The Cake Festival
Evening was closing in. The angry look of the red sun was gone. Like a spot of vermilion at the edge of the sky, it spread a soft radiance over the world. Seated on the floor of the husking shed, Surama, the widowed daughter-in-law of the Dutt family, was winnowing the paddy. Two peasant girls of the neighborhood were treading the rice-husking pedal. Thump, thump, the pedal danced on, pleased with the touch of their feet. Now and then, Surama would lay aside her winnowing fan and cast a look at the dusty grey road on the other side of the field to the west. As she did so, the peasant girl Pheli kept asking her in tender tones,—"Why are you so impatient, Bou-than? (Elder sister-in-law)[1]? Why do your thoughts wander? Gopal Dada (elder brother)[1] will come directly."
A thin dark-complexioned boy now appeared on the scene with some books under his arms. His head was covered with tangled hair, and his eyes were large with a helpless fawn-like look in them. He was somewhat tall for his age, but his face was soft and full like a baby's. Despite his stature, no woman could see that face without pressing his cheeks in caress.
Before Surama could raise her eyes, Gopal threw the books into a big wicker-basket and began pulling at the fringe of her cloth. A bunch of keys instantly passed from it into his hands. And then what a dance! What fun! "Give them back to me at once," cried Surama, stretching out her hand. "You'll lose them and I'll have to search everywhere!" The more she called out to him, the more he danced to and fro before her and cried—"No!
