As a boy, at Kamarpukur, I loved Ram Mallick dearly. But afterwards, when he came here, I couldn’t touch him. Ram Mallick and I were great friends during our boyhood. We were together day and night; we slept together. At that time I was sixteen or seventeen years old. People used to say, “If one of them were a woman they would marry each other.” Both of us used to play at his house I remember those days very well. His relatives used to come riding in palanquins. Now he has a shop at Chanak. I sent for him many a time; he came here the other day and spent two days. Ram said he had no children; he brought up his nephew, but the boy died. He told me this with a sigh; his eyes were filled with tears; he was grief stricken for his nephew. He said further that since they had no children of their own, all his wife’s affection had been turned to the nephew. She was completely overwhelmed with grief. Ram said to her: “You are crazy. What will you gain by grieving?
Do you want to go to Benares?” You see, he called his wife crazy. Grief for the boy totally ’diluted’ him.
I found he had no stuff within him. I couldn’t touch him. (3)