The story starts with Makar , an aged gypsy conversing with the author. It is dark , the wind is heavy , the campfire is blazing furiously ..yet Makar , smoking his huge pipe , was unfazed. It was as though these heavy conditions never affected him.(reminds me of Vikram-Betal stories of chandamama ! it was dark , the night was heavy , yet Vikram was unfazed. He climbed the tree , pulled the corpse out . as he started walking away with it , the corpse on his shoulder came to life !!!) .

Makar is of the opinion that people are born to travel; that there is nothing better than traveling. “A curious lot people are ; they herd together trampling on each other when there is so much of space-” . he asks why a man should be ploughing a field . “A man who ploughs land pours his strength into the land. He not only loses his strength but also his freedom. He is tied to the soil. I have traveled so much , seen so much and learnt so much that you would require a 1000 bags of paper to put them all in.”

Wait , wait ! what’s happening ? is this the story of an old gypsy and his philosophy ? dear pal , it certainly is not. who , in reality is he in the story ? No one. He is less significant that the phone operator in my office who connects me to some important person outside whom I wish to speak to . The story belongs to the fearless youth Loiko Zobar or does it belong to the beautiful but vicious Radda ? Let us pace towards them.

The talk stops when they hear Nonka , Makar’s daughter singing. The author looks at her and is fascinated by her beauty. Makar says “you would like to have a beautiful maid like her to fall in love with you . wouldn’t you ? No good for you. Put no faith in women. Once you kiss one , all your freedom is gone. You will come to ruins. Let me tell you a story -”

Loiko Zobar was a fearless youth who was famous across the whole of steppes. If he ever took fancy to something , it was his . He traveled hither and tither as he pleased. There were at least 10 men in each village who had sworn to take his head. But they couldn’t even touch a hair on his head. It was said that he could even knife the devil if he came in his way.
“His moustaches swept down his shoulders , where they mingled with his hair; his eyes shone like two bright stars, and his smile was sun itself. ..When he looked into your eyes, your soul surrendered to him, and instead of being ashamed of this, you were proud of it. You seemed to always become better in his presence.”
(Though I see Richard Grenvile in every brave man whom I read of , if I were to write about Richard , the description would match the one above – word to word.)

Radda was the queen among beauties. A man could not but be rooted to the place where he stood if he saw her. “No words could ever describe Radda’s beauty. Perhaps it could be played on a violin , but only by one who knew the instrument as he knew his soul.”
Many many men asked for her hand but she refused. A rich man was so dumbstruck with her beauty that he was ready to give away everything for her sake. But she was too haughty. To the rich man her reply was “if the eagle’s mate went into the nest of a crow of her own will, what would you think of her ? ”. Likewise she mocked at everyone who asked her hand.

In one of his travels , Zobar chanced to come to the camp that Radda was in.
….

At once smitten by Radda’s beauty he tries to woo her. But she finds his talk humourless, finds his music bland, she doesn’t in anyway relent to him. Zobar plunges into deep despair and is seen playing his fiddle throughout the night. He is so brilliant with the fiddle, that his music melts everyone’s heart.

“You felt that tune with every fibre of your body, and you became a slave of it. And if at that moment Zobar had called out ‘out with your knives, comrades’, every man would have bared his knife against anyone he pointed out. He could wind a person with his little finger, but everyone loved him dearly”. Such was Zobar’s effect on all. Yet Radda would have nothing at all of it. She mocked him continuously. While all others appreciated every song that he sang, she vehemently criticised them.

Not finding a way to make her approve of him directly, Zobar approaches Danilo, Radda’s father. Danilo approves; says “Take her if you can” . Radda is seen sitting on a horse and Zobar approaches her. He says he has seen many a woman but none as fiery and beautiful as her. He asks her to be his wife but warns her that being his wife doesn’t mean that she would be able to curb his freedom. In reply she lashes her whip at him. The whip catches his feet and pulls him down. He falls on the ground on the back of his head. Radda has a wild grin on her face.

As he limps away Radda dismounts from the horse and comes towards him. As soon as she is near him, Zobar goes for his knife, Radda pulls her pistol out. She tells him that she is ready for truce, that she finds him the bravest man in the whole of steppe, the only one who could ever stand up to her. She presents a proposition before him . If she has to be his wife he has to touch her feet in front of every one around and then kiss her hand. She tells him that her passionate kisses and caresses are just waiting for him. Under their effect he will forget the brave life he led in the past and be a servant of her for ever.

Everyone finds it distasteful that Zobar has to touch her feet. Zobar says nothing, he goes away. He is seen thinking the whole night, sometimes playing sad tones with his fiddle in the night .
The next day comes . Zobar tells his comrades that he will touch her feet but he needed to test how strong her heart was. Zobar walks towards Radda , goes close to her and plunges his knife into her heart. She pulls the knife out and moments before life went out of her she said “Farewell Zobar. I knew you would do it”. As the stunned crowd sees a lifeless Radda fall down, Zobar throws himself on her feet. Moments later everyone is still silent as Zobar gets up and starts to walk away. It was then that Danilo Rushes towards Zobar and thrusts his knife to the back of his heart. Zobar falls.

The image of Radda and Zobar lying dead keeps circling in the author’s mind, but Makar continues smoking his huge cigar.

Header Image - “The steppe” by Alan Fieldus via Flickr