THE MODERN REVIEW
No. 3
No. 153
THE RUNAWAY
By Rabindranath Tagore.
1.
MOTI Babu, Zamimdar of Katalia, was on his way home by boat. There had been the usual forenoon halt, alongside a village mart on the river, and the cooking of the midday meal was in progress.
A Brahmin boy came up to the boat and asked: "Which way are you going, Sir?" He could not have been older than fifteen or sixteen.
"To Katalia," Moti Babu replied.
"Could you give me a lift to Nandigram, on your way?"
Moti Babu acceded and asked the young fellow his name.
"My name is Tara," said the boy.
With his fair complexion, his great big eyes and his delicate, finely-cut, smiling lips, the lad was strikingly handsome. All he had on was a dhoti, somewhat the worse for wear, and his bare upper body displayed no superfluity either of clothing or flesh,—its rounded proportions looked like some sculptor's masterpiece.
"My son," said Moti Babu affectionately, "have your bath and come on board. You will dine with me."
"Wait a minute, Sir," said Tara, with which he jumped on the servants' boat moored astern, and set to work to assist in the cooking. Moti Babu's servant was an up-country man[1] and it was evident that his ideas of preparing fish for the pot were crude. Tara relieved him of his task and neatly got through it with complete success. He then made up one or two vegetable dishes with a skill which showed a good deal of practice. His work finished, Tara after a plunge in the river took out a fresh dhoti from his bundle, clad himself in spotless white, and with a little wooden comb smoothed back his flowing locks from his forehead into a cluster behind his neck. Then, with his sacred thread glistening over his breast, he presented himself before his host.
Moti Babu took him into the cabin where his wife, Annapurna, and their nine-year old daughter were sitting. The good lady was immensely taken with the comely young fellow,—her whole heart went out to him. Where could he be coming from: whose child could he be: ah, poor thing, how could his mother bear to be separated from him?—thought she to herself.
Dinner was duly served and a seat placed for Tara by Moti Babu's side. The boy seemed to have but a poor appetite. Annapurna put it down to bashfulness and repeatedly pressed him to try this and that, but he would not allow himself to be persuaded. He had clearly a will of his own, but he showed it quite simply and naturally without any appearance of wilfulness or obstinacy.
When they had all finished, Annapurna made Tara sit by her side and questioned him about himself. She was not successful in gathering much of a connected story, but this at least was clear that he had run away from home at the early age of ten or eleven.
- ↑ Servants belonging to other provinces do not as a rule understand the niceties of Bengali culinary art. Tr.
