An Astrologers Day and Other Stories Part 7

they said, observing him. However, the old man struggled through and with the help of someone found his way back to his corner in the choultry veranda and sank down on his gunnysack bed, half faint with the strain of his journey.

He was not seen for ten days, fifteen days and twenty days. Nor was the dog seen anywhere. They commented among themselves.

The dog must be loafing over the whole earth, free and happy. The THE BLIND DOG 51 beggar is perhaps gone for ever

Hardly was this sentence uttered when they heard the familiar tap-tap of the blind mans staff. They saw him again coming up the pavement led by the dog.

Look ! Look !

they cried.

He has again got at it and tied it up The ribbonseller could not contain himself. He ran up and said : Where have you been all these days ?

Know what happened !

cried the blind man.

This dog ran away. I should have died in a day or two, confined to my corner, no food, not an anna to earn imprisoned in my corner. I should have perished if it continued for another day But this thing returned

When ? When ?

Last night. At midnight as I slept in bed, he came and licked my face. I felt like murdering him.

I gave him a blow which he will never forget again, said the blind man.

I forgave him, after all a dog !

He loafed as long as he could pick up some rubbish to eat on the road, but real hunger has driven him back to jne, but he will not leave me again. See !

I have got this and he shook the lead : it was a steel chain this time.

Once again there was the dead, despairing look in the dogs eyes.

Go on, you fool, cried the blind man, shouting like an ox-driver. He tugged the chain, poked with the stick, and the dog moved away on slow steps. They stood listening to the tap-tap going away.

Death alone can help that dog, cried the ribbonseller, looking after it with a sigh.

What can we do with a creature who returns to his doom with such a free heart ?

7.

FELLOW-FEELING.

THE Madras-Bangalore Express was due to start in a few minutes. Trolleys and barrows piled with trunks and beds rattled their way through the bustle. Fruit-sellers and beedi-and-betel sellers cried themselves hoa.r.s.e. Latecomers pushed, shouted and perspired. The engine added to the general noise with the low monotonous hum of its boiler ; the first bell rang, the guard looked at his watch. Mr. Rajam Iyer arrived on the platform at a terrific pace, with a small roll of bedding under one arm and an absurd yellow trunk under the other. He ran to the first third-cla.s.s compartment that caught his eye, peered in and, since the door could not be opened on account of the congestion inside, flung himself in through the window.

Fifteen minutes later Madras flashed past the train in window-framed patches of sun-scorched roofs and fields. At the next halt, Mandhakam, most of the pa.s.sengers got down. The compartment built to seat 8 pa.s.sengers ; 4 British Troops, or 6 Indian Troops, now carried only nine. Rajam Iyer found a seat and made himself comfortable opposite a sallow, meek pa.s.senger, who suddenly removed his coat, folded it and placed it under his head and lay down, shrinking himself to the area he had occupied while he was sitting. With his knees drawn up almost to 52 FELLOW-FEELING 53.

his chin, he rolled himself into a ball. Rajam Iyer threw at him an indulgent, compa.s.sionate look. He then fumbled for his gla.s.ses and pulled out of his pocket a small book, which set forth in clear Tamil the significance of the obscure Sandhi rites that every Brahmin worth the name performs thrice daily.

He was startled out of this pleasant languor by a series of growls coming from a pa.s.senger who had got in at Katpadi. The newcomer, looking for a seat, had been irritated by the spectacle of the meek pa.s.senger asleep and had enforced the law of the Third-cla.s.s. He then encroached on most of the meek pa.s.sengers legitimate s.p.a.ce and began to deliver home-truths which pa.s.sed by easy stages from impudence to impertinence and finally to ribaldry.

Rajam Iyer peered over his spectacles. There was a dangerous look in his eyes. He tried to return to the book, but could not. The bullys speech was gathering momentum.

What is all this ?

Rajam Iyer asked suddenly, in a hard tone.

What is what ?

growled back the newcomer, turning sharply on Rajam Iyer.

Moderate your style a bit, Rajam Iyer said firmly.

You moderate yours first,

1.

replied the other.

A pause.

My man, Rajam Iyer began endearingly, this sort of thing will never do.

The newcomer received this in silence. Rajam Iyer felt encouraged and drove home his moral : Just try and be more courteous, it is your duty.

You mind your business, replied the newcomer.

Rajam Iyer shook his head disapprovingly and 54 FELLOW-FEELING drawled out a No. The newcomer stood looking out for some time and, as if expressing a brilliant truth that had just dawned on him, said, You arc a Brahmin, I see. Learn, sir, that your days are over.

Dont think you can bully us as you have been bullying us all these years.

Rajam Iyer gave a short laugh and said : What has it to do with your beastly conduct to this gentleman ?

The newcomer a.s.sumed a tone of mock humility and said :

Shall I take the dust from your feet, O Holy Brahmin ? Oh, Brahmin, Brahmin. He continued in a sing-song fas.h.i.+on : Your days are over, my dear sir, learn that. I should like to see you trying a bit of bossing on us.

Whose master is who ?

asked Rajam Iyer philosophically.

The newcomer went on with no obvious relevance : The cost of mutton has gone up out of all proportion.

It is nearly double what it used to be.

Is it ?

asked Rajam Iyer.

Yes, and why ?

continued the other.

Because Brahmins have begun to eat meat and they pay high prices to get it secretly. He then turned to the other pa.s.sengers and added : And we non-Brahmins have to pay the same price, though we dont care for the secrecy.

Rajam Iyer leaned back in his seat, reminding himself of a proverb which said that if you threw a stone into a gutter it would only spurt filth in your face.

And, said the newcomer,

the price of meat used to be five annas per pound. I remember the days quite well. It is nearly twelve annas now.

Why? Because the Brahmin is prepared to pay so FELLOW-FEELING 55 much, if only he can have it in secret I have with my own eyes seen Brahmins, pukkah Brahmins with sacred threads on their bodies, carrying fish under their arms, of course all wrapped up in a towel. Ask them what it is, and they will tell you that it is plantain.

Plantain that has life, I suppose ! I once tickled a fellow under the arm and out came the biggest fish in the market. Hey, Brahmin, he said, turning to Rajam Iyer, what did you have for your meal this morning? Who? I ?

asked Rajam Iyer. Why do you want to know ?

Look, sirs, said the newcomer to the other pa.s.sengers, why is he afraid to tell us what he ate this morning ?

And turning to Rajam Iyer,

Maynt a man ask another what he had for his morning meal ?

Oh, by all means. I had rice, ghee, curds, brinjal soup, fried beans.

Oh, is that all ?

asked the newcomer, with an innocent look.

Yes, replied Rajam Iyer.