The Complete Short Stories

magazine and then publish them in book form at his own expense. Although his zamindari estate was in Kanpur, he wanted to live a literary life. He loathed being landed gentry. His wife was a principal in a girls’ school. We talked half the night away. Now I don’t remember most of what was said. But, yes, I do recall that we both had prepared a plan together for our future lives. I thanked my lucky stars that God had sent me such a true friend out of nowhere. When half the night was over, we slept. He had to leave by the eight o’clock train the next morning. When I woke up it was already seven o’clock. Umapatiji was sitting washed and ready to go. He said, ‘Please permit me to leave, I shall call here on my way back. Now I’m going to trouble you often. Please forgive me. When I set out yesterday it was four o’clock in the morning. I’d been lying awake since two so that I wouldn’t oversleep. In fact you can say that I had to stay awake the whole night because I was anxious about the journey. After I’d taken my seat in the train I began to doze. I took off my coat, put it to one side and lay down. Immediately I fell asleep. I woke up at Mughalsarai. The coat had vanished! I looked for it everywhere, but there was no sign of it. I realized someone had stolen it. This was my punishment for sleeping. I had kept fifty rupees in the coat to cover the expenses of the journey; they were stolen with it. I have to collect my wife from her father’s house; I will have to take some clothes and other things with me. Then in my in-laws’ house you are expected to give a hundred kind of presents to everyone. Every step costs you money. If you don’t spend they laugh at you. I’ll repay the money on my way back.’

I found myself in a great dilemma. I’d already been let down once before. At once I became apprehensive that I would be left in the same position again. But I was quickly ashamed of my lack of faith. In this world all men are not the same. This poor chap was such a gentleman. Right now he was in difficulty and here I was doubting him for no reason. I went indoors and said to my wife, ‘Do you by any chance have any money?’

‘What for?’

‘My friend who came yesterday—somebody in the train stole his money. He has to go to his in-laws’ house to bring his wife home. On his way back he’ll return it.’

My wife said sarcastically, ‘All your friends come here just to rob you. All of them constantly have problems. I don’t have any money.’

I said ingratiatingly, ‘Please do give it, the poor man’s standing outside ready to leave. He’ll miss his train.’

‘Tell him there’s no cash in the house at the moment.’

‘That’s not easy. That means I’m not only poor but also friendless. Otherwise couldn’t I find fifty rupees from somewhere? Umapatiji will never believe that I don’t have the money. It would be much better to tell him plainly that we don’t trust him and that’s why we can’t give him anything. At least there would be a veil over our real position.’

In sudden anger, my wife flung down the key of her box in front of me and said, ‘If you were as good at judging people as you are at arguing you would have been a man by now! Take the money and give it to him. At least your honour will be safe. But don’t think of it as a loan, rest assured that you are throwing it into water.’

I was concerned with eating mangoes, not counting the mango trees. I quietly took out the money and gave it to Umapatiji. He set off, once again promising to repay the money on his way back.

Seven days later he arrived at my house with his wife and daughter in the evening. My wife welcomed them with sugar and curd. We gave them twenty rupees as the customary gift for seeing a bride’s face for the first time. We also gave his daughter two rupees for sweets. I had imagined that the moment he arrived Umapatiji would start counting out my money, but until late in the night he never even mentioned the matter. When I was going to bed my wife commented, ‘He didn’t give you the money, ji.’

She then laughed sarcastically and said, ‘So did you really think he would repay you the moment he arrived? I told you from the start not to give the money expecting to get it back, that you should just consider it as helping your friend. But you are a very strange fellow.’

I was ashamed and silent. Umapatiji stayed with us for two days. My wife treated him respectfully and hospitably as was proper. But I was not so content. I thought he had cheated me.

On the third morning, he was ready to leave. I still hoped that he would pay me before he went. But I was dumbfounded by his new tale. Rolling up his bedding, he told me, ‘I am really sorry that I couldn’t pay you back this time. The fact is that I didn’t meet my father at our house. He had gone to the villages to collect rent and I didn’t have the time to go after him. There’s no railway there. You have to travel by bullock carts. That’s why I stayed one day at the house and then went to my in-laws’. I spent everything there. If they hadn’t given me money, it would have been difficult for me to get here. Now I don’t even have the money for our rail tickets. If you could give me twenty-five rupees more I will send it to you the moment I arrive.