CHAPTER V.
Baburam in Calcutta.
Singing snatches of a popular love-song:—
"For my lost love's sake I am dying:
"And my heart is faint with sighing."
and varying his song with whistling, Meeah Jan, a cartman, was urging his bullocks along the road, abusing them roundly for their slowness, twisting their tails, and whacking them with his whip. A few clouds were overhead, and a little rain was falling. The bullocks as they went lumbering along, succeeded in overtaking the hired gharry in which Premnarayan Mozoomdar was travelling. It was swaying from side to side in the wind: the two horses were wretched specimens of their kind, and must surely have belonged to the far-famed race of the Pakshiraj, king of birds. They were doing their best to get along, poor beasts, but notwithstanding the blows that rained down on their backs from the driver's whip, their pace did not mend very considerably. Before starting on his journey, Premnarayan had eaten a very hearty meal, and at each jolt of the gharry his heart was in his mouth. His disgust however increased as the bullock cart drew ahead of his vehicle. Premnarayan need not be blamed for this. Every man has some self-respect which he does not care to lose. The majority have a high opinion of themselves, and while some lose their tempers if there is the slightest failing in the respect they think due to them, others feel humiliated and depressed.
Premnarayan, in his passion, expressed his thoughts thus to himself:—"Ah! what a hateful thing is service. The servant is regarded as no better than a dog! he must run to execute any order that is given. How long has my soul been vexed by the rude behaviour of Haladhar, Gadadhar, and the other boys! They would never let me eat or sleep in peace: they have even composed songs in derision of me: their jests have been as irritating to me as ant-bites; they have signalled to other boys in the street to annoy me: they have gone so far as to clap their hands at me behind my back. Can any one submit tamely to such treatment as this? It is enough to drive a sane man out of his senses. I must have a good stock of courage not to have run away from Calcutta long ago: it is due to my good genius only that so far I have not lost my employment. At last the scoundrels have met with their deserts: may they now rot in jail, never to get out again! Yet after all these are idle words; is not my journey being made with the express object of effecting their release? has not this duty been imposed upon me by my employer? Alas, I have no voice in the matter! if men are not to starve, they must do and bear all this."
Baburam Babu of Vaidyabati was seated in all a Babu's state; his servant, Hari, was rubbing his master's feet. Seated on one side of him the pandits were discussing some trivial points relating to certain observances enjoined by the Shastras, such as:—"Pumpkins may be eaten to-day, beguns should not be eaten to-morrow; to take milk with salt is quite as bad as eating the flesh of cows." On the other side of him, some friends were engaged in a game of chess: one of them was in deep thought, his head supported on his hand: evidently his game was up, he was checkmated. Some musicians in the room were mingling their harmonies, their instruments twanging noisily. Near him were his mohurrirs writing up their ledgers, and before him stood sundry creditors, tenants of his, and tradesmen from the bazaar, some of whose accounts were passed, and others refused. People kept thronging into the reception-room. Certain of his tradespeople were explaining how they had been supplying him for years with one thing and another, and now were in great distress, having hitherto received nothing by way of payment; how, moreover, from their constant journeyings to and fro, their business was being utterly neglected and ruined. Retail shopkeepers too, such as oilmen, timber-merchants and sweetmeat-sellers, were complaining bitterly that they were ruined, and that their lives were not worth a pin's head: if he continued to treat them as he was doing, they could not possibly live: they had worn out the muscles of their legs in their constant journeyings to and fro to get payment: their shops were all shut, their wives and children starving. The whole time of the Babu's dewan was taken up in answering these people. "Go away for the present," he was saying, "you will receive payment all right; why do you jabber so much?" Did any of them venture to remonstrate, Baburam Babu would scowl, abuse him roundly, and have him for- cibly ejected from the room.
A great many of the wealthy Babus of Bengal take the goods of the simple country-folk on credit: it would give them an attack of fever to have to pay ready-money for anything. They have the cash in their chests, but if they were not to keep putting their creditors off, how could they keep their reception-rooms crowded? Whether a poor tradesman lives or dies is no concern of theirs; only let them play the magnifico, and their fathers' and grandfathers' names be kept before the public! Many there are who thus make a false show of being rich; they present a splendid figure before the outside world, while within they are but men of straw after all.
"Out of doors you flaunt it bravely, wealth is in your very air:
"In the house the rats are squealing, and the cupboard's mostly bare."
It would be death to them to be obliged to regulate their expenditure by their income, for then they could not be the owners of gardens or live the luxurious life of the rich Babu. By keeping up a fine exterior they hope to throw dust in the eyes of their tradesmen. When they take money or goods from others, they practically borrow twice over; for when pressure is brought to bear upon them to make them pay, they borrow from one man only to pay what they owe someone else; and when at last a summons is issued against them, they register their property under another person's name, and are off somewhere out of the way for the time being.
