Two Bakers

Michael told her at a quarter to three that night, standing at the old table with his sleeves pushed up and his hands in the first dough, as though it were something he had read in the paper. His father had spelled a word on a board. The word was tell, and he had pointed to the name of the town, and he had looked at Michael in a way that Michael remembered from the age of seven, when he had been caught feeding a whole tray of rolls to the ducks.

दो बेकर

“He wants the whole town to know,” Ana said slowly.

माइकल ने उस रात पौने तीन बजे उसे यह बात बताई, वह अपनी आस्तीनें ऊपर चढ़ाए और पहले गूँधे हुए आटे में हाथ डाले पुरानी मेज़ के पास खड़ा था, मानो यह कोई ऐसी बात हो जो उसने अख़बार में पढ़ी थी। उसके पिता ने एक तख़्ती पर एक शब्द लिखा था। वह शब्द था ‘बताओ’, और उन्होंने कस्बे के नाम की ओर इशारा किया था, और माइकल को उसी तरह देखा था जिस तरह सात साल की उम्र में देखा करते थे, जब वह बतखों को ब्रेड रोल्स का पूरा थाल खिलाते हुए पकड़ा गया था।

“He wants the whole town to know.” Michael pushed the heel of his hand into the dough, turned it, pushed again. He did not look up. “The man can’t ask for a glass of water without a laminated card, and he wants to stand up in front of Hollin Bridge and confess. Fifteen years he couldn’t say it with a perfectly good mouth, and now, when he can’t say anything, he decides.”

“वह चाहते हैं कि पूरे कस्बे को पता चल जाए,” अना ने धीरे से कहा।