It was the rainy season. The rivers and drains were in spate. The officers went on their rounds even in the midst of rains. They were only concerned with their allowances. How much it afflicted the poor was none of their business. I had to go on a tour regarding a case. I had assumed that I would return home by the evening, but as the rivers were swollen, instead of reaching by ten, I reached in the evening. The judge was waiting for me. The case was presented before us, but by the time the arguments were over, it was nine o’clock. What can I say about my condition? In my heart, I wanted to tear into the judge. Sometimes, I felt like tugging at the beard of the opponent lawyer who had contrived to drag the debate for such a long time; at other times, I wanted to break my head. I should have made plans for such a contingency. After all, the judge was no slave of mine to do things according to my wishes. I could neither sit nor stand. Small-time drinkers can’t even imagine my plight.
However, the case got over by nine. But where would I go now? It was a rainy night and there was no sign of human beings for miles around. To reach home was not only difficult, but impossible. There was no village in the neighbourhood where one could procure the elixir. Even if there was a village, who would go there? A lawyer was no constable that he could order people about to run late-night errands. I was in great torment. The clients had left, so had the spectators and the workmen. The opponent lawyer had not only dined with the Muslim peon, but had also found a place for himself in the veranda of the Dak Bungalow. What was I to do? My life was slowly ebbing away. Sitting on the verandah on a sack cloth, I cursed my fate. Sleep eluded me. I could neither forget this pain nor lose myself in the arms of sleep. There was rage, too, at the sight of the other lawyer sleeping soundly as if he were sleeping in the comfort of his in-laws’ house.
Here I was in such a plight, and there I could see the Sahib Bahadur finishing one peg after the other. The sweet melody of the pouring of wine reached my ears and made my heart restless. I could sit no more. I inched furtively towards the chik and peeped inside. Ah! What a life-giving sight that was! The sun-scorched beauty looked resplendent in all her glory—decked with ice and soda water in a white crystal glass. My mouth watered automatically. If someone had taken my photograph at that moment, he would have won hands down in his bid to compete for the perfect image of greed. The sahib’s face reflected a ruddy glow, his eyes were red too. He was sipping away alone and humming an English tune. While he was luxuriating in this heaven, I was rotting in hell. Many a time, I felt a keen desire to walk up to the sahib and ask for a glassful. But I was afraid that there would be no one to listen to my wails if instead of alcohol, I got kicked out.
I kept standing there till his meal got over. After having a sumptuous meal and drinks, he summoned the butler to clear his table. The butler was dozing off under the table. When he came out with the plates, he was startled to see me. I quickly tried to reassure him—‘Do not worry, it’s just me.’
The butler said in surprise, ‘Is that you, Vakil Sahib? Have you been standing here all this while?’
‘I was just curious to see how these people eat and drink. He drinks a lot.’
‘Oh! Don’t even ask about it. He polishes off two bottles in a day. He drinks twenty rupees’ worth of liquor every day. When he is on a tour, he keeps a minimum of four dozen bottles with him.’
‘I too have this habit but I couldn’t get any today.’
‘Then you must be in great distress.’
‘What to do, there are no shops around here either. I thought the case would get over early and I would return home. That is why I came without any provisions.’
‘I am addicted to opium. If I don’t get it for a day, I go mad. It’s like this—people who have an addiction wouldn’t care if they got nothing else, as long as they can indulge their addiction. They have no worries even if they don’t get food for three days.’
‘I am in the same boat and I am suffering. I feel as if there is no life in me.’
‘Huzoor should have carried at least one bottle with him. You could have put it in your pocket.’
‘Yes, that was my mistake, otherwise why would I cry?’
‘Sleep wouldn’t come to
