The watchman Gobar remarked, ‘But how much power and respect you had!’
Bhoju said, ‘Respect does not come from a post, it is based on being a good person, on wisdom and dharma. What kind of post does Pandit Ram Bharose have? Why then do people stand up respectfully for him? When the policeman comes people feel it a burden to offer him even some tobacco for his pipe, but when the shastri comes with five to ten pupils everybody praises his good fortune. We have so many officers in our district, but none of them command as much respect as the shastri. He would just have to say a word, and they would be ready to jump into fire.’
Ram Bharose said, ‘Babu Sant Bilas is nowhere to be seen.’
Hari Bilas replied, ‘He has gone away to study law.’
‘Brother, it is not right of you to have him study this subject. It involves many bad deeds. The solicitors have ruined the whole district. They have turned everybody into beggars with their law suits.’
Idu pleaded, ‘Brother, try to get your land back and let me till it. You have been in service for a long time. Now enjoy the life of a householder. Here you won’t have so many things, but you will lead a healthy life. What you earned away from home you must have spent on clothes, furniture, fruits, sweets, milk and cream. Twenty, twenty-five must have gone for milk alone, and at least fifty for renting a house. After the everyday expenses nothing would have been left.’
Hari Bilas asked, ‘From where should I get the money to release my land?’
Everybody looked at him in astonishment as if he had said something strange. Finally, Bhoju said, ‘What are you saying, brother? That would not amount to much. You will certainly have three or four thousand kept in your box. You earned so much, and you must have made some money on the side as well. Where has all this money gone?’
‘I did not take any presents, gratuities and bribes. It was difficult to cover all the expenses even with my salary. How could I have saved anything?’
‘How is this possible? You must have made at least ten or twenty thousand extra.’
‘No, Uncle. Believe me! My hands are completely empty.’
‘Then what are you going to live on?’
‘God is my master. I don’t know yet.’
These talks were going on when Thakur Karan Singh, the biggest landlord of the area, appeared on an elephant, accompanied by two companions. People got up from their charpoys. As long as Hari Bilas was in office, countless zamindars like him had come every day to pay their respects, but when he saw Karan Singh he sat up respectfully. The elephant stopped when it had come close to them. Karan Singh got down, made Hari Bilas sit on the charpoy and sat down himself, saying: ‘Babu Sahib, today this village has been sanctified by your praiseworthy step. When I opened the newspaper and saw the news about you I was filled with pride. Praise to your courage and dedication!’
Hari Bilas said with thankful modesty, ‘Are you in good health? You are looking a bit thin.’
‘Thanks to you I am feeling very well now. For months I have been ill. Seeing your news today I immediately became well. God has given you the motivation to succeed in our actions. Here we have formed a panchayat some days ago but we haven’t found a sarpanch so far whom everybody would trust. The Lord has sent you to end this crisis. I got up early this morning and went to meet Raja Mala’un, Thakur Bagha and Duni Chand Shah. All three were delighted to hear your name. I have come to ask you in their name to take up the position of the sarpanch. It will be a great favour.’
‘I am at your service but I don’t think that I deserve this honour. I cannot dare to become the head of a council which consists of men of such high standing.’
‘Don’t say this, Babu Sahib. You don’t have any idea how the people here regard you. High and low, everybody has faith in you. Earlier you ruled the sub-district, now you rule the hearts of the people. Please accept my humble request.’
Hari Bilas was so embarrassed by this honour that he could not raise his head. His silence signalled consent. Karan Singh got up, took a garland of flowers from one of his companions and put it around Hari Bilas’s neck. Then he hesitated for a moment before he said in a slightly embarrassed voice, ‘Babuji, you have accepted one of my requests, now please allow me to put forth one more.’
‘With pleasure! I am at your service, body and soul.’
Karan Singh took an envelope from his pocket and said, ‘I ask your permission to offer this at your feet.’
Hari Bilas looked at the envelope with curiosity. It was labelled ‘Ram Bilas Kurmi’s letter of sale and mortgage, village Badukhar’.
His eyes filled with tears of gratefulness. He was searching for words to express his gratitude, but Karan Singh did not allow him to speak. He picked up the papers and tore them into pieces.
Hari Bilas looked at the people and said, ‘You know what papers these were? These were my father’s mortgage documents.’ He was so moved that he could not utter a word.
Translated from the Urdu by Christina Oesterheld
When Rivals Became Friends1
The families of Jokhu Bhagat and Bechan Chaudhary had been enemies for three generations. The dispute was related to farm boundaries. Their great-grandfathers had engaged each other in many bloody fights. The fathers began litigation and
