Sacrifice

The little village nestled
peacefully in the valley, a mile
away from the banks of the River
Indus. Gaudapur was a small
village, but a rich one, the land
around it being extremely fertile.

No one looking at the peace-
ful, tranquil valley would sus-
pect that it was the scene of
fierce skirmishes between the
villagers and the dacoits who
terrorised the area. Jatilsen,
the dacoit leader, coveted the
grain stored in the granaries of
Gaudapur; his greed however,
had recently boiled into fierce
enmity when Parshuramji, the
Village Patil, had hanged Jatil's
younger brother.

In the village itself, the streets
were unusually silent. The
only sounds came from the
village pond, as by its side, two
little boys played with wooden
swords. GHanshyam, son of
the Patil, was a little older than
his companion Mukhi, one and
only child of the PatiPs chief
herdsman.

As they played, it was obvious
that Mukhi was devoted to
Ghanshyam; he often took a
blow from the wooden sword
without retaliating, and spoke
to his friend as if he were a
brother.

" The streets are empty since
the menfolk went to fight the
dacoits," said Grunshyam as
he sat down by the side of the
pond. " And all the women
are hiding."

Parshuramji had led all the
men out a little earlier against
Jatil Sen's dacoits, who were
reported to be stealing the
wheat. With their elders
having departed, the two boys,
both of whom were motherless,
played freely in the streets.

Suddenly, with a clatter of
hooves, a little pony ridden by
Gopu, Mukhi's father galloped
up to the children. Panting,
Gopu flunghimself off the pony,
and ran up to the two boys.
Ghanshyam looked at him in
surprise.

" What has happened,
Gopu?"

"Oh, Young Master, we are -
defeated. The dacoits will
soon enter the village. Your
honourable father has sent me
to take you away". Jatilsen



has sworn to kill you in revenge
for his brother!"

Even as he spoke, Gopu lifted
up Ghanshyam placed him on
the pony's back and vaulted up
behind him.

" What about me, father?
Are you going to leave me
here?" Mukhi's plaintive ques-
tion was almost a wail.

Looking desperately at his
son, Gopu replied; "You will
have to wait here, child. Patil's
orders are to take the young
master to safety beyond the
mountain, and I cannot carry
you both. Doubtless, you will
not be harmed. It is the young
master whom they want. May
Lord Krishna protect you."



Gopu rode away as Ghan-
shyam shouted good-bye.
Mukhi stood in the street, tears
welling up in. his eyes.

Then he heard the sound
hooves again and two horse-
men galloped up. The boy
almost fainted. The big beard,
the fierce eyes, the red head-
band: it was Jatilsen himself
with another fine, companion.




" Who are you, little frog?"
asked the dacoit chief.

" 1 am Mukhi," the boy man-
aged to reply through chatter-
ing teeth.

" Then you are not the one I
want. Ah, perhaps that rider
in the distance will be the-Patil's
son. Come, Ganpat."

As the two spurred their
horses, Mukhi cried in a
trembling voice: "Wait."

" What is it, fool?"

'* I told lies just now. I am
Ghanshyam. the Patil's son!"

The two men flung themselves
from their horses and advanced
towards the terrified boy. Jatil-



sen drew his long, curved sword.

" A month ago, little frog,
your father hung my younger
brother. This is in revenge!"

The gleaming sword swung
in a vicious arc. Then the
dacoit picked up the body,
threw it into the porch of a
nearby hut. Striking a flint,
he lit a piece of cloth and set
fire to the hut. This done,
the two rode back the way they
had come.

A mile away, Ghanshyam
looked back at the village and
saw the smoke.

" I wonder what that plume
of smoke is?" he said.