5 Indian Masters

by Welknow Indian

  It was broad daylight. Prakash was still asleep. Suddenly Champa came running to him and said, “Get up. There has been a theft in Thakur Sahib’s house last night. The thieves took away the box of jewels.” Prakash asked, without getting up, “Hasn’t anyone been able to catch them?” “Not a sound was heard” replied Champa “And the surprising part is that they only removed the box of jewels. How they found the key and how they knew where it was kept is a mystery.” “Must be the servants,” replied Prakash, casually, “it cannot possibly be an outsider” “But all their servants are old hands,” observed Champa, “they have been with the family for years.” “It doesn’t take long for a man to become dishonest,” said Prakash, “they must have got the opportunity and took advantage of it.” “Go and help them,” said Champa, “The Thakurain is crying her heart out. She calls your name and says how carefully you chose every design and how many months you laboured getting them ready.” Prakash got up and went to Thakur Sahib’s house. “Champa just told me about the theft mother,” he said to the Thakurain, feigning worriedness, “what a calamity.” Thakur Sahib was sitting holding his head in his hands. “The surprising thing is,” he said “that no locks have been broken, no doors have been removed, there are no signs of any openings in the walls. From where could the thief have entered the house?” The Thakurain was still crying. “We are undone,” she said, “the marriage is so near. But for your ceaseless efforts the jewellery would never have been ready in time. It must be an evil star under which it was purchased.” Prakash whispered into Thakur Sahib’s ear, “One of your servants must be responsible for the mischief.” The Thakurain overheard him and opposed the suggestion. “No,” she said, “it cannot be the servants. At times I have left as much as ten thousand rupees lying about in the house, and not a pie has ever been lost.” Thakur Sahib was, however, inclined to agree with Prakash and said, “you don’t know how quickly a man can become dishonest. It can never be said that just because a man has not stolen before, he will never steal. I must report the matter to the police. They will conduct a thorough search and question every one. I am sure the culprit will blurt out the ‘truth when the police handles him.” Prakash shuddered at the suggestion. “For,” he thought, “if the police did not find the culprit among the servants, they were bound to search his house also. And that would be his undoing.” “I don’t think,” he said, “much would come out of a police investigation.” Thakur Sahib was surprised. “You talk like a child, Prakash Babu,” he said, “You think the thief will own up all by himself, without any effort on our part.” And then as if on second thought he added, “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it won’t be any use reporting the matter to the police. I don’t think we will get the jewellery back anyhow.” “But something must be done,” said Prakash. “It is no use,” observed Thakur Sahib, “if we could get a detective, it might help. But where can one get a detective here. The best thing is to keep quiet.” “You can keep quiet,” said Prakash “But I cannot. The thief must be found.” “I have full faith in the servants,” said the Thakurain again, “Though I don’t know how and from where the thief came but I am sure that the theft has been committed by an outsider. He can come from your side also, you know.” Prakash’s heart missed a beat. “I close my door every night,” he said, ‘’the only possibility can be that he entered the house earlier in the evening and hid himself somewhere.” The three went up the roof. Footsteps were visible where Prakash had landed on Thakur Sahib’s roof and continued towards Prakash’s side. Thakur Sahib saw all this but kept quiet. Prakash said, “There is no doubt now that the thief entered the house from my side.” Thakur Sahib nodded and said, “But this is hardly any help. Such clues won’t bring back the jewellery. The best thing is to arrange for money and get some new ones made.” “I must leave my house immediately” said Prakash. “But it is no fault of yours.” replied the Thakur Sahib. “You may not consider it my fault,” said Prakash, “but the fact is that the thief entered the house from my side. And my door remains open till late at night. I do not get back from work till ten o’clock. It is quite probable that the thief may make another attempt, now that he knows the way. Champa is all alone in the house the whole day and is mostly busy in the kitchen. It is not possible for her to keep an eye on who comes in. The best way out is to close this route.” The Thakurain got very perturbed. “Oh, don’t do that son,” she said, “we would be completely helpless without you.” “That is very kind of you, mother,” replied Prakash, “but I must move out as soon as possible. The theft is due to my negligence, and I must suffer for it.” When Prakash had gone, the Thakurain said, “What a decent boy he is. The mere fact that the thief came from his side is killing him.” “One thing is certain,” said the Thakur, “he will not live in this house any longer. We will probably have to pay him twenty rupees extra every month towards house rent.” “I don’t think he will accept that,” observed the Thakurain. “He will have to,” said the Thakur, “he cannot possibly live on thirty rupees a month.”

