Hornbill Chapter 1 The Portrait Of A Lady

The first phase of the author’s relationship with his grandmother started when he was still a child. The old lady used to tell him and other children of the games she used to play as a child. ‘That seemed quite absurd’. The children treated them like the fables of the prophets she used to tell them.

The second phase of this relationship began when the narrator started going to school. His parents left him with her and they went to live in the city. They were constantly together. She used to wake him up in the morning and get him ready for school. Then she would fetch his wooden slate, a tiny earthen inkpot and a red pen. After a breakfast of a thick, stale chapatti, they went to school. She carried several chapattis for the village dogs. The school was attached to the temple. They would walk back together.

The third phase of their relationship began when the narrator’s parents sent for them in the city. That was a turning point in their friendship. He used to go to an English school in a motor bus. As the years rolled by they saw less of each other. She didn’t like the English school as there was no teaching about God and scriptures there. She hated western science and music. When he went up to university he was given a room of his own. The common link of their friendship was snapped. His grandmother accepted her seclusion with resignation.

When the narrator’s parents settled in the city they sent for them. That was a turning point in their friendship. They still lived in the same room. But the old lady was now quite disturbed. The narrator used to go to an English school. He used to go in a motor bus. She couldn’t accompany him to the school as she used to do in the village. In the village she used to stay in the temple that was attached to the school.

In the city there were no dogs in the streets. The grandmother felt quite disturbed. She couldn’t throw chapattis to them now. The old lady took to feeding sparrows in the courtyard, of their city house. As the years rolled by the narrator and the grandmother saw less of each other.

The most disturbing factor for the grandmother was the English school where he used to go. She didn’t understand English words. Nor could she help him in his studies. She knew nothing about western science and learning. She did not believe in the things they taught at the English school. She was distressed that there was no teaching about God and the scriptures. She was disturbed when she came to know that they taught music at the school. She hated music. She considered it fit only for harlots and beggars. It was not meant for gentle folks.

The intimacy between the narrator and his grandmother was snapped when they were sent for in the city. As the years rolled by they saw less of each other. When the narrator grew up, he went up to university. He was given a room of his own. The common link of friendship was snapped. The grandmother accepted it as her fate.

The grandmother found out new ways of spending her time. She now spent most of her time at the spinning-wheel. She rarely left her spinning-wheel to talk to anyone.

From sunrise to sunset she sat by the spinning-wheel. While spinning, she continued reciting prayers. She relaxed only in the afternoon to feed the sparrows.

The third way in which the old lady spent her time was her feeding the sparrows. She would sit in the verandah. She would break the bread into little bits. Hundreds of little birds collected round her. They created a ‘bedlam of chirrupings’. They came and perched on her legs and shoulders. Some even sat on her head. She smiled but never shoo’d them away. Feeding the sparrows used to be the happiest hour of the day for her.

After five years the narrator came back home. He found the grandmother at the station. She didn’t utter any words but clasped him in her arms. He could hear her reciting her prayers. But in the evening a change came over her. Her behaviour was quite odd. She didn’t pray. She collected the women of the neighbourhood. She got an old drum and started singing. For several hours she thumped the drum. She sang of the homecoming of warriors. She was very much excited. They had to persuade her to stop to avoid overstraining. That was the first time that she did not pray.

The next morning she was taken ill. It was a mild fever. But the grand old lady declared that her end was near. She was not going to waste any more time talking to them. She continued praying. They protested but she ignored their protests. She lay peacefully in bed praying and telling her beads. Her lips stopped moving. The rosary fell from her lifeless fingers. Her face turned pale. They knew she was dead. They lifted her off the bed and covered her with a shroud.

The grandmother behaved quite strangely just before she died. She was quite excited at the homecoming of her grandson. She tired herself and fell ill. She died while praying and telling her beads.

