The theft and the return

The money. One evening Anil comes home with a bundle of notes: he has sold a book to a publisher. He tucks the money under his mattress. Hari thinks it's time he did 'some real work'. 'It's easy to rob a greedy man… but it's difficult to rob a careless man.'

The theft. At night, by moonlight, Hari slides his hand under the mattress and takes the notes: 600 rupees in fifties. He runs to the station to catch the 10.30 Express to Lucknow. The train is just pulling out. He could jump on, but he 'hesitated — for some reason I can't explain' and misses it.

What faces show. Hari has studied people who have been robbed: 'The greedy man showed fear; the rich man showed anger; the poor man showed acceptance.' Anil's face would show only a touch of sadness, 'not for the loss of money, but for the loss of trust'.

In the rain. He sits in the rain, then under the clock tower at midnight. The notes are damp. He thinks: he can't cook Anil's meals or learn whole sentences any more. 'Whole sentences… could one day bring me more than a few hundred rupees. … to be a really big man, a clever and respected man, was something else.' He goes back and slips the money under the mattress.

'He knew.' In the morning Anil gives him a fifty-rupee note: 'I made some money yesterday. Now you'll be paid regularly.' The note is still wet from the night's rain. So Anil knows. But 'neither his lips nor his eyes showed anything'. 'Today we'll start writing sentences.' Hari smiles, and this time the smile comes by itself.