  Prakash left the house the same day, aware as he was of the dangers of living there; but he spent the whole day at Thakur Sahib’s house till the marriage took place. As a prelude to the offer of ornaments he said to Champa one day, “I have taken up a part-time job with a seth Sahib on fifty rupees a month and am not going to withdraw a single pie out of it. It will all be used for your jewellery.” Champa was filled with joy. Her faith in her gods strengthened.

  Uptill now there was no secret between Prakash and Champa. She had access to everything he had and knew what was where. But now Prakash kept to himself the keys to one of the boxes. Many times she enquired what it contained but he always evaded an answer or just said that he had packed up some of his old books that were lying about. Champa did not suspect anything.

  One day she went into the room to give Prakash a betel leaf and found that he was sitting in front of the box looking at something inside it. Seeing Champa he immediately closed the box. Champa wondered why he was in such a hurry to close it but not being of a suspicious nature she did not give further thought to the subject.

  It was impossible for Prakash not to have a look at the ornaments whenever he got a chance. After all, such a lot of wealth would not be left around without bothering about it. Whenever Champa was away he opened the box and made sure that the jewellery was there.

  One day a theft took place in the neighbourhood. Prakash started sleeping inside the house. Even the heat of June was preferable to leaving the jewellery unguarded. Champa tried to persuade him many times to sleep outside but he was adamant. “The thieves do not risk their lives for nothing,” Champa would argue, “What can they expect to find in this house?” Prakash used to get annoyed at her insistence and would say, “For a poor man even the household utensils are valuable.”

  While cleaning the house, Champa once unwittingly moved the box to another corner of the room. Prakash immediately noticed the change when he came and enquired, “Did you move the box?” “No,” said Champa, “Why should I,” “Who moved it then?” asked Prakash highly agitated, “after all there is nobody else in the house except you.” “Alright, I moved it,” replied Champa, “What wealth is there in the box that you are so agitated?” Prakash realized his mistake. Controlling his voice, he said, “Oh nothing, I just noticed the change and wondered who had moved it.” But he could not rest till he got an opportunity to look at the jewellery. As soon as Champa went into the kitchen he opened the box and started examining the pieces. Champa made Pakories, and thinking that Prakash liked them while they were still hot she took some to him. As soon as he heard her coming, Prakash slammed the lid of the box and locked it. Turning to Champa, he said, “What have you brought? I don’t feel hungry at all today. Oh you have made pakories, have you?”

  Champa began to wonder again why Prakash always hurried to close the box as soon as she came. Her woman’s curiosity was aroused. She was dying to know what it contained. Unable to find any keys that would fit it, she one day called
a locksmith and got a duplicate key made. Opening the box she was amazed to find jewellery in it. From the description she had heard of Thakur Sahib’s stolen jewels there was not a moment’s doubt in her mind as to where this jewellery had come from. Her head hung with shame. Closing the box she went and lay on the bed. “How could he stoop so low,” she said to herself, “I have never bothered him for jewellery. And even if I have, it does not mean that he should go and steal it. Hasn’t he a conscience left any more?”

  From the day she discovered Prakash’s secret Champa was not the same person any longer. She used to be sad and picked up quarrels with him on mere trifles. Whereas they had no secrets between them before, now a wall separated the two. Whereas before they used to plan for the future together and sympathized with each other, they now did not even talk to each other for days.

  1 A Palatable dish

  Many months passed by. A vacancy occurred in the city bank for an Assistant Manager. Prakash had passed the Accountant’s examination and stood very good chances of getting the post. The only hitch was that the bank required a cash security of ten thousand rupees. He could not think of anyone who would lend him such a large amount. One day he casually mentioned it to Thakur Sahib. Thakur Sahib immediately suggested that he should apply. “But where will I get the money?” said Prakash, “Don’t bother about the money,” said Thakur Sahib, “if all other requirements are met, the security will be arranged.” Prakash was surprised. “You mean you will put in the security money?” he asked, unable to believe his ears. “What is so surprising about that?” replied Thakur Sahib.

