Phatik Chakravorti was ringleader among the boys of the village. A new
mischief got into his head. There was a heavy log lying on the mud-flat
of the river waiting to be shaped into a mast for a boat. He decided
that they should all work together to shift the log by main force from
its place and roll it away. The owner of the log would be angry and
surprised, and they would all enjoy the fun. Every one seconded the
proposal, and it was carried unanimously.
But just as the fun was about to begin, Makhan, Phatik's younger
brother, sauntered up, and sat down on the log in front of them all
without a word. The boys were puzzled for a moment. He was pushed,
rather timidly, by one of the boys and told to get up but he remained
quite unconcerned. He appeared like a young philosopher meditating on
the futility of games. Phatik was furious. "Makhan," he cried, "if you
don't get down this minute I'll thrash you!"
Makhan only moved to a more comfortable position.
Now, if Phatik was to keep his regal dignity before the public, it was
clear he ought to carry out his threat. But his courage failed him
at the crisis. His fertile brain, however, rapidly seized upon a new
manoeuvre which would discomfit his brother and afford his followers an
added amusement. He gave the word of command to roll the log and Makhan
over together. Makhan heard the order, and made it a point of honour
to stick on. But he overlooked the fact, like those who attempt earthly
fame in other matters, that there was peril in it.
The boys began to heave at the log with all their might, calling out,
"One, two, three, go," At the word "go" the log went; and with it went
Makhan's philosophy, glory and all.
All the other boys shouted themselves hoarse with delight. But Phatik
was a little frightened. He knew what was coming. And, sure enough,
Makhan rose from Mother Earth blind as Fate and screaming like the
Furies. He rushed at Phatik and scratched his face and beat him and
kicked him, and then went crying home. The first act of the drama was
over.
Phatik wiped his face, and sat down on the edge of a sunken barge on the
river bank, and began to chew a piece of grass. A boat came up to the
landing, and a middle-aged man, with grey hair and dark moustache,
stepped on shore. He saw the boy sitting there doing nothing, and asked
him where the Chakravortis lived. Phatik went on chewing the grass,
and said: "Over there," but it was quite impossible to tell where he
pointed. The stranger asked him again. He swung his legs to and fro on
the side of the barge, and said; "Go and find out," and continued to
chew the grass as before.
But now a servant came down from the house, and told Phatik his mother
wanted him. Phatik refused to move. But the servant was the master on
this occasion. He took Phatik up roughly, and carried him, kicking and
struggling in impotent rage.
When Phatik came into the house, his mother saw him. She called out
angrily: "So you have been hitting Makhan again?"