Chapter 20

Phagun had arrived, carrying in its lap the gift of new life. The mango trees were sharing out with both hands the fragrance of their blossom, and the cuckoo, hidden in the mango boughs, was giving the secret gift of song.

In the villages the sowing of cane had begun. The sun had not yet risen, but Hori had already reached the field. Dhaniya, Sona, Rupa — all three are bringing the soaked bundles of cane from the pond, pulling them out and carrying them to the field, and Hori is cutting the cane into pieces with the billhook. Now he has begun doing wage-work for Datadin. Now he is not a peasant but a labourer. With Datadin he no longer has the bond of priest and patron; he has the bond of master and labourer.

Datadin came and scolded him. "Move your hands quicker, Hori! At this rate you won't be able to cut it in a whole day."

Hori said with wounded pride, "I am moving them, Maharaj — I'm not sitting idle."

Datadin used to get work out of his labourers by grinding them down, so no labourer stayed with him. Hori knew his nature, but where could he go.

The Pandit stood over him and said, "There's moving and moving. One kind of moving is — the work done in a moment; the other kind is — not one load of cane cut even in a whole day."

Hori swallowed the draught of poison and began to move his hands harder. For months now he had not got a bellyful of food. Usually one meal would pass on parched grain alone. The second meal too — sometimes he got half a belly's fill, sometimes there was a total fast. How he longed for his hands to move faster and faster, but his hands were giving way. On top of this Datadin sat upon his head. If he could get to rest for a moment, he would be refreshed, but how to rest? There was the fear of getting a scolding.

Dhaniya and the two girls came with the bundles of cane, soaked from head to foot in their wet saris, caked in mud, and had just flung down the bundles and begun to catch their breath when Datadin gave them a scolding. "Why are you watching a spectacle here, Dhaniya? Go, do your work. Money doesn't come for nothing. In a watch's time you've brought one load. At this rate the cane won't be carried even in a whole day."

Dhaniya changed her brow and said, "Won't you even let us catch our breath a moment, Maharaj! We too are human beings. Doing your wage-work hasn't made us bullocks. Just carry a bundle on your own head and you'll know how it feels."

Datadin flared up. "We pay money for doing work, not for catching breath. If you want to catch your breath, go home and do it."

Dhaniya was just about to say something when Hori snapped at her. "Why don't you go, Dhaniya? Why are you arguing?"

Dhaniya said, picking up the load, "I'm going, yes — but a bullock that's moving along shouldn't be jabbed."

Datadin's eyes turned red. "It seems your temper hasn't cooled yet. That's just why you go begging for every grain."

Dhaniya was hardly one to stay quiet. "I don't go begging at your door, do I."

Datadin said in a cutting voice, "If things go on like this, you will go begging too."

Dhaniya had her answer ready, but Sona pulled her off towards the pond, else the matter would have spread; but going out of earshot she let out the burning of her heart. "You go begging — you who belong to the caste of beggars. We're labourers — wherever we work, there we'll get our four paisa."

Sona reproached her. "Mother, let it be. You never look at the time — you sit down to quarrel over every little thing."

Hori, like a man in a frenzy, kept lifting the billhook above his head and making heaps of the cane pieces. It was as if a fire had been lit inside him. An unearthly strength had come into him. The water stored in him through generations was, at this moment, turning to vapour and lending him a blind, machine-like power. Darkness began to spread over his eyes. His head was spinning like a top. Yet his hands rose with the speed of a machine — untiring, without pause. A stream of sweat ran down his body, froth slipped from his mouth, and a thud-thud sounded in his head, but it was as if some demon had taken possession of him.

Suddenly a dense darkness spread over his eyes. He felt as though he were sinking into the earth. In an effort to steady himself he spread his hands out into the void, and lost consciousness. The billhook slipped from his hand, and he fell face-down on the ground.

At that very moment Dhaniya came carrying a bundle of cane. She saw several men standing in a ring around Hori. One ploughman was saying to Datadin, "Malik, you shouldn't say such things as cut a man to the quick. The poor wretch was bound to die sooner or later anyway."

