fहndi - Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

"Yes, son, it was my misfortune thatI left earlier all by myself. If I had onlystayed back with them I too would have...'He stopped short, realizing that it was notright to say such things. But he could nothold back his tears.'Let be, Ghani Mian. The past is deadand gone. Why recall it?' Manori held theold man by his arm. 'Come, I'll show youyour old house,’ he said.The news had gone round that aMuslim was standing outside the lane andhad been about to abduct Ramdasi's son.The child's sister had saved him just intime, dragging him back, or else theMuslim would have decamped with thechild. Hearing the news the women sittingin the lane picked up their tuffets anddisappeared into their houses. They calledout to their children, who were playingin the lane to come indoors. When Manorientered the lane with Ghani, it was desertedexcept for a solitary hawker and Rakkhathe wrestler, who as usual lay sprawledasleep under the peepal tree next to thewell. Of course, faces peeped out frombehind windows and doors. Seeing Ghanithey exchanged remarks with one anotherin whispers. Although his beard had turnedgrey, they had recognized Chiraghdin'sfather, Abdul Ghani. ‘That used to be yourhouse,’ Said Manori pointing to a heapof rubble in the distance. Ghani stoppedin his stride and looked with lost eyes atthe debris. He had long ago resignedhimself to the death of Chiragh and hisfgndi •wife and children. But he was not preparedfor the shock of seeing his house in thisshape. His mouth turned drier and hisknees shook even more than before. Thatrubble?' he asked incredulously.Manori saw Ghani's face changingcolour. Supporting him by the arm firmly,he said in a steady voice, 'Your house wasburnt down in those days.'Leaning on his walking stick, Ghanisomehow managed to reach the heap ofrubble. Most of the rubble was now mudfrom which burnt or broken bricks stuckout here and there. "Anything made ofiron or wood had been pilfered long ago.Miraculously, a burnt door frame hadescaped although it was jutting out of therubble. Further back, there were twocharred almirahs blanching under theirdark surfaces. 'Is this all that is left of myhouse?' Ghani asked, seeing the rubblefrom close up. His knees seemed to giveway and he sat down holding on to theburnt door frame. After a while his headalso came to rest against the door frame,and a moan escaped his lips : 'Oh, myChiragh Deena!'For seven and a half years the charredframe had stood there somehow,protruding from the rubble but its woodhad badly crumbled. At the touch ofGhani's head fragments fell from it andwere scattered around. Some fell on Ghani'scap and hair. With the slivers a worm alsofell down and began to wriggle about,seven or eight inches away from Ghani'sApril-June 2013 :: 87