The news spread through the bazaar, about the pipalnagar bank, with the rapidity of a forest fire. Describe how the news spread in the bazaar
Answers
Nathu grumbled to himself as he swept the steps of the Pipalnagar Bank, owned by Seth Govind
Ram. He used the small broom hurriedly and carelessly, and the dust, after rising in a cloud above his
head settled down again on the steps. As Nathu was banging his pan against a dustbin, Sitaram, the
washerman’s son, passed by.
Sitaram was on his delivery round, he had a bundle of freshly pressed clothes balanced on his
head.
‘Don’t raise such dust!’ he called out to Nathu. ‘Are you annoyed because they are still refusing to
pay you an extra two rupees a month?”
‘I don’t wish to talk about it,’ complained the sweeper-boy. ‘I haven’t even received my regular
pay. And this is the twentieth of the month. Who would think a bank would hold up a poor man’s
salary? As soon as I get my money, I’m off! Not another week I work in this place.’ And Nathu
banged the pan against the dustbin several times, just to emphasize his point and giving himself
confidence.
‘Well, I wish you luck,’ said Sitaram. ‘I’ll keep a lookout for any jobs that might suit you.’ And he
plodded barefoot along the road, the big bundle of clothes hiding most of his head and shoulders.
At the fourth he visited, Sitaram heard the lady of the house mention that she was in need of a
sweeper. Typing his bundle together, he said, ‘I know of a sweeper boy who’s looking for work, he
cans start from next month. He’s with the bank just now but they aren’t giving him his pay, and he
wants to leave.’
‘Is that so?’ said Mrs. Srivastava. ‘Well, tell him to come and see me tomorrow.’
And Sitaram, gold that he had been of service to both a customer and his friend, hoisted his bag
on his shoulders and went his way.
Mrs. Srivastava had to do some shopping. She gave instructions to the ayah about looking after
the baby, and told the cook not to be late with the mid-day meal. Then she set out for the Pipalnagar
market place, to make her customary tour of the cloth shops.
A large shady tamarind tree grew at one end of the bazaar, and it was here that Mrs. Srivastava
found her friend Mrs. Bhushan sheltering from the heat. Mr. Bhushan was fanning herself with a
large handkerchief. She complained of the summer, which she affirmed, was definitely the hottest in
the history of Pipalnagar. She then showed Mrs. Srivastava a sample of the cloth she was going to
buy, and for five minutes they discussed its shade, texture and design. Having exhausted this topic,
Mrs. Srivastava said, ‘Do you know, my dear, that Seth Govind Ram’s bank can’t even pay its
employees? Only this morning I heard a complaint from their sweeper, who hasn’t received his
wages his wages for over a month!’
‘Shocking!’ remarked Mrs. Bhushan. ‘If they can’t pay the sweeper they must be in a bad way.