Chapter 16

When Rai Sahib got the news that an incident had occurred in the estate and that the panchs of the village had recovered a fine from Hori, he at once summoned Nokheram and called him to account — why had he not been informed of it? For such a treacherous and faithless man there was no place in his court.

When Nokheram had received so many abuses, he grew a little heated and said, "I was hardly alone. There were the other panchs of the village too. What could I do alone?"

Rai Sahib looked at his paunch with a glance pointed like a spear. "Don't prattle, sir. You should have said at that very moment — until the government has been informed, I will not let the panchs recover a fine. What right have the panchs to interfere between me and my tenantry? Apart from this matter of fines and bonds, what other income is there in the estate? The collection went into the government's coffers. The arrears the tenants have held back. Then where am I to go? What am I to eat — your head? Where is the expense of these lakhs of rupees to come from? It is a pity that, even after two generations of stewardship, I must today explain this thing to you. How much money was recovered from Hori?"

Nokheram said falteringly, "Eighty rupees."

"In cash?"

"Where had he cash, huzoor! He gave some grain, and for the rest mortgaged his house."

Rai Sahib, abandoning the side of self-interest, took up Hori's side. "Good — so you and the sham-saint panchs together have ruined one of my substantial tenants. I ask, what right had you people to recover a fine from my tenant, in my estate, without informing me? On this very count, if I wished, I could send you, that swindling patwari, and that crafty pandit to jail for seven years each. You have decided that you yourselves are the kings of the estate. I tell you plainly — by this evening let the full sum of the fine reach me, otherwise it will be bad. I will have every single one of you grinding at the mill. Go — yes, send Hori and his son to me."

Nokheram said under his breath, "His son has left the village and fled. The night this incident happened, that very night he fled."

Rai Sahib said in anger, "Don't tell lies. You know that lies set my body on fire. I have never to this day heard of a young man bringing his beloved away from her house and then himself running off. If he had to run off, why did he bring the girl? In this too there is surely some mischief of you people. Even if you drown in the Ganges and offer your defence, I will not believe it. To guard the precious dignity of your society, you must have threatened him. What was the poor fellow to do but flee!"

Nokheram could not gainsay this. Whatever the master said was right. He could not even say, go yourself and investigate the truth and falsehood of it. The anger of great men demands utter submission. It cannot bear even a single word against itself.

When the panchs heard Rai Sahib's verdict, their intoxication vanished like a deer. The grain still lay just as it had been, but the money had long since disappeared. The house had been mortgaged to Hori, but in the countryside who would ask for that house? Just as a Hindu woman is mistress of the house along with her husband, and if her husband forsakes her she is left nowhere — so this house was worth a lakh of rupees to Hori, but its real price was nothing at all. And on this side Rai Sahib was not one to be content without getting the money. This same Hori must have gone and wept to him. Pateshwari Lal was the most frightened of all. His very employment would be gone. The four gentlemen were deliberating on this grave problem, but no one's wits would work. Each laid the blame on the other. Then there was a fine quarrel.

Pateshwari, shaking his long, suspicious neck, said, "I forbade it — I said that in the matter of Hori we ought to hold our tongues and keep quiet. In the matter of the cow everyone had to pay a fine. In this matter the throat will not be freed with a fine alone — we shall have to wash our hands of our employment, but you people were set upon money. Take out twenty rupees each. Even now there is safety. If Rai Sahib lodges a report, all of you will be bound up together."

Datadin, displaying his Brahmin majesty, said, "I have not twenty pice, let alone twenty rupees. The Brahmins were given a feast, a homa was performed. Did nothing get spent in that? Has Rai Sahib the courage to take me off to jail? Turning myself into a Brahma-curse, I will wipe out house and home. He has not yet had to deal with any Brahmin."

