The Complete Short Stories

sun shone. Even as he carried exaggerated reports of the doings of the non-cooperators, he secretly laughed at the British for giving credence to such reports. As he rose in the esteem of the British, so he rose in his own esteem. He was no longer as timid as before. As he sat in his carriage and his breath returned to normal, he began to reflect on what had just happened. Surely Noor Ali played a trick on me, he thought, ‘He must be in league with the non-cooperators. But even if the British do not play Holi, flying into such a rage shows that they do not look upon us as any better than dogs. How proud they are of their authority over us! He chased me with a whip! Now I know that whatever little regard he showed for me earlier was merely a pretence. In their hearts they must think of us as low and mean people. That little spurt of red colour from the water pistol was no bullet; it wouldn’t have killed him. Don’t we go to church at Christmas and send them baskets full of gifts, though that’s no festival of ours? But this fellow got so mad just because I squirted some coloured water on him! Oh, what an insult! I should have stood up to him and openly confronted him. To have run away was cowardice. That’s what encourages them to roar like lions. There can be no doubt that through winning some of us over they want to crush the non-cooperators. All their courtesy and civility is only a ruse to serve their self-interest. They are still as haughty and they are still as tyrannical; there is no difference.’

The more Ujagarmal reflected on the matter the more agitated he grew. Such utter humiliation! The thought of his insult would not go away and quite overwhelmed him. ‘This is the fruit of all my cooperation,’ he lamented. ‘This is just what I deserve. How pleased I was at their expressions of goodwill. How stupid of me not to realize that between the master and the slave there can be no friendship. How I laughed at the non-cooperators for wanting to have nothing to do with the British. It turns out that it’s not they who are laughable, it’s I who am ridiculous.’ He did not go home but went straight to the office of the Congress Committee. There he found a huge assembly. The committee had invited everyone, the high and the low, the touchables and the untouchables, to come together to celebrate Holi. Hindus and Muslims sat together playing Holi with the greatest love and warmth. A feast of fruits had been laid out, so that all castes could partake of it. When he arrived, someone was in the middle of making a speech. Ujagarmal got out of his carriage but felt embarrassed to go forward and join the meeting. Walking in gingerly, he went and stood in a corner. Everyone was shocked to see him there and stared at him, wondering what on earth this archpriest of the sycophants thought he was doing here. Shouldn’t he have been at some meeting of collaborators passing a resolution pledging his loyalty? ‘Maybe he has come to spy on us,’ they thought, and to bait him shouted, ‘Victory to Congress!’

Ujagarmal shouted loudly, ‘Victory to non-cooperation!’

The response came, ‘Down with sycophants!’

Ujagarmal shouted even more loudly, ‘Down with lickspittles!’

So saying and filling everyone with amazement, he went up to the platform and said in a contrite tone, ‘Gentlemen, friends, forgive me for having non-cooperated with you so far. I beg your forgiveness from the bottom of my heart. Do not think of me as a spy or an infiltrator or a betrayer like Vibhishana. Today the veil has been lifted from my eyes. Today, on this sacred day of Holi, I have come to embrace you in love and affection. Kindly treat me with indulgence and generosity. Today I have been punished for having betrayed you. The district magistrate today humiliated me dreadfully. I was whipped by him again and again and I have now come here to seek refuge. I have been a traitor to the nation, an enemy of my people. For the sake of my selfishness and because of my distrust of you, I have done a great disservice to the nation and put hurdles in your path. When I think of all my misdeeds I wish I could smash my heart to pieces.’ (A voice piped up: ‘Go right ahead! And just let me know if you need any help!’ The chairman: ‘This is no time for bitter words.’) ‘No, I need no help from anyone, I can do the job very well myself; but first I must do great penance and atone for all my sins. I hope to spend the rest of my days doing just such penance, washing the muck off my face. All I beg of you is to give me a chance to reform myself; please trust me and consider me a humble servant of yours. From now on, I dedicate myself to you with body, soul and all I have.’

Translated from the Hindi by Harish Trivedi

The Hidden Hand1

Lala Jeevan Das has been lying on his deathbed for six months. His condition is deteriorating every day. He has lost all faith in the hakims, only his belief in fate is left. When any sympathizer names a vaid or doctor he simply turns away. He is certain of his impending death, so much so that any mention of his illness is anathema to him. The awareness of his condition is so depressing that inquiries about his health to him feel like rubbing salt into a wound. He wants to forget for a moment that he is on the verge of death. He is longing to be rid of this heavy burden just for a moment to be able to breathe freely.