‘I’m ready for it.’
‘What will you gain by jumping into the fire?’
‘I don’t care for gain or loss. My job is to carry out my duty.’
‘You’ve always been obstinate. But the situation is delicate. It will be wise for you to show some restraint. Had the public been better informed, I would’ve jumped into the arena before you. But when I find that such isolated sacrifices are of no use, I don’t feel the urge to come forward.’
The two friends continued talking. They recalled their college days. For classmates, the memory of their student days remains a perennial source of entertainment and laughter. They discussed their professors; they talked about what their other classmates were doing now. It was almost as if they were college students again. There was no trace of seriousness in them!
The night advanced. By the time dinner was over, it was one. Yashwant said, ‘Where will you go now? Sleep here and we can talk some more. You rarely come to see me.’
Ramesh accepted the invitation of his friend and spent the night there. When he woke up the next morning, it was 9 a.m. Yashwant was standing beside him and smiling.
There had been a heinous robbery in Agra the night before.5
When Ramesh returned to his house at ten, he saw that the police had laid a siege on it. An officer held up a warrant. His house was searched forthwith. One didn’t know how a pistol had come to be in the drawer of Ramesh’s table. Immediately he was handcuffed. Now who could have denied that he was involved in the robbery? Misfortune befell several others. All the important leaders were rounded up. The case went to the court.
One can’t say anything about the others, but Ramesh was innocent. He had such conclusive proof of this that no one could have doubted it. But the question was—could he use this proof?
Ramesh had thought that Yashwant himself would cooperate with his lawyers for his release by becoming a witness. He thought that Yashwant, knowing that he was innocent, would never allow him to be sent to jail; Yashwant wasn’t that heartless. Days passed, but Yashwant didn’t take any initiative and Ramesh hesitated to name him as his witness. He didn’t want to put his friend in trouble on his account.
Yashwant was not heartless, or without feelings, but he lacked strong conviction and courage. He was sad that his dear friend was suffering even though he was innocent. Sometimes he would break into tears. But he couldn’t muster the courage to get him released by explaining the situation. He was scared of his officers lest they thought he had sympathy for the conspirators and that he was in touch with them. This is my punishment for being an Indian. I have to swallow the poison. The police have spread such terror among the officers that even if Ramesh is let out because of my statement, they may not disbelieve me but they’ll harbour suspicions in their mind that I’ve made false statements to get my friend released. And my friend? He is accused of treason.
A month passed. The magistrate sent the case to Yashwant’s court. Several people had been killed in the robbery and the magistrate didn’t have the power to mete out the punishment the culprits deserved.6
Yashwant was in a dilemma. He applied for leave but it wasn’t granted. The civil surgeon was an Englishman. Therefore, he couldn’t dare to get a certificate from him. Misfortune had befallen him and he couldn’t think of a way to avert it.
Look at the quirks of destiny! Two friends who had studied and played together were standing before each other, separated only by a wooden railing. But the life of one was in the hands of the other. Their eyes didn’t meet because both had lowered their heads. Although Yashwant was seated in the seat of justice and Ramesh was the accused, the real situation was the opposite. Yashwant’s soul felt restless because of shame, guilt and pain while Ramesh’s face glowed in the light of innocence.
What a difference there was between the two friends! One was a generous soul. The other was selfish. Had Ramesh wished, he could have described what happened that night in the open court. But Yashwant knew that Ramesh wouldn’t take the help of that proof even if it meant saving himself from being hanged.
As long as the hearing continued, Yashwant’s inner turmoil remained unbearable. There was a constant tussle going on between his conscience and his selfish interests and on the day of the judgment, he felt like he was the one accused of murder. He didn’t have the courage to climb up to the pulpit. He had to reach the court at three. The accused were standing there to hear their fate. Ramesh looked more forlorn today. In his life’s struggle, the moment had arrived when his head would be placed under the sword. So far, fear had been an abstract feeling; today it appeared in an ugly, physical form.
Yashwant pronounced the judgment in a firm voice, though his voice choked when he declared that Ramesh Chandra was condemned to seven years of rigorous imprisonment. He placed the judgment paper on the table, and sitting on the chair he pretended to wipe away his sweat although he was wiping his tears. He couldn’t read from the judgment any more.7
By the time he was out of jail, Ramesh had become a confirmed revolutionary. After the hard labour of the day, he sat in the dark cell and made plans about the welfare of the people. Why do people commit sin, he wondered. Is it because there is such disparity in the world? While some live in huge mansions, others do not have even the shelter of a tree. While some are wrapped in silk and pearls, others cannot afford even a tattered rag. Who is to blame for the robbery, murder and other injustices that happen in this morally skewed
