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Updated: May 3, 2025
At last, with an air of disappointment, his head sank back on the pillow. He turned his face to the wall with a deep sigh. Bishamber knew his thoughts, and, bending down his head, whispered: "Phatik, I have sent for your mother." The day went by. The doctor said in a troubled voice that the boy's condition was very critical. Phatik began to cry out; "By the mark! three fathoms.
Bishamber wiped the tears from his own eyes, and took Phatik's lean and burning hands in his own, and sat by him through the night. The boy began again to mutter. At last his voice became excited: "Mother," he cried, "don't beat me like that! Mother! I am telling the truth!" The next day Phatik became conscious for a short time. He turned his eyes about the room, as if expecting some one to come.
Her brother had gone away soon after she had married, and he had started business in Bombay. His sister had lost her husband while he was In Bombay. Bishamber had now come back to Calcutta, and had at once made enquiries about his sister. He had then hastened to see her as soon as he found out where she was. The next few days were full of rejoicing.
Bishamber tried to calm her agitation, but she flung herself on the bed, and cried: "Phatik, my darling, my darling." Phatik stopped his restless movements for a moment. His hands ceased beating up and down. He said: "Eh?" The mother cried again: "Phatik, my darling, my darling." Phatik very slowly turned his head and, without seeing anybody, said: "Mother, the holidays have come."
The brother asked after the education of the two boys. He was told by his sister that Phatik was a perpetual nuisance. He was lazy, disobedient, and wild. But Makhan was as good as gold, as quiet as a lamb, and very fond of reading, Bishamber kindly offered to take Phatik off his sister's hands, and educate him with his own children in Calcutta. The widowed mother readily agreed.
Two constables brought out Phatik in their arms and placed him before Bishamber. He was wet through from head to foot, muddy all over, his face and eyes flushed red with fever, and his limbs all trembling. Bishamber carried him in his arms, and took him into the inner apartments. When his wife saw him, she exclaimed; "What a heap of trouble this boy has given us. Hadn't you better send him home?"
She was by no means pleased with this unnecessary addition to her family. She found her own three boys quite enough to manage without taking any one else. And to bring a village lad of fourteen into their midst was terribly upsetting. Bishamber should really have thought twice before committing such an indiscretion.
Phatik heard her words, and sobbed out loud: "Uncle, I was just going home; but they dragged me back again." The fever rose very high, and all that night the boy was delirious. Bishamber brought in a doctor. Phatik opened his eyes flushed with fever, and looked up to the ceiling, and said vacantly: "Uncle, have the holidays come yet? May I go home?"
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