BANGLE-SELLER
686 Words
I was playing with my doll when I heard a voice sing! "Churi, churi* Little girls, come and see. I've brought churis for you." I ran to the window and saw a bangle-seller with a basket on his head. He saw me and said, "Come little girl, come and buy some churis." "I'd like to buy some," I replied, "but I can't, because my mother is not in. Who else will give me money?" "Come and choose them at least. I'll take the money some other day." I thought tor a while and went down. The bangle-seller asked with a pleasant smile, "Child, which colour do you like best?" "Orange," said I and selected some. The churiwala** helped me wear them. By then my mother arrived and so she paid for the bangles. After a few days, my uncle brought a big, beautiful doll for me. I was thrilled. I told my mother, "Mummy, I want to buy bangles for my doll also." My mother said, "Yes, darling, you can buy some. Let the churiwala come." The next day I heard the familiar song again. "Churi-churi, girls come and buy my churis." I rushed down with my doll and called the bangleseller. He came with his basket. "Which one do you want?" he asked. "Give me some nice churis for my doll," I said, showing him my doll. The churiwala laughed and said, "Ha, ha! Is this your" baby?" "Yes." He chose red bangles for my doll. Then he looked at the doll and said, "You've got a very beautiful doll. It must be very expensive?" "Yes, it is." "My daughter would also love to have such a pretty doll." "Oh, you have a daughter?" "Yes, almost your age." "Doesn't she have any dolls?" "No.. .we're poor." "Don't woiry, I'll ask my uncle to buy a doll for her. How much do I have to pay for the churis?" "Fifty paise." "Please look after my doll. I'll bring the money." I rushed to get the money from my mother, but when I came back the churiwala had disappeared with my doll. "My doll, oh, my doll...!" I screamed and ran to my mother. "Mama, the churiwala has taken my doll away--my new doll!" "The churiwala? Why did you give it to him?" she said and rushed out to look for the churiwala. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My mother consoled me and warned our neighbours to be careful. That night I sobbed myself to sleep. I woke up early the next morning. As I sat beside the window, I noticed a man, well covered with a chaddar* walking towards our house. With him was a little girl. I could not see his face. The man stopped. He said something to the girl and handed her a packet. Packet in hand, the girl tiptoed towards our gate. She wore a dirty and torn frock. Hurriedly, I went downstairs and asked the girl, "Who are you? What do you want?" She looked at me, for a while and asked, "Where is your mummy?" "She's upstairs." The girl quietly opened the packet and there was my doll! "Oh! It's my doll. Where did you find it?" She spoke as if she had not heard me. "Take your doll back. The man standing over there is my father, the churiwala. I was surprised when he brought me such an expensive doll." After a pause, she continued, "We're poor. I can't even dream of such a doll." I couldn't say a thing. Soon the churiwala stepped forward and, uncovering his face, said in a low voice, "Child, please take back your doll. I took it for my daughter, Munni. But she refused to accept it when she heard I had stolen it." I grabbed the doll and clasped it in my arms. "Thank you, Munni! I'll always remember you." My mother came hurrying down. When she heard the story, she said, "Here's some money, churiwala. Buy a doll for your daughter." As they went out of the gate, Munni turned back and smiled. I waved to her and she waved back.
- Writer
