LINE BY LINE EXPLANATION
“Phatik Chakravorti was ringleader among the boys of the village. A new mischief got
into his head. There was a heavy log lying on the mud-flat of the river waiting to be
shaped into a mast for a boat. He decided that they should all work together to shift the
log by main force from its place and roll it away. The owner of the log would be angry
and surprised, and they would all enjoy the fun. Every one seconded the proposal, and it
was carried unanimously.
But just as the fun was about to begin, Makhan, Phatik’s younger brother, sauntered up,
and sat down on the log in front of them all without a word. The boys were puzzled for
a moment. He was pushed, rather timidly, by one of the boys and told to get up but he
remained quite unconcerned. He appeared like a young philosopher meditating on the
futility of games. Phatik was furious. “Makhan,” he cried, “if you don’t get down this
minute I’ll thrash you!”
Makhan only moved to a more comfortable position. “
In a village, there was a boy named Phatik who was the leader of a group of boys. One day, he came up with an idea for a prank. There was a heavy log by the river that was supposed to be used for making a boat mast. Phatik wanted all the boys to work together to move the log forcefully from where it was and roll it away. They thought it would be funny because the log’s owner would be surprised and upset.
All the boys agreed with Phatik’s plan, and they were excited to start the prank. However, just as they were about to begin, Phatik’s younger brother, Makhan, came over and sat on the log without saying anything. This confused the other boys, and they tried to get Makhan to move by pushing him gently and asking him to get up. But Makhan didn’t seem bothered; he sat there as if he was thinking deeply about how silly games like this were.
This made Phatik very angry, and he shouted at Makhan, telling him to get down from the log or he would get punished. However, Makhan didn’t listen and just found a more comfortable spot to sit.
“Now, if Phatik was to keep his regal dignity before the public, it was clear he ought to
carry out his threat. But his courage failed him at the crisis. His fertile brain, however,
rapidly seized upon a new manoeuvre which would discomfit his brother and afford his
followers an added amusement. He gave the word of command to roll the log and
Makhan over together. Makhan heard the order, and made it a point of honour to stick
on. But he overlooked the fact, like those who attempt earthly fame in other matters,
that there was peril in it.
The boys began to heave at the log with all their might, calling out, “One, two, three,
go,” At the word “go” the log went; and with it went Makhan’s philosophy, glory and
all.
All the other boys shouted themselves hoarse with delight. But Phatik was a little
frightened. He knew what was coming. And, sure enough, Makhan rose from Mother
Earth blind as Fate and screaming like the Furies. He rushed at Phatik and scratched his
face and beat him and kicked him, and then went crying home. The first act of the
drama was over.”
Now, at this point in the story, Phatik had to decide whether he should follow through on his threat and punish his younger brother Makhan for not moving from the log. However, he felt too scared to do it. But Phatik quickly came up with a different plan to embarrass his brother and amuse his friends. He ordered the boys to roll the log with Makhan still sitting on it. Makhan heard the command and decided to stay on the log as a matter of pride, but he didn’t realize the danger involved.
The boys all began pushing the log with all their strength, counting together, “One, two, three, go.” When they said “go,” they pushed the log, and along with it, Makhan. Unfortunately, Makhan’s determination and pride didn’t protect him, and he tumbled off the log, losing his dignity and getting hurt in the process.
The other boys found this hilarious and laughed loudly. But Phatik, who knew what would happen, felt a bit scared because he knew Makhan would be very angry. As expected, Makhan got up from the ground, furious and screaming like a wild force of nature. He attacked Phatik, scratching his face, hitting him, and kicking him. Then, he went home crying. This marked the end of the first part of their adventure.
“Phatik wiped his face, and sat down on the edge of a sunken barge on the river bank,
and began to chew a piece of grass. A boat came up to the landing, and a middle-aged
man, with grey hair and dark moustache, stepped on shore. He saw the boy sitting there
doing nothing, and asked him where the Chakravortis lived. Phatik went on chewing the
grass, and said: “Over there,” but it was quite impossible to tell where he pointed. The
stranger asked him again. He swung his legs to and fro on the side of the barge, and
said; “Go and find out,” and continued to chew the grass as before.