Baburam Babu was devoted to his money and very close-fisted: it was always a great grief to him to be obliged to take cash out of his chest. He was engaged in wrangling with his tradespeople when Premnarayan arrived, and whispered in his ear the news from Calcutta. Baburam was thunderstruck for a time. When shortly after he recovered himself, he had Mokajan Meeah summoned to his presence. Now Mokajan was skilled in all matters of law. Zemindars, indigo planters, and others were continually going to him for advice; for a man like this, gifted with such ability for making up cases, for suborning witnesses, for getting police and other officers of the court under his thumb, for disposing secretly of stolen property, for collecting witnesses in cases of disputes, and generally for making right appear wrong and wrong right, was not to be found every day. Out of compliment to him, people all called him Thakchacha: this was a great gratification to him, and his thoughts often shaped themselves thus: "Ah, my birth must have taken place at an auspicious moment! my observances of the seasons of Ramjan and Eed have answered well; and if I am only properly attentive to my patron saint, I fancy my importance will increase still further." Though engaged in his ablutions at the time that Baburara Babu's peremptory summons reached him, he came away at one and listened, in private, to all Baburam had to say. After a few minutes' reflection, he said : "Why be alarmed, Babu? How many hundred cases of a similar kind have I disposed of! Is there any great difficulty in the way this time? I have some very clever fellows in my employ; I have only to take them with me, and will win the case on their testimony: you need be under no apprehension. I am going away just now, but I will return the first thing in the morning."
Baburam, though somewhat encouraged by these words, was still not at all comfortable in his mind. He was much attached to his wife, and everything she said was always, in his view, shrewdly to the point: were she to say to him, "This is not water, it is milk," with the evidence of his own eyes against him, he would reply: "Ah, you are quite right! this is not water, it is milk. If the mistress of the house says so, it must be so." Most men, whatever the affection they have for their wives, are at least able to exercise some discretion as to the matters in which those ladies are to be consulted and to what extent they should be listened to. Good men love their wives with heartfelt affection; but if they are to accept everything their wives say they may just as well dress in saris, and sit at home. Now Baburam Babu was entirely under his wife's thumb: if she bade him get up, he would get up; if she bade him sit down, he would sit down.
Some months before this, she had presented her husband with a son, and she was busy nursing the infant on her lap, her two daughters seated by her. Their conversation was running on household affairs and other matters, when suddenly the master of the house came into the room and sitting down with a very sad countenance, said: "My dear wife, I am most unlucky! The one idea of my life has been to hand over the charge of all my property to Matilall on his reaching man's estate, and to go and live with you at Benares; but all my hopes have, I fear, been dashed to the ground."
The Mistress of the House.—O my dear husband, what is the matter? Quick, tell me! my breast is heaving with emotion. Is all well with my darling Matilall?
The Master.—O yes, so far as his health goes he is well enough, but I have just received news that the police have apprehended him and put him in jail.
The Mistress.—What was that you said? They have dragged away Matilall to prison? And why, why, my husband, have they imprisoned him? Alas, alas! The poor boy must be a mass of bruises! I expect, too, he has had nothing to eat and not been able to get any sleep. O my husband, what is to be done? Do bring my darling Matilall back to me again!
With this, the mistress of the house began to weep: her two daughters wiped away the tears from her eyes, and tried their best to console their mother. The infant too seeing its mother crying, began to howl lustily.
In the course of his enquiries, made under pretence of conversation, her husband got to know that Matilall had been in the habit, under one pretext or another, of getting money out of her. She had not mentioned the matter to her husband for fear of his displeasure: the boy had been unfortunate, and she could not tell what might have happened if he had got angry. Wives ought to tell all that concerns their children to their husbands, for a disease that is concealed from the surgeon can never be cured. After a long consultation with his wife, the master sent off a letter by night, to arrange for some of his relatives to meet him in Calcutta at his lodgings.
A night of happiness passes away in the twinkling of an eye, but how slowly drag the hours when the mind is sunk in an abyss of painful thought! It may be close to dawn, and the day may be every moment drawing nearer, but yet it seems to tarry. Ways and means occupied the whole of Baburam Babu's thoughts throughout the night: he could no longer remain quietly in the house, and long before the morning came was in a boat with Thakchacha and his companions. As the tide was running strong, the boat soon reached the Bagbazaar Ghât.
Night had nearly come to an end: oil-dealers were busy putting their mills in order, ready to work: cart-men were leading their bullocks off to their day's toil: the washermen's donkeys were labouring with their loads upon the road: men were hurrying along at a swing-trot with loads of fish and vegetables. The pandits of the place were all off with their sacred vessels to the river for
their morning bathe; the women were collecting at the
different ghâts and exchanging confidences with each
other. "I am suffering agonies from my sister-in-law's
cruelty," said one. "Ah, my spiteful mother-in-law!"
exclaimed another. "Oh, my friends!" cried another, "I have no wish to live any longer, my daughter-in-law
tyrannises over me so, and my son says nothing to her; in fact, she has made my son like a sheep with her charms." "Alas!" said another, "I have such a wretch of a sister-in-law! she tyrannises over me day and night."
Another lamented, "My darling child is now ten years
old; my life is so uncertain, it is high time for me to think of getting him married."
