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I have many more such dream-given stories and other writings as well. This dream episode I worked into the annals of King Gobinda Manikya of Tipperah and made out of it a little serial story, Rajarshi, for the Balaka. Those were days of utter freedom from care. Nothing in particular seemed to be anxious to express itself through my life or writings.
Between the Pictures and Songs and the Sharps and Flats, a child's magazine called the Balaka sprang up and ended its brief days like an annual plant. My second sister-in-law felt the want of an illustrated magazine for children.
On the return journey the train was crowded and as there was an unshaded light just over the only berth I could get, I could not sleep. I thought I might as well take this opportunity of thinking out a story for the Balaka. In spite of my efforts to get hold of the story it eluded me, but sleep came to the rescue instead.
Then he offered me betel and pawn from his box; and we got into conversation. Meanwhile, the birds fought furiously; and there was much vociferation on both sides; but, as I had predicted, the Balâka cock was beaten. The old man was delighted at the victory of the other, which was his own.
Her idea was that the young people of the family would contribute to it, but as she felt that that alone would not be enough, she took up the editorship herself and asked me to help with contributions. After one or two numbers of the Balaka had come out I happened to go on a visit to Rajnarayan Babu at Deoghur.
"Come, Antonia, Selka, Balaka!" he cried, to several of the natives who had already started for the sheltering rocks a short distance away. "Beat the mule for Senor Swift!" Ned joined Tom at the leading rope, and the two lads tried to pull the animal along. Mr. Damon rushed over to lend his aid, and San Pedro, catching up a long stick, was about to bring it down on the mule's back.
On seeing me smile, he asked the reason; and I answered: "What simpletons some of the breeders here must be to pit a Balâka cock against one of the Nârikela breed, which is sure to win." With a knowing look, he whispered to me: "Hush! these blockheads know no better. I see you are a sharp fellow; sit quiet and say nothing."
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