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George Orwell 1 9 8 4<br />
He remembered the room where they lived, a<br />
dark, close-smelling room that seemed half filled<br />
by a bed with a white counterpane. There was a<br />
gas ring in the fender, and a shelf where food was<br />
kept, and on the landing outside there was a<br />
brown earthenware sink, common to several<br />
rooms. He remembered his mother's statuesque<br />
body bending over the gas ring to stir at<br />
something in a saucepan. Above all he<br />
remembered his continuous hunger, and the<br />
fierce sordid battles at mealtimes. He would ask<br />
his mother naggingly, over and over again, why<br />
there was not more food, he would shout and<br />
storm at her (he even remembered the tones of<br />
his voice, which was beginning to break<br />
prematurely and sometimes boomed in a peculiar<br />
way), or he would attempt a snivelling note of<br />
pathos in his efforts to get more than his share.<br />
His mother was quite ready to give him more<br />
than his share. She took it for granted that he, 'the<br />
boy', should have the biggest portion; but<br />
however much she gave him he invariably<br />
demanded more. At every meal she would<br />
beseech him not to be selfish and to remember<br />
that his little sister was sick and also needed<br />
food, but it was no use. He would cry out with<br />
rage when she stopped ladling, he would try to<br />
wrench the saucepan and spoon out of her hands,<br />
he would grab bits from his sister's plate. He<br />
knew that he was starving the other two, but he<br />
could not help it; he even felt that he had a right<br />
to do it. The clamorous hunger in his belly<br />
seemed to justify him. Between meals, if his<br />
mother did not stand guard, he was constantly<br />
pilfering at the wretched store of food on the<br />
shelf.<br />
One day a chocolate ration was issued. There had<br />
been no such issue for weeks or months past. He<br />
remembered quite clearly that precious little<br />
morsel of chocolate. It was a two-ounce slab<br />
(they still talked about ounces in those days)<br />
between the three of them. It was obvious that it<br />
ought to be divided into three equal parts.<br />
Suddenly, as though he were listening to<br />
somebody else, Winston heard himself<br />
demanding in a loud booming voice that he<br />
should be given the whole piece. His mother told<br />
192<br />
Recordaba la habitación donde vivían, una estancia<br />
oscura y siempre cerrada casi totalmente ocupada por<br />
la cama. Había un hornillo de gas y un estante donde<br />
ponía los alimentos.<br />
Recordaba el cuerpo estatuario de su madre inclinado<br />
sobre el hornillo de gas moviendo algo en la sartén.<br />
Sobre todo recordaba su continua hambre y las<br />
sórdidas y feroces batallas a las horas de comer.<br />
Winston le preguntaba a su madre, con reproche una<br />
y otra vez, por qué no había más comida. Gritaba y la<br />
fastidiaba, descompuesto en su afán de lograr una<br />
parte mayor.<br />
Daba por descontado que él, el varón, debía tener la<br />
ración mayor. Pero por mucho que la pobre mujer le<br />
diera, él pedía invariablemente más.<br />
En cada comida la madre le suplicaba que no fuera<br />
tan egoísta y recordase que su hermanita estaba<br />
enferma y necesitaba alimentarse; pero era inútil.<br />
Winston cogía pedazos de comida del plato de su<br />
hermanita y trataba de apoderarse de la fuente.<br />
Sabía que con su conducta condenaba al hambre a su<br />
madre y a su hermana, pero no podía evitarlo.<br />
Incluso creía tener derecho a ello. El hambre que le<br />
torturaba parecía justificarlo. Entre comidas, si su<br />
madre no tenía mucho cuidado, se apoderaba de la<br />
escasa cantidad de alimento guardado en la alacena.<br />
Un día dieron una ración de chocolate. Hacía mucho<br />
tiempo — meses enteros — que no daban chocolate.<br />
Winston recordaba con toda claridad aquel cuadrito<br />
oscuro y preciadísimo. Era una tableta de dos onzas<br />
(por entonces se hablaba todavía de onzas) que les<br />
correspondía para los tres. Parecía lógico que la<br />
tableta fuera dividida en tres partes iguales. De<br />
pronto — en el ensueño —, como si estuviera<br />
escuchando a otra persona, Winston se oyó gritar<br />
exigiendo que le dieran todo el chocolate. Su madre<br />
le dijo que no fuese ansioso. Discutieron mucho;