I wrote out the above story and dispatched it to a magazine. My aim was simply to place before the public a picture of the adverse consequences of deceitful behaviour. I had never even dreamed that it would bear immediate fruit. So when four days later I suddenly received a money order for seventy-five rupees, my joy knew no bounds. The sender was the same gentleman—Umapatiji. On the coupon was written just ‘Apologies’. I took the money and put it in my wife’s hands and showed her the coupon.
She said indifferently, ‘Take it and put it in your own box. I never realized until today what a greedy man you were. It’s not decent behaviour to chase after people for small amounts of money. When an educated and polite man is unable to fulfil his promise then you should realize that he must be under some compulsion. It is not good manners to embarrass such a helpless man with repeated demands. As far as it’s in his power no human being who is not totally morally corrupt cheats anyone. I will not keep this money with me until we receive a letter from Umapatiji explaining why he took so long to send it.’
But at this point I was not ready to listen to such noble thoughts. I had the money I’d lost and I was overjoyed.
Translated from the Hindi by Gillian Wright
The Ornaments1
I have nothing against women’s craving for jewellery. We can still bear it if the ladies are somewhat obdurate, but we cannot deal with their lethal, sarcastic remarks. But I must say that sacrifices made for the fulfilment of this craving may be utilized to achieve something far better in life.
Though we haven’t yet seen any ordinary-looking lady appear beautiful only because of her jewellery, we accept the fact that jewellery is needed to enhance beauty, just as a house needs a lamp to illumine it. But we never ponder on how we lose our peace of mind and pollute our soul in the pursuit of enhancing our physical beauty. Its dazzle blurs our vision. We shudder to think of the depth of envy, jealousy and anxiety that the glitter of jewellery might cause. In fact, it is not an aid to beautification but pollution. If that is not the case, how is it that a newly-wedded girl, having barely spent three days with her husband, can tell him, ‘My father has pushed me into a dungeon by making me tie the knot with you!’
That day Sheetala had gone to see the bride of Kunwar Suresh Singh, the landlord of the village. She was bewitched by what she saw. She barely looked at the bride because she could not take her eyes off the girl’s shining jewellery. Sheetala was very annoyed. Her foul mood found a vent on her husband when he returned in the evening.
Her husband’s name was Vimal Singh. His ancestors were landowners and very affluent. This village also belonged to them. But down the years their wealth and position had withered away. Suresh’s father was adept at land dealings and had somehow got hold of Vimal’s property. Vimal had almost become a pauper now, finding it difficult to afford two square meals a day or a pony to ride on. On the other side, Suresh had several elephants, cars and horses. Visitors could be seen standing at the main door of his house at any time of the day. Yet these odds could not create a gulf between the two men. They maintained their relations cordially, attending marriages and participating in all the rituals in each other’s families. Suresh had special interest in education. After he finished his studies in India he’d left for Europe to pursue higher education. People had assumed that he’d return as a Brown Sahib, but contrary to their expectations he turned into a staunch believer in the sanctity of Indian tradition. The materialism, licentiousness and inordinate arrogance that he’d encountered in Europe opened his eyes. Earlier, his family had put a lot of pressure on him to get married but he’d declined. He wouldn’t marry a girl that he didn’t know well. But now there was a sea change in his attitude. He married the same girl he had rejected earlier. He did not try to get to know her at all. Marriage for him was now a spiritual bond and not one of love. Sheetala had gone to see the same girl—Suresh’s wife—with her mother-in-law. And the glitter of the bride’s jewels had taken the wind out of her wings. Vimal was deeply disappointed by Sheetala’s behaviour. He said to her sadly that she should have asked her parents to marry her to Suresh, who would have laden her with jewels.
‘Why are you being so abusive?’ Sheetala asked
‘I’m not. Your parents shouldn’t have married a beauty like you to me.’
‘You’ve no shame. You only know how to taunt.’
‘Destiny is not in my hands. Nor am I educated enough to get a lucrative job.’
‘You do not love me. Why don’t you admit that? If you had loved me you would’ve found a way to earn more.’
‘You love ornaments?’
‘Everybody does. I also do.’
‘You consider yourself unfortunate.’
‘What’s there to consider? I am unfortunate. Otherwise I wouldn’t have to look at what others possess and crave for them.’
‘Will you consider yourself fortunate if I get them made for you?’
‘Oh! Is there a goldsmith waiting for your command at the door?’
‘No, I’ll have them made for you. But you have to be patient.’2
Once challenged there are some capable people who can go to the extent of taking lives to achieve their objective. But a weakling risks his own life to fulfil a promise. Vimal decided to leave the house.
