This young boy named Atmanand unfortunately had all those virtues that unlock the doors of the jail. He was fearless, frank and forthright, brave, a patriot, selfless and diligent. These are precisely the qualities that are needed to be put behind bars. These virtues open the gates of heaven for those who are freethinking and those of hell for the subservient. Atmanand’s social service, his public speeches, and his political writings had put him under the scrutiny of government officers. The entire police department from top to bottom remained vigilant, and watchful eyes followed him everywhere. Finally a dreadful robbery in the district gave them the opportunity they had been waiting for. A search was carried out at Atmanand’s house; some letters and articles were found and seized, which the police tagged as substantial evidence for the robbery. A group of about twenty young men was noosed and Atmanand was accused to be the leader of the gang. Witnesses were arranged. What could be cheaper to sell other than one’s soul in these days of scarcity? What else is one left with to put on sale! It is easy to arrange potentially good witnesses with nominal enticements. Even the mean and worthless witnesses are turned into vox dei with a little hand-holding by the police. So the witnesses were gathered and the case went on for a month; the case was nothing but a farce, of course, and all the so-called accused were sentenced. Atmanand received the hardest sentence—eight years of rigorous imprisonment. Madhavi went to the court every day and observed the proceedings sitting in a corner. Till then she had no idea about how weak, pitiless and base human nature could be. When Atmanand’s sentence was pronounced and he left the courtroom with the guards after saluting his mother, Madhavi fell unconscious. A few considerate people dropped her home in a carriage. From the moment she had regained consciousness, a stabbing pain rose in her heart every now and then. She had absolutely no patience. In her state of deep inner agony, she could see only one resolution to live for, and that was to take revenge against this persecution.
Her son had been the sole substance of her life so far. But now she would nurture a new fixation: revenge from her enemies. She had no hope left in her life. She would consider her life fulfilled by avenging this victimization. She would make this luckless man-fiend Bagchi shed tears of blood too, the way he had done with her. The heart of a woman is tender, but only under favourable circumstances; the situation in which a man dominates others, a woman displays angelic charm and courtesy. But a woman nurtures no less disgust and fury than a man towards someone who has ruined everything for her. The only difference is that a man takes revenge with the use of weapons whereas a woman employs craft.
The nights grew wet with her tears but Madhavi never wavered. Her agony dissolved into the promise of retribution to the extent that she grew oblivious of the rest of the world. All she could think of was how to accomplish this task. She had hardly ever stepped beyond the four walls of her house, having spent twenty-two years of her widowhood within. But now she must go out, she thought, in spite of her unwillingness; she’d masquerade as a beggar or a maidservant; she’d tell lies and commit misdeeds; she’d do whatsoever was needed to accomplish her revenge. This society had no place for munificence. Even God has perhaps turned away from humanity having lost all hope. That is why such oppression took place here, and the villains went unpunished. Now she would punish the guilty with her own hands.2
It was evening. Some friends had gathered for a get-together in a well-decorated bungalow in the city of Lucknow. Song and dance were going on. Fireworks were lying on one side. Food items were being picked up from the tables in another room. There were police officers all around. It was the bungalow of Mr Bagchi, the superintendent of police. He had won an important case a few days ago. The officers were impressed and he was promoted. This get-together was to celebrate the same. Such celebrations were often held here. Musicians were available at no cost, the fireworks were for free; the fruits, dry fruits and sweets would be brought from the market at half the price and thus, instantly, a banquet would be set. Where others spent a hundred rupees, these people could manage with just ten. Several guards were available for running all kinds of errands. And what was the important case that he had won? It was the same in which the innocent young men were thrown into the jail through fabricated witnesses.
At the end of the concert, people sat down for dinner. Unpaid workers and porters who had carried the food items and decoration materials from the marketplace had left complaining and cursing within their hearts; but an old woman was still sitting