Jhinguri Singh too spoke words to much the same effect. He was no servant of Rai Sahib. He had not struck Hori, had not beaten him, had put no pressure on him. If Hori wished to do penance, he had given him the opportunity for it. For this no one could lay any offence on him. But Nokheram's neck could not be freed so easily. Here he sat ruling at his ease. The salary was no more than ten rupees, but there was a thousand a year of income over and above it, lordship over hundreds of men, four orderlies at his beck, all his work done by forced labour, even the police inspector offered him a chair — where else did he have this comfort? And Pateshwari had become a moneylender by virtue of his post. Where could they go? For two or three days they remained sunk in this very worry — how to get out of this calamity. At last a path occurred to them. Sometimes in the courthouse they got to see the daily Bijli. If an anonymous letter were sent to the service of its editor, telling how Rai Sahib recovers fines from his tenants, then the good fellow would be in a fine fix. Nokheram too agreed. The two of them together somehow wrote a letter and sent it by registered post.

The editor Onkarnath was always on the lookout for such letters. The moment he received the letter, he at once informed Rai Sahib. He had got a piece of news which he did not wish to believe, but the correspondent had given such proofs that it could not be readily disbelieved either. Was it true that Rai Sahib had recovered eighty rupees as a fine from a tenant of his estate because the tenant's son had taken a widow into his house? The editor's duty compelled him to investigate the matter and, in the interest of the public, to publish it. Whatever Rai Sahib wished to say on the subject, the editor would publish that too. The editor sincerely wished that this news might be false, but if there was anything of truth in it, then he would be compelled to bring it to light. Friendship could not turn him from the path of duty.

When Rai Sahib received this notice, he beat his head. At first such an excitement arose in him that he wished to go and lay fifty hunters one by one on Onkarnath and tell him — where you print that letter, there print this news too — but, considering the consequence, he calmed his mind and at once set off to meet him. If he delayed, and Onkarnath printed that report, then a blackness would be smeared over all his fame.

Onkarnath had returned from his walk and was sitting in the worry of writing the editorial for today's paper, but his mind kept flying about like a bird. His wedded wife had said certain things to him at night which were still pricking like thorns. If anyone called him poor, called him luckless, called him a fool, he took it not in the least ill, but to say that there was no manliness in him — that was unbearable to him. And then, what right had his own wife to say it? Of her it is expected that, if anyone makes such an aspersion, she should stop his mouth. Of course he does not print such news, does not make such comments, as would bring some calamity down upon his head. He treads with the greatest caution. In this age of black laws, what else can he do? But why does he not put his hand into a snake's hole? For this very reason — that the people of his house should not have to suffer hardship. And this is the reward he is getting for his forbearance? What an outrage! He has no money — then how is he to send for a Banarasi sari? If the wives of doctors, of merchants, of Professor Bhatia, and Heaven knows of whom and whom, wear Banarasi saris, what is he to do? Why does his wife not shame these sari-wearers with her khaddar sari? His own habit is such that when he goes to meet some great man, he puts on the coarsest of clothes, and if anyone makes any criticism, he is ready to give a crushing reply. Why is that same self-respect not in his wife? Why does she lose her composure on seeing the grand style of others? She ought to understand that she is the wife of a patriot. What property has a patriot but his devotion? Imagining of making this very subject the theme of today's leading article, his attention came round to the matter of Rai Sahib. What answer would Rai Sahib give to the notice — that was to be seen. If he succeeded in giving his defence, then there was nothing in it; but if he supposed that Onkarnath, coming under pressure, fear, or favour, would turn his face from his duty, then that was his delusion. What other reward did he get for all this austerity and discipline than that, when the occasion arose, he should expose these legal robbers? He knew very well that Rai Sahib was a very influential creature. He was a member of the Council, indeed. Among the officials too he had considerable influence. If he wished, he could have false suits brought against Onkarnath, could have him beaten on the road by his hired ruffians, but Onkar feared no such things. As long as there was breath in his body, he would keep calling tyrants to account.

Suddenly, hearing the sound of a motorcar, he started. He at once took up paper and began his article. And in a moment Rai Sahib set foot in his room.