But now a servant came down from the house, and told Phatik his mother wanted him.
Phatik refused to move. But the servant was the master on this occasion. He took Phatik
up roughly, and carried him, kicking and struggling in impotent rage.
When Phatik came into the house, his mother saw him. She called out angrily: “So you
have been hitting Makhan again?”
Phatik answered indignantly: “No, I haven’t; who told you that?”
His mother shouted: “Don’t tell lies! You have.”
Phatik said suddenly: “I tell you, I haven’t. You ask Makhan!” But Makhan thought it
best to stick to his previous statement. He said: “Yes, mother. Phatik did hit me.””
After the incident with Makhan, Phatik wiped his face and sat down on the edge of a sunken boat on the riverbank. He started chewing on a piece of grass. Soon, a boat arrived at the landing, and a middle-aged man with gray hair and a dark mustache got off the boat. He saw Phatik sitting there, not doing anything, and asked him where the Chakravorti family lived. Phatik, while still chewing the grass, vaguely pointed in a direction and said, “Over there,” but it was difficult to determine where he was pointing. The stranger asked him again, but Phatik just swung his legs back and forth on the side of the boat and replied, “Go and find out,” while continuing to chew the grass.
However, a servant from Phatik’s house came down and informed him that his mother wanted to see him. Phatik refused to move, but the servant was determined and forcibly carried Phatik back to the house, despite his futile struggles and anger.
When Phatik entered the house, his mother noticed him and asked angrily if he had been hitting Makhan again. Phatik responded indignantly, denying that he had done any such thing and asked who had told her that. His mother, however, accused him of lying and insisted that he had indeed hit Makhan.
Phatik then changed his approach and told his mother to ask Makhan directly. But Makhan, wanting to avoid trouble, stuck to his previous statement and confirmed, “Yes, mother, Phatik did hit me.”
“Phatik’s patience was already exhausted. He could not hear this injustice. He rushed at
Makban, and hammered him with blows: “Take that” he cried, “and that, and that, for
telling lies.”
His mother took Makhan’s side in a moment, and pulled Phatik away, beating him with
her hands. When Phatik pushed her aside, she shouted out: “What I you little villain!
Would you hit your own mother?”
It was just at this critical juncture that the grey-haired stranger arrived. He asked what
the matter was. Phatik looked sheepish and ashamed.
But when his mother stepped back and looked at the stranger, her anger was changed to
surprise. For she recognised her brother, and cried: “Why, Dada! Where have you come
from? “As she said these words, she bowed to the ground and touched his feet. Her
brother had gone away soon after she had married, and he had started business in
Bombay. His sister had lost her husband while he was in Bombay. Bishamber had now
come back to Calcutta, and had at once made enquiries about his sister. He had then
hastened to see her as soon as he found out where she was.”
Phatik couldn’t bear what he saw as an unfair accusation from Makhan, and he began hitting Makhan with punches, angrily exclaiming, “Take that, and that, and that, for telling lies.” His mother quickly sided with Makhan and intervened, trying to pull Phatik away while hitting him with her hands. Phatik, in his frustration, pushed his mother aside, which made her scold him, saying, “What! You little troublemaker! Would you hit your own mother?”
Just at this crucial moment, a grey-haired stranger arrived and asked what the commotion was about. Phatik felt embarrassed and ashamed. However, when Phatik’s mother stepped back and looked at the stranger, her anger turned into surprise. She recognized the stranger as her own brother and exclaimed, “Why, Dada! Where have you come from?” She then bowed to the ground and touched his feet in a sign of respect. Her brother, Bishamber, had left for Bombay soon after her marriage and had recently returned to Calcutta. Upon his return, he had inquired about his sister and rushed to see her as soon as he learned where she was living.
