Question

A precious gift written by Rabindranath Tagore summary​

Answer 1

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Rabindranath Tagore's writing was innovative in Bengali literature at the time for its focus on daily life, as opposed to the more traditional concerns of Indian literatures, which tended to be constrained to epic and religious tales. His short stories often depicted exceptional circumstances and critical moments in the lives of everyday Bengali people, be they rich or poor, men or women, and even living or dead. Throughout his short stories, Tagore engages themes of domestic roles, the supernatural, and class. Sometimes these stories have conclusive endings with clear morals, and sometimes they're wry or mysterious parables that don't seem to end or have any direct message.

"Punishment" is the story of a man, Chidam, who accuses his wife, Chandara, of a murder that his brother committed. While Chidam claims that he has a way to clear Chandara's name, Chandara is so repulsed by her husband's actions that she chooses to take the responsibility for the murder, believing that the death penalty will be preferable to continuing to live with a man who betrayed her.

In "Kabuliwallah," a traveling confections salesman develops a close friendship with a precocious young girl until he is sent to jail for stabbing a man who owed him money. When the Kabuliwallah gets out of jail a number of years later, he wants to see the girl, but shows up at her house on her wedding day. Her father attempts to turn the Kabuliwallah away, but the Kabuliwallah shows the father a sheet of paper marked with his own daughter's handprint in ash, and the father is touched. He lets the Kabuliwallah see the girl, but the strange interaction reminds the Kabuliwallah that he's been away from his own daughter for so long that he's missed her growing up and will have to become reacquainted with her.

Answer 2

Answer:

I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in the stream of the world.

Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten.

But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heart with my gifts.

Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love we

bring you at one draught and turn and run away from us. You have your play and your playmates. What harm is there if

you have no time or thought for us!

We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the days that are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost for

ever.