These were the topics of conversation when Durga the gardener came up with a basket of cauliflower, guavas, green peas and oranges, all neatly arranged, and placed it before Doctor Sahib. He looked so self-assured as though his soul had awakened. He came and sat near Doctor Sahib and asked, ‘Huzoor! What kind of cuttings do you want? Please give their names to Babuji on a piece of paper. I will deliver them to your place by tomorrow. I hope your children are fine!’
Doctor Sahib was a trifle embarrassed and replied, ‘Yes, my boys are okay. How are you?’
‘With your blessings I am happy here.’
When Doctor Sahib finally got up to leave, Premshankar went to the gate to see him off. As Doctor Sahib sat in the car, he smiled and said, ‘I may not have been convinced of your principles, but there is no doubt at all that you made a man out of a beast. It is the impact of your good company. But excuse me if I say that you should still be careful of him. Eugenics has not devised a mechanism as yet that can change the sanskars inherited by birth!’
Translated from the Hindi by Madhu Singh
The Prime Dharma of Man
It was Holi. A devotee of laddus and lover of rasgullas, Pandit Moteram Shastri sat on the broken bed in his courtyard with his head bent, a picture of worry and grief. His wife sat close by, looking at him with true empathy, and tried to extinguish his burning anxieties in dulcet tones.
After sitting for a long time, drowning in his sorrows, he said lifelessly, ‘God alone knows where my damn fate is lying dead. It hasn’t woken even on Holi.’
Moteram’s wife retorted, ‘Bad times have fallen upon us. Ever since you instructed me to, I have been asking the Sun God for a boon so that you get an invite. I’ve been praying night and day, while offering holy water and lighting hundreds of tulsi lamps, but that has all been in vain. When you are in dire straits, nothing, no one, helps.’
‘Oh, that’s all nothing, these gods and goddesses are for name’s sake only. If only they would help us when we need them, I would believe they exist. When all is well, there is no dearth of freeloaders.’
‘Is there not a single good soul left in this entire city? Are they all dead or what?’
‘Dead and rotting. The five to ten who do survive come alive just once or twice a year. And they too, when they can gather the courage, might, at best, feed you a rupee’s worth of sweetmeats. If I had my way, I would send them all to the Kaala Paani prison; this is entirely the influence of all this Arya Samaj business.’
‘You also keep sitting in the house only. In today’s world there are no such generous souls who will send you an invite to feed you at your doorstep for free. Once in a while you have to use your tongue.’
‘How do you know that I haven’t? Is there any rich man in this city I haven’t visited and blessed? But who the bloody hell listens to me? Everyone is busy doing their own thing.’
Just then Pandit Chintamani arrived. He was Moteram’s closest friend. Certainly, he was younger and in keeping with that, his belly, too, was not as magnificent.
Moteram asked, ‘So, friend! Any news? Has there been any breakthrough?’
Chintamani replied, ‘Breakthrough, my foot! No such luck any more.’
‘Coming from home itself?’
‘Brother, I will take sanyas. If this life has nothing good to offer, then why not quit? Now you tell me, if on a day like this one doesn’t get something worthwhile, then what’s the point of living?’
‘Yes, that is very true.’
‘So, you won’t be able to do anything? Tell me clearly and I will renounce the world.’
‘No, no, don’t worry, friend. Don’t you know, without dying you can’t reach heaven? You can’t enjoy goodies without hard penance and so I suggest let us go this very minute to the banks of the Ganga and deliver a lecture there . . . who knows, some kind soul may get the message.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea. Let’s go.’
When the gentlemen got up and went towards the banks of the Ganga, it was dawn. Thousands of people were bathing there. Some were chanting prayers. Many were seated on the stools of the pandas getting tilak on their foreheads. A few were even returning home in their wet dhotis.
Seeing both the priests, calls of ‘Namaskar’, ‘Pranam’ and ‘Paon lagan’ filled the air. Answering these salutations, both friends reached the banks of the Ganga and started their bathing rituals. After that they sat on the chowki