“The next few days were full of rejoicing. The brother asked after the education of the
two boys. He was told by his sister that Phatik was a perpetual nuisance. He was lazy,
disobedient, and wild. But Makhan was as good as gold, as quiet as a lamb, and very
fond of reading, Bishamber kindly offered to take Phatik off his sister’s hands, and
educate him with his own children in Calcutta. The widowed mother readily agreed.
When his uncle asked Phatik if he would like to go to Calcutta with him, his joy knew
no bounds, and he said; “Oh, yes, uncle!” In a way that made it quite clear that he meant
it.
It was an immense relief to the mother to get rid of Phatik. She had a prejudice against
the boy, and no love was lost between the two brothers. She was in daily fear that he
would either drown Makhan some day in the river, or break his head in a fight, or run
him into some danger or other. At the same time she was somewhat distressed to see
Phatik’s extreme eagerness to get away.
Phatik, as soon as all was settled, kept asking his uncle every minute when they were to
start. He was on pins and needles all day long with excitement, and lay awake most of
the night. He bequeathed to Makhan, in perpetuity, his fishing-rod, his big kite and his
marbles. Indeed, at this time of departure his generosity towards Makhan was
unbounded.”
In the following days, there was much happiness in the family. The uncle, Bishamber, inquired about the education of the two boys. Phatik’s mother informed her brother that Phatik was a constant source of trouble; he was lazy, disobedient, and unruly. On the other hand, Makhan was very well-behaved, quiet, and had a love for reading. Bishamber kindly offered to take Phatik to Calcutta with him and educate him alongside his own children. The widowed mother agreed readily.
When Bishamber asked Phatik if he would like to go to Calcutta with him, Phatik was overjoyed and enthusiastically replied, “Oh, yes, uncle!” making it clear that he was eager to go.
For Phatik’s mother, it was a great relief to have Phatik leave. She had a strong dislike for him, and there was no love lost between the two brothers. She was constantly worried that Phatik might put Makhan in danger, whether by accidents near the river, fights, or other risky situations. However, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sad to see how eager Phatik was to leave.
As the departure date drew near, Phatik kept asking his uncle when they would start their journey. He was filled with excitement, couldn’t sit still all day, and often couldn’t sleep at night due to anticipation. Phatik even gave his fishing rod, large kite, and marbles to Makhan as gifts, showing immense generosity toward his younger brother during this time of departure.
“When they reached Calcutta, Phatik made the acquaintance of his aunt for the first time.
She was by no means pleased with this unnecessary addition to her family. She found
her own three boys quite enough to manage without taking any one else. And to bring a
village lad of fourteen into their midst was terribly upsetting. Bishamber should really
have thought twice before committing such an indiscretion.
In this world of human affairs there is no worse nuisance than a boy at the age of
fourteen. He is neither ornamental, nor useful. It is impossible to shower affection on
him as on a little boy; and he is always getting in the way. If he talks with a childish lisp
he is called a baby, and if he answers in a grown-up way he is called impertinent. In fact
any talk at all from him is resented. Then he is at the unattractive, growing age. He
grows out of his clothes with indecent haste; his voice grows hoarse and breaks and
quavers; his face grows suddenly angular and unsightly. It is easy to excuse the
shortcomings of early childhood, but it is hard to tolerate even unavoidable lapses in a
boy of fourteen. The lad himself becomes painfully self-conscious. When he talks with
elderly people he is either unduly forward, or else so unduly shy that he appears
ashamed of his very existence.
Yet it is at this very age when in his heart of hearts a young lad most craves for
recognition and love; and he becomes the devoted slave of any one who shows him
consideration. But none dare openly love him, for that would be regarded as undue
indulgence, and therefore bad for the boy. So, what with scolding and chiding, he
becomes very much like a stray dog that has lost his master.”
When Phatik arrived in Calcutta, he met his aunt for the first time. She wasn’t happy about having him added to her family, as she already had three boys of her own to take care of, and adding a 14-year-old boy from the village into their household was quite disruptive. Bishamber, Phatik’s uncle, should have thought more carefully before making this decision.
