In this way he bade him good bye and got rid of his enemy. Reaching home the astrologer told his wife that a great burden was off his head as the person whom he thought to be dead was alive. He narrated the past incident to her. After this, he yawned and stretched himself on the pyol. Accessed October 7, If you contact us after hours, we'll get back to you in 24 hours or less.
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An Astrologer’s Day Essay
However, if you need any other sample, we will send it to you via email. He asked in a tone of relief, " Do you say so? If it comes from your lips it must be true. You are improving every second. Sleep in peace. You must not exert yourself on any account. You must sleep very soundly.
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I will sec you in the morning. On his way home he stopped for a moment at his hospital, called out his assistant, and said, " That Lawley Extension case. You might expect the collapse any second now. Go there with a tube of From his car he made a dash for the sick bed. The patient was awake and looked very well. The assistant reported satisfactory pulse. The doctor put his tube at his heart, listened for a while, and told the sick man's wife, " Don't look so unhappy, lady.
Your husband will live to be ninety. He will live to be ninety. He has turned the corner. How he has survived this attack will be a puzzle to me all my life," replied the doctor.
An Astrologer's Day by R. K. Narayan, | cackstarmarbesi.gq
This is what happened to ex-gateman Govind Singh. And you could not blame the public either. What could you do with a man who carried about in his hand a registered postal cover and asked : " Please tell me what there is inside? Everywhere the suggestion was the same till he thought everyone had turned mad.
And then somebody said : " If you don't like to open it and yet want to know what is inside you must take it to the X-ray Institute. It was explained to him. But before saying anything further about his pro- gress, it would be usefiil to go back to an earlier chapter in his history. After war service in , he came to be recommended for a gatekeeper's post at Engladia's.
He liked the job very much. He was given a khaki uniform, a resplendent band across his shoulder and a short stick. And when his chief's car pulled up at the gate he stood at attention and gave a military salute. The office consisted of a staff numbering over a hundred and as they trooped in and out every day he kept an eye on them.
At the end of the day he awaited the footsteps of the General Manager coining down the stairs and rose stiffly and stood at attention, and after he left the hundreds of staff poured out. The doors were shut ; Singh carried his stool in, placed it under the staircase, and placed his stick across it. Then he came out and the main door was locked and sealed. In this way he had spent twenty-five years of service, and then he begged to be pensioned off.
He would not have thought of retirement yet, but for the fact that he found his sight and hearing playing tricks on him ; he could not catch the Manager's footsteps on the stairs, and it was hard to recognize him even at ten yards. He was ushered into the presence of the chief, who looked up for a moment from his papers and muttered : " We are very pleased with your work for us, and the company will give you a pension of twelve rupees for your life.
This was the second occasion when the great man had spoken to him, the first being on the first day of his service.
As he had stood at his post, the chief, entering the office just then, looked up for a moment and asked " Who are you? And he spoke again only on this day. Though so little was said, Singh felt electrified on both occasions by the words of his master. In moments of contemplation Singh's mind dwelt on the words of his master, and on his personality. His life moved on smoothly.
The pension together with what his wife earned by washing and sweeping in a couple of houses was quite sufficient for him. He ate his food, went out and met a few friends, slept, and spent some evenings sitting at a cigarette shop which his cousin owned. This tenor of life was disturbed on the first of every month when he donned his old khaki suit, walked to his old office, and salaamed the Accountant at the counter and received his pension.
Sometimes if it was closing he waited on the roadside for the General Manager to come down, and saluted him as he got into his car. There was a lot of time all around him, an immense sea of leisure. In this state he made a new discovery about himself, that he could make fascinating models out of clay and wood dust. The discovery came suddenly, when one day a child in the neighbourhood brought to him its little doll for repair.
He not only repaired it but made a new thing of it. This discovery pleased him so much that he very soon became absorbed in it. His backyard gave him a plentiful supply of pliant clay, and the carpenter's shop next to his cousin's cigarette shop sawdust. He purchased paint for a few annas. And lo! He sat there in the front part of his home, bent over his clay, and brought into existence a miniature universe ; all the colours of life were there, all the forms and creatures, but of the size of his middle finger ; whole villages and towns were there, GATEMAN'S GIFT 27 all the persons he had seen passing before his office when he was sentry there that beggar woman coming at midday, and that cucumber vendor ; he had the eye of a cartoonist for human faces.
Everything went down into clay.
It was a wonderful miniature re- flection of the world ; and he mounted them neatly on thin wooden slices, which enhanced their attractive- ness. He kept these in his cousin's shop and they attracted huge crowds every day and sold very briskly.
More than the sales Singh felt an ecstasy when he saw admiring crowds clustering around his handiwork. On his next pension day he carried to his office a street scene which he ranked as his best , and handed it over the counter to the Accountant with the request : " Give this to the Sahib, please!
It created a sensation in the office and disturbed the routine of office working for nearly half an hour. On the next pension day he carried another model children at play and handed it over the counter. He made it a convention to carry on every pension day an offering for his master, and each time his greatest reward was the Accountant's stock reply to his question : " What did the Sahib say?
A model of his office frontage with himself at his post, a car at the entrance, and the chief getting down : this composite model was so realistic that while he sat looking at it, he seemed to be carried back to his office days.
Critical Appreciation of the short story ‘An Astrologer’s Day by R.K.Narayan’
A sudden fear seized Singh and he asked : " The master won't be angry, I hope? A week later when he was sitting on the fyol kneading clay, the postman came and said : " A registered letter for you. Now a registered letter! This was his first registered letter. Please take it back. I don't want it," said Singh.
Shall I say 'Refused'? Singh seemed to have no option but to scrawl his signature and receive the packet. He sat gloomily gazing at the floor. His wife who had gone out and just returned saw him in this condition and asked : "What is it? He said: "How should I know. Perhaps our ruin. It cannot be opened. They have perhaps written that my pension is stopped, and God knows what else the Sahib has said. I will never show my face there again.
That must also have reached the Sahib's ears.