Onkarnath neither welcomed him, nor asked after his welfare, nor gave him a chair. He looked at him as though some accused person had come into his court, and asked in a voice mingled with sternness, "Did you receive my note? I was not bound to write that letter — my duty was to investigate it myself, but in courtesy one must commit some slaughter of one's principles. Is there any truth in that report?"

Rai Sahib could not deny its truth. Although he had not yet received the money of the fine, and could plainly have refused that he had got it, yet he wished to see which side this gentleman would take.

Onkarnath, expressing regret, said, "Then there is no path left for me but to publish that report. It grieves me that I have to criticize a most well-wishing friend, but before duty the individual is nothing. If an editor cannot fulfil his duty, then he has no right to sit on this seat."

Rai Sahib planted himself firmly on a chair, and, filling his mouth with rolls of betel, said, "But this will not be good for you. Whatever is to happen to me will happen afterwards; you will be punished on the instant. If you do not care for friends, then I too am a man of the same temper."

Onkarnath, assuming the dignity of a martyr, said, "Of this I have never had any fear. The day I took up the burden of editing a paper, that very day I gave up the attachment to life, and in my view the most glorious death for an editor is this — that he should lay down his life while guarding justice and truth."

"Very well. I accept your challenge. Till now I had reckoned you a friend, but now you are bent on a fight — well then, let it be a fight. After all, why do I give five times the subscription for your paper? Only for this — that it should remain my slave. God has made me a grandee. I have not become one by your making. The ordinary subscription is fifteen rupees. I give seventy-five, so that your mouth should stay shut. When you wail over your losses and appeal for help — and hardly a quarter passes, perhaps, without your appeal coming out — then on such occasions I give you some help or other. For what? At Diwali, Dussehra, Holi, I send presents to your house, and twenty-five times in the year I feast you — for what? You cannot run a bribe and your duty both side by side."

Onkarnath said in agitation, "I have never taken a bribe."

Rai Sahib snapped at him. "If this dealing is not a bribe, then what is a bribe — just explain it to me! Do you suppose that, leaving you aside, all the rest are donkeys, who keep making good your losses out of disinterestedness? Take out your ledgers and tell me — how much has come to you so far from my estate? I am sure a sum of thousands will come out. If you feel no shame, while crying Swadeshi, Swadeshi, in printing the advertisements of foreign medicines and goods, then why should I feel shame in taking fines, levies, and penalties from my tenants? Do not suppose that you alone have taken up the cause of the welfare of the peasants. I have to live and die with the peasants — there can be no greater well-wisher of theirs than I — but how is my livelihood to be carried on? From where am I to give feasts to the officers, from where am I to give the government subscriptions, how am I to fulfil the needs of the hundreds of people of my family? What the expense of my house is, perhaps you know — so do rupees grow in my house? It will come only from the houses of the tenants. You probably think landlords and talukdars are enjoying all the pleasures of the world. You have no knowledge of their real condition. If they were to live as righteous men, their very survival would become difficult. If they do not give the officers their tributes, the jail would become their home. We are not scorpions, that we go about stinging everyone for no reason. To throttle the poor is no work of great delight either, but the conventions must somehow be observed. Just as you wish to take advantage of my wealth, so does everyone reckon us a golden hen. Come to my bungalow, and I will show you how many arrows fall on me from morning till evening. One comes carrying shawls and wraps from Kashmir, one is an agent of scent and tobacco, one of books and journals, one of life insurance, one is on my head with a gramophone, one with something else. The subscription-men are beyond count. Am I to sit down before all of them with my tale of woe? Do these people come to my door to tell their tale of woe? They come to make a fool of me and squeeze something out of me. If I abandoned the thought of convention today, then claps would begin to be slapped at me. If I do not give the officials their tributes, I would be reckoned a rebel. Then you would not protect me with your articles. I joined the Congress, and I am still paying the fine for it. My name has been entered in the black book. How much debt is on my head — have you ever asked that too? If all the moneylenders got decrees, even this ring on my hand would be sold off. You will say — why do you keep up this show? Tell me — the atmosphere in which I have been reared for seven generations, I cannot now get out of it. To cut grass is impossible for me. You have no land, no property, no entanglement of dignity — you can be fearless, but you too sit with your tail tucked in. Have you any inkling how many bribes are running in the courts, how many of the poor are being murdered, how many goddesses are being violated? Have you the capacity to write of it? I will give the material — with proof."

