‘Forty days have passed and I have done nothing. I have merely become one of them. I haven’t had the chance even to try to do what I came here to do. Who can get through to these illiterate idiots anyway? If only Kishan Das knew these people. “You are my son,” he said to me before I left, “but first of all you are the son of Hindustan.” Ho ho! If he knew what this son is doing for Hindustan!’ The wooden plank covering the hole in the wall that served as a passage between the two rooms of this mountain hut shifted to the side, casting a wide band of lantern light in the darkness of the room. Sheelah’s round face appeared in the space. ‘Ay, Wood-bound, how are you?’ she asked. Naim produced a grunt in reply. ‘Why did you not go today?’ ‘I am not well.’ ‘Afraid of planting the powder?’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Why, even I can fix the powder under anything.’ Naim didn’t answer. A childlike smile appeared on Sheelah’s face. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, Wood-bound?’ ‘No.’ She stepped in and replaced the plank to cover the hole.
What do You think about The Weary Generations (2014)?
