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- “I want that toy,” he pleaded.
- His father looked at him red-eyed, in his familiar tyrant’s way
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- A sweetmeat seller hawked, “gulab-jaman, rasagulla, burfi,jalebi,”
- IT was the festival of spring. From the wintry shades of narrowlanes and alleys emerged a gaily clad humanity. Some walked,some rode on horses, others sat, being carried in bamboo andbullock carts. One little boy ran between his father’s legs,brimming over with life and laughter.
- “Come, child, come,” called his parents, as he lagged behind,fascinated by the toys in the shops that lined the way
- I WANT MY MOTHER AND FATHER!
- WHOSE BABY ARE YOU?!
- A sweetmeat seller hawked, “gulab-jaman, rasagulla, burfi,jalebi,” at the corner of the entrance and a crowd pressed roundhis counter at the foot of an architecture of many coloured sweets,decorated with leaves of silver and gold. The child stared openeyed and his mouth watered for the burfi that was his favouritesweet. “I want that burfi,” he slowly murmured. But he half knewas he begged that his plea would not be heeded because hisparents would say he was greedy. So without waiting for an answerhe moved on.
- “I want to go on the roundabout, please,Father, Mother.”
- A group of dragon-flies were bustling about on their gaudypurple wings, intercepting the flight of a lone black bee or butterflyin search of sweetness from the flowers. The child followed themin the air with his gaze, till one of them would still its wings andrest, and he would try to catch it. But it would go fluttering,flapping, up into the air, when he had almost caught it in hishands.
- Then his mother gave a cautionary call: “Come, child,come, come on to the footpath.
- A man in the surging crowdheard his cry and, stooping with great difficulty, lifted him upin his arms.“How did you get here, child? Whose baby are you?” the manasked as he steered clear of the mass. The child wept morebitterly than ever now and only cried, “I want my mother, Iwant my father!”The man tried to soothe him by taking him to the roundabout.“Will you have a ride on the horse?” he gently asked as heapproached the ring. The child’s throat tore into a thousand shrillsobs and he only shouted, “I want my mother, I want my father!”
- There was a roundabout in full swing. Men, women andchildren, carried away in a whirling motion, shrieked and criedwith dizzy laughter. The child watched them intently and then hemade a bold request: “I want to go on the roundabout, please,Father.There was no reply. He turned to look at his parents. They werenot there, ahead of him. He turned to look on either side. Theywere not there. He looked behind. There was no sign of them.A full, deep cry rose within his dry throat and with a suddenjerk of his body he ran from where he stood, crying in real fear,“Mother, Father.
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