DESCRIPTION

THE TERRITORY between the rivers Chandrabhaga and Iravathy was referred to as the land of the Madra people. Salya was its ruler, now an old man. Drawing his granddaughter closer, he asked, "Can you guess how old I am now?" The girl who had just turned twenty replied, "Grandpa, there is none older than you." The old man said, "Yet when I walk, my back doesn't bend, my waist doesn't I can walk straight and stiff even now. Do you know why?" The girl smiled with pride, saying, "Because you are so strong, so lasting and durable." Laughing, as his now thinning beard shook, he said, "No, it is because we are old-timers, belonging to ancient times." The girl said, "Whenever you talk of old times, you refer to 'we' and 'us'. Tell me how many are you?" The old man answered, "How can one count people precisely? Roughly all those of my age." The girl, "But you know that we have none as old as you in our palace." He, "Well, they are there in other palaces, and also ordinary folk outside the palaces. They are all rough and hardy, all old-timers." She, "But tell me why is this so?" The old man explained, "You see, it is all due to their method and system of life. They did not live the way you, the new generation live. You see, you are all eager to abandon old paths of the land and the tribe we belong to. You are all so ready to copy alien ways of life." Even as he was speaking the girl interrupted to say, "Grandpa, you seem to have forgotten that we had made an agreement that we should never refer to this issue, and you have forgotten it so soon after we made it!" The old man muttered, "Yes, yes, why should I talk with you about such matters beyond your control? Let your father return from his gambling session. I shall discuss them with him. But God knows when he will be back. No. No.........................

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