IT was the festival of spring. From the wintry shades of narrow

lanes and alleys emerged a gaily clad humanity. Some walked,

some rode on horses, others sat, being carried in bamboo and

bullock carts. One little boy ran between his father's legs,

brimming over with life and laughter.

1. The Lost Child

A child goes to a fair with his parents. He is happy

and excited and wants the sweets and toys

displayed there. But his parents don't buy them for

him. Why then does he refuse when someone else

offers them to him?

2 / Moments

"Come, child, come," called his parents, as he lagged behind,

fascinated by the toys in the shops that lined the way.

He hurried towards his parents, his feet obedient to their call,

his eyes still lingering on the receding toys. As he came to where

they had stopped to wait for him, he could not suppress the desire

of his heart, even though he well knew the old, cold stare of refusal

in their eyes.

"I want that toy," he pleaded.

His father looked at him red-eyed, in his familiar tyrant's way.

His mother, melted by the free spirit of the day was tender and,

giving him her finger to hold, said, "Look, child, what is before you!"

It was a flowering mustard-field, pale like melting gold as it

swept across miles and miles of even land.

A group of dragon-flies were bustling about on their gaudy

purple wings, intercepting the flight of a lone black bee or butterfly

in search of sweetness from the flowers. The child followed them

in the air with his gaze, till one of them would still its wings and

rest, and he would try to catch it. But it would go fluttering,

flapping, up into the air, when he had almost caught it in his

hands. Then his mother gave a cautionary call: "Come, child,

come, come on to the footpath."

He ran towards his parents gaily and walked abreast of them

for a while, being, however, soon left behind, attracted by the

little insects and worms along the footpath that were teeming out

from their hiding places to enjoy the sunshine.

"Come, child, come!" his parents called from the shade of a

grove where they had seated themselves on the edge of a well. He

ran towards them.

A shower of young flowers fell upon the child as he entered

the grove, and, forgetting his parents, he began to gather the

raining petals in his hands. But lo! he heard the cooing of doves

and ran towards his parents, shouting, "The dove! The dove!" The

raining petals dropped from his forgotten hands.

"Come, child, come!" they called to the child, who had now

gone running in wild capers round the banyan tree, and gathering

him up they took the narrow, winding footpath which led to the

fair through the mustard fields.

The Lost Child / 3

As they neared the village the child could see many other

footpaths full of throngs, converging to the whirlpool of the fair,

and felt at once repelled and fascinated by the confusion of the

world he was entering.

A sweetmeat seller hawked, "gulab-jaman, rasagulla, burfi,

jalebi," at the corner of the entrance and a crowd pressed round

his counter at the foot of an architecture of many coloured sweets,

decorated with leaves of silver and gold. The child stared open-

eyed and his mouth watered for the burfi that was his favourite

sweet. "I want that burfi," he slowly murmured. But he half knew

as he begged that his plea would not be heeded because his

parents would say he was greedy. So without waiting for an answer

he moved on.

A flower-seller hawked, "A garland of gulmohur, a garland of

gulmohur!" The child seemed irresistibly drawn. He went towards

the basket where the flowers lay heaped and half murmured, "I

want that garland." But he well knew his parents would refuse to

buy him those flowers because they would say that they were

cheap. So, without waiting for an answer, he moved on.

A man stood holding a pole with yellow, red, green and purple

balloons flying from it. The child was simply carried away by the

rainbow glory of their silken colours and he was filled with an

overwhelming desire to possess them all. But he well knew his

parents would never buy him the balloons because they would

say he was too old to play with such toys. So he walked on farther.

A snake-charmer stood playing a flute to a snake which coiled

itself in a basket, its head raised in a graceful bend like the neck

of a swan, while the music stole into its invisible ears like the

gentle rippling of an invisible waterfall. The child went towards

the snake-charmer. But, knowing his parents had forbidden him

to hear such coarse music as the snake-charmer played, he

proceeded farther.

There was a roundabout in full swing. Men, women and

children, carried away in a whirling motion, shrieked and cried

with dizzy laughter. The child watched them intently and then he

made a bold request: "I want to go on the roundabout, please,

Father, Mother."

4 / Moments

There was no reply. He turned to look at his parents. They were

not there, ahead of him. He turned to look on either side. They

were not there. He looked behind. There was no sign of them.

A full, deep cry rose within his dry throat and with a sudden

jerk of his body he ran from where he stood, crying in real fear,

"Mother, Father." Tears rolled down from his eyes, hot and fierce;

his flushed face was convulsed with fear. Panic-stricken, he ran

to one side first, then to the other, hither and thither in all

directions, knowing not where to go. "Mother, Father," he wailed.

His yellow turban came untied and his clothes became muddy.

Having run to and fro in a rage of running for a while, he

stood defeated, his cries suppressed into sobs. At little distances

on the green grass he could see, through his filmy eyes, men and

women talking. He tried to look intently among the patches of

bright yellow clothes, but there was no sign of his father and

mother among these people, who seemed to laugh and talk just

for the sake of laughing and talking.

He ran quickly again, this time to a shrine to which people

seemed to be crowding. Every little inch of space here was

congested with men, but he ran through people's legs, his little

sob lingering: "Mother, Father!" Near the entrance to the temple,

however, the crowd became very thick: men jostled each other,

heavy men, with flashing, murderous eyes and hefty shoulders.

The poor child struggled to thrust a way between their feet but,

knocked to and fro by their brutal movements, he might have

been trampled underfoot, had he not shrieked at the highest

pitch of his voice, "Father, Mother!" A man in the surging crowd

heard his cry and, stooping with great difficulty, lifted him up

in his arms.

"How did you get here, child? Whose baby are you?" the man

asked as he steered clear of the mass. The child wept more

bitterly than ever now and only cried, "I want my mother, I

want 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 he

approached the ring. The child's throat tore into a thousand shrill

sobs and he only shouted, "I want my mother, I want my father!"

The Lost Child / 5

The man headed towards the place where the snake-charmer

still played on the flute to the swaying cobra. "Listen to that

nice music, child!" he pleaded. But the child shut his ears with

his fingers and shouted his double-pitched strain: "I want my

mother, I want my father!" The man took him near the balloons,

thinking the bright colours of the balloons would distract the

child's attention and quieten him. "Would you like a rainbow-

coloured balloon?" he persuasively asked. The child turned his

eyes from the flying balloons and just sobbed, "I want my mother,

I want my father!"

The man, still trying to make the child happy, bore him to the

gate where the flower-seller sat. "Look! Can you smell those nice

flowers, child! Would you like a garland to put round your neck?"

6 / Moments

The child turned his nose away from the basket and reiterated

his sob, "I want my mother, I want my father!"

Thinking to humour his disconsolate charge by a gift of

sweets, the man took him to the counter of the sweet shop.

"What sweets would you like, child?" he asked. The child turned

his face from the sweet shop and only sobbed, "I want my

mother, I want my father!"