The secretary replied, ‘In my view now there is no need to keep vigil in front of his shop.’
‘Why? He has still not signed the contract.’
‘Yes, he has not signed, but he has become our friend. Not to become a witness on behalf of the police testifies that. How much pressure the administration must have put on him can be easily gauged. He wouldn’t have been able to withstand it if he didn’t have moral conviction.’
‘Yes, some changes have, of course, happened.’
‘Not some, sir! One should say that it is a total revolution. Do you know the implications of refusing to succumb to administrative pressures? It is as good as declaring one’s resistance against the state. This is equal to renouncing the world and taking sanyas in the path of sacrifice. The entire administration is now thirsting for his blood. It would not be surprising if the governor too has been apprised of the developments.’
‘But for the sake of formality at least he should sign the contract. Call him here. Let us talk to him.’
‘He is a man with self-esteem. He would never come here. Rather, if he senses our mistrust of him, he’s likely to try and join forces with them again.’
‘If you have so much faith in him then let us leave his shop alone. But I would still say that you must keep an eye on him by meeting him personally.’
‘You are unnecessarily suspicious.’
At nine, when Chandumal reached his shop, there were no volunteers there. A smile flashed across his face. He told his bookkeeper, ‘It is a checkmate.’
The bookkeeper averred, ‘It seems so. Not a single one seems to be here yet.’
‘They will come neither now nor later. The ball is in our court. The strategy I’ve used had won me complete victory! How long does it take to befriend them? Should I call them and ask them to do odd jobs? Slaves of a few pennies can neither be friends of anyone nor enemies. I’ve hoodwinked them well and good, haven’t I?’
‘I feel like kissing your hands. The snake is killed and the stick is still intact. But I’m sure the Congress fellows will keep a secret watch over us.’
‘Don’t worry, I am right here. They can’t beat me at this game. I will outsmart them. Take out the rolls of imported cloth and give them to the traders. We will sail through in one go.’
Translated from the Hindi by Anuradha Ghosh
Reincarnation1
Material prosperity rarely comes to gentlemen. Ramtahal, who enjoyed a life of luxury, was dissipated and morally degraded. He was a cunning man, good at extracting interest out of loaned money and always on the winning side in legal transactions. His wealth kept increasing. Everyone was his prey. On the other hand, his younger brother, Shivtahal, was religious, devout, and helpful. His wealth kept decreasing. There were always at least two or three guests hovering at his doorstep. His elder brother had a lot of clout in the neighbourhood. Those who belonged to the lower castes followed his orders promptly. His house was repaired free of cost. Those indebted to him came with offerings of all kinds. For instance, some from the Kunjre caste would get saag-bhaji, while the Goalas would give him milk—that also one and a half times the quantity of what one would get at the market price. The younger brother had no such clout. Sadhus and mendicants would be his visitors; they would eat their fill in his house and go on their way. If he gave money to people, it was not with the intention of earning interest, but to help them out in their hour of need. He could not demand his own money from his debtors forcefully, lest he hurt their sentiments.
In this manner quite a few years went by. Whatever inheritance Shivtahal possessed was squandered in his pursuit of salvation. Much of his money sank. Ramtahal, on the contrary, got a new house built. He also opened a shop for doing business in gold and silver. He bought some land too and started farming.
Shivtahal was now worried. How could he live like this? He did not have money to generate an income. He did not possess the skills that help one earn a living without wealth. He didn’t even have the courage to borrow money from anyone. How would he repay them if he ran losses? He couldn’t even look for employment under anyone because then the family honour would be at stake. Finally, finding no other recourse, he went to his elder brother and said, ‘Brother, now you have to take the responsibility of looking after me and my family. Where else can I go seeking refuge?’
Ramtahal said, ‘You don’t have anything to worry about. You have not squandered your money in evil deeds. Whatever you have done has only boosted the honour of our family. I am cunning; I know how to trick the world. You are a simple man. Others have cheated you. This is your house too. You can collect the revenues from the lands I have bought, and look after the farming there. Whatever you spend each month, come and take it from me. But I have one condition. I won’t spend a single penny on sadhus and mendicants. And I wouldn’t like you to speak ill of me.’
Shivtahal, overcome with emotion, said, ‘Brother, I have surely sinned by always speaking ill of you; my apologies. If you ever hear me speak ill of you again, give me whatever punishment you deem fit. I have one request to make, though. Do ensure that your wife stops chastising me for whatever good or bad I have done so far.’
Ramtahal said, ‘If ever again I hear her speak ill of you, I will pull out her tongue.’2
Ramtahal’s lands were some twenty-five miles away from the town. A temporary house had been built there. The bullocks, the
