Stories of Bengalee Life/Swift Retribution/Chapter 5
V
The District Magistrate signed a search warrant as soon as he received the Daroga's report. His Chuprassi came to the thana and delivered it to the Sub-Inspector. At that time the Daroga was engaged in striking a bargain with a man accused of cattle-lifting. The accused, with folded hands, was saying to the Daroga—"Here I have got a hundred rupees, your Lordship, to collect which I had to sell off my ploughs and bullocks. Be pleased to accept this amount and let me off." The Daroga was replying that not a cowri less than two hundred rupees would he accept, and if that sum was not forthcoming within the day, he would send him up to take his trial the next day. But the opportune arrival of the search warrant so pleased the Sub-Inspector that he immediately relinquished his just claims, accepted the hundred rupees, and submitted a final report in the following words:—
"On enquiry I find that the accused is innocent of the charge. The complainant's cow ran away from its pen and trespassing into the cowshed of the accused, began unlawfully to eat the fodder which was stored there. The accused therefore tied the cow up by way of punishing it. Mistake of facts."
Having thus dismissed the cattle-lifter, Daroga Badan Babu read the search warrant through very carefully. He then hurriedly put on his uniform, and getting together a force of ten or twelve constables, marched heroically to the Doctor's house.
Arriving there, he called two of the Doctor's neighbours to witness the search, as required by law. Standing at the front door, he began to shout vociferously, demanding admission.
Babu Hara Govind came out, looking very much surprised. The Daroga showed him the search warrant and requested that the ladies of the house might retire and shut themselves in the kitchen till the search was over.
The Daroga then entered the house and began his operations. He told the constables to take all the boxes and trunks from the different rooms and heap them up in the court-yard. This done, he unlocked such boxes the keys of which were forthcoming. The rest were forced open. He caused the contents of all the boxes to be thrown down in a heap and began his search by kicking them about. Shawls, alwans, saris from the looms of Dacca and Santipur, coats, shirts, chemises, blouses, handkerchiefs, socks flew about in every direction. From the box belonging to the Doctor Babu's daughter-in-law came out a bundle of love-letters from her young husband. The Daroga grabbed the bundle saying—"Evidence of sedition and conspiracy—to be sure." He stowed it away very carefully in the inside pocket of his coat. From Ajay Chandra's box came out a copy of Ananda Math.[1] The Daroga yelled with delight and pounced upon it. When the contents of the boxes had been ransacked the Daroga visited each room in succession and broke open almirahs, drawers,—in fact everything he could lay his hands on. The Doctor's book containing copies of prescriptions, two or three files of old letters, the household account book, a framed portrait of Babu Surendra Nath Banerjea, monthly magazine containing portraits of Bepin Pal, Aurobindo Ghose, Tilak, Lajpat Rai, &c., were all seized with avidity. Opening the almirah containing medicines, he examined every phial minutely to see if anything of an explosive nature could be discovered. There was a bottle enclosed in a wire-netting, displaying a label well known to the Daroga by its appearance—for he could not read English. He took it out, held it against the light and addressing the two search witnesses, said—"Hello,—I didn't know the Doctor went in for such things. I thought he was a d—d teetotaler." The Daroga looked at the bottle very affectionately—and turning to the others said—"Have a drop gentlemen?"
"No, thanks, we don't drink,"—replied one of them.
"Nothing like an ounce of brandy, taken neat, when you are tired,"—and the Daroga suited his action to his words.
But it tasted so peculiar that the Daroga felt some misgivings as to the nature of the liquid. Handing over the bottle to the search witnesses, he requested them to see what it was. They read the lable and declared it was excellent cognac, the produce of France.
The Daroga then found his way to the Doctor's bed room. "Rip open the pillows and the mattresses,"—he said to his constables.—"On many occasions have I discovered incriminating things concealed inside them."
The constables carried the bedding to the courtyard, ripped everything open and shook down the cotton wool. Nothing incriminating came out, however. The winds sportively carried away a great portion of the cotton wool and showered it down on tops of trees and heads of wayfarers in the neighbouring streets.
So the search came to an end. Badan Babu then began to draw up a list of the articles seized. Suddenly he recollected that no lathis had so far been found.
"Look every where, constables,"—he said—"if you can discover any lathis."
Shew Ratan, the up-country servant of the house, was the happy possessor of a heavy bamboo stick brought from his native village in the Mozafferpur District. The constables soon got hold of it. The Daroga examined it minutely to see if there was anything which could pass muster for an old blood-stain. But there was no such mark. The lathi nevertheless was entered in the search list with the remark—"One heavy bamboo club, stained with blood." Strange to say, when this lathi was produced in Court the next day but one, it did show unmistakable stains of blood. The Daroga then got the witnesses to sign the search list. Giving the Doctor Babu an ironical salute, executed in the military style, he triumphantly marched back to the thana.
All this time, poor Babu Hara Govind was quietly sitting in a chair, placed just outside the kitchen door. The ladies were inside—so he did not stir from there for one single moment, lest the ruffians should offer any insult to them.
When the Daroga cleared out, Hara Govind Babu left his post and came outside. The search witnesses were still loitering there. "You have seen everything, gentlemen,"—he said.
"Yes, we have,"—said one of them.
"I am going to see the District Magistrate. Would you mind coming with me to his bungalow for a few minutes?"
"What for"—said one.
"I want to go and state the whole affair to him. I want to see whether he takes any steps to mete out justice to me."
The two men stood silent for a little while. The Doctor, growing impatient, said—"What do you say, gentlemen? Would you come with me?"
One of them replied—"I think you had much better go and speak to the Magistrate yourself, Sir. It is a very delicate matter—and I hardly think—the presence of a third party—"
The other man was more outspoken. He interrupted his companion, saying—"I hate diddle-daddle. I tell you plainly, Sir, your going to the Magistrate would be perfectly useless. Besides,—we won't speak against the Police—we can't. We are poor men and contrive to maintain our family somehow. After having seen, Sir, how you—a Government servant and a man of wealth and position—have fared at the hands of the Police, it would be insane for us to court their displeasure. To you, they haven't done anything worse than searching your house. Us, they would handcuff and drag along the public streets, poking at our ribs with their batons all the way."
Hara Govind Babu looked at them for a minute in silent contempt. Then he said—"Just as you please, gentlemen."
"Good afternoon, Sir,"—and the two men departed.
The Doctor then dressed and walked to the Magistrate's bungalow. The Sahib was then in his tennis suit with a racket in his hand and was preparing to bike to his Club.
"Good afternoon, Sir"—saluted Hara Govind Babu and stood before the Lord of the District.
"Good afternoon. What's it, Doctor?"
"I am here to seek justice at your hands, Sir. The Kotwali Sub-Inspector, on pretence of searching my house this afternoon,—"
The District Magistrate interrupted him, saying—"Haven't two of your sons been arrested to-day in connection with the European Assault Case?"
"Yes, Sir, they have. But it is out of sheer malice that the Daroga has done so. Only this morning—"
The Sahib became crimson with anger. "How dare you!"—he shouted—"how dare you come and try to bias me, knowing that I try your sons' case the day after to-morrow?" The Sahib then jumped into the saddle of his bicycle and the next moment he disappeared.
Babu Hara Govind heaved a deep sigh and with languid steps, walked back to his house.
- ↑ A patriotic novel by the late Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, the most eminent Bengalee writer of modern times.