The narrator was invited inside Shambu's house by the old man. There he sees the whole drama related to the girl who eloped with the second son of the family. He rushed back home and saw that there's no light in the house and the front door was wide opened. What happened then...
The Kerosene Lamp
I make my way inside the house. It is dark and I cannot see a thing. The house being small I can walk without any problem for I know what is where. I get a hold on to the long wooden chair kept in our so called living room next to my room as a support in the dark if in case I stumble. What I first think of is to light up a lamp and avoid being scold by my aunt who demands perfection in everything.
As I step inside the kitchen door I can see a small red glare and the room is filled with murky smell. I know that the kerosene has dried up and the red glare is the burning wick of the lamp and so is the smell. I pick up the lamp which is made of metal thin metal plates, a cylindrical shaped base for holding the fuel, a small conical shaped sieve for pouring in kerosene, a pipe for holding and suspending the wick and a thin metal handle as that of a cup. I put out the burning wick using my thumb and index finger and grope for the match box under the gas stove. Yes, we own a gas stove but it has been lying there for months, instead we use a charcoal chulha for cooking and I blame it all to the sky-rocketing price of gas.
I should look for a candle and light it up since there's no kerosene and I half guessed that mother has gone to get it. I rush into my room rather a space separated from the common room by a lengthy curtain looking for a candle. I look between the pile of books on my study table and found an inch long candle. The moment I struck the matchstick to the side of the matchbox the yellow electric bulb shines. It is then followed by all-together cheers from people who were eagerly waiting for the electricity. The street which before that was occupied by children playing is now filled with the sound of music players and televisions.
Sitting on the chair, all thoughts about what happened three months ago and why am I turned out from the boarding school for the same reason came back. Two days back, I was at school, the same routine, my brother, our room and the same smile. It all changed the next day. I regret my actions that were triggered by anger and humiliation. Only if I could go back in time and undo the mistakes, if only I hadn't barged into the girls' dormitory.