by Premchand
The attendant realized that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of this man easily. He went in and informed the sahib, who asked him what the man looked like. When he heard the description, the sahib said with a smile, ‘Bring him in right away.’
‘Sahib, he is wearing dirty rags.’
‘Riches often rise from rags. Send him in.’
Mr Sinha was in the prime of his life, a calm, thoughtful man of few words. Rigidity and discourtesy, the inseparables of administration, were not to be found in him in the least. He appeared to be the God of justice and kindness. He was gifted with the ability to judge people at a glance. His appearance was godlike, with a complexion like ebony; dark and beautiful. He lay on the recliner, puffing a hookah. The old man came in and greeted him.
‘So you are Jagat Pande. Come sit. Yours is a very weak case. Couldn’t you have used some ploy?’ Sinha asked the man.
‘Do not say that, huzoor. I’m a poor man, this will kill me.’
‘Didn’t you seek advice from a lawyer or attorney?’
‘I have come this far seeking your mercy, sarkar.’
‘You think his kindness will alter file records of the case? Or write a new law? You have been highly mistaken. I never go outside of the law. I hope you are aware that my proposal in the Appeal is never turned down.’
‘Glory be to you, sarkar! I’m in great agony, sarkar!’ While he was saying this he placed a bag of money at Sinha’s feet.
‘You will never cease to use your clever ways, will you? Come, shell out more, dew doesn’t quench thirst. At least pay one tenth,’ retorted Sinha with a smile on his face.
‘I come to you with great hope, friend of the poor!’
‘Come now, let’s see what you’ve got. This is a big name you’re seeking support from!’
‘I’ll be rendered penniless, my lord!’ pleaded Jagat Pande.
‘Penniless be your enemies who sell property to fight! You’re a man of plenty, by the grace of God, why fear!’
Mr Sinha was not one to make any concessions in such matters. Jagat sensed that no amount of craftiness would work here, so out came five more guineas. But this time, placing them at Mr Sinha’s feet filled his eyes with tears of grief. All his life had gone into earning this money. For years he had toiled in hunger and heat, holding his heart back from desires and giving false statements in court to save this money. Giving it away made him die a thousand deaths.
After Pande departed, around nine in the night, a tonga pulled up outside Mr Sinha’s bungalow and from it, Pandit Satyadev, attorney to Raja Sahib Shivpur, got down.
Mr Sinha smiled and said, ‘It looks like you will not let the poor live in peace! Such cruelty!’
‘Messiah of the poor,’ Satyadev replied, ‘you could also say that these poor people have instead made our survival difficult. I’m sure you’re aware that nothing comes easy these days. The landowner has to deal with these fellows with some measure of strictness. But of late matters have come to such a point that the moment we show the slightest sternness, the so-called poor begin to show their true colours. They all want to work the fields for free. You talk of rent, and lo! They are up in arms! Now take the case of this Jagat Pande. I swear by the Ganga, huzoor, what he claims is all false. There’s nothing that can remain hidden from your highness. If Jagat Pande wins the case, we shall all have to pack up and flee. Only Your Highness can get us our rightful position now. Raja Sahib sends his greetings to your highness and desires that Jagat Pande be taught a lesson that he remembers all his life.’
Frowning, Mr Sinha replied, ‘You do know that it is not me who makes the law?’
‘Huzoor, all I know is that everything is in your hands.’
Saying this, he placed a bag of money on the table. Mr Sinha made a mental estimate of how much money the bag held, and cleverly replied, ‘Present this money before the raja as an offering from me. After all, you will hire a lawyer, I’m sure. What will you pay him then?’
‘This is just a token amount that the raja has placed in the hands of Your Highness. The amount shall keep rising with every hearing in the court.’
‘If I so desire, the case can hang for months.’
‘Who can deny your capability?’
‘So, even if there are five hearings, that will cost you a thousand bucks. You give me half of that right here and your job is done in one single hearing. That way you too will save half the amount.’
Satyadev pulled out another ten guineas and, placing them on the table, asked in a smug tone, ‘With your permission, shall I convey to Raja Sahib that he may sit back and relax, and that Your Highness’s kindness is ensured?’
