Jagiya said agitatedly, ‘Brother, a spell endangers life.’
‘That’s the thief’s punishment.’
‘Which sorcerer has cast it?’ she asked.
‘Budh Chaudhuri.’
‘Arré Ram, there’s no taking down his spells.’
When the doctor went into his room, his mother said, ‘The devil eats the miser’s wealth. Someone scavenged away five hundred rupees. For that amount I could have visited all seven dhaams.’
Ahalya said, ‘For years I’ve been fighting for bangles. Good thing it’s my curse.’
‘Who on earth will take his money in the house?’
‘The doors must have been left open, some outside person made away with it.’
His mother said, ‘How is he so certain that it’s one of us who stole the money?’
‘Greed for money makes a man suspicious,’ said Ahalya.5
It was one in the morning. Doctor Sahib was having a terrifying dream.
Suddenly, Ahalya came and said, ‘Please come and have a look at what’s happening to Jagiya. It looks like her tongue has gone stiff. She doesn’t say a thing. Her eyes have glazed over.’
The doctor sat up with a start. He peered around for a moment, as if wondering if this too were a dream. Then he said, ‘What did you say? What’s happened to Jagiya?’
Ahalya described Jagiya’s condition again. A faint smile appeared on the doctor’s face.
He said, ‘The thief has been caught. The spell has done its work.’
‘And what if it was someone from the family who’d taken it?’
‘Then they’d be in the same state, they’d learn a lesson for life.’
‘You’d kill in pursuit of five hundred rupees?’
‘Not for five hundred rupees—if need be I can spend five thousand—but just as penalty for deception.’
‘You’re so heartless.’
‘If I cover you in gold from head to foot, you’ll start thinking of me as an angel of goodness, won’t you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t take this testimonial from you.’
Saying this, he went into Jagiya’s room. Her condition was far worse than what Ahalya had described. There was death shadowing her face, her hands and feet had stiffened, and there was no sign of a pulse. His mother was repeatedly splashing water on Jagiya’s face to bring her back to her senses. The doctor was shocked at her condition. He ought to have been pleased with the success of his remedy. Jagiya had stolen the money so there was no need for any more proof. But he had no idea that a spell could work its effect so quickly and was so murderous. He’d wanted to see the thief go down on his knees and moan in agony. His desire for revenge was being more than fulfilled and yet it was a bitter morsel to swallow. Instead of feeling happy, the tragic scene wounded him. In arrogance we exaggerate the extent of our heartlessness and cruelty. What eventually happens is so much more consequential than we think. The idea of the battlefield can be so poetic; the poetry of the battle cry can generate so much heat in us. But seeing the scattered limbs of the crushed corpse, which man does not shudder? Pity is man’s natural virtue.
Apart from this, he had no idea that a frail soul like Jagiya’s would be sacrificed for his rage. He had believed that the blow of his revenge would fall on some spirited person; he even considered his wife and son deserving of this blow. But to kill the dead, to trample on the trampled? He felt this contrary to his natural inclination. This action of Jagiya’s should have been forgiven. One who scrabbled for bread, longed for clothes, the house of whose desires was always dark, whose wishes had never been fulfilled—it’s not surprising if such a person is tempted. He immediately went into the pharmacy, mixed into a new blend all the best medicines effective for reviving a person and poured it down Jagiya’s throat. It had no effect. He brought out a defibrillator and tried bringing her back to consciousness with the help of that. In a little while her eyes opened.
Looking at the doctor with a scared face, the way a boy looks at his teacher’s stick, she said in a wan voice, ‘Hai Ram, my liver is on fire, take your money, there’s a pot in the alcove, that’s where it is. Don’t roast me on coals. I stole this money to go on pilgrimage. Don’t you have any pity, setting me on fire for a handful of rupees? I didn’t think you such a blackguard. Hai Ram.’
Saying this she fainted again, her pulse died, her lips turned blue and her limbs stiffened.
Looking at Ahalya meekly, the doctor said, ‘I’ve done whatever I could, it’s beyond me now to revive her. How did I know that this accursed spell is so destructive? If it happens to kill her, I’ll have to repent all my life. I’ll never be free of the knocks of conscience. What should I do, my mind isn’t working.’
‘Call the civil surgeon, perhaps he can give her some good medicine. One shouldn’t knowingly push someone else into the fire.’
‘The civil surgeon can’t do much more than what I’ve already done. Her condition is worsening every moment. God knows what mantra that murderer said. His mother kept trying to convince me but in my anger I didn’t pay her any attention.’
His mother said, ‘Son, call the one who’s put the curse. What to do? If she dies, her murder will be on our heads. She’ll torment the family forever.’6
It was almost two in the morning; a cold wind pricked the bones. The doctor took long strides towards Budh Chaudhuri’s. He looked around uselessly for an ekka or tonga. Budh’s house appeared to be a long way off. He kept feeling that he’d lost his way. I’ve come this way often, I’ve never passed this garden, or seen this letterbox by the road, and the bridge was by no means there. I’m definitely lost. Who should I ask? He was annoyed
