Not yet had the sky well cleared and numerous birds were proclaiming the coming day at the top of their voices when, raising a dreadful storms in the hard breast of Bongram's dying river, a launch put in to shore.

Blind Dasarath knew it first. Of his two sons one had gone wrong and the younger, laying aside the oar in his hand, was filling the bowl of the hookah with tobacco for his father. Drawing in his net Dasarath sat staring with unblinking eyes at the still dark western sky as he awaited the boy's tobacco. Suddenly a sort of booming sound come to his ears. Listening with deep attention for a while he called, "Rama?"

Dasarath's son Ramchandra, was busy with the tobacco. He answered crossly for he felt out of sorts, "What?"

"Don't you hear anything?"

Without lifting his face Rama replied, "No."

Dasarath was silent again for a little and then said, 'Take a look. Not a steamer of something?"

"Then you can see, can't you, father?" It was Ramchandra's belief that although his father might not see very well he certainly saw a little. Dasarath could not control his rage when told so. Apparently he did not hear this time. Not getting an answer he called again, "Rama?"

"What?" But against his will Rama looked in the direction indicated. Dasarath had not been mistaken. What seemed to be a small ship was visible. The sound was more definite now. In great excitement he said, "Huh, father."

"There, didn't I tell you?" Dasarath laughed and began a tale. It was a story of long ago, before even the storm of 26. The eldest son of the Beltoli Zaminder had just returned from foreign parts and re-entered his village home for the first time. He undergone all sorts of mishaps on the way and become so annoyed that not many days later an enormous steamer showed up, bringing out on the riverbank all the people of the nearby villages with its terrific hooting. A steamer company had opened a new line. The river of those days was no more. That was a sight Dasarath had seen in his time. Did such things happen now-a-days? Even the people of those times were no more, neither were their feats.

And a minute later Ramchandra's lips had spread the strange news throughout the village.

The person who descended from the launch with his retinue sometime later was well dressed. He was wearing a silk scarf and shiny pump-shoes. A cigarette was in his mouth and a soft smile on his lips.

Of those who had crowded round some moved away and stood at a distance while other remained where they were, folding their arms over their chests and staring as if they would drop dead if they dared to move. They were the young ones. Those who were middle-aged or old stood apart and grinned. How insolent they were always trying to show off whatever happened.

"Babu, salaam." Old Yasin