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Tagore, Rabindranath, 1861-1941

"The Hungry Stones and Other Stories"

After all, my pleasure and
pain are my husband's concern, not theirs.
>From that day forward, merely over this trifling matter of my eyes, the
bond between my husband and Dada was strained.
To my surprise one afternoon, while my husband was away, Dada brought a
doctor in to see me. He examined my eyes very carefully, and looked
grave. He said that further neglect would be dangerous. He wrote out a
prescription, and Dada for the medicine at once. When the strange
doctor had gone, I implored my Dada not to interfere. I was sure that
only evil would come from the stealthy visits of a doctor.
I was surprised at myself for plucking up courage speak to my brother
like that. I had always hitherto been afraid of him. I am sure also
that Dada was surprised at my boldness. He kept silence for a while,
and then said to me: "Very well, Kumo. I won't call in the doctor any
more. But when the medicine comes you must take it."
Dada then went away. The medicine came from chemist. I took it--
bottles, powders, prescriptions and all--and threw it down the well!
My husband had been irritated by Dada's interference, and he began to
treat my eyes with greater diligence than ever.


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