pass repeatedly in my imagination; more vividly than ever
because I lead such a vegetable existence and a call to a travel
to another land would fall upon me like a thunderbolt. In the
presence of this Kabuliwallah, I was immediately transported to
the foot of arid mountain peaks, with narrow little defiles
twisting in and out amongst their towering heights. I could see
the string of camels bearing the merchandise, and the company
of turbaned merchants, carrying some of their queer old
firearms, and some of their spears, journeying downward
towards the plains. At some such point in my thoughts, Mini's
mother would intervene, imploring me to "beware of that man."
Mini's mother is unfortunately a very timid lady. Whenever she
hears a noise in the street, or sees people coming towards the
house, she always jumps to the conclusion that they are either
thieves, drunkards or even an English sailor. Even after all these
years, she is not able to overcome her terror. The fear of the
unknown had driven her to have many doubts about the
Kabuliwallah and she often begged me to keep a watchful eye on
him.
When I tried to make light of her fears, she would turn round on
me seriously, and ask me solemn questions. Were children never
kidnapped? Was it, then, not true that there was slavery in
Kabul? Was it so absurd that this big man should be able to
carry off a tiny child?
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