Shankar Character Analysis

He had always wanted to return after growing up, just to see how much the modern Bundi compared to the image he had in his mind.

“You know, Shankar, it is really quite strange. The first time I came here I used to sit cross-legged on these chairs. It seemed as though I was sitting on a throne. Now the chairs seem both small in size and very ordinary. The drawing-room here used to seem absolutely enormous. If I hadn’t returned, those memories would have remained stuck in my mind.”

“But why did you suddenly think of a tree?”

[…] “I can’t remember that now. Something had brought me near the tree. I had done something here. A European…”

“European?”

“No, I can’t recall anything at all. Memory is a strange business…”

It was not the usual kind of doll little girls play with. One of Jayanto’s uncles had brought for him from Switzerland a twelve-inch-long figure of an old man, dressed in traditional Swiss attire. Apparently, it was very lifelike.

I had no doubt that Jayanto had only had a bad dream. All those childhood memories had upset him, obviously, and that was what had led to his dreaming of a cat walking on his chest.

“Fritz came into our room last night. Those little marks on my quilt were his footprints.”

There was very little I could do at this except catch hold of him by the shoulders and shake him. How could I talk sensibly to someone whose mind was obsessed with such an absurd idea?

If Jayanto could actually be shown that that was all that was left of his precious doll, he might be able to rid himself of his weird notions; otherwise he would have strange dreams every night and talk of Fritz walking on his chest.

The spade slipped from the gardener’s hand. I, too, gaped at the ground, open-mouthed in horror, amazement and disbelief.

There lay at our feet, covered in dust, lying flat on its back, a twelve-inch-long, pure white, perfect little human skeleton.

He had always wanted to return after growing up, just to see how much the modern Bundi compared to the image he had in his mind.

“You know, Shankar, it is really quite strange. The first time I came here I used to sit cross-legged on these chairs. It seemed as though I was sitting on a throne. Now the chairs seem both small in size and very ordinary. The drawing-room here used to seem absolutely enormous. If I hadn’t returned, those memories would have remained stuck in my mind.”

“But why did you suddenly think of a tree?”

[…] “I can’t remember that now. Something had brought me near the tree. I had done something here. A European…”

“European?”

“No, I can’t recall anything at all. Memory is a strange business…”

It was not the usual kind of doll little girls play with. One of Jayanto’s uncles had brought for him from Switzerland a twelve-inch-long figure of an old man, dressed in traditional Swiss attire. Apparently, it was very lifelike.

I had no doubt that Jayanto had only had a bad dream. All those childhood memories had upset him, obviously, and that was what had led to his dreaming of a cat walking on his chest.

“Fritz came into our room last night. Those little marks on my quilt were his footprints.”

There was very little I could do at this except catch hold of him by the shoulders and shake him. How could I talk sensibly to someone whose mind was obsessed with such an absurd idea?

If Jayanto could actually be shown that that was all that was left of his precious doll, he might be able to rid himself of his weird notions; otherwise he would have strange dreams every night and talk of Fritz walking on his chest.

The spade slipped from the gardener’s hand. I, too, gaped at the ground, open-mouthed in horror, amazement and disbelief.

There lay at our feet, covered in dust, lying flat on its back, a twelve-inch-long, pure white, perfect little human skeleton.