Mr Sinha retorted sharply, ‘Not at all. I must make it clear right away that I’m not taking the money in exchange for any prior assurance of victory. I shall proceed according to the law and do what the law commands, not deviating an inch. My principles do not permit me to act otherwise. It is very kind of you people to respect me. But he who tries to put a price on my principles shall be my biggest enemy. Whatever money I accept, I receive it as a reward for my truthfulness.’
2
Jagat Pande had full confidence that he would win the case, but when he heard the verdict the blood in his veins froze! His claim had been rejected! He was about to lose a lot of money. Such trickery! I’m not a true Brahmin if I don’t make the Lala Sahib pay for his fraudulence. What has he taken me to be? I am going to teach him such a lesson that he’ll remember it all his life. This is hard-earned money. I’ll see how somebody can just snatch it from me and digest it. It will bring only damnation. I will not let them live a day in peace.
The same evening Jagat Pande sat down in protest outside the bungalow of Mr Sinha. There was a banyan tree outside the gates, and all the men who travelled from near and far seeking Mr Sinha’s mercy and assistance sought the shade of the thick canopy that the tree provided, chewing on their sattu and chabena. Jagat Pande would sit there through the afternoon, recounting to them tales of Mr Sinha’s deceitfulness. He would neither eat nor drink; he just sat there narrating his grief-stricken story to anyone who happened to be there. Anybody who heard of what had befallen him unequivocally cursed Mr Sinha.
‘He’s a beast, not a man.’
‘He deserves to meet the most gruesome death.’
‘He took your money, and then he had the audacity to strike a deal with the opponent! Why take a poor man’s hard-earned money to fulfil such vile schemes!’
‘This is the sad reality of our fraternity. We call each other brothers! Even the exploitative British rule is better than this!’
Comments of this kind continued all day. Even at the most ungodly hours of the day people were found thronging around Jagat Pande.
This went on for four days and the news reached Mr Sinha’s ears. Like all bribe-taking officials he too was arrogant. He went about his life completely unaffected by all that was going on around him. Why fear people questioning his integrity when he never deviated from what the law commanded? And even if somebody were to point a finger at him, who would pay any heed? Who had the ability to set up an inquiry against a man as clever as him? Mr Sinha considered it beneath his dignity to wheedle with his officers. It was this quality of his personality that brought him immense respect from his subordinates. But Jagat Pande had made a move which Sinha did not know how to counter. He had never come across such a nuisance of a man! He would ask his servants: ‘What is the old man doing?’ The servants would make up stories simply to feed Mr Sinha’s ears and be in his good books. ‘Huzoor, he says his spirit will haunt you. “Let me get sacrificed at the altar. The day I die will be the day a hundred Jagat Pandes will come to life and avenge me!”’Mr Sinha was a confirmed atheist; yet a tiny seed of worry had been sown in his mind. His wife, on the other hand, trembled with fear hearing such stories. She repeatedly urged the servants, ‘Go to Pande and ask what it is that he wants. Tell him he can have all the money he desires, all his demands will be met, but make him leave our doors
tep.’ But Mr Sinha would tell the servants not to carry out her instructions. He was still hopeful that hunger and thirst would break the man’s resolve and he would leave. A stronger reason for stopping them was that he knew that the servants would try to use the situation to their advantage if they realized that Sinha was succumbing to fear.
On the sixth day the news that Jagat Pande had gone mute reached the house. He could barely move; he simply lay staring blankly into the sky. Rumour also had it that he might die that night. Mr Sinha sighed and got lost in thought. His wife, with tears in her eyes, said insistently, ‘Swear by me that you will go and put an end to this. If the old man dies, we’re doomed. Don’t think twice about the money. Even if it takes a couple of thousands to get the man to agree, do it. I’ll go up to him if your self-esteem is preventing you from going.’