The grandmother took to feeding sparrows in the city as she used to feed dogs in the village. Hundreds of little birds collected round her. Some of them perched on her head and legs. Feeding the sparrows was ‘the happiest half-hour of the day for her’. The sparrows and the old lady developed an intimate companionship. When the grandmother died the sparrows expressed their sorrow in a unique and moving manner.

The grandmother lay dead wrapped in the red shroud. Thousands of sparrows sat scattered on the floor. There was no chirruping. They felt sorry for the birds. The narrator’s mother fetched some bread for them. She broke the bread into little crumbs. She threw the crumbs to the sparrows as the grandmother used to do. The sparrows took no notice of the bread. When they carried the grandmother’s corpse off they flew away quietly. Next morning the sweeper swept the bread crumbs into the dustbin.

The sparrows paid their silent tribute to the grand old lady. They mourned her death. They didn’t even touch the bread crumbs thrown to them.

The author’s grandmother was a highly religious lady. Her one hand was always busy in telling the beads of her rosary. Her lips constantly moved in an inaudible prayer. She used to get up early in the morning. She said her morning prayer in ‘a monotonous sing-song.’ The grandmother always went to school with the narrator because the school was attached to the temple. The grandmother would sit in the temple reading the scriptures.

The old lady was quite conservative. She didn’t like the new English school in the city. She was unhappy because there was no teaching about God and the scriptures at the city-school. She was quite disturbed. They gave music lessons at the English school. She considered music fit only for harlots and beggars. It was not meant for gentle folks.

The only time when she didn’t pray was the day when the narrator returned from abroad. It was quite an odd thing for her. But she more than compensated for this lapse. When she realised that her end was near, she stopped talking. She lay peacefully in bed praying and telling her beads. Her lips stopped moving and the rosary fell from her lifeless fingers.

Circumstances did have a bearing on the relationship between the author and his grandmother. They had most intimate relationship when they were in the village. They were ‘good friends’. His parents left him with her when they went to live in the city. They were constantly together. She used to wake him up in the morning. She got him ready for school. After a breakfast of a thick, stale chapatti with a little butter and sugar, they went to school. She always went to school because the school was attached to the temple. While the narrator was at the school, the old lady sat in the temple reading scriptures.

A turning point came in their relationship. The narrator’s parents sent for them in the city. Now she couldn’t go to school with him as he went there in a motor bus. In the new English school, she couldn’t help him in studies. She hated English, science and music. As the years rolled by they saw less of each other. When he went up to university, the common link of their friendship was snapped. When he went abroad she came to see him off at the station and kissed his forehead.

No, their feelings for each other didn’t change. The grandmother was very much excited when the narrator returned from abroad. She celebrated the homecoming of her grandson. For several hours she sang and thumped the drum. She tired herself and fell ill.

The grandmother was a very strong personality. She was a highly religious lady. She was a conservative lady who hated modern views and ways. She had very strong personal likings and dislikes. Being a religious lady and a widow, she could be seen hobbling about the house in a spotless white dress. She used to get up early in the morning. She said her prayers in a monotonous sing-song. One of her hands was always telling the beads of her rosary. She was like the ‘winter landscape in the mountains’. She breathed peace and contentment.

The grandmother was quite rigid in her views. She liked the village school because it was attached to the temple. She sat in the temple reading the scriptures. She hated the English school in the city for various reasons. She was unhappy that there was no teaching about God and the scriptures there. She was quite disturbed. They gave music lessons at the school. To her music was meant only for harlots and beggars and not for ‘gentlefolk’.

It is quite difficult to show complete agreement with her outdated views. But she was a strong and determined character. She led her own kind of life and never compromised with her principles. She loved the narrator deeply but never tried to be sentimental or emotional.

Yes, I remember my grandmother with love and respect. She resembled the author’s grandmother in every respect. Like them, we were left together in the village. My parents went to settle in the city. My grandmother was an essential part of my life and personality. She woke me up early in the morning. She got me ready for school. We went to school together. She sat in the temple reading scriptures. The temple was attached to the school. We came home together. However, a turning point came in our friendship when my parents sent for us in the city. I was admitted to an English school. My grandmother hated western science, English and music. When I went to university the bond of our relationship was broken. The grandmother accepted her fate silently.