Dhaniya flung down the bundle of cane and, like a madwoman, ran to Hori, and placing his head on her thigh began to lament. "Where are you going, leaving me behind? Sona, run and bring water, and go tell Sobha — Dada is in a bad way. Oh God! Now whose will I be left to be, who will call me by name, 'Dhaniya'?..."

Lala Pateshwari came running and said with an affection-filled harshness, "What are you doing, Dhaniya, get hold of your senses. Nothing has happened to Hori. He's fainted from the heat. He'll come round any moment now. If you make your heart so soft, how will things go on?"

Dhaniya seized Pateshwari's feet and said, weeping, "What can I do, Lala ji, my heart won't be reconciled. God has taken everything from me. I bore it patiently. Now there's no more patience. Alas, my jewel!"

Sona brought water. Pateshwari sprinkled water on Hori's face. Several men fanned him with their cloths. Hori's body had grown cold. Pateshwari too felt anxious, but he kept giving Dhaniya courage.

Dhaniya said in distress, "This never happened before. Lala, never."

Pateshwari asked, "Had he eaten anything last night?"

Dhaniya said, "Yes, last night I had cooked bread, but what we have been going through these days — is it hidden from you? For months a bellyful of bread hasn't been our lot. How much I tell him — work with care for your life — but rest is not written in our fate at all."

Suddenly Hori opened his eyes and looked this way and that with wandering glances.

It was as if Dhaniya had come back to life. Distraught, she clung to his neck and said, "How do you feel now? My life had gone into the very nails of my hands."

Hori said in a feeble voice, "I am all right. I don't know what came over me."

Dhaniya said with a love-drowned scolding, "There's no strength left in your body, and you do work as if to give up your life. It was the children's good fortune — else you would have dragged us all down with you!"

Pateshwari said with a laugh, "Dhaniya was crying and beating her breast."

Hori asked eagerly, "Were you really crying, Dhaniya?"

Dhaniya pushed Pateshwari back and said, "Let him babble. Ask him — why did he leave his papers and come running from home?"

Pateshwari teased her. "She was crying, calling you 'jewel, jewel.' Now out of shame she denies it. She was beating her breast."

Hori looked at Dhaniya with moist eyes. "She's a madwoman, that's all! Heaven knows what happiness she wants me kept alive to see."

Two men carried Hori home, propping him up, and laid him on the cot. Datadin was fretting that the sowing was getting delayed, but Matadin was not so unfeeling. He ran and brought warm milk from his house, and brought along a bottle of rose-water too. And after drinking the milk, life seemed to come back into Hori.

At that very moment Gobar was seen coming, his luggage loaded on a porter's head.

At first the village dogs ran barking towards him. Then they began wagging their tails. Rupa said, "Brother's come, brother's come," and ran off clapping her hands. Sona too stepped two or three paces forward, but suppressed her eagerness within her. In a year her youth had grown somewhat more bashful. Jhuniya too came and stood at the door with her veil drawn.

Gobar touched the feet of his parents and lifted Rupa up into his lap and fondled her. Dhaniya blessed him and, pressing his head to her bosom, felt as though she had received the reward of her motherhood. Her heart overflowed with pride. Today she was a queen. Even in these ragged clothes, a queen. Let anyone look at her eyes, look at her face, look at her heart, look at her gait — even a queen would be put to shame. How grown Gobar had become, and how like a respectable man he looked, dressed and turned out. Never had a fear of ill-omen come into Dhaniya's mind. Her heart had told her Gobar was safe and happy. Today, seeing it with her eyes, it was as if she had found a jewel lost in the dust and rubble of life — but Hori had turned his face away.

Gobar asked, "What has happened to Dada, Mother?"

Dhaniya did not want to make him unhappy by telling him the state of the house. She said, "Nothing, son, just a little headache. Come, take off your clothes, wash your face and hands. Where were you all these days? Well — is this any way to run off from home? And never even sent a single letter? Today, after a whole year, you've remembered us. My eyes went blind watching for you to come. This hope kept me bound — that someday that day would come and I would see you. Some said Gobar had run off to Meerut, some said he was in Damra Tapu. Hearing this and that, my soul dried up. Where were you all these days?"

Gobar said shyly, "I hadn't gone anywhere far, Mother — I was here, in Lucknow."

"And living so near, you never even wrote one letter?"

