faces would have concluded that the procession was intended to advertise poverty — poverty which had celebrated a hundred thousand silver and golden jubilees.
The procession entered the city. It went along the main thoroughfare, the Mall, past the city’s biggest bakery. The bakery bore a large sign-board picturing a giant-size loaf with the legend ‘Delbis.’ Bachana Singh’s eyes fell on the picture; his mouth filled with saliva; he ran his tongue over his lips. He stopped in front of the bakery and stood entranced gaping at the board. Sundar Singh’s harsh voice pierced through his eardrum. ‘
Oi Bachania! oi,
you son of a witch! keep moving.’
Bachana Singh ran to catch up with his rank. But his thoughts stayed behind with the loaf of bread. He marched on with the procession; his mind stuck to the hoarding; his feet went one way, his heart the other. He pondered over the hard life he led.
Bachana Singh got up at six every morning to give his master breakfast consisting of tea, toast cut out of a small loaf of Delbis and half a pat of butter. Sundar Singh used up all the butter and the bread leaving only the crust of the toast for his servant — this Bachana washed down with his own cup of tea. It was Bachana Singh’s dream that one day he would eat a whole loaf of Delbis with a pat of butter. Since he gave his wages to his mother, there was nothing to spare for luxuries such as these. Once when Sundar Singh had felt a little under the weather, he had taken only one toast and given the rest of the loaf to his servant. Bachana still cherished the memory of that day and prayed that his master would again be indisposed and the entire loaf and the pat of butter would fall to the servant’s share. The picture in the bakery made him so ravenously hungry that he imagined himself swallowing the entire loaf in one big gulp.
After breakfast Sundar Singh used to stroke his paunch and repeat: ‘Great Guru, Emperor True! I thank Thee a hundred thousand times. Guru Gobind, Lord of the Plumes, all that Thy humble servant gets is but Thy gift; Thou givest and Thy humble servant’s hunger is appeased’. And then Sundar Singh would emit a long, satisfied belch.
Bachana heard these words of thanksgiving every morning. How strange, he wondered, that the True Emperor should give to some and not to others! That He should give Sundar Singh a whole loaf with butter every day and him only the leftover crust! Silk shirts to Sundar Singh and tattered rags to Bachana! And then poor Bachana Singh would resume his breakfast of dry crust dipped in tea.
Sometimes Bachana asked himself why he had never thanked the Guru, the True Emperor. So one day he blurted out: ‘Great Guru, True Emperor! For what I have received I thank Thee a hundred thousand times!’ And immediately after he had uttered the words he felt a little silly; what had he to thank the Guru for? Just for the dry crust of bread? The thanks were due from Sundar Singh because he did get a whole loaf and butter every day. If he (Bachana) gave thanks for the crust, that’s all the Guru would ever give him!
Once Sundar Singh went off toast for a few days; he began to take milk instead for his breakfast. Poor Bachana was deprived even of his scrap of toast. No wonder the mere picture of a loaf of bread made him drool at the mouth. He resolved to buy the bread and the butter; but where was the money to come from?
When he returned home after parading the streets, he was very tired. His limbs ached, and the longing for bread and butter gnawed at his inside. His master, Sundar Singh came back, changed into a suit and left to go to a reception given by the producer of the ‘The Blood of the Lover.’
Bachana Singh had no means of raising a loan; he had asked his companion on the parade to give him eight
annas
but no one would lend the money; perhaps they were as hard up as he. Or did they suspect he would never be able to return the loan? Bachana tried to get a loaf and
The procession entered the city. It went along the main thoroughfare, the Mall, past the city’s biggest bakery. The bakery bore a large sign-board picturing a giant-size loaf with the legend ‘Delbis.’ Bachana Singh’s eyes fell on the picture; his mouth filled with saliva; he ran his tongue over his lips. He stopped in front of the bakery and stood entranced gaping at the board. Sundar Singh’s harsh voice pierced through his eardrum. ‘
Oi Bachania! oi,
you son of a witch! keep moving.’
Bachana Singh ran to catch up with his rank. But his thoughts stayed behind with the loaf of bread. He marched on with the procession; his mind stuck to the hoarding; his feet went one way, his heart the other. He pondered over the hard life he led.
Bachana Singh got up at six every morning to give his master breakfast consisting of tea, toast cut out of a small loaf of Delbis and half a pat of butter. Sundar Singh used up all the butter and the bread leaving only the crust of the toast for his servant — this Bachana washed down with his own cup of tea. It was Bachana Singh’s dream that one day he would eat a whole loaf of Delbis with a pat of butter. Since he gave his wages to his mother, there was nothing to spare for luxuries such as these. Once when Sundar Singh had felt a little under the weather, he had taken only one toast and given the rest of the loaf to his servant. Bachana still cherished the memory of that day and prayed that his master would again be indisposed and the entire loaf and the pat of butter would fall to the servant’s share. The picture in the bakery made him so ravenously hungry that he imagined himself swallowing the entire loaf in one big gulp.
After breakfast Sundar Singh used to stroke his paunch and repeat: ‘Great Guru, Emperor True! I thank Thee a hundred thousand times. Guru Gobind, Lord of the Plumes, all that Thy humble servant gets is but Thy gift; Thou givest and Thy humble servant’s hunger is appeased’. And then Sundar Singh would emit a long, satisfied belch.
Bachana heard these words of thanksgiving every morning. How strange, he wondered, that the True Emperor should give to some and not to others! That He should give Sundar Singh a whole loaf with butter every day and him only the leftover crust! Silk shirts to Sundar Singh and tattered rags to Bachana! And then poor Bachana Singh would resume his breakfast of dry crust dipped in tea.
Sometimes Bachana asked himself why he had never thanked the Guru, the True Emperor. So one day he blurted out: ‘Great Guru, True Emperor! For what I have received I thank Thee a hundred thousand times!’ And immediately after he had uttered the words he felt a little silly; what had he to thank the Guru for? Just for the dry crust of bread? The thanks were due from Sundar Singh because he did get a whole loaf and butter every day. If he (Bachana) gave thanks for the crust, that’s all the Guru would ever give him!
Once Sundar Singh went off toast for a few days; he began to take milk instead for his breakfast. Poor Bachana was deprived even of his scrap of toast. No wonder the mere picture of a loaf of bread made him drool at the mouth. He resolved to buy the bread and the butter; but where was the money to come from?
When he returned home after parading the streets, he was very tired. His limbs ached, and the longing for bread and butter gnawed at his inside. His master, Sundar Singh came back, changed into a suit and left to go to a reception given by the producer of the ‘The Blood of the Lover.’
Bachana Singh had no means of raising a loan; he had asked his companion on the parade to give him eight
annas
but no one would lend the money; perhaps they were as hard up as he. Or did they suspect he would never be able to return the loan? Bachana tried to get a loaf and
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