Definitely, we feel the same sense of loss with regard to someone whom we have loved. The death of my grandmother proves this point. I still remember the grand old lady. She is no more in this world but her memories keep her alive.

Khushwant Singh and his grandmother lived in a village of Punjab. Naturally, they talked to each other in Punjabi.

I belong to a Hindi speaking area. I use Hindi while talking to elderly relatives in my family.

‘A dilapidated drum’ in my language means.

Come back !

Back to the land of your birth.

Meadows are still green

Air as fresh as you left them.

Come and see those gurgling brooks

They will reflect your childhood.

Come back ! Years that rolled by

Will come to life once again.

Matching the meaning to the uses listed above:

There were no dogs in the streets and she took to feeding sparrows in the courtyard.
The next morning she was taken ill.

1. Stride—to walk with long steps

2. Waddle—to walk or swing like a duck

3. Paddle—to walk with bare feet in shallow water

4. Swagger—to walk in an extremely proud and confident way

5. Trudge—to walk slowly with heavy steps

6. Slog—to walk steadily with great effort or difficulty

My Grandfather

They say old is gold. So are the elderly people. They have been intimately connected with our lives. My grandfather is no more with us now. But his memories keep him alive. Actually, he had become a part of my life. My parents came to live in the city. I was brought up by my grandfather and grandmother. My grandfather looked terribly old. With his long hanging beard, he looked like a saint. He would get up early in the morning. He woke me up and got me ready for school. He accompanied me to the school. While I recited poems, my grandfather read scriptures in the temple that was attached to the school. He used to narrate me the life stories of great patriots and warriors. He was a living example of simple living and high thinking. He was a highly religious man. He prayed regularly in early morning. He was quite social and helpful. His views and suggestions were valued and respected. He left a deep impression on me. Actually, he was my role model. He is still my inspiration, guide and, of course, the grand old man of my dreams.

In The Portrait of a Lady’ Khushwant Singh draws a pen-picture of his grandmother. He describes how he spent his childhood with her in the village. He also describes the changes that came in their relationship in the city. Ultimately, he describes the moving scene of her death.

It was hard to believe that the narrator’s grandmother was once young and pretty. The very idea was revolting. She had always a wrinkled and pale face. She looked the same terribly old lady for the last twenty years. No change was ever visible in her. The narrator had never seen her being young and pretty.

The narrator’s grandfather also looked like a hundred years old man in the portrait. He had a long white flowing beard. It came up to his chest. It looked as if he had lots and lots of grandchildren. Actually, he looked older than the grandmother.

The grandmother was very old. She was slightly bent. She couldn’t stand and walk with her body in an upright position. She had to keep one of her two hands on her waist. She did so to balance her stoop.

The grandmother often told her grandson about the games she played as a child. Her stories looked quite funny. They seemed to be quite strange and exaggerated. She looked childish while narrating such funny stories. The narrator didn’t take them very seriously.

The grandmother looked extremely old. She was fat and slightly bent. Her face was a criss-cross of wrinkles. She couldn’t have grown older any more. She looked the same terribly old lady for the last twenty years. The narrator had never seen her being young or pretty. She always looked ‘terribly old’.

The grandmother never appeared to be pretty. She was never an attractive woman physically. But she had a divine beauty in her. Her noble qualities gave her a spiritual beauty. So she could be ‘beautiful’ without being ‘pretty.’

The grandmother always wore spotless white clothes. Her locks of hair also looked silver white. Her spotless white dress and silver white hair made her look like snowy mountains in winter. Actually, she appeared to be an expanse of spotless whiteness. She had a divine beauty.

Actually, both of them were like good and intimate friends. They spent most of the time together. She woke him up early in the morning and got him ready for school. She gave him a breakfast of stale bread with a little butter and sugar spread on it. She accompanied him to his school.

