Tales of Bengal Part 6

Next day Samarendra called him into the parlour, and, after they were seated, said: "I hear you have been rude to Barabau (the elder wife). Is that so?"

Nagendra raised his hands in wonder. "No, brother, it was she who showed disrespect to me, simply because I objected to her bullying my wife."

"Do you mean to say that Barabau has lied?" thundered Samarendra. His brother was nettled by the tone adopted. He replied hotly, "Yes, she has lied!"

"What!" asked Samarendra beside himself with indignation. "Is my wife a liar and are you a Judisthir?" (the elder of the five Pandav brothers, heroes of the Mahabharata). "You are a creature without shame!" So saying, he shook his fist at Nagendra who started from his seat as if to attack him. Luckily a respectable neighbour came in at the very nick of time and separated the would-be combatants.

On the morrow, Nagendra told his brother curtly that these perpetual bickerings must be avoided at all cost, and that the only course open to them was to separate. Samarendra raised not the slightest objection, and from that day forward two distinct establishments were set up in the same house. It only remained to divide the estates equally, and as a preliminary step Nagendra asked for accounts during the last three years. They were furnished in a few weeks, and he spent several nights in examining them carefully, taking lists of defaulters in order to verify them by independent inquiry.

While returning home, one evening, from supper at a friend's house, he met a Mohammadan ryot who, according to the accounts, was heavily in arrears of rent. He paused and, after acknowledging the man's salam, remarked that he ought to make an effort to pay a part at least of what was due. The ryot stood aghast with surprise, but invoked Allah to witness that he had paid up every pice, adding that he held Dakhilas (rent receipts) from Bara Babu (the elder brother) which would prove his a.s.sertion. Nagendra asked him to call next day with the receipts in question.

When the man presented himself, Nagendra, in his brother's presence, asked for the arrears of rent shown in the jama wasil baqi (accounts). Again the ryot affirmed that he owned nothing and appealed to the Bara Babu for corroboration. Samarendra was taken aback.

"Yes," he stammered, "you did pay me something about a month ago."

"Why do you say 'something,' Babu? You know quite well that I discharged my rent in full; and what is more I have receipts." So saying he untied a knot in his gamcha (wrapper) and extracted some greasy papers, which he flourished in Samarendra's face, shouting, "Will you swear by your G.o.ds that these are not in your writing?"

Nagendra took the receipts, which bore his brother's signature. The latter looked somewhat sheepish as he answered: "My memory failed me; I now recollect receiving our rent from you."

Nagendra turned sharply on his brother with the question: "Then why did you not enter these receipts in your karcha (cash-book)?"

"I'm sure I don't know," was the reply; "probably I forgot to do so."

Though Nagendra said nothing at the time, his doubts of Samarendra's probity became certainties. From that day onward he was indefatigable in studying the copy of the siah (rent-roll) furnished him, the cash-book, and statement of arrears. Figures set down in these accounts were checked by private inquiries among the ryots themselves. Then the truth dawned on Nagendra, that his brother had misappropriated large sums, which should have been paid to him, and concealed his fraud by falsifying the Zemindari papers. After preparing a list of defalcations, he showed it to his brother and asked for an explanation. None was forthcoming; nay, Samarendra made his case worse by flying into a pa.s.sion and ordering him out of the room. He went straight to Kanto Babu for advice, and was told that the only course open to him was to sue his brother for recovery of the amount wrongfully appropriated. He resolved to do so forthwith.

On the self-same night his wife, after discussing household affairs with him as usual, asked casually why he had paid her father a visit. He told her everything that occurred without reserve. The young lady listened with breathless attention, but heaved a deep sigh on learning that he intended suing his elder brother. Nagendra paused and asked what was on her mind.

"My lord," was her reply, "I am only a woman, knowing nothing of the world except things within my sphere. Any attempt on my part to meddle in business matters may seem extremely presumptuous. But this is such a grave and risky matter that I cannot help speaking out. If you file a suit against your brother, he will of course defend himself; for to lose it would ruin him in purse and honour. It will drag on for months. If you get a decree, the defendant will appeal to the Sub-Judge, and eventually to the High Court. To fight your way step by step will cost a fortune; and even should you win all along the line, the lawyers will not leave you enough to keep body and soul together. How can a small estate like yours bear the costs of both sides? So in my humble opinion it would be much better to allow your brother to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. Make up your mind, from this day forward, to look carefully after your interests, and you may rest a.s.sured that your brother will never try any such tricks again."

