It was the summer month of Baishakh, the hour was two in the afternoon, and the sunshine was dazzling.

Devdas Mukherjee, sitting in a corner of the village schoolroom, gazing thoughtfully at the sunny world outside, decided that he simply had to be outside somewhere.

Recess was almost over. All the children were playing noisily in the school grounds, yelling, shrieking, chasing one another in and around the giant banyan trees. All , except Devdas, and Parvati. Devdas was not allowed out for recess. Schoolmaster Govind Pandit, had found that once Devdas was let out of the classroom, it was impossible to get him back inside. Devdas’s father, Narayan Mukherjee, had agreed to this imprisonment, he had forbidden Devdas to leave the schoolhouse until classes were over.

In the schoolroom, Govind Pandit had closed his eyes for a brief rest. On a bench near him, sat Bhulonath, a village lad that helped out in the school and kept an eye on Devdas. Carefully drawing a portrait of the somnolent Govind Pandit , was Parvati. Parvati had begun school a month ago. It was her greatest pleasure to follow her hero, Devdas around. So instead of playing outside, she sat indoors, carefully drawing a likeness of the schoolmaster .

Suddenly, Devdas stood up, slate in hand, and going up to Bhulo, said,

“Can’t solve this problem.”

BhuloNath asked solemnly, “What problem ?”

“This one.”

“Let’s see it.”

Devdas gave him the slate. Bhulo began to write, “One mound of oil is 14 rupees, 9 annas, 3 gondas, then “

Bhulo never finshed his sentence because – (now, reader, let me explain that behind Bhulo’s bench stood a large tub of powdered lime. Sometime in the past, Govind Pandit had bought it cheap, planning to whitewash his house. When this would occur, no one could say, least of all Govind Pandit, but he kept it, dreaming of that fortunate day when his house would shine forth, sparkling white. No student was allowed near this precious hoard of snowy powder, and Bhulo’s bench stood like a barrier between it and the children.)

Bhulo was writing, “If one mound of oil is 14 Rupees, 9 annas, 3 gondas, …”

Then “ Omigod ! Help!” and a great deal of noise.

Parvati was writhing on the floor, screaming with laughter, clapping her hands. Startled out of his sleep, Govind Pandit looked out the window and saw all the children running in one direction, shouting as they ran. Next he saw Bhulo looking like an ash covered volcano, quivering and wailing.

Govind Pandit shouted “ What ? What ? What ? ..”

Parvati was still on the floor, unable to say a word. Bhulo rose from the tank of whitewash looking like a marble statue.

“You! What are you doing in there ? ” shouted Govind Patel.

“Waah! Wah! Waah! ”.

“Stop that!”

“That rascal – pushed – waah! Sum! Waah!”

“That worm!”

Govind Patel understood everything in a second.

“So Dev pushed you in and ran away ?”

Bhulo “ Yes ! Waah! Waah! Waah!”

Govind Pandit brushed the chalk off Bhulo until he looked less like a volcano and more like a ghost. But Bhulo did not stop crying.

Govind Pandit said “So! Devdas pushed you over and ran away. We shall see about that.”

Bhulo said “Waah! Waah!”

Govind Pandit continued “ Where is that ruffian ?”

The children came trooping in, panting, and red-faced.

“Couldn’t catch him, Sir! Wow, does he throw stones!”

“Hmm.”

Govind Pandit spent the next five minutes rebuking Parvati, then addressing Bhulo,

he said, “Come. We are going to pay Mr.Mukherjee a visit. The rest of you, stay here.”

It was almost three o’clock. Narayan Mukherjee was smoking his after –dinner pipe, when Govind Pandit came unexpectedly into view. Mystified, Narayan Mukherjee rose to greet him, “My dear friend !”

Govind Pandit lost no time in informing Mr.Mukherjee of his son’s misdeeds.

“What shall I do now ? Tell me, “ he ended.

“Where is he now ? ” asked Mr. Mukherjee.

“Who knows ? The children tried to catch him and he chased them away with stones.”

For a while the two men sat in silence. Then Narayan Mukherjee said, “I’ll deal with it when he comes home.”

Taking Bhulo by the hand, Govind Pandit returned to the school. Not one of the students dared to say a word when they saw his grim face. He had decided in his own mind never to let Devdas into the school again. He dismissed the students early.

As they went home, the children had a lot to say to each other.

One child said, “Ugh! That Dev throws stones really hard!”

Another said, “ What a trick to play on poor Bhulo!”

Yet another, “Bhulo will get his own back!”

“How will he ? – if Dev never comes to school again ?”

Parvati , walking with this little group, nudged the child nearest her.

“I say, Monu, is Devdas truly not coming back ?”

Monu replied confidently, “Never! Can’t see him coming back!”

Parvati became quiet, she did not like this news.

Parvati’s father was Nilkontho Chokrovorty, and he was Narayan Mukherjee’s neighbor , sort of. That’s to say, his brick two storey house stood near Narayan Mukherjee’s mansion, and he owned a couple of acres of land. He was comfortably off, and on visiting terns with the Mukherjees.

As she neared her home, Parvati met Dharmadas , going in the opposite direction, to the school. Dharma had been employed by Narayan Mukherjee when Devdas was a year old. It was Dharma’s job to look after Devdas. Now Devdas was twelve, and Dharma escorted the boy to school and back every day.

Seeing Parvati, he asked “Hey, Paru, where’s Dev ?”

“Run away!”

“Run away?” Dharma was startled.

Then, recalling Bhulo’s misfortune, Paru began to giggle. “Look, Dharma, - Dev – hee, hee, hee – right into the chalk box – ha ha ha – flat on his