The Cabuliwallah is a story about a traveling salesman from Afghanistan who visits Calcutta every year to sell his wares. The story follows the relationship between the Cabuliwallah and a young girl named Mini who he has been visiting for the past five years.
The Cabuliwallah is a kind and gentle man who is always welcomed warmly by Mini and her family. He brings gifts for Mini and tells her stories about his homeland and his travels. Despite the fact that he is a stranger, the Cabuliwallah has a special place in Mini's heart and she looks forward to his visits every year.
One year, however, the Cabuliwallah does not visit Mini and she is devastated. Her father, who is a businessman, tries to explain to Mini that the Cabuliwallah is just a simple salesman and that his absence is not a big deal. But Mini cannot understand why the Cabuliwallah would break his promise and not visit her.
As the days pass, Mini becomes more and more upset and starts to question the value of relationships. She begins to wonder if the Cabuliwallah truly cared about her or if he was just using her for his own benefit.
But just when Mini has given up hope, the Cabuliwallah reappears and explains that he was unable to visit because he was in prison for a crime he did not commit. His absence was not a choice, but rather a result of circumstances beyond his control.
Hearing this, Mini is filled with joy and relief. She realizes that the Cabuliwallah's absence was not a reflection of his feelings towards her, but rather a result of external factors. She also learns that relationships are not always easy, but they are worth fighting for and maintaining.
In the end, the Cabuliwallah's return reaffirms Mini's faith in the value of relationships and teaches her the importance of forgiveness and understanding. The Cabuliwallah's love and kindness towards Mini, despite the challenges he faced, serve as a reminder of the power of human connection and the enduring nature of true friendship.
The Cabuliwallah
In this sense would the sturdy pedlar take my daughter's question. Even to me it was a little startling now and then, in the corner of a dark room, suddenly to surprise this tall, loose-garmented, much bebagged man; but when Mini would run in smiling, with her "O Cabuliwallah! He wore the loose, soiled clothing of his people, with a tall turban; there was a bag on his back, and he carried boxes of grapes in his hand. I actually postponed watching the movie when my Mother asked me to because it goes against one of my rules as a reader. I read it two weeks ago and I almost forgot its plot. In fact, in memory of former days he had brought, carefully wrapped up in paper, a few almonds and raisins and grapes, obtained somehow from a countryman; for his own little fund was dispersed. I could see the string of camels bearing the merchandise, and the company of turbanned merchants carrying some their queer old firearms, and some their spears, journeying downward towards the plains.
This story written by Rabindranath Tagore shows us that friendship is a bond that transcends all barriers. Even after all these years of experience, she is not able to overcome her terror. So much time indeed did she spend with them that she came no more, as she used to do, to her father's room. As he was about to leave, he asked: "And where is the little girl, sir? The Cabuliwallah revolves around the stories of two friends a peddler and a small stunning girl Mini. Assuredly he would not find her as he used to know her. Assuredly he would not find her, as he used to know her.
And so my own talk with her is always lively. Was it so very absurd that this big man should be able to carry off a tiny child? Clad in the red silk of her wedding-day, with the sandal paste on her forehead, and adorned as a young bride, Mini came, and stood bashfully before me. But to me the wedding feast was all the brighter for the thought that in a distant land a long-lost father met again with his only child. I cannot tell what were my daughter's feelings at the sight of this man, but she began to call him loudly. Compare convenient, convene, supervene, prevent.
Rabindranath Tagoreās The Cabuliwallah: Summary & Analysis
At first I did not recognise him. Hurrying out, I stopped them, and inquired what it all meant. One morning, for instance, when I was in the midst of the seventeenth chapter of my new novel, my little Mini stole into the room, and putting her hand into mine, said: "Father! Many difficulties were raised, but I would not listen. I cried in the middle of the film and then bitterly towards the end of the film because of its melancholic denouement and Balraj Sahni's superlative acting. And he goes to the house of Mini. She was very sad sitting in one corner.
The Hungry Stones and Other Stories/The Cabuliwallah
I made some small purchases, and a conversation began about Abdurrahman, the Russians, she English, and the Frontier Policy. At first I did not recognise him. It was chilly weather. Interpretation: The writer may be trying to show the attitude of peoples towards foreigners and poor peddlers. There were blood-stains on the clothes of the Cabuliwallah, and one of the policemen carried a knife. He was a very important person so I feel a bit puzzled why I was not impressed by this story.
Will you give them to her? Rahman, Cabuliwallah was released from jail after 8 years. The accustomed work in the accustomed place was ours, and the thought of the once free mountaineer spending his years in prison seldom or never occurred to us. It was almost eight o'clock, and the early pedestrians were returning home, with their heads covered. He wore the loose, soiled clothing of his people, with a tall turban; there was a bag on his back, and he carried boxes of grapes in his hand. It was to take place during the Puja Holidays.
For the Cabuliwallah had given it to Mini; and her mother, catching sight of the bright round object, had pounced on the child with: "Where did you get that eight-anna bit? Does the Cabuliwallah stab the customer? Whenever she hears a noise in the street, or sees people coming towards the house, she always jumps to the conclusion that they are either thieves, or drunkards, or snakes, or tigers, or malaria, or cockroaches, or caterpillars. Again it might also be trying to tell that almost all children are inquisitive, talkative and restless like Mini. The Cabuliwallah looked a little staggered at the apparition. Two policemen have arrested Cabuliwallah and there is blood all over him. Though I generally avoid translated books, I really liked the short stories. Even to me it was a little startling now and then, in the corner of a dark room, suddenly to surprise this tall, loose-garmented, much bebagged man; but when Mini would run in smiling, with her "O Cabuliwallah! I tried to laugh her fear gently away, but then she would turn round on me seriously, and ask me solemn questions. I think of her, and bring fruits to your childānot to make a profit for myself.
Finally, after all these decades, I was able to read the widely-acclaimed short story which has been beautifully translated by Mohammad A. I love how he and Mini has become friends which I think solely reminds him of his own daughter. Keep me in your recollection. I said again: "There is a ceremony in the house, and you will not be able to see any one to-day. The impression of an ink-smeared hand laid flat on the paper. But Rahmun sat in the little Calcutta lane, and saw before him the barren mountains of Afghanistan. In all her life, it appeared, my small daughter had never found so patient a listener, save her father And already the corner of her little sari was stuffed with almonds and raisins, the gift of her visitor.
In fact, in memory of former days he had brought, carefully wrapped up in paper, a few almonds and raisins and grapes, obtained somehow from a countryman, for his own little fund was dispersed. I said again: "There is a ceremony in the house, and you will not be able to see any one to-day. Was it, then, not true that there was slavery in Cabul? In the courtyard the canopy had to be slung on its bamboo poles; the chandeliers with their tinkling sound must be hung in each room and verandah. So much time indeed did she spend with them that she came no more, as she used to do, to her father's room. But he smiled, and I knew him again. But this was not enough, and her dread persisted.
.pdf/page19-1024px-Stories_from_Tagore_(IA_storiesfromtagor00tago).pdf.jpg)