Our postmaster belonged to Calcutta. He felt like a fish out of water in this remote village. His office and living-room were in a dark thatched shed, not far from a green, slimy pond, surrounded on all sides by a dense4 growth.
The men employed in the indigo factory had no leisure; moreover, they were hardly desirable companions for decent folk. Nor is a Calcutta boy an adept5 in the art of associating with others. Among strangers he appears either proud or ill at ease. At any rate, the postmaster had but little company; nor had he much to do.
At times he tried his hand at writing a verse or two. That the movement of the leaves and the clouds of the sky were enough to fill life with joy—such [Pg 116] were the sentiments to which he sought to give expression. But God knows that the poor fellow would have felt it as the gift of a new life, if some genie6 of the Arabian Nights had in one night swept away the trees, leaves and all, and replaced them with a macadamised road, hiding the clouds from view with rows of tall houses.
The postmaster's salary was small. He had to cook his own meals, which he used to share with Ratan, an orphan7 girl of the village, who did odd jobs for him.
When in the evening the smoke began to curl up from the village cowsheds, and the cicalas chirped9 in every bush; when the mendicants of the Baül sect10 sang their shrill11 songs in their daily meeting-place, when any poet, who had attempted to watch the movement of the leaves in the dense bamboo thickets12, would have felt a ghostly shiver run down his back, the postmaster would light his little lamp, and call out "Ratan."
Ratan would sit outside waiting for this call, and, instead of coming in at once, would reply, "Did you call me, sir?"
"What are you doing?" the postmaster would ask.
"I must be going to light the kitchen fire," would be the answer. [Pg 117]
And the postmaster would say: "Oh, let the kitchen fire be for awhile; light me my pipe first."
At last Ratan would enter, with puffed-out cheeks, vigorously blowing into a flame a live coal to light the tobacco. This would give the postmaster an opportunity of conversing13. "Well, Ratan," perhaps he would begin, "do you remember anything of your mother?" That was a fertile subject. Ratan partly remembered, and partly didn't. Her father had been fonder of her than her mother; him she recollected14 more vividly15. He used to come home in the evening after his work, and one or two evenings stood out more clearly than others, like pictures in her memory. Ratan would sit on the floor near the postmaster's feet, as memories crowded in upon her. She called to mind a little brother that she had—and how on some bygone cloudy day she had played at fishing with him on the edge of the pond, with a twig16 for a make-believe fishing-rod. Such little incidents would drive out greater events from her mind. Thus, as they talked, it would often get very late, and the postmaster would feel too lazy to do any cooking at all. Ratan would then hastily light the fire, and toast some unleavened bread, which, with the cold remnants of the morning meal, was enough for their supper.
On some evenings, seated at his desk in the corner [Pg 118] of the big empty shed, the postmaster too would call up memories of his own home, of his mother and his sister, of those for whom in his exile his heart was sad,—memories which were always haunting him, but which he could not talk about with the men of the factory, though he found himself naturally recalling them aloud in the presence of the simple little girl. And so it came about that the girl would allude17 to his people as mother, brother, and sister, as if she had known them all her life. In fact, she had a complete picture of each one of them painted in her little heart.
One noon, during a break in the rains, there was a cool soft breeze blowing; the smell of the damp grass and leaves in the hot sun felt like the warm breathing of the tired earth on one's body. A persistent18 bird went on all the afternoon repeating the burden of its one complaint in Nature's audience chamber19.
The postmaster had nothing to do. The shimmer20 of the freshly washed leaves, and the banked-up remnants of the retreating rain-clouds were sights to see; and the postmaster was watching them and thinking to himself: "Oh, if only some kindred soul were near—just one loving human being whom I could hold near my heart!" This was exactly, he went on to think, what that bird was trying to say, [Pg 119] and it was the same feeling which the murmuring leaves were striving to express. But no one knows, or would believe, that such an idea might also take possession of an ill-paid village postmaster in the deep, silent mid-day interval21 of his work.
The postmaster sighed, and called out "Ratan." Ratan was then sprawling22 beneath the guava-tree, busily engaged in eating unripe23 guavas. At the voice of her master, she ran up breathlessly, saying: "Were you calling me, Dada?" "I was thinking," said the postmaster, "of teaching you to read." And then for the rest of the afternoon he taught her the alphabet.
Thus, in a very short time, Ratan had got as far as the double consonants24.
It seemed as though the showers of the season would never end. Canals, ditches, and hollows were all overflowing25 with water. Day and night the patter of rain was heard, and the croaking26 of frogs. The village roads became impassable, and marketing27 had to be done in punts.
