Page 13 - English Reader - 7

“But where is your footrest?”
“I haven’t got one, sahib. I’ll buy one some day. When I’ve saved enough.”

Agilely, the boy lowered himself, crossed his legs and slapping one of his knees sharply, said, “Put
your foot here.” The knee looked tender and the man hesitated before putting his foot on it.

“What happened to your footrest? Broke it? Lost it?”
“I never had one. Can’t afford one, with a mother and three sisters to support, and the earnings

being what they are.”
He put the polish with rapid little stabs of his forefinger, then spread it all over with energetic circular
strokes of his finger tips.

“Am I not an expert?” The boy asked as he worked, looking up into the man’s face. He had bright
elongated eyes, strikingly set off by his smooth chocolate brown skin. The man looked down at the
boy’s fluttering hand and said, “Yes.”

“Wish I had a box and a footrest, so that my sisters could at least go to
school.”
“They don’t go to school?”

“I’m the only one in the family who earns. The others are too
young.”

“What about your father?”
“He left us about six months back. Didn’t tell us where

he was going.”
A few quick strokes of the brush to and fro, and the
shoe was glistening.

“The other foot please.”

“Have you tried to save?”
“I have. But it’s impossible with so many to
support. And I don’t want to beg or steal.”

A pause followed, the silence broken only by the rapid
tapping of passing feet.

“Sometimes when I start thinking, I feel I’ll go mad.” He spoke in a low, silky voice,
as if talking to himself.
“My sisters are growing up. One of these days, I’ll have to marry them off. From where am I going to
get them dowries? Will they have to remain unmarried forever?”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”
‘‘You talk like a grown-up.’’

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