  Prakash came back to his house. Though the chances of his getting the job were bright he was feeling restless and sad. Thakur Sahib’s goodness was trampling under its feet his own wickedness to him. Reaching home he gave the news to Champa. She did not seem enthusiastic either and turned away her face. After a moment she said, “Why did you rope in Thakur Sahib? It is a matter of money. A little slip on your part and the poor man will lose ten thousand rupees. We are alright as we are.” Prakash smelt suspicion in her tone and said, “How do you mean a little slip on my part? You think I am so incompetent.” “It is not that,” replied Champa, “only it does not take long for a man to become dishonest.” Prakash looked piercingly at her but could not fathom the hidden meaning of her remark. “Could it be,” he wondered, “that she has come to know about the box of jewels?” To get an answer to this question he was impatient. As soon as they finished their meals, he asked again, “What were you thinking of when you said that it does not take long for a man to become dishonest?” “I didn’t have anything particular in mind,” replied Champa, “it was only a general statement.” Prakash was not satisfied, and asked again, “So in your opinion all bank employees are liable to become dishonest.” Champa wanted to get out of the argument, and said “I was only thinking of the money you made in Thakur Sahib’s son’s marriage.” Prakash felt relieved, smiled and said, “Oh you mean the commission. But taking a commission is no crime. Even the highest of officials take commission:’ Champa replied, her voice full of hatred. “To cheat a man who trusts you so implicitly even of a pie is a crime in my eyes. I would have considered you honest only if you had gone and returned to him all the money you got as commission. Look at his treatment towards you, during the last six months. You left the house of your own accord yet he still keeps on paying you twenty rupees a month extra. Whenever he gets anything from his lands he always sends some for you. You did not have a watch; he gave you his own. Whenever your servant is absent, he sends his own to do our work. During my illness he paid all the doctor’s bills, and used to come twice a day to enquire after my health. And now he has offered to pay the security money on your behalf. It is no small matter. Most people will not make such an offer even to their close relations. Ten thousand rupees is after all no meagre sum. On top of it is the danger that he loses the entire amount on the slightest mistake on your part. One should be prepared to sacrifice even one’s life for a person like Thakur Sahib instead of cheating him.”

  Prakash lay down after eating his food. His conscience was pricking him. Champa’s words had brought him face to face with it and they struck him almost as a surgeon’s knife strikes a ripe boil. He could see himself as he really was – mean, thankless and cruel. The words affected him almost as a social or political cartoon affects us when it portrays the baser side of our nature. They awakened in him his sleeping humanity. The box of jewels started pestering his soul.

  Prakash got the job in the bank, and held a feast to celebrate the occasion. Thakur Sahib, his wife, Virendra and his newly wed bride, all were invited. After the feast Thakur Sahib got up to go. Prakash said, “Dada, I won’t let you go at this hour. You must stay here for the night.” Champa did not approve of the suggestion. There weren’t enough beds in the house, nor enough beddings; nor was there space enough to accommodate them all. But Prakash kept on insisting, and Thakur Sahib ultimately gave in.

  It was twelve o’clock at night. Thakur Sahib was sleeping upstairs. Prakash was in the verandah. The three women slept inside the room. Making sure that everyone was asleep, Prakash got up, removed the keys from under Viroo’s pillow and went into the room. Opening his box he removed the box of jewels and went to the Thakur Sahib’s house. Many months ago also he had entered that house, like this. But whereas then he was out to commit a crime, today he was out to make amends for it. Whereas then his steps receded at every move he made, today they urged him to go on.

  Going inside the house quickly, he deposited the box under Thakur Sahib’s bed and came out. Even Hanumanjl”2 could not have felt such joy at bringing the piece of mountain with Sanjeevni3 as Prakash was experiencing now. His feet refused to touch the ground. Viroo was still asleep when he came back. Slipping the bunch of keys under his pillow, Prakash went off to sleep.