The grandmother accompanied her grandson to his school. She was so closely attached to her young grandson that she spent most of her time with him. Actually, the school was attached to a temple. She sat inside the temple reading scriptures. They came back home when the school was over.

The priest taught the alphabet and the morning prayer at the village school. He made the students stand in rows on either side. They would sing the alphabet and the morning prayer in a chorus.

When they would walk back home together, the village dogs met them at the temple door. They followed them. The grandmother would throw chapattis to them. The dogs would growl and fight with each other for the crumbs.

The narrator’s parents sent for them in the city. It was the turning point of their friendship. The city life and the English school made all the difference. She didn’t accompany him to his school. Nor could she help him in his studies. She didn’t like the new English school either. They saw less of each other now. 

The grandmother didn’t like the English school in the city. It was totally different from the village school that was attached to the temple. She was sad and disturbed. They didn’t teach anything about God and the scriptures at the new school. Nor was she interested in science. She hated music lessons given in the new school.

The village school was quite simple and small. It was attached to a temple. The priest himself acted as the teacher. He taught the alphabet and the morning prayer at the school. In comparison, the English school in the city provided a contrast. They gave instructions in English and taught modern science and music. They didn’t teach anything about God and the scriptures at the English school. 

The grandmother actually hated music. She was a conservative old lady who had her own beliefs and superstitions. She thought that music was meant only for prostitutes and beggars. It was not meant for gentlefolk. Music was not meant for school children from respectable families.

In the village they had a very intimate relationship. But a turning point came when they were sent for in the city. The narrator went up to University. Now he was given a room of his own. It made all the difference. The common link of their friendship was broken. They saw very less of each other now.

The grandmother would sit in the verandah breaking the bread into little bits for the sparrows. Hundreds of sparrows would gather around her. They would perch on her legs, shoulders and even on the head. Feeding the sparrows was the happiest half-hour of the day for her.

The grandmother appeared to be quite normal. She knew that her grandson would be away for five years. She looked composed and didn’t show any emotion. She came to see him off at the station. She kissed him lightly on his forehead before departing.

The grandmother kissed the forehead of the narrator before he left for abroad. The narrator considered it the last sign of physical contact. He might not see her again. He never expected his old grandmother to live for five more years. She was still a terribly old lady.

The narrator’s grandmother was a very old lady. He was going abroad for higher studies for five years. A five-year period was quite a long time. Those five years meant a lot for such a terribly old lady. The narrator had a genuine doubt whether she would live for those five years to receive him again.

The grandmother was really very much excited and happy when the narrator returned from abroad. She came to the station to receive him. She took him in her arms. She was in a mood of celebration. She collected the women of the neighbourhood in the evening. She continued beating an old drum and sang for hours. She even forgot to pray.

The old lady was taken ill. She had a mild fever. The doctor told them that she would be all right soon. But the grandmother declared that her end was near. She forgot to pray the last evening. She was not going to waste any more time talking to them.

The sparrows also joined the mourning. They sat in thousands around her dead body. They didn’t chirrup. Nor did they touch the crumbs of bread thrown to them. They flew away quietly when the dead body was carried off for cremation.

The sparrows expressed their grief at the death of the grandmother. They sat around her dead-body mourning her death. They didn’t chirrup. Nor did they touch the bread crumbs thrown to them by the narrator’s mother. They flew away quietly when the dead body was carried off. In this way, they paid their silent homage to the old lady.

The narrator’s grandmother was a true picture of love, affection and care. She had all those virtues which grandmothers generally have for their grandsons. She was highly religious, kind hearted but a conservative lady.

The grandmother presented a picture of peace and contentment. Her spotless white dress and her silver hair reflected her spiritual beauty. The grandmother was not physically very attractive. She had deep love and affection for her grandson. She got him ready for school. She accompanied him to his school, stayed there and came back home with him.

