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Sukhram spent his time herding his father’s hundred goats. He knew them by the sound
of their cloven hooves on the stones and by their smell. It was easy to herd goats. When
Sukhram called, they came. When he played the flute, they followed him over his father’s
fields and hills beyond.

There was less heat in the sun now. It was time to go. Sukhram got out his flute, raised

it to his lips, and blew a note softly. He could feel a movement about him. The goats
had raised their heads and were looking towards him. He blew again. The goats were
all about him. Now he would play them down the mountain and into the shelter, and
tomorrow he would lead them out again. It was a happy life.

But while he had been on the mountain that day, Rani Lakshmi Bai, the queen of Jhansi,
declared war on the English and was joined by the indomitable Tantia Tope. He found
his father and Rajbir saddling their horses. They kissed him goodbye, their rifles pressing

into his chest as they held him.
As the sound of hooves faded into the distance, he felt his mother beside him. She put her

arm about him. ‘What will we do now, Amma?’ he asked.

‘We are going, son. We are going to your grandfather’s.’

‘But it will be dark there. I do not know those fields and how shall I graze my father’s
goats in a strange place where it’s dark?’ For the first time he knew what it was to be
blind.

In the morning, the horses were hitched to the wagon, and the loose cattle and goats
were collected for the fifteen-kilometre trek. ‘Come Sukhram,’ his mother said. ‘We are
ready.’

He had a long parcel wrapped in sacking. ‘I am bringing my brother’s other rifle,’ he

said. ‘They say my eyes are clear and black. If anything happened to us, you could stand
me right with the gun in my hand, and no one would know.’

Sukhram got up beside his mother. Suddenly, he said, ‘I am nothing, Amma. I am going
to a strange place that my feet do not know, and I am nothing.’ As the wheels turned, he
knew this more than ever.

Later, he asked: ‘Tell me what you see, Amma? Can you still see the mountain where I
used to graze my goats?’

When they reached there, his grandfather had gone—
everyone, all the old men and the boys as well. Sukhram

alone was left. There was nothing to do but wait. cloven hooves: the divided foot of
cattle, sheep, goats, etc.
Day after day it was the same, never any news. Sukhram indomitable: impossible to defeat
hitched: joined (sackcloth) by pulling
was finding his way about his grandfather’s farm better into a position
sacking: covering
now, but it was not home. He did not belong here.

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