Buddhu returned home after two months. His hair was long, and he looked as feeble as an old man of sixty. He now had to arrange money for his pilgrimage. Which moneylender was interested in lending money to a shepherd? One could not rely on sheep. Sometimes an epidemic broke out and an entire flock lay dead in the span of a single night. On top of it, it was the month of Jeth, when there were no earnings from sheep. Finally, an oilman agreed to lend him money at an interest rate of two rupees. In eight months the interest would be equal to the principal amount. Buddhu did not dare borrow money on these terms. During the two months that he was away, many of his sheep had been stolen. When his children took them out to graze, people from other villages would steal one or two sheep from the flock and later slaughter and eat them. The boys, poor things, couldn’t catch anyone, and even when they saw the thieves, how could they fight them? The entire village ganged up to fight the boys. In a month, the flock had been reduced to less than half. It was a serious crisis. Helpless, Buddhu sent for a butcher and sold the whole flock to him for five hundred rupees. From this he took two hundred rupees and set out on his pilgrimage. The rest of the money was set aside for feeding the Brahmins.
During his absence Buddhu’s house was broken into twice, but by some stroke of luck the family woke up and the money was saved.6
It was the rainy month of Saavan. Everything had turned green all around. Jhingur had no bullocks now and had rented out his field to share croppers. Buddhu was done with his atonement, and with it had got rid of the trappings of wealth. Neither Jhingur nor Buddhu had anything left to boast about. They had no reason to feel jealous of each other.
The jute mill where Jhingur worked had closed down. Jhingur now worked as a labourer at construction sites. A very large rest house for pilgrims was being built.
Thousands of labourers worked there. Every seventh day Jhingur collected his wages and went home and after spending the night there he would go back to the site the next morning.
Buddhu also reached the same site looking for work. The supervisor thought him too weak for hard work and employed him to carry mortar to the masons. Once when he was carrying a tray on his head to fetch mortar he encountered Jhingur.
‘Ram, Ram,’ they greeted one another and Jhingur filled the tray. Buddhu lifted it up. They went about doing their work the rest of the day.
In the evening Jhingur asked him, ‘Are you going to cook something?’
‘How can I eat if I don’t?’
‘I munch on something in the morning. In the evening I have some sattu with water. Why fuss!’
‘You can gather some of the wood that’s lying around. I’ve brought some flour from home. I had it ground there—it costs the earth here. I’ll knead it on the rock here. You won’t eat the rotis I prepare; so I’ll just get them ready and you can make them.’
‘But there’s no pan.’
‘Don’t worry about pans. I’ll scour one of these mortar trays.’
The fire was lit, the flour kneaded. Jhingur made his half-baked rotis, Buddhu brought the water. They both ate the rotis with salt and pepper. Then they filled the chillum, and lay down on the rocks and smoked.
Buddhu said, ‘I was the one who set fire to your cane field.’
Jhingur said light-heartedly, ‘I know.’
After a little while Jhingur said, ‘I was the one who tied up the calf and Harihar fed it something.’
Buddhu said in the same light-hearted tone, ‘I know.’
Then they went to sleep.
Translated from Urdu by the M. Asaduddin
Money for Deliverance1
Of all the trades that we have in India, the business of lending money is the most advantageous. Usually the annual rate of interest is charged at twenty-five per cent but for vast pieces of land or large amounts of money the annual rate of interest is charged at twelve per cent. It is generally impossible to get a loan at a lesser rate of interest. There is hardly any business that provides a profit margin of over fifteen per cent, and that too without much hassle. And apart from the money received from interest, additional expenses like token money, paperwork, brokerage and money spent on court proceedings are also borne by the borrower. All this income, in some way or the other, finds its way into the moneylender’s pocket. This is the reason that the business of lending money is on the rise. Advocates, doctors, government employees, landowners, whoever has surplus wealth, can start this business. This is an excellent way to utilize one’s savings wisely.
Lala Daudayal was also a moneylender of this category. He worked as a solicitor and lent whatever he saved at twenty-five to thirty per cent of interest a year. He mostly did business with lower-class people. He was cautious of high-class people; he never let them loiter around him. His belief was (and every businessman would support this) that it’s better to throw money into a ditch than lend it to a Brahmin, Kshatriya or Kayastha. At the