In the realm of human affairs, a 14-year-old boy can be quite a nuisance. He’s not cute like a little boy, and he’s not very helpful either. People can’t shower him with affection as they would with a younger child, and he often gets in the way. If he talks like a child, he’s seen as a baby, and if he answers in a more mature way, he might be considered impertinent. People sometimes resent any conversation from him. Additionally, this age is marked by awkward growth, with clothes quickly becoming too small, voices changing, and faces becoming angular and less attractive. It’s easy to forgive the shortcomings of young children, but people have less patience for the inevitable mistakes of a 14-year-old. The teenager becomes very self-conscious and may appear either overly forward or extremely shy when speaking with adults, often seeming embarrassed by their own existence.
Paradoxically, it’s during this age that a young boy most desires recognition and love deep down, and he becomes extremely loyal to anyone who shows him kindness. However, nobody can openly express their love for him because it’s seen as excessive indulgence, which is considered detrimental to the boy’s character. So, due to scolding and criticism, he often feels like a lost stray dog without a master.
“For a boy of fourteen his own home is the only Paradise. To live in a strange house with
strange people is little short of torture, while the height of bliss is to receive the kind
looks of women, and never to be slighted by them.
It was anguish to Phatik to be the unwelcome guest in his aunt’s house, despised by this
elderly woman, and slighted, on every occasion. If she ever asked him to do anything
for her, he would be so overjoyed that he would overdo it; and then she would tell him
not to be so stupid, but to get on with his lessons.
The cramped atmosphere of neglect in his aunt’s house oppressed Phatik so much that
he felt that he could hardly breathe. He wanted to go out into the open country and fill
his lungs and breathe freely. But there was no open country to go to. Surrounded on all
sides by Calcutta houses and walls, be would dream night after night of his village
home, and long to be back there. He remembered the glorious meadow where he used to fly his kite all day long; the broad river-banks where he would wander about the
livelong day singing and shouting for joy; the narrow brook where he could go and dive
and swim at any time he liked. He thought of his band of boy companions over whom
he was despot; and, above all, the memory of that tyrant mother of his, who had such a
prejudice against him, occupied him day and night. A kind of physical love like that of
animals; a longing to be in the presence of the one who is loved; an inexpressible
wistfulness during absence; a silent cry of the inmost heart for the mother, like the
lowing of a calf in the twilight;-this love, which was almost an animal instinct, agitated
the shy, nervous, lean, uncouth and ugly boy. No one could understand it, but it preyed
upon his mind continually.”
For a 14-year-old boy, there’s no place like home. Being in a strange house with unfamiliar people can feel like a form of torture. The greatest happiness comes from receiving kind and accepting looks from women and never feeling rejected by them.
Phatik was deeply unhappy as an unwelcome guest in his aunt’s house, where he felt disliked by the elderly woman and was constantly overlooked. If she ever asked him to do something for her, he would become so thrilled that he would often overdo it, only to be scolded for his perceived stupidity and told to focus on his lessons.
The stifling atmosphere of neglect in his aunt’s house weighed heavily on Phatik, making him feel like he could barely breathe. He yearned to escape into the open countryside and fill his lungs with fresh air, but he was surrounded by the walls and houses of Calcutta with no open spaces to go to. He daydreamed about his village home, remembering the beautiful meadow where he would fly kites all day, the vast riverbanks where he would wander, sing, and shout for joy, and the narrow brook where he could dive and swim whenever he pleased. He thought about his group of boyhood friends whom he used to lead, and most of all, he couldn’t stop thinking about his mother, even though she had a strong prejudice against him. His feelings were akin to a physical, instinctual love, much like that of animals—a yearning to be in the presence of the one he loved, an indescribable longing during her absence, a silent cry from the depths of his heart for his mother, like the lowing of a calf in the twilight. This complex love consumed the shy, nervous, skinny, awkward, and unattractive boy, and though no one else could understand it, it haunted his thoughts incessantly.