  2 Legendary character from the epic Ramayan.

  3 Life restoring herb brought by Hanuman to bring back to life Lakshman, brother of Ram.

  Thakur Sahib went home in the morning. Prakash used to go in the evenings to teach Viroo. Today he could not resist the temptation of going earlier and reached Thakur Sahib’s house in the afternoon. The moment Virendra saw him he shouted “Babuji, it was a very lucky feast at your house yesterday. The box of jewels has been found.” Thakur Sahib also came in and said, “it was really an auspicious occasion. Not even a thing is missing from the box.” Prakash feigned surprise, opened the box and said, “It is really remarkable that the box should have come back after six months, without a thing missing. I cannot understand it.” “You are not the only one,” said Thakur Sahib, “nobody can understand it. I am inclined to agree with Viroo’s mother that the supernatural has a hand in it.” “If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would have never believed it,” said Prakash. “The occasion must be celebrated,” said Thakur Sahib, ‘’you must come and dine with us tonight.” “Did you consult any Pandits about the loss?” asked Prakash. “Yes, a number of them,” replied Thakur Sahib. “Then it must be due to their efforts.” said Prakash, “that you have found the box.”

  Reaching home that evening, Prakash gave the news to Champa. She came running embraced him tightly and started weeping. It appeared to her as if she had got back her long lost husband. “There is a feast at Thakur Sahib’s house tonight,” said Parkash, “We have also been invited.” “I also want to feed a thousand beggars today” said Champa. “It will cost you a hundred rupees,” retorted Prakash, “I don’t care what it costs.” replied Champa, “I am so happy today that I could spend a thousand rupees.” Seeing her so happy tears rolled down Prakash’s eyes.

  9 The New Bride

  Our bodies get old but their desires do not diminish. Since Lala Dongamal married a second time he felt like a new man. While his first wife was alive, he spent very little time at home. After finishing his Puja by about ten in the morning, he used to go straight to his shop and returned only by one O’clock in the night. If Leela, his wife, remonstrated,
he used to lose his temper and say, “Shall I close the shop for your sake? These are not the days when Lakshmi can be appeased by a mere bowlful of water. These days even constant propitiation does not please the Goddess.” This used to instantly quieten Leela.

  When Leela was ill, one day she said to him as he was leaving for the shop, “I am not well, please come back a little early.” Lalaji took off his turban and putting it back on the peg replied, “If my sitting at home will help your fever, I won’t go to the shop today.” Leela was very grieved at this brusque reply and said, “I am not asking you to stay at home but can’t you try and come back a little earlier?” “I do not go to the shop for recreation,” retorted Lalaji, “that I should stay there any longer than is necessary.”

  This attitude of her husband’s was nothing new for Leela. For quite sometime now she had the heartbreaking revelation that she was no longer wanted. Was it her fault that she wasn’t young any more? Who can stay young all one’s life? These twenty years of living together should have normally resulted in a deep-rooted mutual affection which does not take into account physical appearance, which hides the faults and which like ripening fruit becomes sweeter and more delightful with age. But the mercantile mind of Lalaji judged everything from the weight in the scale. According to him, an old cow which neither yielded milk nor calves was only fit for gow shala. It was enough that Leela was still the mistress of the house and lived comfortably. She could spend as much money as she liked on charity and on ornaments. And could keep as many fasts as she wanted. All Lalaji asked for was to be left alone. The surprising part of this human logic was that whereas Lalaji considered Leela old at forty, he considered himself a young man at forty-five and yearned for all the ecstasies of love which a youth dreams of. Leela, out of sheer desperation, once tried powder and rouge to make herself attractive to Lalaji. The result was just the opposite. It only annoyed him more. “What foolishness,” he said, “for a mother of seven children! Look at your hair. They are hoary with age. The face is full of wrinkles like a newly washed piece of flannel. And yet you must indulge in this stupidity of using powder and rouge as if you were a young girl of seventeen. Why don’t you accept the fact that you are no longer young. Why must you make a fool of yourself by using these artificial aids which can never bring back youth.” While the wife was the recipient of these lectures, Lalaji himself used all sorts of tonics. The hair was dyed twice a week and even correspondence was being done with an eminent doctor about the monkey glands.