Onkarnath, softening a little, said, "Whenever the occasion has come, I have not drawn my foot back."

Rai Sahib too softened a little. "Yes, I admit that on one or two occasions you have shown manliness, but your eye has always been on your own profit, not on the good of the people. Don't widen your eyes and don't redden your face. Whenever you have come into the field, the auspicious result has been only this — that your honour and influence and income have increased. If you are playing the same game with me too, then I am ready to do your pleasure. Money I will not give, for that is a bribe. I will have some ornament made for your wife. Is that agreed? Now I tell you truly that the report you have got is false, but I also wish to say this — that, like all my other brethren, I too take fines from my tenants, and five or ten thousand rupees a year come into my hand, and if you wish to snatch this morsel from my mouth, you will be the loser. You too wish to live in comfort in the world, and so do I. What is the use of your getting up a sham of justice and duty and embroiling me and embroiling yourself? Speak your heart's mind. I am not your enemy. I have eaten at the same table in the same kitchen with you many a time. I also know that you are in distress. Your condition is perhaps worse than mine. Yes, if you have sworn an oath to become a Harishchandra, then it is your pleasure. I am off."

Rai Sahib rose from his chair. Onkarnath caught his hand and said in a conciliatory spirit, "No, no — you will have to sit a while yet. I wish to make my position clear. For the favours you have done me, I am grateful to you, but here the matter of principle has come up, and you do know that principles are dearer than life itself."

Rai Sahib sat down on the chair and said in a rather sweeter voice, "All right, brother, write whatever you wish. I do not wish to break your principle. What else will happen — there will be ill-fame. Well, how far am I to die for the sake of a name! What talukdar is there who does not torment his tenants somewhat? If a dog guards a bone, what is it to eat? This much I can do — that in future you will get no complaint of this kind; if you have any faith in me, then this once forgive me. With any other editor I would not flatter in this way. I would have him beaten in the open market — but you have my friendship, and so I must yield. This is the age of newspapers. Even the government fears them; what is my standing! Whomever you wish, you can make. Well, let this quarrel be ended. Tell me, how stands the paper these days? Have any subscribers increased?"

Onkarnath said with reluctance, "Somehow or other the work is carried on, and in the present circumstances I do not hope for more. I did not come to this line carrying the craving for wealth and pleasure, and so I have no complaint. I came to serve the public, and I keep doing it to the best of my power. May the nation prosper — that is my one wish. The happiness or sorrow of a single individual has no value."

Rai Sahib, growing a little more cordial, said, "All this is true, brother sahib, but to serve, it is necessary to live. Sunk in economic worries, you cannot serve with a concentrated mind either. Is the subscriber count not increasing at all?"

"The thing is, I do not wish to lower the standard of my paper. If I too were to begin printing the pictures and characters of cinema stars, my subscribers might increase, but that is not my policy! And there are many other tricks too by which money can be earned through papers, but I consider them base."

"It is the very fruit of this that you enjoy so much respect today. I wish to make a proposal. I do not know whether you will accept it or not. On my behalf, issue free copies of the paper in the names of a hundred men. I will give the subscription."

Onkarnath, bowing his head in gratitude, said, "I accept your gift with thanks. The pity is only this — how indifferent the public is toward newspapers. There is no lack of money for schools and colleges and temples, but to this day not a single donor has come forth who would give in donation for the spread of newspapers — although the aim of public education can be fulfilled through newspapers at less expense than in any other way. As educational institutions get help from foundations, if newspapermen too began to get it, then this much time and space which the poor fellows have to offer up to advertisements — why should they have to do it? I am much obliged to you."