“There was no more backward boy in the whole school than Phatik. He gaped and
remained silent when the teacher asked him a question, and like an overladen ass
patiently suffered all the blows that came down on his back. When other boys were out
at play, he stood wistfully by the window and gazed at the roofs of the distant houses.
And if by chance he espied children playing on the open terrace of any roof, his heart
would ache with longing.
One day he summoned up all his courage, and asked his uncle: “Uncle, when can I go
home?”
His uncle answered; “Wait till the holidays come.” But the holidays would not come till
November, and there was a long time still to wait.
One day Phatik lost his lesson-book. Even with the help of books he had found it very
difficult indeed to prepare his lesson. Now it was impossible. Day after day the teacher
would cane him unmercifully. His condition became so abjectly miserable that even his
cousins were ashamed to own him. They began to jeer and insult him more than the
other boys. He went to his aunt at last, and told her that he bad lost his book.
His aunt pursed her lips in contempt, and said: “You great clumsy, country lout. How
can I afford, with all my family, to buy you new books five times a month?”
That night, on his way back from school, Phatik had a bad headache with a fit of
shivering. He felt he was going to have an attack of malarial fever. His one great fear
was that he would be a nuisance to his aunt.”
Phatik was one of the most academically challenged students in his school. He often stared blankly and remained silent when the teacher asked him questions, enduring any scolding or punishment he received without protest. While other children played outside during breaks, he stood by the window, gazing longingly at the distant houses’ rooftops. If he happened to spot children playing on a rooftop terrace, it filled him with a deep sense of longing.
One day, Phatik mustered the courage to ask his uncle when he could return home. His uncle replied that he would have to wait until the holidays arrived. However, the holidays were not due until November, and there was still a long time to wait.
Phatik’s situation worsened when he lost his lesson book. Even with his books, he had struggled to keep up with his studies, but now it became impossible. The teacher began punishing him severely, caning him day after day. His condition became so pitiful that even his cousins, who were also his classmates, started ridiculing and insulting him more than the other students. Feeling desperate, he went to his aunt and confessed that he had lost his book.
In response, his aunt reacted with contempt, scolding him as a clumsy, country bumpkin and telling him that she couldn’t afford to buy him new books so frequently, especially with her own family’s needs.
That evening, on his way back from school, Phatik developed a severe headache and began shivering. He feared he might be coming down with a bout of malaria. His greatest worry was that he would become a burden to his aunt.
“The next morning Phatik was nowhere to be seen. All searches in the neighbourhood
proved futile. The rain had been pouring in torrents all night, and those who went out in
search of the boy got drenched through to the skin. At last Bisbamber asked help from
the police.
At the end of the day a police van stopped at the door before the house. It was still
raining and the streets were all flooded. Two constables brought out Phatik in their arms
and placed him before Bishamber. He was wet through from head to foot, muddy all
over, his face and eyes flushed red with fever, and his limbs all trembling. Bishamber
carried him in his arms, and took him into the inner apartments. When his wife saw him,
she exclaimed; “What a heap of trouble this boy has given us. Hadn’t you better send
him home ?”
Phatik heard her words, and sobbed out loud: “Uncle, I was just going home; but they
dragged me back again,”
The fever rose very high, and all that night the boy was delirious. Bishamber brought in
a doctor. Phatik opened his eyes flushed with fever, and looked up to the ceiling, and
said vacantly: “Uncle, have the holidays come yet? May I go home?”
The next morning, Phatik was missing, and despite searching the neighborhood, no one could find him. Heavy rain had been falling all night, and those who tried to locate him got completely soaked. Eventually, Bishamber decided to seek assistance from the police.
By the end of the day, a police van arrived at their house, even though it was still raining heavily and the streets were flooded. Two police constables carried Phatik, who was soaking wet, covered in mud, with a flushed face, and trembling limbs, and placed him in front of Bishamber. Bishamber picked him up and took him inside.
