“Whenever there was a fair in Dapoli, I would send Shyam some *pos* (a sweet dish made from coconut and jaggery). He loved *pos* very much!” Mother would say this at home to my elder brother. My brother would reply, “Why should anyone else go to Dapoli? I myself go there, and Shyam would be so happy to receive the *pos* I bring him.”

Shyam had gone to Dapoli to study. While he was there, a cow at home had calved. Mother made *pos* at home. Shyam loved it dearly. Mother remembered her promise to Shyam. Without telling anyone, she took a small container and made some *pos* in it. The *pos* turned out delicious. She packed the container well and gave it to my elder brother. Early in the morning, before dawn, my brother woke up, washed his face, took the container of *pos*, and set out for Dapoli.

When my brother reached the school, it was the mid-morning recess. All the children were scattered here and there. Some were playing games. The children’s chatter filled the air. Shyam and his friend Tagele were playing a game of planting ladyfinger seeds. Shyam was very fond of reading. He was also very fond of memorizing lessons. Because of this, he would often be alone, while the rest of the children would be busy with other things.

He could not bear to lose, even if he was defeated. He would compose verses himself. Because of this, his friends began to call him “Balkavi.” Shyam was lost in play. Just then, a boy came to him and said, “Shyam, someone is looking for you. Where is our Shyam? That’s what they’re asking.” Even as he was saying this, Shyam’s brother arrived, searching for him.

“Brother, why have you come here? It’s time for the bell to ring. I was looking for you at home!” Shyam said to his brother. There was a reason for Shyam to speak so sharply. His brother was now learning English.

Because of this, his friends laughed at him, and he seemed afraid of it. As he began learning English, he started to understand the importance of neat and tidy clothes. He had not yet gained any other understanding. His father’s clothes were rustic—dhoti, coat, and a simple turban. But his father, with all his love, would come here bringing food for his son, and the boy did not yet understand the value of that. The study of English had not yet broadened his mind. On the contrary, it seemed to have taken away some of his good qualities. It was as if his mind had become smaller. He had not yet realized that the growth of the heart is true growth in life. He did not yet understand that there is joy in hard work. He only cared for himself. He only thought of himself.

Father said to Shyam, “Shyam, come home. Your mother has prepared some special milk for you. I have brought it for you.