Subscribe to the annual subscription plan of 2999 INR to get unlimited access of archived magazines and articles, people and film profiles, exclusive memoirs and memorabilia.
Continue...................specimen of the withering, yet, self-respecting middle-class of these days. Is he detached from his own sphere? His voice is unhesitating and straight- "My mother is ill-we are in want of money to buy her medicines-Will you buy one paper from me, Sir?" His grandma asks-"Why should you sell papers? You are a brilliant boy-you got medals and scholarships-you must strive hard and qualify yourself for higher position in life"- Still Babla hawks paper-Why ...Blasted ! ...inspite of all the inherent possibilities to grow up and thrive like a luxuriant tree?
His intellect and personality creates impression on Ashoke- His benevolent hand shrinks back in shame from offering any help to this brave boy. He says to his fiancee- "He is one of the self-conscious poor, who has understood that charity will never help the poor."
Manjari coughs and coughs and coughs - inside the lonely, solitary corner of her room-the pall of cold darkness gathers on her eyelids slowly but gradually. The blast moment creeps on pace by pace-inch by inch-she creams and yells-"Babla-Babla-my darling boy!"
In the medicine-shop Babla argues "How will my mother live-if you demand fifty rupees for the medicine which costs rupees five only?" A sudden row-a suppressed altercation-a door bangs-a girl moans-Babla runs to Ashoke forgetting everything behind him.
Manjari struggles for breath. She pants- "Come-my Babla-come".
The parting call strikes Babla's heart. And he runs to his mother only to find her DEAD-leaving unsolved the query in the child's heart-
"WHY DID MY MOTHER DIE?"
-WHO WILL ANSWER THIS?