Inside, Sona and Rupa were busy opening Gobar's luggage and dividing and apportioning the things, but Jhuniya stood at a distance. On her face today the bright colour of pique was glinting. The way Gobar had treated her — today she would take her revenge for it. Seeing the tenant, the mahajan grows restless to recover even that money from him which he had written off as a bad debt. The child kept reaching out towards those things and wanting to stuff them all into his mouth at once, but Jhuniya would not let him climb down from her lap.

Sona said, "Brother's brought a mirror and comb for you, Bhabhi."

Jhuniya said with an air of disdain, "I don't want a mirror and comb. Let him keep them himself."

Rupa took out the child's shiny cap. "Oh ho! This is Chunnu's cap." And she set it on the child's head.

Jhuniya took off the cap and flung it down, and suddenly seeing Gobar come inside, she took the child and went off into her own room. Gobar saw all the things lying open. His heart longed to make his peace with Jhuniya first and get her to forgive his offence, but he did not have the courage to go in. He sat down right there and began taking the things out, giving one to each. But Rupa pouted because sandals had not come for her, and Sona began teasing her, "What will you do with sandals — play with your doll. We don't cry when we see your doll; why do you cry when you see my sandals?" The responsibility of distributing the sweets Dhaniya took upon herself. After so many days her son had come home safely. She would have the gift-portions distributed throughout the village. One gulab-jamun was, for Rupa, like a cumin seed in a camel's mouth. She wished the pot would be set before her, so she could leap about and eat.

Now the trunk was opened, and saris began coming out of it. They all had bordered edges, of the kind worn in Lala Pateshwari's house, but they were very light. How many days would such fine saris last? Big folk may wear saris as fine as they please. What work have their wives but to sit and sleep! Here there was field and threshing-floor and everything. Ah! For Hori, besides a dhoti, there was a scarf too.

Dhaniya said, pleased, "You've done a very good thing here, son! His scarf had gone completely to shreds."

In that time Gobar had taken in the state of the household. Dhaniya's sari had several patches in it. Sona's sari was torn at the head, and her hair showed through. Rupa's dhoti had fringes hanging down all around. All their faces were dry, not a trace of sleekness on anyone's body. Wherever you looked, there was an empire of destitution.

The girls were lost in joy over the saris. To Dhaniya came the worry of food for her son. There was a little barley flour saved in the house for the evening. At this hour the day passed on parched grain, but Gobar was hardly the same Gobar now. Would barley flour even be eaten by him? In foreign parts who knew what all he had been eating and drinking. She went and brought wheat flour, rice and ghee on credit from Dulari's shop. For months now the Sahuain had not given a paisa's worth of anything on credit, but today she did not ask even once, "When will you pay?"

She asked, "So Gobar's come back having earned plenty?"

Dhaniya said, "Nothing has been revealed yet, sister! I haven't thought it proper to say anything yet either. Yes, he's brought bordered saris for everyone. By your blessing he's returned safely — for me that is enough."

Dulari gave a blessing. "May God grant — wherever he be, may he be well. What more do parents want — the boy is sensible. He's not a spendthrift like other young fellows. Even if I don't get my money yet, at least pay the interest. The burden grows day by day, you know."

Inside, Sona was making Chunnu a king by putting on him his frock and cap and shoes. The child liked to take these things in his hands and play with them more than to wear them. Inside, the play of reconciliation between Gobar and Jhuniya was going on.

Jhuniya looked at him with reproach-filled eyes and said, "You brought me and set me down here. You yourself took the road to foreign parts. Then never searched, never sent word, whether she was dead or alive. After a whole year now your sleep has broken. What a great deceiver you are! And here I was thinking you were coming right behind me, and you flew off and returned only after a whole year. What is there to trust in men — you must have eyed some other woman somewhere, and thought, 'There's one for the home anyway, let there be one for outside too.'"

Gobar offered his defence. "Jhuniya, I declare with God as my witness — never once did I so much as glance at anyone. I did run away from home out of shame and fear, but your memory never left my mind for a moment. Now I've made up my mind that I'll take you along too — that's why I've come. Your people must have been very angry?"

"Father was bent on taking my very life."

"Truly!"

"All three of them came charging up here. Mother scolded them so that they were left with their faces fallen. Yes, they led off both our bullocks."

