At this point, many people chimed in. ‘Yes, yes, he’s indeed a dishonest one.’
The merchant, however, persisted in declaring his innocence. ‘If my weights turn out to be wrong, I’ll willingly give away a thousand rupees.’
The maulvi was not to be outdone. He said, ‘Then maybe the cheat deliberately weighs less.’ The clerk vigorously concurred. The milkman had his own opinion. ‘Maybe he has two sets of weights—one for show and the other for the actual weighing. The police should search his house.’
The merchant protested again. His captors attacked him again, and the quarrel continued for half an hour. I didn’t know what to do. Should I defend the merchant and save him, or should I just let it go? Everyone seemed to be against him. I looked around for Khalil, and discovered that he was missing. When did he get up and go? The merchant refused to admit his guilt, and he was not afraid to go to the police station.4
Finally, everyone was about to go to the police station when they saw the fool coming their way. He had a basket in one hand, a bowl in the other, and a boy of about seven or eight in tow. As soon as he reached the gathering, he addressed the maulvi, ‘Does this bowl belong to you, Qaziji?’
The maulvi was nonplussed. ‘Yes, it does. Why have you got it from my house?’
The fool replied calmly, ‘Because this bowl contains a quarter of a kilo of the ghee which you say was weighed less by the merchant. The ghee is the same. Its weight is the same. It’s not the poor merchant who’s the cheat but Maulvi Zahoor Ahmed.’
The maulvi was livid. ‘If you wish to display your folly here, go ahead. I’m not afraid of anyone. I don’t care if you’re a millionaire, but how dare you enter my house?’
The fool calmly said, ‘I displayed the same audacity that you did when you wanted to take the merchant to the police station. Now this ghee will also go to the police.’
The maulvi stammered, ‘Everyone keeps some stuff in their house. I swear on the Holy Koran, I’ll go to your father this instant. No one has ever accused me in this manner before.’
The merchant was quick to reply. ‘Where are you off to, Maulvi Sahib? Come, the police will decide our case. I won’t heed any of your entreaties. You pretend to be kind and generous like a God; you’re a cheat and you have the temerity to call others dishonest. Don’t let this long beard of yours fool anyone.’
But the maulvi did not stay. He retreated to the comparative safety of Khalil’s father’s house, which was for the moment the only way to save himself from embarrassment.
Then Khalil turned to the milkman. ‘So, you too are going to the police? Come, I’ll accompany you. I’ve brought this kilo of cattle food from your house.’
Having just witnessed what had happened with the maulvi, the milkman began to perspire. ‘Brother. I swear on my youth. The maulvi made me say all this.’
‘Will you burn someone’s house down just because someone asked you to?’ Khalil admonished him. ‘You shamelessly mix water in milk, but today you lost your conscience to such an extent that you became hell bent on destroying an honest man? You kept the cattle food in your house and then accused the merchant of weighing less.’
The merchant was not mollified. ‘Brother, my reputation has gone to the dogs. I’m not going to rest until I report this man to the police.’
‘Please forgive me this once,’ the milkman pleaded, ‘or I’ll be ruined.’
It was now the clerk’s turn. ‘So, Munshiji,’ Khalil said, ‘should I expose you too, or would you rather slink off home?’
The clerk was made of sterner stuff. ‘You think I’m the milkman and that I’ll cower under your threats?’ he said.
Khalil turned to the boy. ‘So, son, did you go straight home after buying the sugar?’
The son glanced at the clerk doubtfully. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘He’ll say what you teach him to say,’ said the clerk.
‘All right, son, repeat what you had told me earlier,’ Khalil gently prodded.
‘Grandpa will beat me.’ The child was clearly fearful.
‘Did you eat the sugar on your way home?’ the clerk asked.
The boy began sobbing.
‘Yes, that’s what he told me. But you didn’t think to ask. You just began hurling accusations. Is this decency?’ Khalil asked.
‘How would I know what he did on the way?’ the clerk demanded.
‘Then why were you running to the police on such flimsy grounds? Khalil said. ‘You give out money orders to these illiterate people and deduct two annas as your fee from that money. You sell postcards for much more than their original price. I can prove it if you want. Don’t you think that’s dishonesty?’
The clerk knew better than to engage in an argument with the fool. He dragged the boy home, beating him all the way. The merchant blessed the fool with all his heart. The onlookers gradually dispersed. Then I said to Khalil, ‘You saved the merchant’s life today. Otherwise he’d have got into the clutches of the police for no reason.’
‘Do you know the reward I’ll receive for this good deed?’ Khalil asked. ‘The police will turn against me. They’ll complain that I turned away their victims. My father is mortally afraid of the police. He’ll be furious with me for interfering with them. That’s also part of my folly. I shouldn’t have exposed so many respectable people for one common merchant. These are the actions of fools.’
I said reverentially, ‘Today I’ve discovered that “fool” is a sobriquet given to gods! This is the name I’m now going to call you by. He who sacrifices his conscience for his selfish interests is regarded as clever and wise. He who doesn’t put his selfish interests or criticism above the dictates of his conscience, his true principles, and the truth, lacks wisdom and
