Translated by mehedi hassan
It was in my knowing that the landlord of Ramganj Shambabu was a whimsical person. But I didn’t even imagine that his craziness could go so far. Waking up that morning, I got an invitation letter. Shambabu invited all of our family members to his mother’s funeral. Getting the letter, I had a hesitation. Shambabu’s mother had been sick and I didn’t know that when I am a doctor in this area. Strange!
Since I got the invitation, I would have to join the funeral and eventually I did. As soon as I reached his house, I saw that Shambabu with a paaita around his neck was greeting all of the people who came to join the funeral, and his face showed that he is in great mourn. Just as saw me, he said, “Please, doctor babu come and have a seat.”
After a brief conversation, I asked him about the death of his mother.
“Oh, don’t you know yet! My mother died in my childhood- I can’t remember her face. There was another mother- she cared for me very much.
The gentlemen’s voice started shaking.
I asked, “What kind of mother? And who is she?”
He replied, “My mangala(blessed) cow- you know I can’t even remember the time well when my mother died – and since then this cow has been fostering me by feeding her milk. I am nourished with her milk, my body and mind. And this dearest mother finally left me, doctor babu!
Just as finished the sentence, he started to cry miserably.
My wonder didn’t know any bounds.