Nobody spoke while working. In a minute Ho Han was able to prepare three lead sheets. There was no time to look around. A slight shuffle could cause the molten mixture to spread out and lead sheets could not then be made as required. He was bathed in sweat and Phulmati who was near him, by the fire, was flushed from the heat. She kept looking at Ho Han’s tired face; her heart went out to him.

After working non-stop for two hours, Ho Han stopped. Phulmati, also exhausted, came outside and sat under a tree. Two coolies brought salted tea in a tin drum tied to a pole. Phulmati took a mug out from her cloth bag and filled it. She then took out some flattened rice and a lump of jaggery. Ho Han came and sat by her side. He did not like salted tea. He carried his own tea in a small container.

‘Here, have some chura,’ Phulmati said, passing him a handful of flattened rice.

Accepting the snack, Ho Han smiled and said, ‘You don’t talk, you are always angry, but you also ask me to eat chura. What is the matter?’

‘Why does it bother you?’

‘You know everything, yet you act as if you know nothing. How will this work?’

‘Whatever will be, will be. Why does it matter to you? If you feel like eating, eat, or else go.’

‘What you are saying is not from your heart.’

Ho Han smiled and got up.

Phulmati looked at him anxiously – had she hurt him?

‘I am going to Makum. Do you need anything?’ Ho Han asked.

‘No.’

Ho Han left in a bullock cart owned by a Marwari, which was going to Makum to bring back goods for his shop. The two carts stopped in front of Nandalal Shah’s shop. Nandalal had come from Bihar to do business in Makum and his shop sold everything from rice to salt. With his frequent visits, Ho Han had become friendly with him. In his free time, he had made all the furniture for his house with the help of two Chinese carpenters who stayed at Nandalal’s residence. They had constructed their house on Shah’s land at the back of his residence and had continued to work independently from there.

‘Come in, Ho Han!’ Sitting on the cotton mattress inside his spacious thatched shop, Nandalal greeted Ho Han with a welcoming smile.

He spoke in the mixed language used by the tea garden labourers, as Ho Han did not know Bhojpuri. Nandalal’s employees started loading the cart with bags full of provisions for the garden. After watching for a while, Ho Han bought some vermillion, coloured ribbons, sweetened tobacco and a few necessities for himself.

Nandalal’s wife, her head covered with her sari, brought milk tea for them in brass tumblers. Offering Ho Han a plate of sweets, Nandlal said, ‘Here are some special ones. Taste and tell me if you like it.’

Ho Han picked up one of the sweet balls and put it in his mouth.