There had been rain in the night, and patches of cloud were still to be seen in the sky; the roads and the steps of the ghâts were all slippery in consequence. Baburam Babu puffed away at his hooka and looked out for a hired gharry or a palki, but he would not agree to the fare demanded: it was a great deal too much to his mind. When the boys who had collected in the road saw how Baburam Babu was chaffering, some of them said to him: "Had you not better, sir, be carried in a coolie's basket? The charge for that will be only two pice." As Baburam Babu ran after them and tried to hit them, roundly abusing them the while, he fell heavily to the ground. The boys only laughed at this and clapped their hands at him from a safe distance. Baburam with a woebegone countenance then got into a gharry with Thakchacha and his companions. The gharry went creaking along, and eventually pulled up at the house of Bancharam Babu, of Outer Simla.
Bancharam Babu was the principal agent of a Mr. Butler, an attorney living in Boitakhana; he had had a good deal of experience in the law-courts and in cases-at-law: though his pay was only fifty rupees a month, there was no limit to his gains, and festivals were always in full swing in his house.
Beni Babu of Bally, Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar, and Bakreswar Babu of Batatala, were all seated in his sitting-room, waiting for Baburam Babu. With the arrival of that worthy the business of the day commenced.
Becharam.—Oh Baburam, what a venomous reptile have you been nourishing all this time! You would never listen to me, though time after time I sent word to you. Your boy Matilall has pretty well done for his chances in this world and in the next: he drinks his fill, he gambles, he eats things forbidden: caught in the very act of gambling, he struck a policeman: Haladhar, Gadadhar, and other boys were with him at the time. Having no children of my own, I had fondly thought that Haladhar and Gadadhar would be as sons to me, to offer the customary libation to my spirit when I was no more, but my hopes are as goor into which sand has fallen. I really have no words to express my disgust at the boy's behaviour.
Baburam.—Which of them has corrupted the other it may be very difficult to say with any certainty; but just now please tell me how I am to proceed with reference to the investigation.
Becharam.—So far as I am concerned, you may do exactly as you think fit. I have been put to very great annoyance. The boys have been going into the temple at night and drinking heavily there: they have made the beams black with the smoke from tobacco and ganja: they have stolen my gold and silver ornaments and sold them; and one day they even went so far as to threaten to grind the holy shalgram to powder and eat it with their betel in lieu of lime. Can you expect me then to subscribe towards their release? Ugh! certainly not.
Bakreswar.—Matilall is not so bad as all that: I have seen a good deal of him at school: he has naturally a good disposition. He was no ordinary boy; he was a perfect model of behaviour: how then he can have become what you describe is beyond me.
Thakchacha.—May I ask what need there is of all this irrelevant talk? We are not likely to get our stomachs filled by simply chatting of oil and straw: let a case be thoroughly well got up for the trial.
Bancharam [highly delighted at the prospect of making a good thing out of the case.]—Matters of business require a man of business. Thakchacha's words are shrewdly to the point: we must get a few good witnesses together and have them thoroughly instructed in their role betimes; we must also engage our friend Mr. Butler the attorney. If after all that we do not win our case, I will take it up to the High Court. Then if the High Court can do nothing, I will go up to the Council with the case; and if the Council can do nothing, we must carry it to England for appeal. You may put implicit confidence in me: I am not a man to be trifled with. But nothing can be done unless we secure the services of Mr. Butler. He is a thoroughly practical man: knows all manner of contrivances for upsetting cases, and trains his witnesses as carefully as a man trains birds.
Bakreswar.—A keen intelligence is needed in time of misfortune. A very careful preparation for the trial is required: why be jeered at for want of it?
Bancharam.—So clever an attorney as Mr. Butler it has never fallen to my lot to see. I have no language capable of expressing his astuteness: three words will suffice for him to have all these cases dismissed. Come, gentlemen, rise and let us go to him.
Beni.—Pardon me, sir, I could not do what I know to be wrong, even were my life at stake! I am prepared to follow your advice in most matters, but I cannot risk my chances of happiness in the next world. It is best to acknowledge a fault if one has really been committed: there is no danger in truth, whereas to take refuge in a lie only intensifies an evil.
Thakchacha.—Ha! ha! what business have bookworms with law? The very mention of the word sets them all a- tremble! If we take the course this gentleman advises, we may as well at once prepare our graves! Sage counsels indeed to listen to!
Bancharam.—At this rate, gentlemen, it will be the case of the old proverb over again,—"The festival is over, and your preparations still progressing." I have no doubt that Beni Babu is a man of very solid parts; why, in the Niti Shastras, he is a second Jagannath Tarkapanchanan! I shall have to go some day to Bally to hold an argument with him, but we have no time for that just now; we must be up and doing.
Becharam.—Ah, Beni my friend, I am quite of your mind! I am getting an old man now: already three periods of my life have passed away and one only is left to me. I too will do no wrong, even if my life be at stake. Who are these boys that I should do what is wrong for them? They have made my life a perfect burden to me. Shall I be put to any expense for them? Certainly not: they may go to jail for all I care, and then perhaps I may contrive to live in peace. Why should I trouble myself any more about them? The very sight of their faces makes my blood boil. Ugh! the young wretches!