Nagendra listened with open mouth to this discourse, and when his wife had done speaking, he embraced her fondly again and again, murmuring:--

"My dearest love, I never knew your real worth till now. The G.o.ddess of Wisdom has chosen you as her messenger and has convinced me that lawsuits are luxuries which only the rich folk can enjoy--not people in my position. I will certainly see your father to-morrow and tell him my resolve to take no steps whatever against Samarendra."

A Hindu wife is her husband's truest friend; ever eager to share his sorrows and to proffer sound advice in times of difficulty. Yet these sweet, unselfish creatures are systematically libelled by men who owe everything to them. It was soon noised abroad that Nagendra's wife had saved him from inevitable ruin. Everyone praised her common-sense--not excepting Samarendra and his wife, who thenceforward treated her with more consideration. Nagendra, therefore, began to hope that peace and unity would again rule the family.

CHAPTER IX

A Brahman's Curse.

Despite his lack of training Samarendra Babu had great capacities for business, and seldom lost a chance of profit-making. He saw that people around him stood in constant need of funds to defray the cost of religious and family rites, and were ready to pay 60 per cent for loans--at least they undertook to do so. It occurred to him that if he lent money on unimpeachable security at something under the market rates, he could not fail to make a large fortune. Soon after he had set up as a banker, the neighbours flocked to him for advances, which he granted only to such as could offer substantial security; his charges by way of interest being 30 to 40 per cent. He also started a business in lending ryots rice for their seed-grain and support till the harvest should be reaped. It is needless to add that his clients paid heavily for this accommodation. So rapidly did his dealings increase that he sought an agent to represent him at the district headquarters; and particularly to buy up defaulters' estates at the auctions which are held periodically under Government auspices. His choice fell upon one Bipinbehari Bhur, who had a widespread reputation for acuteness. It was not belied. In less than a year Bipin had secured for his master estates yielding a net income of nearly Rs. 1,200, which had cost a mere song at auction. Samarendra Babu never failed to reward him for such bargains. On one occasion he had such a slice of luck that it is worth while to narrate it in some detail.

He had just retired to rest for the night, when a servant knocked at the door to say that Bipin had come on very urgent business. Samarendra Babu went downstairs to his parlour, clad in a wrapper, to find his agent pacing up and down in evident agitation. After the usual compliments had been exchanged, he asked why Bipin had called so late.

"I have bad news for you, Mahasay," was the reply. "You remember buying the s.h.i.+bprakash estate at last auction? Well, that property may slip through your fingers." He paused to watch the effect of the announcement on his master, and then went on: "The late proprietor has lodged an objection to its sale, on the ground that no arrears were due, producing a receipt to substantiate his contention. The Collector has just called on us to show cause against the cancellation of the sale and will take the case up the day after to-morrow."

Samarendra was thunderstruck by this information, the s.h.i.+bprakash estate being one of the best bargains he had ever got. After pondering a while, he asked, "What would you advise me to do? I am afraid it is hopeless to contend against a receipt in full!"

Bipin was not so easily disheartened. He replied, "Let us consult our pleader, Asu Babu, who is sure to have some plan for upholding the sale. He won't ask more than Rs. 100, which is not a tenth of the annual profits for s.h.i.+bprakash." This course commended itself to Samarendra, who sent his headman back to Ghoria, promising to follow next day, with the necessary sinews of war. He arrived betimes at Bipin's house there, and took him to the Bar Library, where Asu Babu was sure to be found when not engaged in Court. A few minutes later the limb of the law came in, and asked what business brought Samarendra to Ghoria.

After hearing the story of s.h.i.+bprakash and its vicissitudes of owners.h.i.+p, he asked:--

"How much will you pay me if I win your case?"

Glancing at Bipin, Samarendra answered hesitatingly, "Well, I might go as far as fifty rupees".

"Nonsense," was the rejoinder. "I won't take a pice less than Rs. 100." After several minutes wasted on haggling, it was agreed that Asu Babu should be paid Rs. 40 on the nail and Rs. 35 more if he won the suit. The pleader pocketed this first instalment, and a.s.sured Samarendra that he would prove the sale to have been perfectly valid. Then the trio separated, Samarendra returning to Bipin's house where they pa.s.sed the day in forming plans for further purchases.

