“Masterjee, Masterjee” Salim, the servant boy entered the workshop. His voice was filled with concern. He held a cup of tea in his hand. The old man lifted his head. He had a pale face and looked old and tired. He said, “Salim, soon I’ll be the last stone mason here, as everyone has gone to Agra. Look, Gopal my son has gone too. Now I’ll have to finish this sculpture all by myself. I can’t work with the chisel the way I used to do. But I have to finish the work and I will”.