Shyam had one sister and three brothers. The eldest was the sister, and Shyam’s brothers were Yashwant, Purushottam, and Sadanand. Bapu kept a close eye on these children. He would wake them up at dawn, teach them shlokas, abhangas, and bhupaliyas, and make them recite everything by heart. Though there was poverty at home, he was determined to give his children an education. Even if they had to go hungry, he never let his attention stray from their studies.

It was the rainy season. In Konkan, the rains fall as they do in Goa—unceasing, with the sky pouring down in torrents. Water was everywhere. The children would go to school wrapped in whatever they could find—sometimes in their mother’s old, patched raincoat, sometimes with makeshift coverings made from leaves. They would trudge through the rain to school, getting drenched along the way. Shyam’s younger brother, Yashwant, was the second among them. He stayed at home, while Shyam and his other brother went to school. The rain made them shiver with cold, but they never missed a day.

That day, Shyam and his brother went to school, and soon after, Yashwant’s condition at home suddenly worsened. He began to complain of stomach pain. As the day wore on and the sun began to set, his pain only increased. His stomach started to swell. Both his bowels and urine stopped. In those days, the village was remote and backward. There was no hospital, not even a single doctor. There were no modern arrangements. The family tried whatever home remedies they knew, and whoever had any advice in the village would suggest their own cures.

He had grown thin. But there was no improvement at all. His belly was swollen and the tension in his body kept increasing. Yet, eating and drinking had been forbidden. Because of this, Yashwant would lie on the ground, rolling about. He could not bear it any longer. He began to miss Shyam and his brother. The schoolboys were called and brought to him.

At that time, Yashwant was only six years old. On the very first day, he developed a fever. Some chana dal was spread out in the courtyard to dry. A goat came and began to eat it, so he tried to drive it away. The dal that fell from the goat’s mouth, he started picking up. Just then, grandmother arrived. She saw Yashwant eating the dal. She caught him like a thief and asked sternly, “Are you eating the dal, you little thief? Got you red-handed! And now you pretend as if nothing happened?”

Yashwant told the truth, but she did not believe him; her words stung his ears. She was not well herself. The joints in her legs ached. Walking was a great difficulty for her. She would rest inside the hut. She called Yashwant inside and scolded him. When he came in, she scolded him again: “Didn’t I tell you not to touch anything? Don’t you understand?” Yashwant, with folded hands, swore