At 10.30 on the morrow, both attended at the Collectorate and found that the s.h.i.+bprakash objection stood first for hearing. It was opened by the appellant's pleader, who rose armed with a huge account book and bundle of receipts, in order to prove that his client owed nothing to Government, and that the sale proceedings were a blunder from beginning to end. Asu Babu waited till his turn came, and then informed the Collector that he would find, on examining his books, that the appellant was Rs. 1 11. 0. in arrears at the date of the sale. The Collector ordered his head clerk to produce the ledger account of payments on account of the s.h.i.+bprakash estates, and, sure enough, they showed a short payment of the amount stated. This was a thunderbolt for the appellant, whose pleader vainly tried to pick holes in the accounts, but was at last obliged to confess that a mistake had been made. The only course open to him was to sue for mercy. The Collector, however, was inexorable, and indeed he had no power to mitigate the Draconian law of sale. That of s.h.i.+bprakash was duly confirmed, and its new owner adjourned to the bar library to settle matters with his pleader. The meeting was joyful indeed. After congratulating Asu Babu on his unexpected success, Samarendra asked how he had managed it. The pleader at first refused to gratify his curiosity, but yielded to entreaty. "The tiger has a jackal," he said, "and I, who cannot stoop to dirty tricks myself, have a certain mukhtiar (the lowest grade of advocates) who is hand-in-glove with all the amlas (clerks) and can twist them round his finger--for a consideration. I gave him Rs. 10 out of the advance money and promised as much more if he could persuade the Collectorate clerks to cook the appellant's accounts, so as to show a short payment. You see how well he has succeeded, and now I think the least you can do is to refund the douceur to me." Samarendra agreed and handed Asu Babu Rs. 55, prophesying that he would have a brilliant career at the bar.

He had to stop for a fortnight or so at Ghoria, in order to get possession of his purchase from the Collectorate n.a.z.ir (bailiff) who, according to custom, planted a bamboo thereon, as a symbol of its transfer. While waiting for this formality he attended another sale for arrears of revenue, in the hope of picking up some profitable bargains. He was not disappointed. The last lot was the whole of Jayrampur, a small village quite close to his house, inhabited by hardworking and submissive ryots, who paid their rent punctually. Samarendra was all agog when the n.a.z.ir read out the names of its proprietors, the amount of arrears, and the boundaries, calling on the crowd to bid. A dead silence followed, which was at last broken by a timid offer of Rs. 1,000. Samarendra promptly bid Rs. 6,000; which he knew was hardly three years' purchase of the net rental, and the rise was so tremendous that it choked off all compet.i.tion. Jayrampur was knocked down to him; but his exultation was tempered by the discovery that he had not nearly enough to meet the amount of earnest money which had to be paid down at once. A mukhtiar came to his aid by whispering offers of a loan, and the requisite amount was forthcoming in five minutes, on Samarendra's giving his note of hand with a bonus of 10 per cent. payable next day.

His star continued to be in the eleventh heaven; for this was one of a series of profitable purchases. In seven or eight years he owned estates yielding an income of Rs. 8,000, while his dealings in grain produced half as much again.

Samarendra's ambition rose with growing prosperity. Visions of a t.i.tle hovered in his brain, and being a man of resource, he hit upon an ingenious method of converting them into realities. Close to his house there was an extensive bil (marsh) peopled in season by swarms of wild-duck, teal and snipe. It was visited occasionally by Europeans from Calcutta, who are always on the alert for a day's sport, but they were inconvenienced by the total lack of accommodation. So Samarendra built a neat bungalow, equipped it with European furniture, and placed an old Khansama (Mohammadan butler) in charge, who was versed in all the customs of Saheb-log (Englishmen). This menial had orders to report the arrival of white visitors and offer them hospitality. His courtesy was highly appreciated, and there was scarcely a Sunday during the cold weather which did not bring a couple of sportsmen to the bungalow. Samarendra attended personally to their comforts, thus making many friends. Through their influence he secured carte blanche in the matter of guns and ammunition--a boon which seldom falls to the lot of middle-cla.s.s Indians. At their request he subscribed to various European clubs, winning the reputation of being "not half a bad sort of fellow". All this hospitality, however, was terribly expensive, and it soon exceeded Samarendra's income. But he went on spending money like water, in the a.s.surance that one day it would yield a golden return.

On a bright morning, in January, 18--, he was sitting in his bungalow, in the hope of welcoming guests, when a European entered it, attended by two orderlies; and seeing a well-dressed Indian, was about to retire. Samarendra introduced himself as the local Zemindar and offered to send a s.h.i.+kari (game-keeper) with the visitor in order to show him some sport. His overtures were gratefully received, and the European, on returning at noon with a heavy bag, was delighted to find an appetising tiffin ready for his acceptance. Samarendra kept out of the way until it was finished, and then asked whether his guest had enjoyed himself. The latter was profuse in thanks and, ere leaving for the neighbouring railway station, asked whether he could be of any service, tendering a card inscribed, "Mr. Charles Bernardson, Indian Civil Service". He was none other than the Chief Secretary to Government.

