One day, he had the boy sit beside him and asked him about his family. He came to know that the boy was from a nearby village, and that he lived with his old mother, who was suffering from a chronic disease. The entire responsibility of the house was on his shoulders. There was no one to cook for him. When he went home, he would cook for himself and also feed his mother. A thakur by caste, he had been born into a once-prosperous family that owned a sugar factory. The family also owned some land, but the competitiveness and enmity among the brothers had led to a condition where he was now struggling to earn his daily bread. The boy’s name was Magan Singh.
Haridas asked, ‘Don’t the villagers help you?’
Magan said, ‘Wah! The only thing they’d want to do is kill me. They believe that there’s money buried in my house.’
Haridas asked curiously, ‘It is an old household, there must be something. Your mother never told you anything about this?’
Magan replied, ‘No, Babuji, there isn’t any money. If there was indeed any, why would my mother endure such pain?’2
Haridas liked Magan and he decided to promote him from a labourer to one of his officials. He gave him the responsibility of making payments and instructed Munshiji to teach him to read and write. It seemed as if the poor boy’s fate had finally changed.
Magan was an honest and a clever boy. He was never late or absent at work. Within a few days, he won the trust of Babu Sahib, and acquired both reading and writing skills.
Soon, it was monsoon, and the kiln was filled with water. There wasn’t any business. Magan had been absent for three days. Haridas was worried, and wondered if the boy had fallen sick or met with an accident. He asked the other workers about him but no one had any idea. On the fourth day, Haridas reached Magan’s home—a wreck of a formerly prosperous house. Magan came out when he heard Haridas’s voice.
Haridas asked, ‘Why haven’t you come to work for the last few days? How is your mother?’
Magan replied in a choked voice, ‘Mother is very sick and says she won’t survive. She asked me a number of times to call you but I hesitated to come. How fortunate that you’ve come on your own. Please come in and see her. She’ll be pleased to meet you.’
Haridas entered Magan’s home. The entire house reeked of loss and ruin. Heaps of brick dust and stone were scattered everywhere. It was a picture of destruction. Only two rooms were liveable. Magan signalled Haridas towards one of them. When Haridas entered, he saw an old woman groaning on a ramshackle cot.
She opened her eyes when she heard Haridas’s footsteps and inferred who he was.
She said, ‘You’ve come! So kind of you. I’ve been waiting to meet you; you are the benefactor of my child now. The way you have protected him so far . . . I hope you will always keep an eye on him and mould him into a fine man. The days of my distress are about to end. Once, this house was prosperous. When misfortune came knocking at our door, Laxmi abandoned us. Our ancestors had anticipated such a state and so they saved something for the earth’s custody. Its invoice was kept securely but for a long time it could not be traced. Magan’s father could not find it. If he had found the invoice, we would not have been in such a deplorable state. Three days ago I found the invoice in a stack of old files. Since then, I have been hiding it. Is Magan outside? The invoice is in the vault near the head of the cot. It has all the details . . . it contains information about the location. When the right moment comes, get it dug out and give it to Magan. I kept asking for you so that I could convey this message. I do not trust anyone else except you. There aren’t any morals left in this world. Whom can you trust . . .’3
Haridas did not discuss the incident with anyone. His intentions wavered. The invoice had revealed that the wealth was below the platform of a temple some five hundred steps from the house towards the west.
Haridas wanted the wealth, but without anyone finding out how he had come across it. It was a difficult task. The fear of defamation was a source of constant anxiety. It was all terribly base. How could he betray someone he had protected and brought up as his own child!
For many days, Haridas was in turmoil. In the end, however, his evil intentions triumphed over his better judgement. He assured himself that he had never gone against his religion till now and would never do so. He reflected in his mind, Is there anyone in this world who has not gone astray at least once in his life? If there is anyone, then he is not human but a God. I am a human being. I do not claim to be equal to gods.
Self-deception is akin to consoling a child by making false promises.
Haridas would leave his house for a walk every evening. After confirming that there was no one around, he would go and sit on the platform and dig with a pickaxe. During the day, he checked if anyone was poking around the platform. In the stillness of the night, while he shifted those lonely bricks, he would be as frightened as a guilt-ridden Vaishnav eating meat.
The platform was quite long and wide. It took a month to dig it up and yet he could barely reach half the required level. His condition was like that of a man trying to invoke a mantra. His mind was agitated. His eyesight became sharp. He looked quiet, as if he
