The Hawker
Every morning, I see the boy board the train from Chakdah. In the curious folds of his unusual shirt, there are books—nothing but books. At first, the boy delivers a splendid speech about them. Without a doubt, he is educated and an eloquent speaker. Books do not sell like food items do. Yet I still see two or four firm hands rise from different corners of the compartment. At times I think that if he sold food instead of books, he would earn much more.
One day, I bought a book and shared my thoughts with him. He smiled shyly and said, “Sir, I wish to run my household on the earnings of the gods.”
I clearly felt my chest swell with pride at being addressed as a god....
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