Such an acquaintance was not to be lost sight of. A week later Samarendra went to Calcutta and called on Mr. Bernardson at his chambers in the United Service Club. He was received, so to speak, with open arms, questioned about crops, crime, sport, and other commonplace topics, and again a.s.sured that Mr. Bernardson would serve him in any way within his power. The latter hint was promptly taken. On receiving permission to quit the great man's presence he timidly suggested that he would like to be an Honorary Magistrate. Mr. Bernardson took note of the wish, and a few weeks later the Gazette announced Samarendra's nomination to the Ghoria Independent Bench, with power to try cases singly.

The next point was to attract the attention of the district authorities. Samarendra pored over the Penal and Procedure Codes, took lessons in law from Asu Babu, and soon mastered the routine of a petty Court of Justice. He never missed any sitting of the Bench and signalised himself by a rigorous interpretation of the law. Offenders had short shrift from him; and the police moved heaven and earth to get their cases disposed of in his Court. His percentage of convictions was larger than that of any honorary magistrate. Such zeal deserved a suitable reward, and it soon attracted the attention of the authorities. On New Year's Day, 189-, the Calcutta Gazette came out with its usual list of honours, amongst which was seen a Rai Bahadurs.h.i.+p for Samarendra. This dignity answers to the English knighthood, and it is usually made an excuse for rejoicings shared by all cla.s.ses. Samarendra, however, thought it unnecessary to waste money on junketings. He preferred subscribing to movements favoured by the "little tin G.o.ds" of Darjiling.

Towards the end of the same year, he was accosted, while leaving Court one afternoon, by a chupra.s.si (orderly) attached to the magistrate-collector's person, who salamed obsequiously and said that the Bara Saheb wished to see him at once. Hastening to the district chief's bungalow he was graciously received, and in the course of conversation a remark fell from the great man's lips, which made the blood course wildly through his veins. It seemed that a fund had been started in Calcutta for the purpose of erecting some permanent memorial to the late Viceroy, and a hint was thrown out that if Samarendra subscribed liberally, he might possibly find himself gazetted a "Raja Bahadur". He a.s.sured the magistrate that the Memorial Fund would receive a handsome donation from him and asked for a few days in order to decide the amount.

On returning home, he made a rough calculation of his a.s.sets and liabilities. The latter amounted to nearly a lakh of rupees (6,666), or about five times his net annual income. Common prudence suggested that he ought not to increase the burden; but ambition prevailed, and the only question which Samarendra set himself was, "What is the least amount I can decently give?" After thinking over pros and cons for a whole night, he decided that Rs. 10,000 would be enough; raised that sum at 12 per cent, by mortgaging some landed property, and sent it with a flowery letter to the District Magistrate, as a humble donation to the Viceroy's Memorial Eund.

A few days later Samarendra was preparing for a visit to his favourite rest-house, in the vague hope that Mr. Bernardson might turn up again, when a strange Brahman entered the courtyard and thus addressed him:--

"Sir, you are an Amir, and I am a beggar. I have a request to make."

"Cut it short," replied Samarendra testily. "Come to the point--what do you want?"

"Sir, I have a grown-up daughter who positively must be married; but I cannot raise a sufficient dowry. Will your honour give me a trifle towards making one up?"

"No, I won't; if you belonged to this village you would know that I cannot afford to fling money about. My expenses are enormous!"

"Now, please, don't refuse me, Rai Bahadur; surely you can spare a couple of rupees to a poor Brahman!"

Samarendra was exasperated by the man's importunity. He replied sharply, "You and your kind seem to think that I am Kuver (the G.o.d of Wealth) incarnate, who is able to satisfy every human need! I won't give you anything!"

"Only one rupee, Rai Bahadur," pleaded the Brahman with folded hands.

"No! no! Get out of my house at once!" bellowed Samarendra; then turning to his doorkeeper, he ordered him to "run the fellow out of the yard by the neck".

The Brahman was deeply incensed. Drawing himself up to his full height, he looked scornfully at Samarendra, and said:--

"Babu, you dare to order me, a Brahman, to be ejected with violence from your house. Is there no religion left in this world? Mark my words, a day is coming when you will be poorer even than myself. I have spoken." Then he strode out of the courtyard in high dudgeon. Samarendra merely laughed aloud and hurled mocking epithets after his retreating figure, to which no reply was vouchsafed.