One heavily clouded morning, the postmaster's little pupil had been long waiting outside the door for her call, but, not hearing it as usual, she took up her dog-eared book, and slowly entered the room. She found her master stretched out on his bed, and, thinking that he was resting, she was about to retire [Pg 120] on tip-toe, when she suddenly heard her name—"Ratan!" She turned at once and asked: "Were you sleeping, Dada?" The postmaster in a plaintive28 voice said: "I am not well. Feel my head; is it very hot?"
In the loneliness of his exile, and in the gloom of the rains, his ailing29 body needed a little tender nursing. He longed to remember the touch on the forehead of soft hands with tinkling30 bracelets31, to imagine the presence of loving womanhood, the nearness of mother and sister. And the exile was not disappointed. Ratan ceased to be a little girl. She at once stepped into the post of mother, called in the village doctor, gave the patient his pills at the proper intervals32, sat up all night by his pillow, cooked his gruel33 for him, and every now and then asked: "Are you feeling a little better, Dada?"
It was some time before the postmaster, with weakened body, was able to leave his sick-bed. "No more of this," said he with decision. "I must get a transfer." He at once wrote off to Calcutta an application for a transfer, on the ground of the unhealthiness of the place.
Relieved from her duties as nurse, Ratan again took up her old place outside the door. But she no longer heard the same old call. She would sometimes peep inside furtively34 to find the postmaster [Pg 121] sitting on his chair, or stretched on his bed, and staring absent-mindedly into the air. While Ratan was awaiting her call, the postmaster was awaiting a reply to his application. The girl read her old lessons over and over again,—her great fear was lest, when the call came, she might be found wanting in the double consonants. At last, after a week, the call did come one evening. With an overflowing heart Ratan rushed into the room with her—"Were you calling me, Dada?"
The postmaster said: "I am going away to-morrow, Ratan."
"Where are you going, Dada?"
"I am going home."
"When will you come back?"
"I am not coming back."
Ratan asked no other question. The postmaster, of his own accord, went on to tell her that his application for a transfer had been rejected, so he had resigned his post and was going home.
For a long time neither of them spoke35 another word. The lamp went on dimly burning, and from a leak in one corner of the thatch3 water dripped steadily36 into an earthen vessel37 on the floor beneath it.
After a while Ratan rose, and went off to the kitchen to prepare the meal; but she was not so [Pg 122] quick about it as on other days. Many new things to think of had entered her little brain. When the postmaster had finished his supper, the girl suddenly asked him: "Dada, will you take me to your home?"
The postmaster laughed. "What an idea!" said he; but he did not think it necessary to explain to the girl wherein lay the absurdity38.
That whole night, in her waking and in her dreams, the postmaster's laughing reply haunted her—"What an idea!"
On getting up in the morning, the postmaster found his bath ready. He had stuck to his Calcutta habit of bathing in water drawn39 and kept in pitchers40, instead of taking a plunge41 in the river as was the custom of the village. For some reason or other, the girl could not ask him about the time of his departure, so she had fetched the water from the river long before sunrise, that it should be ready as early as he might want it. After the bath came a call for Ratan. She entered noiselessly, and looked silently into her master's face for orders. The master said: "You need not be anxious about my going away, Ratan; I shall tell my successor to look after you." These words were kindly42 meant, no doubt: but inscrutable are the ways of a woman's heart! [Pg 123]
Ratan had borne many a scolding from her master without complaint, but these kind words she could not bear. She burst out weeping, and said: "No, no, you need not tell anybody anything at all about me; I don't want to stay on here."
The postmaster was dumbfounded. He had never seen Ratan like this before.
The new incumbent43 duly arrived, and the postmaster, having given over charge, prepared to depart. Just before starting he called Ratan and said: "Here is something for you; I hope it will keep you for some little time." He brought out from his pocket the whole of his month's salary, retaining only a trifle for his travelling expenses. Then Ratan fell at his feet and cried: "Oh, Dada, I pray you, don't give me anything, don't in any way trouble about me," and then she ran away out of sight.
The postmaster heaved a sigh, took up his carpet bag, put his umbrella over his shoulder, and, accompanied by a man carrying his many-coloured tin trunk, he slowly made for the boat.
When he got in and the boat was under way, and the rain-swollen river, like a stream of tears welling up from the earth, swirled44 and sobbed45 at her bows, then he felt a pain at heart; the grief-stricken face of a village girl seemed to represent for him the [Pg 124] great unspoken pervading46 grief of Mother Earth herself. At one time he had an impulse to go back, and bring away along with him that lonesome waif, forsaken47 of the world. But the wind had just filled the sails, the boat had got well into the middle of the turbulent current, and already the village was left behind, and its outlying burning-ground came in sight.