When Bishamber’s wife saw Phatik in this state, she remarked that the boy had caused them a lot of trouble and suggested sending him back home. Phatik overheard her words and cried, saying, “Uncle, I was just trying to go home, but they pulled me back.”
Phatik’s fever continued to rise, and he became delirious that night. Bishamber summoned a doctor, and Phatik, in his feverish state, looked up at the ceiling and asked dazedly, “Uncle, have the holidays come yet? Can I go home?”
“Bishamber wiped the tears from his own eyes, and took Phatik’s lean and burning hands
in his own, and sat by him through the night. The boy began again to mutter. At last his
voice became excited: “Mother,” he cried, “don’t beat me like that! Mother! I am telling
the truth!”
The next day Phatik became conscious for a short time. He turned his eyes about the
room, as if expecting some one to come. At last, with an air of disappointment, his head
sank back on the pillow. He turned his face to the wall with a deep sigh.
Bishamber knew his thoughts, and, bending down his head, whispered: “Phatik, I have
sent for your mother.” The day went by. The doctor said in a troubled voice that the
boy’s condition was very critical.
Phatik began to cry out; “By the mark! –three fathoms. By the mark– four fathoms. By
the mark-.” He had heard the sailor on the river- steamer calling out the mark on the
plumb-line. Now he was himself plumbing an unfathomable sea.”
Bishamber wiped away his own tears and held Phatik’s skinny, feverish hands, staying by his side throughout the night. Phatik started mumbling again, and his voice grew more animated. He cried out, “Mother, please don’t beat me like that! Mother, I’m telling the truth!”
The following day, Phatik briefly regained consciousness. He looked around the room, seemingly expecting someone to arrive. Eventually, with a sense of disappointment, he lowered his head back onto the pillow and turned his face to the wall, letting out a deep sigh. Bishamber understood what he was thinking and leaned in to whisper, “Phatik, I’ve sent for your mother.” The day passed, and the doctor expressed concern that the boy’s condition was extremely critical.
Phatik began to utter phrases like, “By the mark! — three fathoms. By the mark — four fathoms,” echoing what he had heard from a sailor on a river steamer calling out depths using a plumb-line. Now, in his delirium, it was as if he was navigating an immeasurable sea.
“Later in the day Phatik’s mother burst into the room like a whirlwind, and began to toss from side to side and moan and cry in a loud voice.
Bishamber tried to calm her agitation, but she flung herself on the bed, and cried:
“Phatik, my darling, my darling.”
Phatik stopped his restless movements for a moment. His hands ceased beating up and
down. He said: “Eh?”
The mother cried again: “Phatik, my darling, my darling.”
Phatik very slowly turned his head and, without seeing anybody, said: “Mother, the
holidays have come.””
Later in the day, Phatik’s mother entered the room in a state of intense emotion. She moved about the room restlessly, moaning and crying loudly.
Bishamber tried to calm her down, but she threw herself onto the bed and exclaimed, “Phatik, my beloved, my beloved.”
Phatik momentarily ceased his restless movements, and his hands stopped moving up and down. He responded with a questioning, “Eh?”
The mother repeated, “Phatik, my beloved, my beloved.”
Phatik slowly turned his head and, without actually seeing anyone in the room, uttered, “Mother, the holidays have come.” This suggests that, in his delirium, he believed he was finally going home.
SUMMARY:
The story revolves around a boy named Phatik, who is mischievous and the ringleader among the village boys. Phatik’s latest prank involving a heavy log leads to a series of events that result in him being sent to live with his uncle’s family in Calcutta. There, he struggles with the strict and unkind atmosphere, feeling like an outsider. Phatik’s yearning for his village home intensifies, and he becomes ill with fever. As he nears death, his mother arrives, and in his delirium, he believes the holidays have come, implying he’s finally going home. The story explores themes of homesickness, family dynamics, and the challenges faced by a boy growing up in unfamiliar surroundings.