He: (Shey) (Modern Classics (Penguin)) by Rabindranath Tagore Read Free Book Online

surrounding the holy porch . They called, ‘Hukka-huaaa…’
    Shibu’s heart fluttered; he longed to lend his voice to that single-toned incantation. He suppressed his desire with the greatest difficulty.
    After three hours, the call came again. A strangled sob rose from Shibu’s throat. But he held himself in check.
    But when after another three hours the jackals called again, Shiburam couldn’t restrain himself. He called back, ‘Hukka-huaa, hukka-huaa, hukka-huaa!’
    Hookkui exclaimed, ‘I hear How-How’s voice. Call again!’
    The jackals chorused, ‘How-How!’
    The president of the society leapt out of bed and scolded, ‘Shiburam!’
    Again the call floated in, ‘How-How!’
    Gosai-ji warned him again, ‘Shiburam!’
    But when, at the third call, Shiburam bounded out, the entire search party turned tail and fled. Even Hookkui, Heiio, Hoo-Hoo and the other jackal braves sought refuge in their burrows. The entire jackal community was stupefied.
    Six months passed after that.
    The latest bulletin says Shiburam has taken to wandering about all night, crying, ‘Where’s my tail, where’s my tail?’
    Sitting on the veranda outside Gosai-ji’s bedroom, he looks imploringly at the heavens and moans with the passing of each hour, ‘Give me back my tail.’
    Gosai-ji can’t even pluck up the courage to open the door— what if this crazy jackal were to attack him?
    Shibu is now forbidden to visit the grove where he used to live, because the other jackals, seeing him approach, either run away or growl and snap at him. He lives in the old holy
porch, in the sole company ofa pair ofowls. Even Khadu, Gobar,
Benchi, Dheri and the other young scamps are too scared of
ghosts to go looking for karamchas 17 in that part of the forest.
     

     
    Shibu has composed, in jackal language, the following mournful ditty:
     
    O tail, my lost tail; without you, I’m now
    Soulless, dead,
    A tailless shred—
    How-how, how-how, how-how!
     
    Pupe broke out, ‘How awful, what a shame! Dadamashai, won’t even his aunt let him back into the burrow?’
    ‘Don’t you worry,’ I said. ‘Just let his fur grow back and she’ll be able to recognize him again.’
    ‘But what about his tail?’
    ‘Perhaps we can get some tail-growing ointment from the kaviraj. 18 I’ll try to find out.’
    Drawing me into a corner, He whispered, ‘Dada, don’t lose your temper, but I must speak my mind. Aren’t you in need of a little improvement yourself?’
    ‘You cheeky rascal, how must I improve myself?’
    ‘Stop being so old. Here you are, ageing, but you’ve yet to mature in childishness.’
    ‘What’s your proof?’
    ‘Look at this report you’ve just read out. You wrote it purely in jest, out of the cockiness of your advanced years. But don’t you notice how sombre Pupu-didi looks? Your story probably sent a chill down her spine. Perhaps she imagined your de-furred jackal coming to complain to her. If you can’t stop being so clever, you’d better give up telling stories.’
    ‘It’s difficult for me to tone down my cleverness. You wouldn’t understand; you’ve never had to make such an effort. The Creator is on your side.’
    ‘Dada, now you’re getting angry. But I tell you, the pungency of your intelligence has dried up all the fun in you. You think you’re being funny, but when your humour gets under the skin, it grates like a scrubbing-stone. I’ve warned you often enough—in trying to laugh, or to make others laugh, don’t risk your comfort in the next life. Didn’t you see Pupu-didi’s eyes fill with tears at the plight of the tailless jackal? If you like, I’ll go and make her laugh right this minute—pure laughter, without any alloy of intelligence.’
    ‘You don’t have a written piece ready, do you?’
    ‘I do. It begins in the style of a play. All I need say is that Udho, Gobra and Ponchu of our neighbourhood are talking. Pupu-didi has already made their acquaintance.’
    ‘Very well, let’s