So the traveller, borne on the breast of the swift-flowing river, consoled himself with philosophical48 reflections on the numberless meetings and partings going on in the world—on death, the great parting, from which none returns.
But Ratan had no philosophy. She was wandering about the post office in a flood of tears. It may be that she had still a lurking49 hope in some corner of her heart that her Dada would return, and that is why she could not tear herself away. Alas8 for our foolish human nature! Its fond mistakes are persistent. The dictates50 of reason take a long time to assert their own sway. The surest proofs meanwhile are disbelieved. False hope is clung to with all one's might and main, till a day comes when it has sucked the heart dry and it forcibly breaks through its bonds and departs. After that comes the misery51 of awakening52, and then once again the [Pg 125] longing53 to get back into the maze54 of the same mistakes.
WORDS TO BE STUDIED
indigo. This word has a very interesting history. It means "Indian." The celebrated55 dark-blue dye came from India. This dye was first known to the Greeks who called it "Indikon," then to the Latins who called it Indicum, then to the Italians and Spaniards who called it Indigo. It was introduced into England from Italy by artists and painters who kept the Italian word "indigo" without change.
genie. There is a Latin word "genius," meaning originally a spirit inhabiting a special place. It is from this word that our English common noun "genius" is taken, meaning a specially56 gifted or inspired person, e.g. "a man of genius." But in the Arabian Nights a completely different Arabic word is found, viz. "jinn" with its feminine form "jinni." This was written in English "genie" and was confused with the word "genius." The plural57 of genie when used in this sense is genii, which is really the plural of the Latin word genius.
macadamised. This is quite a modern word in English. It comes from the name of the inventor of this kind of road-paving, who was Mr. J. L. Macadam. He discovered that different layers of small stone rolled in, one after the other, can stand the wear and tear of traffic. We have similar words from proper names. Compare, boycott58, burke, lynch, etc.
allude. From the Latin "ludere," to play. Compare prelude59, interlude, delude61, collusion, elude60, elusive62, allusion63.
guava. This word came into English from the Spanish. It is of great interest to trace the names of the fruits in [Pg 126] English back to their sources, e.g. currant, comes from Corinth; mango from the Portuguese64 manga (from the Tamil "mankay" fruit-tree); orange from the Arabic "narang" and Hindustani "narangi"; apricot from Arabic al-burquq; date from the Greek "daktulos," meaning "finger."
alphabet. The two first letters in the Greek language are called "alpha" and "beta." Then the whole series of letters was named an alphabeta or alphabet.
consonants. From the Latin "sonare," meaning to sound. Consonants are letters which "sound with" the vowels65. Compare dissonant66, assonance, sonant, sonorous67, sonata68.
canal. This is one example of a word taken into English from the Latin, through the French, having a companion word in English. The companion word in this case is channel. Compare cavalry69 and chivalry70, legal and loyal, guard and ward71.
dumbfounded. This word has come into the English language from common speech. It is a mixture of the English word dumb, and the Latin "fundere," "to pour" which we find in confound, profound, confusion. It is not often that we get such hybrid72 words in earlier English, though to-day they are becoming common in the case of new words such as motorcar, speedometer, airplane, waterplane, automobile73, etc. The old rule used to be that a compound word in English should have both its parts from the same language (e.g. both parts Latin, or Greek, or Saxon, etc.). But this rule is rapidly breaking down in common practice as new words rush into the English language to express all the new discoveries of science. We have English and Greek roots mixed (such as airplane), and Latin and Greek roots mixed (such as oleograph).
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indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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genie
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| n.妖怪，神怪 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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chirped
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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unripe
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| adj.未成熟的；n.未成熟 | |
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consonants
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| n.辅音，子音( consonant的名词复数 )；辅音字母 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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gruel
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| n.稀饭，粥 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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pitchers
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| 大水罐( pitcher的名词复数 ) | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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plural
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| n.复数；复数形式；adj.复数的 | |
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boycott
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| n./v.(联合)抵制，拒绝参与 | |
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prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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delude
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| vt.欺骗；哄骗 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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vowels
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| n.元音，元音字母( vowel的名词复数 ) | |
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dissonant
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| adj.不和谐的；不悦耳的 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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sonata
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| n.奏鸣曲 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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71
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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72
hybrid
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| n.(动，植）杂种，混合物 | |
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73
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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