Hari Bilas knew how Shiv Bilas would answer. He was well aware of his political views. Both often discussed these matters, but he didn’t want to express his thoughts in front of these zamindars. Therefore, he did not give Shiv Bilas a chance to speak. Instead he said, ‘I think this is madness. The people believe that, if nothing else, in this way they will bring down the government. With this in mind they are forming panchayats, Congress committees and national schools, but they forget that the running of a state is always based on law and justice, and as long as the authorities do not deviate from these principles it will be impossible for the state to collapse. Our government has always held up justice as its objective. Every individual and every community has the freedom of speech and action as long as this does not harm anybody. This adherence to justice is the strongest basis for power, and nobody can dare to say that the government has in the slightest manner ever deviated from the path of justice.’
At this moment the postman came and placed a stack of mail in front of the deputy collector. He had the habit of opening official letters immediately. Today there was only one official envelope. When opened it revealed a government circular bound by a red ribbon. He began to read it with full attention.4
It was after midnight, but Hari Bilas was still turning from side to side in his bed. A lamp was illuminating the table before him. Again and again he looked at the letter with the red ribbon and was lost in thought. The red ribbon appeared to him as soaked in the blood of honesty and justice, like the bloodshot eyes of a murderer or a blazing flame that was leaping at him to swallow his conscience and his sense of justice. Until this moment he had understood his task to be to dispense justice, but now it seemed that he had been mistaken. His work was not to uphold justice but to kill it. He was supposed to keep an eye on those villagers who were reading newspapers, to warn those who seemed inclined to side with the peasants, and those who told them openly or subtly to stop giving rations and forced labour, to interrogate the sadhus and ascetics who went around giving moral instruction to the people, to note in his diary all those whom he saw instigating the people to use spinning wheels and the loom and who were seen wearing coarse clothes and khadi; to regard all those as rebels who helped in establishing national schools, who participated in national associations, and even those pure souls who risked their lives saving people from epidemics and typhoid by distributing free medicine here and there; and without delay to put under pressure everybody who fought against the use of drugs and alcohol. In short, he was to become an enemy to the friends of the people and the servants of the nation.
Once again he glanced at the red ribbon which looked like a fire serpent creeping here and there with every blow of the fan. What was he to do now? He was a government servant—not to instil in people the fear of the government, but to serve the people. What option did he have other than refusing to become a tool of government pressure when the conflict between the interests of the nation and of the government was so great? His government employment was temporary, but his link with the nation was permanent.
So should he kill his conscience for the sake of his personal interests? Others devoted themselves fully to the service of the nation and endured all kinds of suffering in return. He held himself as a better nationalist than them. He believed that one honest government servant could do more for the people than ten devoted nationalists. But what could be more degrading than remaining loyal to the government when government service meant to act against the nation and the country? No, no, he would not do this.
But how would he maintain his livelihood? He did not have enough money to sustain himself for four months even. His children who had been brought up in every comfort would now fall to destitution. His family which was used to a lifestyle of grandeur would have to face poverty. The family property had been sold for his education, otherwise he could have returned to tilling the soil. What a simple life that was! One ate the bread earned by one’s sweat and slept peacefully. Education had made him accustomed to extravagance and turned him into a slave of pomp and vanity. He had grown used to unnecessary things. The yearning for sophistication had ruined him. Now the thought of a simple life was enough to make his heart sink.
What a pity! So many wishes he had nourished, so many castles in the sky he had built. He had intended to send Shiv Bilas to England. Sant Bilas had decided to become a lawyer. Hari Bilas was already dreaming of a magistrate’s post. All right, leave the boys aside, they would somehow or the other go on with their lives. But what about the girls? He had thought of marrying them off into high-ranking families regardless of the expenses. All these wishes would end up buried in his heart. If he went searching for employment he would not find a salary like the present anywhere, and his access to the upper classes would also become difficult. A person who had resigned from government service was not welcomed anywhere. If anybody employed him out of kindness, he would be obliged to suffer all his whims, which he had never done before. He would be totally dependent on that person. How could he endure such a disgrace? He prayed to God to release him from this