‘For several days,’ said Sinha, ‘I have contemplated going to him, but seeing the horde of people that he is always surrounded with discourages me. I will never be able to speak to him in the presence of so many men, no matter how urgent the situation is. You speak of spending money? I am prepared to spend as much as it takes, but not to go there and make a spectacle of myself. Heaven knows in what ill-fated moment I took his money. Had I the slightest inkling of what was in store for me, I wouldn’t have so much as let him set foot beyond the gates. He looked as innocent as a lamb! Never before have I committed such a blunder in assessing a man.’
‘Should I go then?’ she inquired. ‘I will take the route that passes through the other side of the city. And I will see to it that all the men are gone before I talk to him. This way nobody will ever know that I met Jagat Pande. Tell me, do you approve?’
Mr Sinha replied doubtfully, ‘People are curious, they are sure to find out, no matter how much we try to hide things.’
‘Then let them. How long will we let this stop us from doing what needs to be done? Why fear humiliation when we are facing enough of it already? The world knows that you took his money. Nobody resorts to a hunger strike at someone’s doorstep for no reason. What is the sense in being so egoistic when the situation has already worsened so much?’
Mr Sinha could no longer keep his thoughts and feelings secret. He said, ‘My dear, I’m not being egoistic. A dacoit doesn’t feel as much shame getting beaten up in a courtroom full of people and a woman does not feel as insulted on being accused of immorality as a haakim feels disgraced when his bribe-taking is brought out into the open. He would rather end his life than be exposed to the world. He can bear his ruin, but cannot face such humiliation. Apart from the threats of being skinned alive or being crushed in an oil mill, there is nothing else that can compel a haakim to admit to the sin of bribery. It does not disconcert me in the least that the Brahmin will haunt us after death, or that we will have to pray before his altar. I also know that sins are not met with punishments too often. But at the same time my Hindu beliefs have not left me entirely, which is why I fear being accountable for the death of a Brahmin. That is all that drives me. And so tonight I will go at an opportune moment and put the matter to rest once and for all.’
3
It was past midnight. Mr Sinha set out from home to make peace with Jagat Pande. Everything was quiet under the banyan tree. The night was so black it seemed as though the deity of darkness resided right here. Jagat Pande’s breath was so laboured it appeared as if death was dragging the life out of him. Mr Sinha was scared beyond measure when he saw his condition. What if the old fellow died? He pulled out a torch from his pocket and, moving closer to Jagat, asked, ‘Pandeji, is all well?’
Jagat Pande opened his eyes and, failing in his attempt to sit up, replied, ‘You ask if all is well? Can’t you see, I’m dying.’
‘But why are you killing yourself like this?’
‘Do I have a choice if this is what you want?’
‘This is not what I want, although my destruction is the sole aim of your existence. After all, I took a mere sum of a hundred and fifty rupees from you. For such a small amount you are making me pay such a heavy price!’
‘It is not a question of a hundred and fifty rupees, but the ruin you have wreaked on me. If the decree was in my favour, I would have received ten acres of land and achieved a position of esteem. You did not merely take my hundred and fifty, you sent five thousand down the drain. Five thousand! But beware, Sinha, you will not live too long in peace. Mark my words, you are on your way to doom. You may be the judge in this worldly court. But in the courtroom of God, it is we Brahmins that rule. Nobody can take what rightfully belongs to a Brahmin and live in peace.’
Mr Sinha expressed his shame and remorse, tried to plead and persuade, but eventually gave up and asked the question directly, ‘Tell me honestly, Pande, how much money will you take to stop what you are doing?’
Jagat Pande sat up with a jolt and said forcefully, ‘Not a penny less than five thousand.’
‘Five thousand is too big an amount. Have some mercy,’ Sinha pleaded.
‘Not a rupee less.’
Having said this, Jagat Pande lay down again. He had made his demand with such finality that Mr Sinha immediately realized there was no room for negotiation. He started making his way back to fetch the money, but by the time he arrived home his intentions changed. Shelling out five thousand in place of a hundred and fifty perturbed him. He thought to himself, Let him die if he so wishes, I do not care about the sin of killing a Brahmin! This is utter hypocrisy. Why must I worry about defamation? Government officials are defamed every other day. Look how he sprang up when money was mentioned. Must have thought he finally had me under his thumb. If fasting for six days can get you five thousand rupees, I am prepared to repeat this ritual five times a month! Forget five, I would gladly do it for one thousand. Here I slog all month and get a meagre six hundred at the end. Not even an illegal income gets a lawyer more than six hundred a month. He must be awaiting my return. He’ll take my money and rejoice!
