CHAPTER V.
Baburam in Calcutta.
Singing snatches of a popular love-song:—
"For my lost love's sake I am dying:
"And my heart is faint with sighing."
and varying his song with whistling, Meeah Jan, a cartman, was urging his bullocks along the road, abusing them roundly for their slowness, twisting their tails, and whacking them with his whip. A few clouds were overhead, and a little rain was falling. The bullocks as they went lumbering along, succeeded in overtaking the hired gharry in which Premnarayan Mozoomdar was travelling. It was swaying from side to side in the wind: the two horses were wretched specimens of their kind, and must surely have belonged to the far-famed race of the Pakshiraj, king of birds. They were doing their best to get along, poor beasts, but notwithstanding the blows that rained down on their backs from the driver's whip, their pace did not mend very considerably. Before starting on his journey, Premnarayan had eaten a very hearty meal, and at each jolt of the gharry his heart was in his mouth. His disgust however increased as the bullock cart drew ahead of his vehicle. Premnarayan need not be blamed for this. Every man has some self-respect which he does not care to lose. The majority have a high opinion of themselves, and while some lose their tempers if there is the slightest failing in the respect they think due to them, others feel humiliated and depressed.
