Page 63 - English Reader - 7

‘All right. But promise you will not roll up your bed and go to Granny’s side at night. If you do it, mind

you, I will make you the laughing-stock of your school.’
Swami felt cut-off from humanity. He was pained and angry. He didn’t like the strain of cruelty he
saw in his Father’s nature. He hated the newspaper for printing the tiger’s story. He wished that the
tiger hadn’t spared the boy, who didn’t appear to be a boy after all, but a monster…

As the night advanced and the silence in the house deepened, his heart started beating faster. He
remembered all the stories of devils and ghosts he had heard in his life. How often had his chum

Mani seen the devil in the banyan tree at his street-end. And what about poor Munisami’s father
who spat out blood because the devil near the river’s edge slapped his cheek when he was returning
home late one night. And so on and on his thoughts continued. He was faint with fear. A ray of light
from the street lamp strayed in and cast shadows on the wall. Through the stillness all kinds of noises
reached his ears—the ticking of the clock, rustle of trees, snoring sounds, and some vague night
insects humming. He covered himself so completely that he could hardly breathe. Every moment
he expected the devils to come up to carry him away; there was the instance of his old friend in the
fourth class who suddenly disappeared and was said to have been carried off by a ghost to Siam or
Nepal…

Swami hurriedly got up and spread his bed under the bench and crouched there. It seemed to be a
much safer place, more compact, and reassuring. He shut his eyes tight and encased himself in his
blanket once again and unknown to himself fell asleep, and in sleep was racked with nightmares. A

tiger was chasing him. His feet stuck to the ground. He desperately tried to escape, but his feet
would not move; the tiger was at his back, and he could hear its claws scratch the ground… scratch,
scratch, and then a light thud…Swami tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids would not open and the
nightmare continued. It threatened to continue for ever. Swami groaned in despair.
With a desperate effort he opened his
eyes. He put his hand out to feel his
Granny’s presence at his side, as was
his habit, but he only touched the
wooden leg of the bench. And
his lonely state came back
to him. He sweated with
fright. And now what was
this rustling? He moved to
the edge of the bench and
stared into the darkness.
Something was moving
down. He lay gazing at it in
horror. His end had come.
He realised that the devil
would presently pull him out and
tear him, and so why should he wait? As

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