Jhingur thought and thought and finally resolved that Buddhu must be reduced to a situation similar to what he was facing. He has ruined me and is living a life of comfort. I’ll destroy him.
Since the day of their deadly fight Buddhu had stopped coming by Jhingur’s area. Jhingur decided to get close to him. He wanted to show Buddhu that he didn’t suspect him of starting the fire. He went to Buddhu one day on the pretext of getting a blanket, and then he went on another day to get some milk. Buddhu greeted him with utmost courtesy. A man offered hookah even to an enemy, and Buddhu wouldn’t let Jhingur go without making him drink milk and syrup. These days Jhingur was working in a jute-wrapping mill to earn his livelihood. Often, he was paid several days’ wages together. It was only with Buddhu’s help that he was able to manage his day-to-day expenses. Jhingur took this opportunity to deepen his intimacy with Buddhu. One day, Buddhu asked him, ‘Jhingur, what would you do if you found out who had set fire to your cane field? Tell me honestly.’
Jhingur said in a sombre tone, ‘I’ll tell him—brother, you’ve done me a good turn. You’ve destroyed my vanity and made a man out of me.’
‘Had I been in your place, I wouldn’t have rested until I’d burnt down his house.’
‘This worldly life is so short—why nurture ill will against anyone? I’ve been ruined. What shall I gain by ruining him?’
‘Sure, that is true dharma, which we should follow. But, brother, such reasoning vanishes in the heat of rage.’4
It was the month of Phagun. The peasants were readying the field for planting cane. Buddhu was doing a brisk business. His sheep were in great demand. One always saw some peasants standing at his door fawning over him. Buddhu didn’t have a kind word for anyone. He doubled the rate of hiring out his sheep to fertilize the field. If anybody objected he’d say bluntly, ‘Look, brother, I’m not foisting my sheep on you. If you’ve a problem, don’t take them. But I can’t decrease the rate even by a cowrie.’ The fact was—everybody needed them, so they swarmed around him despite his rudeness, clinging to him as the pandas cling to pilgrims.
Lakshmi’s image isn’t huge, but it grows big or small according to circumstances. Sometimes she can contract her most glorious manifestation into some small figures printed on a paper. Sometimes she goes to sit on the tip of somebody’s tongue, and her form vanishes. Even so, she needs quite a bit of space to live permanently. When she comes the house begins to grow larger. Buddhu’s house also began to grow larger. A veranda was built in front of the door. Six rooms were built where there were two rooms earlier. In fact, the entire house was being built anew. Buddhu demanded wood from one peasant, from another he extracted cow-dung cakes to be used as kiln fuel for making tiles, from some others he got bamboo and reeds. He had to pay for building the walls, though, but he didn’t pay in cash even for that. He paid in kind, in the form of young lambs. This was Lakshmi’s blessing. The entire job was accomplished gratis; a fairly good house was built without spending practically anything. Preparations began in earnest for the house-warming.
Jhingur had to work hard through the day, which brought him just enough to fill half his belly, while gold was raining on Buddhu’s house. If Jhingur was consumed with jealousy, who could blame him? Who could ever bear such injustice?
One day, Jhingur, while taking a stroll, happened to go in the direction of the tanners’ settlement. He met Harihar, who greeted him and filled a hookah for him. They began to smoke. Harihar was the leader of the tanners and was a mischief monger. Every peasant was scared of him.
Taking a drag of the chillum, Jhingur said, ‘Aren’t you singing Phaag to welcome spring this time? I haven’t heard you.’
Harihar replied, ‘Where’s the time to think of Phaag? One has to work the entire day to fill one’s belly. How are you getting along?’
‘Not well. It’s a hard life. I have to work all day long in the mill to eke out a living. These days Buddhu’s making a lot of money. He doesn’t have room to store it! He’s built a new house, bought some more sheep. Nowadays everyone’s talking about his house-warming. He’s going to send paan to all the seven villages to invite people.’
Harihar said, ‘When Mother Lakshmi comes, people grow generous. But just look at him, his feet do not touch the earth. He always talks with a swagger!’
Jhingur replied, ‘And why not? Who’s there in the village to meet his clout? But yes, brother, it’s not good to show vanity. When God showers His blessings one should bow one’s head and accept them humbly. One shouldn’t be proud as to think that he’s above everybody. When I hear him bragging, my whole body burns. Yesterday’s shepherd is today’s millionaire. How he swaggers in front of me! Why, I have seen him wearing a loincloth and driving away crows in the field. Now, his fortunes are on the upswing.’
‘Shall we do something about it?’
‘What can we do? He doesn’t rear cows or buffaloes for fear that someone will poison them.’
‘But he has his flock of sheep.’
‘They’re not worth the trouble.’
‘Well, think about it carefully.’
‘Think of a strategy so that he’s not able to rise again.’
Their conversation became hushed. It’s a mystery that while the good brings out jealousy in people, the
