Stories of Bengalee Life/His Release/Chapter 2
II
It was dusk. Some school-boys were walking about the streets in the bazar at Faridsing. They noticed a person dressed like a Khansama coming out of a shop with a tin of biscuits in his hand.
The boys at once approached the person and said—"Hallo Khansamaji, let's see what sort of biscuits you have bought."
The man stopped and handed over the tin to the boys. They inspected it and said—"Oh fie, this is English manufacture."
"Yes Babuji, English articles are good, aren't they?"—said the Khansama, somewhat surprised.
One of the boys put in—"Are you a Hindoo or a Mahomedan?"
"A Mahomedan, Sir."
"Food of English manufacture is haram, don't you know that?"
"Toba, toba, don't say that Babuji."
"How much did they charge you?"
"A rupee and a half."
"What, a rupee and a half! You may have a tin of a better quality country-made biscuits for one rupee only—fresh from the machines."
The man was a Khansama in the employ of a European tea-planter putting up at the Dak Bungalow. He thought to himself—"Well, my Sahib has given me a rupee and a half for a tin of biscuits. If I can get him a better quality for a rupee only, I make a profit of eight annas and he eats nicer biscuits; so, where is the harm?"—Aloud he said to the boys—"Are you sure, gentlemen?"
The boys felt encouraged and said—"Yes, Khansamaji, we are perfectly sure. Come with us and see the deshi tin for yourself. In the meanwhile let us all go and return this tin to the shopkeeper."
Four or five of the boys took the Khansama to the shopkeeper who had sold the tin and requested him to take it back and return the money. The latter obdurately refused to do so, saying—"Heaps of English articles are rotting in my shop on account of this wretched Swadeshi. If I have sold a tin, I am not going to take it back again."
The boys left the shop disappointed. They all held a short conference together and decided to buy the Khansama a tin of deshi biscuits out of their own money. They proposed to him that they should keep the English tin themselves and give him a deshi tin in exchange. The Khansama consenting, the boys took him to the Swadeshi stores, and bought him a deshi tin on credit.
The look of the tin apparently satisfied the Khansama. He said—"I think this will do, Babuji. But it is only one rupee. What about my balance of eight annas?"
The boys said to the Swadeshi shopkeeper—"Kindly let us have eight annas in cash. We will repay you this amount together with the price of the tin to-morrow."
The Khansama, pocketing his eight annas, looked at the tin again and said—"Are you quite sure, Babuji, that these biscuits would be just as good as English?"
"Better, a great deal better—we can assure you. Never buy English biscuits in future. They are haram."
"Toba toba" ejaculated the Khansama and proceeded towards the Dak Bungalow.
The boys came out of the shop and opening the tin, scattered its contents on the street. They then began to dance on the biscuits, singing in unison the opening bars of a popular song which exhorted people to kick all foreign commerce out of the country. They punctuated their song with frequent shouts of Bande Mataram. One of them kicked the empty tin out of shape and flung it into the gutter by the roadside.
The Khansama witnessed the whole performance from a little distance. Having newly come from Assam, he was at a loss to understand what it all meant. Seeing another pass, he asked—"Have the Babus turned mad or what?"
"Since the Bande Mataram began, the boys don't allow anybody to buy bilati things."
"What do they say? Bundook marum.?"
"No, no—Bande Mataram."
"What's that?"
"Some new kind of abuse they have invented, I think. The boys shout it out whenever they see Europeans now-a-days."