Kabuliwala by Rabindranath Tagore

Kabuliwala

Rabindranath Tagore 

The relationship between a child and an adult from a completely different world forms the emotional heart of Kabuliwala by Rabindranath Tagore. Set in Kolkata, the story gently unfolds the friendship between Mini, a lively five-year-old girl, and Rahamat, an Afghan fruit seller. What begins as a simple interaction between a talkative child and a foreign vendor gradually develops into a moving reflection on fatherhood, separation, and the universal nature of love.

Mini is introduced as a restless, chatterbox child who cannot remain silent even for a moment. Her innocent curiosity first draws her attention to the tall Kabuliwala with his sack of dry fruits. Though she initially fears that children might be hidden inside his bag, that fear soon disappears. A playful friendship develops between them, filled with small jokes about the “elephant” in his sack and the idea of going to the “in-laws’ house.” These repeated exchanges may appear trivial, but they symbolize pure, childlike joy. For Rahamat, Mini becomes a reminder of his own daughter in distant Afghanistan, whom he has left behind to earn a living.

The tone of the story changes dramatically when Rahamat is arrested for stabbing a man who denied his debt. His imprisonment separates him not only from his homeland but also from Mini. As years pass, Mini grows up, forgets her old friend, and prepares for marriage. This shift highlights the passage of time and the way childhood bonds fade, while deeper emotional ties—especially parental love—remain unbroken.

The most touching moment occurs on Mini’s wedding day when Rahamat, newly released from prison, comes to see her. He still remembers her as the little girl who laughed and joked with him. However, the grown-up bride standing before him cannot respond in the same carefree manner. When Rahamat shows the narrator the paper bearing the imprint of his daughter’s tiny hand, the emotional distance between social classes and nations disappears. The narrator realizes that both he and the Kabuliwala share the same identity—that of a father.

Through this simple yet powerful narrative, Tagore conveys that human emotions transcend boundaries of culture, religion, and status. The narrator’s decision to help Rahamat return to his daughter instead of spending extravagantly on wedding decorations reinforces the triumph of compassion over social pride. Kabuliwala ultimately reminds readers that love, especially a parent’s love, is universal and timeless.

On the Love of Life - William Hazlitt

On the Love of Life

William Hazlitt

 In On the Love of Life, William Hazlitt challenges the common belief that our strong attachment to life proves that life is necessarily happy or valuable. He argues that this reasoning is misleading. People of all conditions—the rich and the poor, the happy and the miserable, the young and the old—cling to life with equal intensity. If attachment to life were based purely on enjoyment, then those who suffer most would be the most willing to give it up. Yet the opposite is often true. Hazlitt therefore suggests that our love of life arises from a deeper principle than simple happiness.

According to Hazlitt, the love of life springs not from enjoyment but from passion and action. Life is precious to us because it allows us to desire, to hope, to strive, and to imagine. Without life, there can be no pursuit of goals, no dreams of success, and no possibility of change. We cling to existence because it holds the promise of future fulfilment, even if the present is full of disappointment. People are often ready to sacrifice the present moment for some imagined future joy. Life, then, becomes a means to an end—a journey toward certain “green sunny spots” in the distance that we long to reach.

Hazlitt further observes that our reluctance to die increases with the intensity of our passions and disappointments. Those who have struggled greatly or feel they have not yet achieved their desires are especially unwilling to give up life. Even tyrants, who possess power but little peace, rarely choose death because they remain attached to their ambitions and illusions. Similarly, the miser, the ambitious man, and the disappointed lover continue their restless pursuits, even when they gain little pleasure from them. This shows that the strength of passion does not always correspond to happiness.

The essay also suggests that imagination plays a powerful role in binding us to life. The mere possibility of future good becomes more attractive when threatened by death. Compared to the “darkness of the grave,” even a dull or painful existence appears bright. Hazlitt supports this idea by referring to poetic reflections, including lines from John Milton, which express the fear of losing consciousness and thought, even in suffering. To exist, however painfully, seems preferable to being nothing at all. Our consciousness, imagination, and sense of identity fasten us to life like a spell.

In conclusion, Hazlitt does not attempt to measure whether life contains more pleasure than pain. Instead, he argues that our attachment to life is not a reliable test of its happiness. We love life because it is the arena of passion, hope, ambition, and imagination. To be something—to feel, to desire, to act—is better than to be nothing. Thus, the love of life is rooted less in contentment and more in the restless energy of human nature itself.

Why I Write by George Orwell

Why I Write 

George Orwell

 In Why I Write, George Orwell reflects on the origins of his literary ambition and the forces that shaped his career as a writer. From the age of five or six, Orwell knew that he was destined to write, even though he briefly attempted to abandon this calling in early adulthood. He describes his childhood as lonely and emotionally isolated, circumstances that pushed him inward and encouraged him to create an imaginative private world. This sense of isolation, combined with his facility with words and his ability to confront unpleasant truths, laid the foundation for his literary temperament. Although he produced very little serious writing in his youth, the impulse to observe, describe, and narrate was already deeply rooted in him.

