Stories of Bengalee Life/His Release/Chapter 8
VIII
The students' appeal has been decided. A famous barrister of the Calcutta bar had appeared for them, but it was all in vain. The Sessions Judge rejected the appeal. The boys have gone to jail again. Arrangements are being made to move the High Court in Revision.
The news that Nagendra Babu's wife helped the boys by selling her jewellery is all over the town. It has reached the ears of the District Magistrate himself. Since then that officer has been treating Nagendra Babu rather harshly. One day he had to go to the khas camera of the Magistrate to explain some papers. He was not invited to a seat on the occasion as in days past. He had to explain the papers standing, like an ordinary clerk. Another day, in the presence of his subordinate staff, the Magistrate reprimanded Nagendra Babu severely in connection with one of the cases tried by him but set aside on appeal by the Judge.
Owing to such behaviour of the District Magistrate, and also to please his wife, Nagendra Babu has decided to retire from service, pass his Law Examination and start practice in the High Court. The husband and the wife talk over this project every day. It has been settled that Nagendra Babu would send in his resignation in a month's time.
A day or two after the Judge had passed orders in the students' case, Nagendra Babu was asked by the Magistrate to see him at his kothi on a certain morning. Formerly, he used to pay ceremonial visits to the Magistrate now and then, of his own accord; but for some weeks past he has deliberately been keeping himself away.
On the appointed morning, Nagendra Babu robed himself and drove to the Magistrate's kothi. The bearer took his card in. There was a wooden bench placed in the verandah outside the office room. The custom with the Magistrate was that when gazetted officers or big zemindars came to visit him, they were shown into the office room to await his arrival. Men of a lesser position were asked to sit on the bench till each should be called for by the Magistrate in his turn according to the time of his arrival. Contrary to custom, the bearer came out to-day and asked Nagendra Babu to sit on the bench. About half-a-dozen men of the smaller fry were seated there. Nagendra Babu keenly felt the insult offered to him and instead of sitting on the bench, began to walk about in the verandah to pass the waiting time.
A little while later, the bearer rushed out of the room where the Magistrate was having his chota hazri and addressing the Deputy said—"The Sahib is annoyed at the noise made with your boots, Sir. Kindly sit on the bench."
At this second insult, Nagendra Babu's blood boiled—but he restrained himself. He went and seated himself on the bench. The smaller fry squeezed themselves together to leave a respectable space between themselves and the Deputy Magistrate.
A little later the Sahib finished his chota hazri and entered the office room. The first man he sent for—was not Nagendra Babu. One by one the smaller fry were ushered into the august presence of the Lord of the District and dismissed after a few minutes' conversation. Several men came subsequent to Nagendra Babu's arrival. Gradually, they too began to be sent for. Nagendra Babu had no doubt that the Magistrate's intention was to disgrace him publicly. During the interval of waiting his feelings may be better imagined than described. He was perspiring all over and his handkerchief became quite useless after a time. Sitting on the bench there, he resolved to send in his resignation—not after one month—but that very day.
At last, Nagendra Babu was the sole occupant of the bench. The last visitor departed, and he was sent for. Nagendra Babu reeled into the Magistrate's presence, like one drunk.
"Good morning, Sir."—said he as he entered.
The Magistrate, keeping his seat, said—"Good morning, Babu."
Babu!—On former occasions, the Magistrate used to rise, offer his hand, and say—"Good mornning, Nagendra Babu." He knew very well that Bengalee gentlemen of position took offence at being addressed as "Babu" without their names being prefixed to it.[1]
Nagendra Babu, however, did not mind it,—as he had already decided upon the course he was to pursue.
Pressing his cigar between his teeth the Magistrate asked—"What news about Swadeshi in the town?"
"Good,"—replied Nagendra Babu.
"I am glad to hear it. It is the effect of the drastic measures taken in the biscuits case."
"I am afraid"—said Nagendra Babu—"you misunderstand me, Sir. I said 'good' from the point of view of the people,—not of the Government. Since my decision in the biscuits case the people of the town have become stauncher adherents of Swadeshi than before."
The Magistrate exclaimed in astonishment—"Then why do you say it is good? Are you a Swadeshi too?"
"Since the Swadeshi movement was started, Sir, not a single pice worth of any foreign article has entered my house"—came Nagendra Babu's proud reply.