Rai Sahib took his leave. On Onkarnath's face there was no glimmer of pleasure. Rai Sahib had laid down no condition of any kind, had imposed no restraint, but Onkarnath, even after getting such a stinging rebuke today, could not refuse this gift. The circumstances had so come upon him that he could see no means at all of getting clear. Three months' wages of the press workers were owing. The paper-supplier's bill came to over a thousand. Was it not enough that he had not had to stretch out his hand?

His wife Gomti came and said in a tone of revolt, "Has the time for the meal not yet come, or is this too some rule — that until it strikes one, one does not rise from one's place? How long is anyone to keep watch over the hearth?"

Onkarnath looked at his wife with sorrowful eyes. Gomti's revolt flew away. She understood his difficulties. Seeing the clothes and ornaments of other women, sometimes feelings of revolt awoke in her mind, and she would say two or four scorching words to her husband, but in truth this anger was not against him but against her own ill-fortune, and a little of its heat would unavoidably reach Onkarnath. She fretted inwardly seeing his ascetic life, and she had sympathy for him too. Only, she thought him a little of a crank. Seeing his dejected face, she asked, "Why so downcast — is there some upset in your stomach?"

Onkarnath had to smile. "Who is downcast — I? Why, I have as much joy today as I did not have even on my wedding day. This morning there was a first sale of fifteen hundred. I must have seen the face of some fortunate person."

Gomti did not believe it. She said, "You are a liar — where do you ever get fifteen hundred? Say fifteen rupees, and I will believe it."

"No, no, by your head I swear, I struck fifteen hundred. Just now Rai Sahib had come. He has given his word to pay the subscription of a hundred subscribers from his own side."

Gomti's face fell. "Then you have got it for sure!"

"No, Rai Sahib is true to his word."

"I have never seen any talukdar true to his word. My father was the servant of a talukdar. Year upon year the wages were not paid. He left him and took service with another. That one did not give a single pie for two years. Once my father grew hot, and he was beaten and driven off. There is no reliance on the words of these people."

"This very day I am sending the bill."

"Keep sending it. They will say, come tomorrow. Tomorrow they will have gone off to their estate. They will return in three months."

Onkarnath fell into doubt. True enough — if Rai Sahib went back on his word afterwards, what could he do? Still, hardening his heart, he said, "It cannot be so. At least Rai Sahib I do not reckon so great a cheat. He owes me nothing."

Gomti said with the same doubting air, "It is for this very thing that I call you a simpleton. The moment anyone shows a little sympathy, you blossom up. They are fat grandees. How many such promises can be digested in their bellies? If they were to keep all the promises they make, the day would come when they would have to go begging. The Thakur Sahib of my village would not settle the accounts of the shopkeepers for two and three years at a stretch. The servants' wages he gave only for namesake. He took a year's work, and when the servant asked for his wages, he beat him and turned him out. Several times, in this very defaulting, his sons' names were struck off the school rolls. In the end he called the boys home. Once he even borrowed the railway fare on credit. This Rai Sahib too is one of their brotherhood. Come, eat your food, and grind at the mill what is written in your fate. Understand this much — that it is better that these great men keep rebuking you. If they give you one pice, they will recover four times that from their tenants. Now you write whatever you wish about them. After this you will have to do nothing but flatter the master."

Pandit-ji was eating his food, but the morsel seemed to stick in his mouth. In the end, without lightening the burden of his heart, eating became hard. He said, "If they do not give the money, I will take such news of them that they will remember it. Their pigtail is in my hand. The village people cannot give false news. To give true news takes the very life out of them — false news they will hardly give. A report against Rai Sahib has come to me. If I print it, it will become hard for the good fellow to step out of his house. He is not giving me alms — he has come round to this road only after falling into a great fix. First he was showing me threats. When he saw that nothing would come of that, he flung out this bait. I too thought — by one man being set right, injustice will not after all be wiped out of the country, so why not accept this gift? I have fallen from my ideal, no doubt, but even after this, if Rai Sahib plays false, then I too will come down to roguery. He who plunders the poor — to plunder him, one will not have to reason much with one's own soul."