amir and his father to flee to America. They long had no news of Hassan and his father, Ali; (Ali, who had stayed with Amir’s father for forty years as a loyal and humble servant), since they both had already long left Amir and his father before the Russians invaded due to a tragic event.

Amir and his father goes to America, where Amir graduates from high school at the age of twenty, and makes his father proud. He decides to take a career in writing, and was quite successful. He marries Soraya Taheri, and leads fifteen happy years of a married life. After some days, Amir’s father dies due to cancer.

After that, starts the most exciting part of the book. Rahim Khan, the same friend of his father, whom Amir had favoured so much, calls Amir, and tells him that he was very ill and would like to see him. Amir decides to head to Peshawar to meet Rahim Khan. Afghanistan was then under Taliban rule, and in destruction.

Rahim Khan tells Amir that he was dying, and would like to tell him everything about Hassan; what happened after he left Amir and his father, who he really was. Here comes a short spinner.

From then, it’s all about adventure, horror, thrills, guilt, shock. The ending was awesome. If you haven’t read it, do read it, since it’s a definite read. Happy Reading!

[jaywritings]

The Magical Talisman

~ Translation of Lila Majumder's Bengali short story 'Shorboneshe Maduli'

When school reopened after the summer vacation, we were all flabbergasted to see Gupe, our friend, come to school with a talisman tied to his right arm. It was tied a little over the elbow, the shining spotless talisman, with the help of a dirty red thread. At first I thought it was made of gold, it was so shiny, but later Gupe informed me that it was made of lead. It had turned all shiny due to sweat, he said.

During lunch break I asked him, “What is it for, Gupe?”. In reply he told the most absurd story ever.

Apparently, when his grandfather was his age, one morning he woke up and found a bright, shining, pure black feather of a crow under his pillow. At first, he was tremendously happy. He felt that it will be great to make a quill out of the crow feather and write long letters to his friends. Then he got frightened. What a calamity! You should never touch a crow, it eats all sorts of rubbish, how did its feather turn up under his pillow? Before anybody saw anything he threw it away through the window.

But of all things that could have happened, again tomorrow morning he woke up and found a crow’s feather under his pillow. Now there is no suspicion at all, there’s even an obvious dirty crow-crow smell.

From then afterwards, Gupe’s grandfather became a pure vegetarian, shaved off his hair, returned the neighbour’s tree-shaving scissors after six whole months, and bathed in the Ganges.

After he finished his bath, he got out and noticed a sage standing at the bank of the river, smiling at him. He was clad in orange robes from head to toe, with a religious mark in his forehead and a great black knot on his head. Gupe’s grandfather bowed towards him. Immediately, the sage tied a talisman with the help of a red thread around the part over Gupe’s grandfather’s right elbow. Then he stroked his shoulder fondly, saying kindly, “From now onwards, you no longer have anything to be afraid of, my son. All the beasts and thieves will pass aside.”

The stroking was rather tickling Gupe’s grandfather, but he ignored it and said doubtfully, “Are you quite sure, sir?”

The sage became somewhat startled by the tone of Gupe’s grandfather’s voice. He brought out a thread-tied glasses from his bag, wore it, and peered at Gupe’s grandfather. He jumped with shock.

“Aeee, what is this! Who are you?! I thought you were Poltu Zamindar! It was him I had to give the talisman to! Give it back, son, it’s not for you.”

But who listens. Who will lose this lifetime opportunity? Has anyone ever given Gupe’s grandfather something this special? He lifted his dhoti and ran away as fast as he could.

When he came home he looked in surprise at the mango tree in the neighbourhood; the tree whose ripe mangoes all with their branches had reached completely over their house’s terrace. Since it was their neighbour, Nepal, who had planted that tree, they hadn’t had the courage to pluck out the fruits from the branches, even though it was tantalizingly in reach. But now all the mangoes had strewn themselves across the floor of the terrace. It was also noticed that since dawn, cold fresh water was coming from the new well. The net which Felada had submerged in the pond at night was granted with a huge fish. One of Gupe’s grandfather’s friends had borrowed five rupees from him last year, today he returned it. Over that, there was a feast thrown in Sunday afternoon. Everybody’s smiling in the house, even his grim grandmother.

Grandfather was astounded at the power of the talisman. He silently payed his respects towards the sage a thousand times over.

From then onwards, the house started having all the good luck in the world. There was money, there was a huge amount of cattle, the boys got big important jobs, the girls were married off to important, rich, respectful families. Once Gupe was telling this story of all these magical turn of events at his uncle’s house, and getting all excited while narrating, he ended up tearing six pages of the twentieth book of the Goosebumps Series.