She was a very religious lady. She was always telling the beads of her rosary. She had compassion even for animals and birds. She fed the village dogs. She took to feeding the sparrows in the city. But the grandmother was a conservative lady. She didn’t like English language and science. She hated music. She associated music with prostitutes and beggars.

The narrator and his grandmother had developed a unique relationship in the village. He was completely dependent on her. But soon a turning point came in their relationship. His parents sent for them in the city. He went to an English school in a bus. The grandmother’s role was now marginalised. She couldn’t accompany him to his school as she did in the village. Nor could she help him in his studies. She had no knowledge of English and science. She hated music. She was very sad that they gave lessons in music at the school. She rarely talked to him after that.

The narrator went up to university. It separated them even more. They now saw less of each other. In the end, she accepted her loneliness quietly. She didn’t show any emotion when he left for abroad. So she accepted this separation without any complaints or regrets.

The grandmother was used to the life of the village. She got up early in the morning. She woke up her grandson and got him ready for school. She was very much concerned about the education of the narrator. She accompanied him to his school. She sat in the temple reading the scriptures. She was friendly even to the village dogs and fed them regularly.

The city life and its culture didn’t suit her. She was a religious lady. She was quite conservative in thinking. The English school, English language and science were foreign to her. Actually, she didn’t like them. She was upset to know that they didn’t teach about God and the scriptures at the city-school. She hated music. She didn’t like music lessons being given at the new school. She felt lonely when he went up to University and then abroad for five years. But she had accepted her loneliness silently.

The narrator went abroad for higher studies. He had to stay abroad for five years. The grandmother went to the railway station to see him off. The narrator thought that perhaps he was seeing her for the last time. She was terribly old and could die at any time. But he was proved wrong. When he returned home after five years, she came to the railway station to receive him. She didn’t look even a day older. She clasped him in her arms. He could hear her reciting her prayers.

In the evening a change came over her. She seemed to be quite excited. She didn’t pray. It was quite unusual. She collected the women of the neighbourhood. She got an old drum and started to sing. For several hours she continued thumping the sagging skins of the old drum. She sang of the home-coming of warriors. She would not stop. They had to persuade her to stop to avoid overstraining. It was quite unusual for the grandmother to behave in that fashion. That was the first time that she forgot even to pray.

The grandmother had love and compassion even for animals. In the village she fed the street dogs. In the city she took to feeding the sparrows. She would sit in the verandah. She would break the bread into small bits. She used to throw the crumbs to the sparrows. Hundreds of sparrows would gather around her. Some of them perched on her legs and shoulders. She never shoo’d them away. It was the happiest half-hour of the afternoon for her.

The sparrows paid their silent tribute on her death. They gathered around her dead body. They were in the mourning mood. They didn’t chirrup as usual. Nor did they take any notice of the crumbs of bread thrown to them. They flew away silently when her dead-body was carried off on a wooden stretcher for cremation. In this way, they paid their silent love and tribute to the grand old lady.

26 Mirza Ismail Road

Jaipur

20 August, 2008

Dear Ramesh

You will be grieved to know that the grand old lady of our family is no more in this world. She breathed her last on last Sunday. She died just three days after I returned from Germany. Actually, she overstrained herself. She gathered all the ladies of the neighbourhood in the evening on the day of my arrival. She continued thumping an old drum singing the homecoming of warriors. That day she was so much excited that she forgot even to pray. The next morning she fell ill. She knew that her end was near. She lay peacefully in bed. She was praying and telling her beads. Her lips stopped and the rosary fell from her lifeless hands. She was dead. So ended the life-history of a great and noble soul.

A strange thing happened. Hundreds of sparrows sat scattered over the floor near her dead body. There was no chirruping. The grandmother used to feed them everyday in the afternoon. My mother broke some bread into little crumbs. She threw the crumbs to them. They took no notice of the bread. The moment the corpse was carried off, the sparrows flew away quietly.

Yours sincerely

Khushwant Singh