Translated version of Jayshankar Prasad's Chota Jadugar as The Little Magician by Ashita

The carnival field was full of lightning strikes. Laughter and humor were in the air. I stood near the small fountain, where a boy was quietly gazing at the alcohol consumers. A thick cotton string was hanging around his neck over his torn shirt, and some cards were in his pockets. His face was serious, with a tint of patience. Something unknown attracted me to him. He had contentment in his scarcity.

I asked, “What did you see in here, dear?”

“I have seen everything. They throw bangles. They aim at toys. They stab numbers with arrows. I liked aiming at toys. The magician is useless. I can display a better show of cards than him.” He replied very profoundly. His words didn’t pause anywhere.

I asked, “And what's behind that curtain? Did you go there?”

“No, I couldn’t go there. Tickets are charged.”

I said, “Let's go; I'll take you there.” I thought, “You're my companion for the day.”

He said,“ What will you do there? Let's go shooting.”

I agreed with him and said, “Come with me, but let's have (1)sharbat first.” He nodded.

The winter evening even turned warm due to the over crowd of the people. After drinking sharbat we went to shoot. I asked him on the way,“ Who else's there at your home?”

“(2)Maa and (3)Bauji.”

“Didn't they stop you from coming here?”

“Bauji is in jail.”

“Why?”

“For the country.” He said it proudly.

“And your Maa?”

“She's ill.”

“And you're enjoying the show?”

He laughed with a shade of irony. He replied, “I'm not enjoying the show, but I am here to put on a show. I'll earn something and feed Maa. I would have been happier if instead of sharbat, you would've seen my card show and would have offered something for it.”

I gazed at that thirteen-fourteen-year-old boy with amazement.

“I swear, sir! Maa is ill; that's why I didn't go.”

“Where?”

“To the jail; since people prefer shows, I better earn a livelihood out of it to provide Maa’s medicine and feed myself.”

I sighed deeply. The lightning strikes were loud. I said anxiously, “Okay, let's go shooting.”

We reached the place where the toys were aimed at with balls. I handed over twelve tickets to the boy.

He turned out to be a hidden shooter. None of his balls were missed. People around us were in awe. He collected his twelve toys upon victory, but how did he carry them? Some were packed in my handkerchief, and some made their way to his pockets.

The boy said, “Sir, I'll present to you my show. Please come out; I'll be waiting.” He disappeared into the thin air. I thought that the tables had turned quickly!

I roamed around for a while and reached the paan shop. While eating paan, I wandered and checked out the activities around me. People were moving back and forth on the swing. Suddenly someone called out, “Sir!”

I asked, “Who's this?”

“The little magician!”

I was enjoying a snack with my group, under the shadow of dense trees, near the small pond in Calcutta’s picturesque Botanical Garden, full of red lotuses. The gossip was in the air. We spotted the little magician- (5)khadi handbag, clean half pants, and a t-shirt. My handkerchief was tied to his head with the thick cotton string. He was strolling, but he walked to us and pleaded,

“Sir, (6)Namaste! If you allow, may I present my game today?”

“No, dear, not now. We're having snacks right now.”

“So you'll sing songs after it, sir?”

“I said no, you don't…” I was about to burst out in anger. That's when my wife sweetly intervened: “You go ahead, dear. You're right on time. We'll at least be entertained.” I turned silent because my wife's words had the sweetness of a mother's love, which couldn't restrict any child. The boy began his show.

All the toys from the carnival acted in his show that day. The bear persuaded. The cat turned upset. The monkey wriggled. The doll got married. The groom-doll was one-eyed. The boy’s volubleness was the essence of the show. Everyone rolled on the floor, laughing.

I wondered how necessities made him mature so early. That’s life.

The pack of cards turned red. Then they turned black. The cotton string around the neck became one after splitting into pieces. The (7)laddoos were dancing on their own. I said, “That’s it. Wrap your show; we’ll also leave.”

My wife smoothly passed on a rupee to him. He jumped out of joy.

I said,“ Aye boy!”

“Call me the little magician! That's my name. That's my source of livelihood.”

I wanted to say something, but my dear wife inquired,” So, what will you do with this rupee?”

“I'll have (8)pakoris to the fullest. Then I'll purchase a cotton blanket.”

My anger took a U-turn. I thought of my rigid self: “Ah, how selfish I was! I was jealous of his one rupee.”

He greeted us and vanished. We went sightseeing in Lata Kunj.

The evening breeze breathed in that small, human-made jungle. The rays of the setting sun parted

with the leaves of the trees. It was peaceful. We slowly headed to Howrah in our motorcar. With time, the little magician's memories kept visiting my memory lane. All of a sudden, I met him near a hut with the cotton blanket over his shoulder. I paused and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Maa is here! The hospital kicked her out.” I pulled over. Inside the hut was a woman in rags, shivering.

The little magician hugged her, wrapping in the cotton blanket, “Maa!”

The tears rolled down my cheeks.

The Christmas vacation was over. I had to reach my office on time. I was bored with Kolkata. However, I wished to see the garden. And it would be a cherry on top if I could spot the magician once again... I walked alone that day. I had to return quickly.

It was 10 o’clock. In the warm light of the sun, I saw the little magician’s cloth stage on the side of the road. I got out of my motorcar. The cat was getting sad. The bear was persuading. The marriage rituals were happening, but any of this didn’t provide for happiness in the little magician’s voice. He shivered in an attempt to make others laugh. It seemed as if his soul was crying. I gazed in surprise. He collected his alms after the show and glanced at me. He turned energetic for a while. I asked him, patting, “Why wasn’t your show a success today?”

“Maa asked me to come back soon. I'm counting my last hours.” He spoke without hesitation.

The little magician was not able to decide.

“And still you stepped out for the show!” I uttered with a mixture of anger. He laughed with the old shade of irony, embarrassed about uttering more words.

He insisted, “Why wouldn’t I?”

I realized my mistake right at that moment. I tossed his bag in the motorcar, placed him in the seat, and instructed the driver, “Let's move fast.”

I reached his hut in a while. The magician ran inside the hut, shouting, “Maa, Maa.” I was right behind him, but the woman could only say, “So…”. Her pale hands fell after raising, as if the water wave tried to touch its shore but failed again. The magician was crying, hugging her. I was appalled. The entire universe seemed dancing like magic around me in that bright sun.

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Glossary

(1) Sharbat- fruit juices

(2) Maa- Mother

(3) Bauji- Father

(4) Paan- Indian mouth freshener made up of betel leaf (Source- Britannica)

(5) Khadi - Handspun & handwoven fabric

(6) Namaste- Greeting in Hindi language (origin-Sanskrit)

(7) Laddoo(s)- Indian sweet

(8) Pakori(s)- Indian snack