Gupe ended the anecdote by saying seriously, “This is the very same talisman. For forty years and a month it was tied to my grandfather’s arm, he had never once opened it. There’s a white mark on his arm now that he has opened it, he told me that he had been wearing the talisman for so long that it almost become part of his skin, the talisman itself sometimes tickled and had to be scratched!”

According to Gupe, when he had ardently nagged to his grandfather that he will neither apply oil, neither bathe, neither eat, if he wouldn’t give him the talisman, Gupe’s grandfather had immediately tied the talisman around his grandson’s arm. Gupe had also added that even if he ate something, he will eat so less that after some days he will become very hungry, and his arms and legs will start shaking, froth will come out of his mouth, his eyes will turn over—Gupe had said this much, when his grandfather tweaked his own ears and immediately tied the talisman to Gupe’s arm.

Gupe found out that the talisman was as powerful as ever. In half an hour, his uncle’s fountain pen’s nib had broken, and Gupe was given it. Even though later Gupe’s uncle had asked him for the pen; that was the very reason Gupe had left his uncle’s house even with still two days left for the vacation.

As soon as he came home, he was told that his tuition teacher has mumps, his cheeks now resemble a pumpkin, even if he gets cured, it will take at least a month.

Now I felt that Gupe was talking bluff. He is saying that if he wears the talisman and say something will happen, that thing is bound to happen. We all created a hullabaloo over this – Can something like this ever happen?

Naga said, “Only Jesus Christ can do something like this-,”

Gupe turned red like a beetroot in anger, and pointing a sharp and long nail at Naga, he said, “You will get a punishment and stand throughout in today’s Science class.”

And that was exactly what happened. Not only did he stand throughout the class, he also had his ear tweaked. After this, nobody had the courage to tell Gupe anything again. Gupe just had to look at his talisman and say something, and all the other students will take that as true. In fear of getting cursed, everyone gives Gupe whatever he asks for.

In three weeks the class is quaking under Gupe’s new power. He started doing whatever he liked. Even forcing Kalipod to shave off his hair because Gupe didn’t like his new haircut.

Everybody started getting thin as days went past by. Naga’s shirt got so loose, that his elder brother accused Naga of taking his shirt. He scolded, “Don’t you see it’s got all loose and flabby? It’s either father’s or mine.”

Gupe also started taking over everybody’s things. Pencils, rubbers, sharpeners, colour pencils; the weight of all these threaten to tear apart his pockets nowadays. To prevent that from happening, he took my tiffin box to keep them securely. I got furious. I started stuttering. Shaking my head, I said, “L-Look Gupe, you are getting worse nowadays. This is getting too much now. I solved all your sums yesterday. You ate more than half of my tiffin. I ended up having a scolding in English class because you were blabbering away. Don’t cross the limits, I am telling you!”

With an angry mind I said all these in one breath, unable to stop once that I have started. Gupe started getting ready to curse me. As his eyes became small like two tiny pinpricks, he gulped, cleared his throat, pointed towards me, and said in a ringing voice, “Today is the last day of your life. Even if the day passes by, the night will not.”

The whole class was in pin-drop silence. Then the teacher entered the class, and nothing more was said.

After a while, my throat felt somewhat dry, my breath started coming out louder, the roots of my hair started shaking, my stomach felt empty. I realized that the curse of the talisman was upon me. I heard nothing of the teaching today, I didn’t bother to take down my homework, I didn’t listen to anyone’s rebukes in the drawing class. The one whose it was the last day in Earth, what else does he have to think about? I pushed my tiffin box into Naga’s hand in class, like I was letting Gupe feast on it, whatever happens. When the bell rung I determinedly decided to destroy that talisman before I go.

I saw Gupe’s old servant, Bhoddu, tidying Gupe’s books, while Gupe stood by and watched. Suddenly I got all heated, and rushed towards Gupe, pushing him against the wall, snatching away that talisman and breaking it into pieces. I should also have given him a beating, but I didn’t do anything. Gupe simply stared at me.

Then the servant came running and started bawling, “Aee, what did you do! That was my infallible stomach-ache cure talisman. I brought it from Kalighat for two paise. I knew earlier that whatever is given to Gupe is bound to get destroyed!”

We all stared open-mouthed at Gupe. He should have said something, but he simply casually took out two paise from his pocket, threw it towards Bhoddu, and went home smiling serenely.