Maya was crying now. She said, ‘If you are telling the truth, then I forgive you. Only God will decide whether you did right or wrong. I only request you to lead me to the homes that were destroyed by my husband so that I can go and serve them.’
Translated from the Hindi by Payal Agarwal
Trickery1
Maya, Pandit Balakram Shastri’s wife, had longed for a necklace for the longest time and had pleaded with Panditji for one over and over again. But Panditji’s answers were always evasive. He didn’t actually say that he didn’t have the money. What would that do to his status as a husband! He would escape into arguments instead. Jewellery is utterly useless, and acquiring it like a disease. One does not get the genuine metal. Pure gold is not available anyway. On top of that the jeweller makes us pay double the true value of the ornament. And, the biggest argument of all: Storing jewellery in the house is an open invitation to thieves. Only a fool would buy a headache for a moment’s beautification. Poor Maya was not familiar with the art of debate or logic. Such strategies rendered her speechless. The sight of her neighbour’s ornaments stirred desire in her. But to whom could she disclose her sorrow? Had Panditji been hard-working this difficulty could have been overcome easily. But he was a lazy man and spent all his time eating and sleeping. He was ready to listen to the bitter words of his wife, but it was impossible to reduce his hours of sleep.2
One day when Panditji returned from school he saw a gold necklace adorning Maya’s neck. The shine of the necklace added a glow to her face.
Never had Maya appeared so beautiful to Panditji.
‘Whose necklace is this?’
‘This necklace belongs to the wife of our neighbour, Babuji. I went to meet her today. I saw this necklace and liked it very much. I wore it and came to show you. Just make one necklace like this for me.’
‘You had no right to bring away what belongs to someone else. What if it gets lost? We will have to compensate for it. On top of that, think of the bad name it could bring!’
‘I must have the very same kind of necklace—twenty tolas, nothing less.’
‘Still so obstinate?’
‘When everyone else has one, why shouldn’t I?’
‘If everybody jumps in the well, will you also jump? Just think a bit . . . it will cost six hundred rupees to get this necklace made. If we pay an interest of one rupee on every hundred rupees, in five years it will come to one thousand rupees. But in five years your necklace will hardly be worth three hundred rupees. What possible pleasure can wearing such a necklace bring if it leads to such a big loss? Return this necklace. Have your meal and make yourself comfortable.’ And Panditji walked out.3
Suddenly in the night Maya began to shout, ‘Thief! Thief! Thief in the house! He is dragging me away.’
Panditji woke up with a start and said, ‘Where, where? Run, run!’
‘He entered my room. I saw his shadow.’
‘Bring the lantern! Fetch my stick!’
‘I am so scared I can’t even stand.’
‘Where is Panditji, has there been a sendh?’ called many people from outside the house.
‘No, no,’ said Maya. ‘The wall is intact, so they must have come from the roof. When I woke up, I saw someone leaning over me. Hai Ram! He took my necklace! I fell asleep wearing it. Rascal! He stole it from my neck. Hai Ram!’
‘Why didn’t you take off the necklace?’
‘How was I to know that this calamity would befall us today? Hai Ram! How can I ever face anyone again!’
‘What’s the use of lamenting now? Weep over your fate. This is why I often say to you that things will not always go smoothly. You can never tell what will happen—and when. Now do you understand what I was saying? Or do you still have doubts? Just check if anything else is missing.’
The neighbours arrived with lanterns. They checked every corner of the house. They checked the terrace and the locks. They checked the front and the back, and even peeped into the toilet. But the thief was nowhere to be found.
‘It is the work of an insider,’ said one of the neighbours.
‘Without an insider’s help such things are not possible. Did he take anything else?’ That was another neighbour speaking.
‘Nothing else is missing. The utensils are untouched. The trunk is locked. If the wretch had to take anything he could have taken something that belonged to me. It was somebody else’s possession. God! What will happen now?’
‘Now have you experienced the pleasure of jewellery?’
‘Hai Ram! This is a disgraceful calamity. And on top of that you rub salt into my wound. The ill-fated could have taken every speck in the house, I wouldn’t have grieved. That poor woman had only just got the necklace made.’
‘Are you certain that it was twenty tolas?’
‘Yes, that is what she said.’
‘A crippling loss has to be sustained now, what else?’
‘I will tell her that there’s been a theft in the house. Will she kill me? Are we to steal to make good her loss?’
‘It is from your house that the item was stolen. You and you alone will have to pay for it. How does it matter to her whether it was stolen or if you’ve hidden it? She will not believe you.’
‘So, where will we get so much money? It will be a potful of money.’
‘It will have to come from somewhere or the other. How else will we save our honour? But you’ve made a grave mistake.’
‘God couldn’t bear even a borrowed thing. I was in the grip of Satan. Otherwise what pleasure did I get in wearing it for a while? I am really unfortunate.’
‘What is the use of regrets and curses? Sit quietly. Tell the