The Magistrate's face became crimson. He knew perfectly well that many Bengalees who were in Government service, cherished their Swadeshi principles privately—but so far nobody had ever dared parade it before the Sahibs their masters. He also felt that Nagendra Babu was paying him back for the insult that had been meted out to him this morning. But the proud Sahib was not a man to betray his feelings. He feigned amusement and said with a smile—"Yes, I have heard that Bengalee ladies are keener about Swadeshi than the men-folk even." After a pause, his feeling of annoyance over-powering him, the Magistrate broke out—"By the way—I have heard that your wife contributed a thousand rupees towards the costs of the students' appeal by selling her jewellery. Is it a fact?"
"Yes, Sir, it is so. Besides, my wife has promised to pay the costs of the High Court motion also"—said Nagendra Babu in the most unconcerned manner.
Now, this was too much for the Magistrate. He flared up again and said in a choking voice—"But is this not defying the Government?"
"I don't know, sir.—The High Court has been established by the Government also, and I thought that the Government was as anxious to do justice between itself and the people—as the people themselves."
"May be."—said the Magistrate—"But your wife had no business to interfere. It may not be defying the Government, but it is defying the Executive."
"Thank God, sir, my wife is not in executive service."
Besides anger, the feeling of astonishment also was overwhelming the mind of the Magistrate Sahib. He had been in the Bengal Civil Service for so many years but such undaunted spirit in a Bengalee was quite a new thing to him. Yes, Nagendra Babu was deliberately paying him back in his own coin—that the Magistrate fully realised. But wait—the Sahib had in his hand such a magic wand as would bring Nagendra Babu to his knees at the very first touch of it. He mused for a few moments and then said calmly—
"Let that pass. The reason why I sent for you this morning is this. Of late, you have been very negligent of your duties. Unless you become more careful, I will have to withdraw my recommendation to the Commissioner for your promotion to the higher grade. I may even be obliged to reduce you to a lower grade."
Having delivered this oration, the Magistrate triumphantly scrutinised Nagendra Babu's face for signs of the inevitable result. He was convinced that Nagendra Babu would collapse immediately and be eager to obtain his pardon with becoming humility.
But the 'inevitable' did not happen. A smile of contempt slowly lit up Nagendra Babu's face. "You may do as you please, Sir,"—he said—"because it won't affect me."
"What do you mean?"—exclaimed the Magistrate at this wholly unexpected reply.
"I have decided to send in my resignation, Sir, and my application will reach you in your office to-day. Would you be so good as to arrange that I may not be detained beyond the usual period of a month's notice?"
The Sahib's face fell. What! The Bengalee—-the Bengalee, with whom Government service was the be-all and end-all of existence—coolly flinging away the high position of a Deputy Magistrate!—Well, the Sahib was not prepared for this. Surely, the times were strange.
Nagendra Babu looked at his watch and standing up, said—"I mustn't detain you longer, Sir. Good morning."
Absent-mindedly, the Magistrate stood up and giving Nagendra Babu his hand, said—"Good morning."
A month passed. To-day, Nagendra Babu sat on the ejlash for the last time. At close of day a large gathering of students was noticed outside his Court. Many of them carried flags inscribed with "Bande Mataram." An open victoria, minus horses, was kept ready underneath a banian tree.
As soon as Nagendra Babu came out of the Court, the boys garlanded him. They begged him to get into the victoria and expressed their desire to drag the carriage themselves through the main streets of the town. Nagendra Babu thanked the boys for their good-will but firmly declined to be made the subject of a demonstration. The boys brought the carriage from underneath the tree and implored him to grant their prayer.
At this moment, two peasants were passing by, one belonging to the town and the other just arrived from a distant village.
The village-peasant enquired of his urban companion—"I say—what is all this? Is the Babu with a garland round his neck, going to be married?"
"I think, not,"—replied the town peasant in his superior wisdom.—"The Babu, I presume, has just been released from jail. They garland Babus who come out of jail now-a-days and make a great fuss of them."
The boys were still pleading with Nagendra Babu to get into the victoria, but he begged to be excused. He returned home walking as he did every day. After a break of two months, to-day the reconciliation between the husband and the wife was complete.
- ↑ Before the advent of the English, the word "Babu" standing alone was a term of great respect. But Englishmen by their contemptuous use of it, have rendered it obnoxious to the community. A Bengalee would not resent being addressed as "Babu" by his own countrymen; but would take offence if a European were to address him so. If the name is prefixed to the "Babu," it is all right. The matter is purely sentimental though difficult to support by logic. It is very much like the gentlemen of Scotland claiming to be called Scotsmen and taking offence at their being called Scotchmen.—Translator.