Madhav Monologue from The Post Office

From The Post Office by Rabindranath Tagore

male · melancholic · 1:10 min

Formerly, earning was a sort of passion with me; I simply couldn't help working for money. Now, I make money and as I know it is all for this dear boy, earning becomes a joy to me. (GAFFER: Ah, well, and where did you pick him up?) He is the son of a man who was a brother to my wife by village ties. He has had no mother since infancy; and now the other day he lost his father as well. (GAFFER: Poor thing: and so he needs me all the more.) The doctor says all the organs of his little body are at loggerheads with each other, and there isn't much hope for his life. There is only one way to save him and that is to keep him out of this autumn wind and sun. But you are such a terror! What with this game of yours at your age, too, to get children out of doors!

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