Stories of Bengalee Life/His Release/Chapter 4
IV
The case was duly sent up and the District Magistrate made it over to Babu Nagendra Nath for trial.
It was evening. The Deputy Babu came home from the cutcherry and finishing his tea, was sitting on a verandah of the inner apartments, leisurely pulling at his hooka.
His wife, Charusila, a young lady of twenty summers, came and sat by him. Observing that her husband was rather taciturn that evening, she enquired—"You look sad. Is there anything wrong? Has anything happened?"
"No, nothing in particular."
But the lady was not satisfied with this reply. She began pressing him to tell her what was passing in his mind.
At last the Deputy Babu said—"You have heard of the students' case, haven't you? There are so many other Deputy Magistrates; it is very annoying that the case should have been made over to me for trial."
"You will try it? I am so glad. I was rather anxious on that score."
"Why anxious?"
"I apprehended that the case might be made over to somebody who would unjustly send the boys to jail, in order to please the Sahibs. A great weight is now removed from my mind."
The Deputy smiled inwardly at his wife's ingenuous confidence in his own judicial independence. He observed languidly—"Yes, but supposing the case is proved, I should not acquit the boys unjustly. Should I?"
"Oh, certainly not"—was Charusila's firm reply.—"I wouldn't have you do so even if they were my own children. But, from what I have heard, I am persuaded that they are quite innocent."
"Where have you heard it?"
"The other day when I was at the Munsiff Babu's house on the occasion of the Bowbhat ceremony of his daughter-in-law, many ladies there said that the boys had not as a matter of fact snatched away the tin of biscuits from the Khansama; that they had taken it from him with his free consent after having given him the full value of it, neither had they assaulted the man. Besides, the three boys who have actually been sent up were neither there nor were they in any way connected with the affair."
The Deputy Babu heaved a sigh and said—"Yes,—but the question is whether they would be able to prove it."
"Oh yes—there will be plenty of evidence to prove it. There are many who have seen the whole affair."
"I hope they will be able to prove it"—said the Deputy Babu with another sigh.
Charusila thought for a few moments and then added—"But supposing they fail to prove it and their guilt is established. You should consider their youth and award a sentence of fine. You ought not to send the poor urchins to jail—as has been done in similar cases elsewhere."
Charusila, for some time, employed her gentle arts to cheer up her husband, but the Deputy Babu remained as sad and thoughtful as before. A little while after, a letter was brought in to him. He tore it open and found that it was from the District Magistrate, inviting him to a call at eight o'clock the next morning.
At the appointed hour Nagendra Babu arrived at the Magistrate's kothi and sent his card in. Outside in the verandah, seated on a bench, were a dozen visitors who were patiently waiting for an interview. A minute later, the Magistrate's Chuprassi came and showed him into the office room. "The Sahib is at Chota Hazri, Sir, and will be here directly"—said the Chuprassi, bowing low.
A few minutes passed and then the Magistrate entered. He shook hands with Nagendra Babu, and asking him to be seated, enquired—"How is everything in town now?"
"It is in its normal condition, Sir."
"Any excitement among the Swadeshiwallas?"
"None that I know of."
Lighting a cigarette, the Magistrate observed—"This Swadeshi is a damned rot.—What do you think of it, Nagendra Babu?"
"Sir—"
"Mind you, the real Swadeshi—an honest endeavour to help and improve the industries of the country—is a very good thing—and it has the hearty support of us all. But this hulla—this burning of Manchester cloth—what is all this?"
"That's wicked, Sir"—replied Nagendra Babu in a tone almost apologetic.
A short silence followed. The Magistrate then broke it, saying—"By the way—that biscuit case is in your file—isn't it?"
"Yes, Sir, it is."
"Oh the impudence of these boys! They almost fractured the poor Kansama's skull. They scattered the biscuits on the road and danced on them like so many devils. If these young scoundrels are not taught a good lesson now,—they would turn thieves and dacoits when they grow up. Their punishment ought to be exemplary."
Nagendra Babu sat silent, fixing his gaze on the carpet underneath.
Another brief silence followed. The Sahib then said—"How do you like Faridsing, Nagendra Babu? I find everything so dear here."
Immensely relieved at the change of topic, Nagendra Babu replied—"Yes, Sir, it is so. Milk sells at four annas a seer here."
"When I was a Joint at Bhagalpur"—the Magistrate continued—"I used to buy six large fowls for a rupee. Here I can hardly obtain more than three for that amount. There, the Baburchi, the Khitmadgar could be had for ten or twelve rupees. Here I have to pay twenty."
"Yes, Sir,—servants also are very dear here. We who are poorly paid, find it very difficult to make both ends meet."
"What grade are you in now, Nagendra Babu?"
"Two hundred and fifty, sir."
"For how long?"
"Three years."
"What?"—exclaimed the Magistrate—"Three—years!—Shame! 'Tis a downright shame. I will have a look at your Service Book and write to the Commissioner recommending your promotion to the three-hundred grade as soon as I can."
"Thank you very much, Sir,—it would be so kind of you."
After a few minutes' more conversation, the Magistrate Sahib stood up and stretching his hand towards his visitor, said—"Well Nagendra Babu, I won't detain you longer. Good morning."
"Good morning, Sir"—bowed Nagendra Babu, and was about to depart.
"I say"—said the Magistrate—"If you hear anything special about this Swadeshi business in town, come and tell me at once. This Swadeshi must be stamped out at any cost."
Greatly pleased at the prospect of promotion, Nagendra Babu responded with apparent enthusiasm—"Yes, Sir. You can reckon upon my doing my duty towards the Government."
Coming out into the verandah, Nagendra Babu cast a proud glance on the expectant salaam-givers, still sitting patiently on the bench, and got into his carriage.