My five year old daughter Mini just cannot stop chattering and I
really believe that in all her life she has not wasted a minute in
silence. Her mother is often vexed at this, and would stop her
prattle, but I would not. To see Mini being quiet seems unnatural
and I cannot bear her silence for long periods. As a result of this,
my own dialogues with her are always lively.
One morning, for instance, when I was in the midst of the
seventeenth chapter of my new novel, my little Mini stole into the
room, and putting her hand into mine, said: "Father! Ramdayal
the door-keeper calls a crow a kraow! He doesn't know anything,
does he?"
Before I could explain the differences of languages in this world,
she embarked on the full tide of another subject. "What do you
think, Father? Bhola says that there is an elephant in the clouds,
blowing water out of his trunk, and that is why it rains!"
And then she darted off anew on to another topic, while I was still
preparing the reply to her last question.
"Father!” she asked. ”How is Mother related to you?”
"Go and play with Bhola, Mini! I am busy!" I replied with a grave
face.
The window of my room overlooks the road. The child had seated
herself at my feet near my table, and was playing softly,
drumming on her knees. I was hard at work on my seventeenth
chapter, where Protrap Singh, the hero, had just caught
Kanchanlata, the heroine, in his arms, and was about to escape
with her through the window on the third level of the castle,
when all of a sudden Mini stopped playing and ran to the window,
crying, "A Kabuliwallah! A Kabuliwallah!"
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