Just as he was about to stretch out on the charpoy, his wife came in. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes horror-stricken, and shivers ran down her body every now and then. She opened her mouth to speak but only stuttered. With great difficulty she said, ‘It must be past midnight now, no? Please go to Jagat Pande now. I have just awoken from a ghastly dream, my heart is pounding madly against my chest. I feel as though I will die of this anxiety. Please go and settle the matter with him.’
‘I have just returned from there. My worry is much greater than yours. You came just as I stepped into the house.’
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘So you did go! What did he say? Did he relent?’
‘He demands five thousand rupees!’
‘Five thousand!’
‘He will not settle for a penny less and right now I can’t put together more than a thousand.’
After a moment’s thought, his wife said, ‘Give him what he desires, and somehow get rid of this trouble. I can give you the money if you don’t have it. I can foresee very dark days if he dies. His condition is not too bad, is it?’
If Sinha was ebony, his wife was sandalwood. He was her slave, following every one of her commands. The wife too was content with this arrangement. There lies an inherent contradiction between beauty and simplicity. A beautiful woman is never naive. She knows how to establish control over even the most secret corners of a man’s mind that are inaccessible to others.
‘All right,’ relented Sinha, ‘give me the money, I’ll hand it over to him. But the man is a nuisance. What if he goes about showing people the money and telling them how he got the better of me?’
‘He must leave this place, right?’
‘Then give me the money. I will remember this for life.’
With a tinge of suspicion, his wife added, ‘Come, I will also accompany you. There’s nobody to see us at this time of the night.’ Nobody knows the workings of a man’s mind like a wife knows her husband’s. Sinha’s wife too was fully aware of her husband’s ways of thinking. Who was to say that he would
n’t hide the money on his way to Jagat Pande and return saying that he had handed the money over? And he would then claim that Jagat Pande wasn’t leaving despite receiving the money. So, she went and fetched the bundles of notes from the trunk and, wrapping them in a cloth, set out into the night with Mr Sinha. Mr Sinha looked pale. Every step he took was weighed down with grief. He walked, lantern in hand, his head hanging in regret. How could he recover from such a big loss? It would have been so much better if the devil had just died. It would have amounted to some humiliation, but at least he would have derived comfort from the thought that his money was secure. I pray to God he’s dead, thought Sinha to himself.
The two had only reached the crossing when they saw Jagat Pande walking in their direction—walking stick in hand, staggering at every step. His demeanour was so terrifying it looked as though a corpse had come to life.
Spotting them in the dark, Jagat Pande sat down with a heavy sigh and asked, ‘What took you so long? Did you bring the money?’
The wife replied, ‘Maharaj, why did you take the trouble of walking all the way? We were coming to you. You will take the money and leave for your home right away, won’t you?’
‘Oh yes,’ he ensured, ‘I shall be off. Show me the money.’
The woman unwrapped the bundle of money and, casting the light of the lantern upon it, said, ‘Count it if you wish. It’s a full sum of five thousand.’
Pande took the bundle and, squatting down on the ground, started to check if everything was fine. His eyes began to glint with joy. Weighing the bundle in his hand he asked, ‘Are you sure this is five thousand?’
‘Count the whole bundle.’
‘This will fill two baskets!’ he said. Excitedly spreading his hands out to indicate plenty, he exclaimed, ‘Five thousand is this much!’
‘Do you still disbelieve me?’ Sinha asked.
‘No, no. It’s a full five thousand! So should I leave now?’
He took the bundle and began to walk away, staggering like a drunkard, but just a few steps later he stumbled and fell to the ground. Mr Sinha rushed to pick him up, only to find that his eyes had turned blank and his face was pale. He asked frantically, ‘Pande, have you hurt yourself?’