‘There is a saying that a peasant never asks about someone’s well-being without having an ulterior motive. What do you want, tell me.’
Rehman burst into tears. Daudayal guessed that his mother must have died. He asked, ‘Rehman, has your mother passed away?’
‘Yes, sir. It’s been three days.’
‘Don’t cry, what good will it do? Calm down, this was God’s will. Don’t shed tears over her death. She died in front of your eyes, what can be better than that?’
‘Sir, I have a request, but I can’t gather the courage to voice it. My previous loan is still unpaid, how do I ask for more money? But Allah knows there is no possibility of getting money from anywhere else and my need is such that if I don’t get the money for my purpose I will repent my whole life. I don’t have the right to bother you. The rest is up to you. If you decide to give me the money then do bear in mind that you are throwing that money in a ditch. All I can say is that if I stay alive I will return each and every penny with interest. But do not refuse me at this hour.’
‘Your loan has already added up to three hundred. In two years it will turn into seven hundred rupees. Do you realize that?’
‘O Merciful! God willing, I will make a profit of five hundred by selling two acres’ land worth of sugar cane, and in two years I will be able to return every penny of yours.’
Daudayal once again gave him two hundred rupees. People familiar with his nature were surprised to see his leniency.4
There are similarities between farming and the condition of an orphan child. If air and water are provided in required measures there will be a heap of grains. Without them even flourishing crops betray us like false friends. Crops need to survive hailstones and dike, famine and flood, locusts and weeds, termites and storms in order to reach the granary. And there is natural animosity between granaries and fire and electricity. If it is able to escape from all these enemies then it can be called a harvest; otherwise it might turn out to be a fatal judgement! Rehman toiled night and day. He didn’t take a moment’s rest. He forgot about his wife and children. His sugar cane grew so tall that if an elephant entered the farm it would have disappeared in it. The whole village was astonished. People said to him, ‘Friend, you are very fortunate this time. You will definitely earn a minimum of seven hundred. All your problems will come to an end.’ Rehman decided that the moment he got the money for the jaggery he would lay all of it at Daudayal’s feet. Only if Daudayal himself returned four or five rupees would Rehman take it, otherwise he would spend the whole year on barley and bran.
But who can change the course of destiny? It was the month of December; Rehman was sitting on the boundary of his farm to guard it. He only had a coarse blanket to cover himself with, so he burned a few sugar cane leaves to keep himself warm. Suddenly, a gust of wind took a burning leaf towards the harvest. The farm caught fire. The villagers ran to smother the fire but the flames were like shooting stars which started from one end and quickly reached another. All measures to contain the fire failed. The whole farm burned to ashes and along with it Rehman’s aspirations also shattered. The poor man was devastated. His heart sank. He lost all hope. It seemed as if a plate laden with food had been snatched away from him. When he returned home the anxiety about returning Daudayal’s money again took hold of him. He wasn’t bothered about himself or his children. A peasant is accustomed to hardship, to remain starved and unclothed. He was worried about the loan. ‘The second year has begun. In a few days Daudayal’s man will come to ask for the money. How will I show my face to him? I must again plead with him to give me a year’s time. But then the amount will jump from seven hundred to nine hundred. And if he files a case I may have to return a thousand. Who is going to shower wealth on me in a year? He is such a considerate man; he lent me two hundred rupees so readily. Even my farm cannot be auctioned off. The oxen will barely fetch me four hundred. They aren’t half as strong as they were. Now my honour is in the hands of God. I have done whatever I could.’
It was early in the morning. Rehman was standing at the boundary of his farm, witnessing the scene of his own destruction. He saw Daudayal’s servant approaching him with a stick on his shoulder. He had been dreading the visit. ‘God, only you can save me from this situation. What if he abuses me the moment he sees me? O God, where shall I hide!’
The servant approached Rehman and said, ‘You don’t want to return the money? The term ended yesterday. Don’t you know the master! Even if one delays by a day he registers a case against that person. You will suffer terribly.’
Rehman started shivering. He said, ‘You must have observed the condition of the farm.’
‘I don’t want to listen to any of your excuses. Fool someone else. Come quickly with seven hundred rupees.’
‘My sugar cane crop has been gutted in the fire—all of it! Allah knows, this time I would have returned every penny.’
‘I don’t know all this. Only you are responsible for your sugar cane. Now, quick, follow me, Master has summoned you.’
The servant grabbed Rehman’s arm and started dragging him away. The poor man wasn’t even given enough time to tie a turban around his head.5
They had covered around ten miles now. Rehman had not lifted his head even