Orwell explains that much of his early literary activity was internal rather than written. For years, he composed a continuous mental narrative about himself, describing ordinary scenes with meticulous detail. This habit sharpened his descriptive powers and fostered a deep appreciation for language. At sixteen, he discovered the sensual pleasure of words—their rhythm, sound, and associations—which awakened in him a desire to write expansive, naturalistic novels rich in description and imagery. His early ambitions were primarily aesthetic, driven by a love for style and expression rather than by political conviction.

However, Orwell insists that one cannot understand a writer’s motives without examining his early development. He identifies four principal motives for writing: sheer egoism, aesthetic enthusiasm, historical impulse, and political purpose. Egoism involves the desire for recognition and remembrance; aesthetic enthusiasm springs from the love of beauty in language; historical impulse reflects the urge to record truth; and political purpose seeks to influence society. According to Orwell, these motives coexist in varying proportions within every writer and often conflict with one another. In his own case, the first three motives initially outweighed the fourth.

Historical events, however, transformed Orwell’s priorities. His service in Burma, experiences of poverty, and especially the rise of fascism and the Spanish Civil War forced him to confront political realities. After 1936, he resolved that all his serious work would oppose totalitarianism and support democratic socialism. He came to believe that no writing is free from political bias and that the claim that art should avoid politics is itself a political stance. From that point onward, his aim was to merge political purpose with artistic integrity, making political writing into a genuine art form.

Despite emphasizing his political commitments, Orwell concludes with honesty about the personal and mysterious nature of writing. He admits that writers are driven not only by public-spirited motives but also by vanity, selfishness, and an inexplicable inner compulsion. Writing, he says, is a painful and exhausting struggle, undertaken only because one is compelled by a “demon” that cannot be ignored. Yet good prose, he insists, must strive for clarity and transparency, like a windowpane. Ultimately, Orwell recognizes that while many motives influence his work, it is the disciplined pursuit of truth and meaningful political purpose that gives his writing life and lasting significance.

Chinese Cinderella by Adeline Yen Mah

In Chinese Cinderella, Adeline gets her chance to study in England not through family support, but through personal achievement. Her success in the international play-writing competition becomes the turning point that alters her father’s attitude toward her education. The incident shows how merit, rather than affection, earns her opportunity.

Before the announcement, Adeline lives in constant fear of being removed from school. Her lack of confidence and anxiety reflect her powerless position within the family. She has no control over her future, and decisions about her life are made without her consent. This makes it clear that, without external recognition, she would not have been considered worthy of higher education abroad.

Adeline’s literary success gives her visibility and value in her father’s eyes. The newspaper article publicly associates her achievement with family honour, which matters greatly to him. When he realises that her success earns him respect among his peers, he becomes proud and receptive. Thus, her chance to study in England arises not from emotional support, but from the social prestige her achievement brings.

However, Adeline’s opportunity comes with strict conditions. Her father rejects her wish to study literature and forces her to choose medicine instead. This shows that while her achievement opens the door to England, it does not grant her freedom of choice. Her dreams are reshaped to fit her father’s practical and traditional expectations.

In conclusion, Adeline gets her chance to study in England through determination, talent, and public recognition. Yet, the episode critically reveals that success only partially empowers her. While achievement earns opportunity, true independence remains limited, highlighting the unequal power structure within her family and society.

The Quality of Mercy - The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare

Quality of Mercy as Described by Portia

In Act IV, Scene 1 of The Merchant of Venice, Portia delivers one of the most memorable speeches in the play on the quality of mercy. Disguised as the lawyer Balthazar, she speaks in the Venetian court while trying to save Antonio from Shylock’s harsh demand. Through this speech, Portia presents mercy as a divine, noble, and human virtue that should guide justice. Her words highlight the moral superiority of mercy over rigid law and punishment.

Portia begins her speech by explaining that mercy is not something that can be forced. She says, “The quality of mercy is not strained,” meaning true mercy comes naturally from the heart. According to her, mercy is gentle and life-giving, just like rain that falls from heaven upon the earth. This comparison shows that mercy blesses both the giver and the receiver. By using such imagery, Portia emphasizes that mercy is a voluntary act rooted in compassion rather than obligation.

Another important quality of mercy described by Portia is its divine nature. She explains that mercy reflects the power of God himself, as earthly rulers resemble God most closely when they show mercy. While a king’s authority comes from law and justice, mercy elevates that authority to a higher moral level. Portia suggests that justice without mercy becomes cruel, whereas mercy adds humanity and grace to justice. Thus, mercy is presented as a godlike virtue that strengthens, not weakens, authority.

Portia also argues that mercy is essential because all human beings are imperfect. She reminds the court that if strict justice were applied to everyone, no one would be saved. Therefore, mercy allows people to forgive others, just as they hope to be forgiven themselves. This argument appeals to conscience rather than law, urging Shylock to rise above revenge. Through this reasoning, Portia shows mercy as a moral necessity in human society.

In conclusion, Portia’s speech in Act IV, Scene 1 presents mercy as gentle, divine, and morally superior to strict justice. She portrays it as a virtue that ennobles both individuals and institutions. Although Shylock initially refuses her appeal, the speech stands as the ethical heart of the play. Through Portia, William Shakespeare conveys the timeless message that true justice can exist only when it is guided by mercy.