When everyone was finally gone, he would wash the baby boy's diapers. Then he would sit down to feed sister Sana. In between, he would sometimes have to go to the door to fetch the post or on occasion a visitor would come and he would have to go and find out who it was. Then Nanny would give him peas to shell or spinach to sort. At lunch time he would again be running back and forth carrying hot chapatis, all the while keeping the baby's cradle rocking. In sum, how far can I describe all the different duties that he was obliged to perform? Even at his young age, he did the work of a baby-sitter, a butler and a sweeper, and all this for a monthly salary of two rupees and some old torn clothes. His mother lived in the village. She had left Kallu with us so that he would at least have a little food in his belly. She herself worked for her landlord as a cook. Sometimes on holidays and during festivals she would come to visit Kallu. Although she would bring him molasses and chick peas or corn, she too would demand services of Kallu: "Oh my son, scratch my back a little." "Bring a little water for me to drink." "Bring a couple of chapatis from the kitchen. Ask the cook for a little dal also." "Rub my back a little." "Rub my waist." "Massage my head." Actually, all the family members found pleasure in having him press their legs with his tiny hands. Each day, for the entire mid-day period, he would have to press the legs of whomsoever happened to catch hold of him. Once in a while, drowsy in the summer heat, he would droop over and fall asleep. Then he would be startled awake by a kick. Kallu never got an opportunity to play. Whenever he did get a little time to take a breather, he would be so tired that he would just sit down silently and stare like an idiot at I don't know what. When people saw him in such an idiotic pose, they would sometimes tickle his ear with a piece of straw. He would be startled into consciousness and run off blushing to some other duty. One day, Halima's wedding preparations were being made. All day long all what anyone talked about was marriage: what one person's wedding had been like, to whom another had been married, and with whom somebody else should get married. "So, who will you marry, baby?" Mamani jokingly asked her little girl. "Big sister," the baby would answer with a lisp and everyone would roll over laughing. "And you, Kallu, who are you going to marry?" Mother asked Kallu for fun. Kallu grinned shyly, showing his big yellow teeth. When she kept pressing for an answer, he looked down at the ground and said, "Salima bibi." "Oh you wretched child!" burst out Mamani Jan, irritated by everyone's laughter. "Off with you, you idiot! May you perish! A curse on your head!" And she gave Kallu a slap. Another day, while playing with Salima, Kallu asked her, "What do you say, Salima bibi, won't you marry me?" "Unh Hunnh..." Salima nodded her big head in assent. Mamani Jan was sitting in the sunlight combing her hair when she heard this Annual of Urdu Studies, #7 94