Page:Tales of Bengal (Sita and Santa Chattopadhyay).djvu/67

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The Letter

went their own sweet will. Two or three times a day I would go to a neighbouring sweetmeat-vendors' to satisfy my hunger, in the evening I went for a walk, and for the rest of the livelong day did nothing but sleep on my dirty bed.

It was noon, and I was trying my utmost to sleep. A mosquito kept biting me on the neck with exemplary perseverance, but I felt too drowsy and lazy to raise my head and punish it. I only rolled my head from side to side in a vain effort to preserve peace at any cost. Suddenly there was a commotion on the stairs. Something heavy was bumping up and a voice was heard, "Really this is beyond all endurance!"

The voice convinced me that it could be none but Animesh. Calcutta had not its equal; it was unequivocably that of Animesh. I forgot the irritating mosquito and jumped up. In a few minutes my bosom friend stumbled into the room with a number of bags and bundles and shouted: "Thank God, you at least are here!"

Now you see, that was why I could never do without Animesh, good for nothing though he was. To be sure I was no better. But I was human. Did'nt I like to have at least one who I knew would always be glad to see me. I had a peculiar partiality for Animesh, knowing that I was of special importance to him; though to be honest, I must add that I sometimes found the weight of his love rather too much to bear. So now I welcomed him with extended fan in token of my great joy. After bathing in the cold water of the kitchen trough and stuffing himself plentifully with provisions brought from the sweetmeat-vendor he recovered his composure. Then I threw myself again upon my discarded bed and asked: "Now then, how did the rustic Muse inspire you?"

Animesh wore a profundly mysterious look as he said, "No, I had business of another sort." He began to smile and look wise.

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