Page:Tales of Bengal (Sita and Santa Chattopadhyay).djvu/38

Tales of Bengal remember that when the cruel hands of the old man finally tore me from my mother's arms, it was already dark, and the roads had become deserted. My mother ran back to the door immediately. She wanted to be away before she lost her resolution. She looked back at me from the door and with an inarticulate word of blessing, vanished for ever. It was the last sight I ever had of my mother. I do not know who she was. I have forgotten her parting words. I only remember the tears which fell upon my hair as she kissed me farewell. My mother was the only person on whom I had any claim, and the only gift I had of her was her tears. With this treasure alone I began my life. Time has continually added to it, but the capital was my mother's gift.

I was born with a heart full of love. But the only person whom I could have naturally loved, disappeared in the morning of my life like a star at the approach of daylight. I understood that I was fated to pass my life in tears. Laughter and love were not for me. But I fiercely resented this, I rebelled against my creator, I was determined to oppose his decree. From the day when my cruel benefactor tore me away from my mother's embrace and took me to his house, I banished tears from my eyes.

In that strange abode I passed the first few days in total silence. I refused to get up from the bed on which I had taken refuge when my mother made me over to the old man. I would not eat or drink. The old man tried patiently to bear with me. He used to come to feed me with his own hands, but I pushed aside his hand in anger and would not open my lips. I used to hold my lips fiercely with my teeth, lest they should open without my consent. The old man waited and waited with my food, sometimes till evening. He himself went without food the whole day, because he would not eat while the child entrusted to him remained unfed.

To propitiate the little stranger every means was Rh