I, a ten-year-old boy, stood in a ring of over-awed children. A dead snake and a stick lay on the ground.
Dad was seen rushing towards us. “A Brahmin boy, who is to become a priest, never kills,” he said. He took the stick in his hand. I closed my eyes.
The sound of a couple of thrashes followed, but I was untouched. I saw him walking away, the snake dangling from the stick.
“He took your sin on himself by beating the dead snake”, someone told me.
Sorry, dad. I’d never kill again.
Dad was seen rushing towards us. “A Brahmin boy, who is to become a priest, never kills,” he said. He took the stick in his hand. I closed my eyes.
The sound of a couple of thrashes followed, but I was untouched. I saw him walking away, the snake dangling from the stick.
“He took your sin on himself by beating the dead snake”, someone told me.
Sorry, dad. I’d never kill again.