"Such great high-handedness. And Dada said nothing?"

"How many of them could Dada fight alone? The villagers wouldn't let them take the bullocks, but Dada himself gave way out of decency — what could the others do then?"

"So how is the farming going on these days?"

"The farming has all fallen to ruin. A little is in partnership with the Pandit Maharaj. The cane wasn't even sown."

Gobar had two hundred rupees in his waistband at that moment. His heat was not small in any case. Hearing this state of things, his body caught fire.

He said, "Then first I'll go and have it out with them. How dare they lead off bullocks from my door. This is robbery — open robbery. All three of them will go for three years each. They won't give it up just by my asking — then I'll take it from the court. I'll break the whole of their pride."

He was setting off in that very rush of feeling when Jhuniya caught hold of him and said, "Go later — what's the hurry now? Rest a while, eat and drink something. The whole day's before you. There was a great big panchayat here. The panchayat laid a fine of eighty rupees. Thirty maunds of grain on top of that. That's just what brought down more ruin."

Sona brought the child, dressed in his clothes and shoes. Dressed up, he had become a real king. Gobar took him in his lap, but at this moment he found no joy in fondling the child. His blood was boiling, and the money in his waistband was making the heat sharper and fiercer. He would settle with every single one of them. What right had the panches to lay a fine on him? Who is anyone to come butting in between him and his affairs? If he kept a woman, what did it harm the panches' fathers? If, over this very matter, he were to file a criminal suit, handcuffs would be put on people's wrists. The whole household had been torn to ruin. What had these people taken him for!

The child smiled a little in his lap, then shrieked loudly, as if it had seen some frightful thing.

Jhuniya took the child from his lap and said, "Now go and bathe and wash. What worry have you fallen into? If you begin fighting with everyone here, you won't get through even one day. Whoever has money, he is the big man, he is the good man. Have no money, and everyone lords it over you."

"It was my foolishness that I ran away from home — else I'd see how anyone took a single cowrie as a fine."

"You've been breathing the city air, that's why these notions occur to you — else why did you run away from home at all!"

"My heart longs to lift a stick and beat every one of these wretches — Pateshwari, Datadin, Jhinguri — knock them all flat and dig the money out of their bellies."

"You've got a great rush of money to the head, it seems. Come, take it out, let me see what you've earned in all these days?"

She put her hand at Gobar's waistband. Gobar stood up and said, "What's earned yet? Yes, when you come along now, then I'll earn. The whole year went just in getting to know the ways of the city."

"That's if Mother lets me go."

"Why won't Mother let you go? What's it to do with her?"

"Indeed! I won't go without her consent. You went off and left me. And who did I have here? If she hadn't let me into the house, where would I have gone? As long as I live I'll sing her praises. And you too — will you keep wandering in foreign parts forever?"

"And what shall I do sitting here? Earn and die — what else is there here? With a little wit, and if a man doesn't shrink from work, he can't starve there. Here wit doesn't work at all. Why is Dada sulking?"

"Praise your own luck that he leaves it at sulking. You did such a great wrong that if it had caught him in his anger, he'd have made your face red. But Dada has never said a word — when he calls, it's with great love. If even my head aches, he gets restless. After seeing my own father, I consider him a god. He keeps telling Mother — say nothing to the bride. He's flared up hundreds of times at you, that you sat her down in the house and yourself went off heaven knows where. These days there's a pinch of every paisa. The cane money was squandered, all of it outside. Now he has to do wage-work. Today the poor man fainted in the field. There was weeping and wailing. Since then he's been lying down."

Washing his face and hands and combing his hair well, Gobar went out to conquer the village. He went to the houses of both his uncles and made his salutations. Then he met other friends. There was no special change in the village. Yes, Pateshwari's new sitting-room had been built, and Jhinguri Singh had had a new well dug at his door. The rebellion in Gobar's mind grew bolder. Whoever met him paid him respect, and the young men made him their hero and got ready to go to Lucknow with him. In a single year — what he had become from what he was.

Suddenly Jhinguri Singh met him bathing at his well. Gobar passed by, but neither saluted nor spoke. He wanted to show the Thakur, "I think nothing of you."

Jhinguri Singh himself asked, "When did you come, Gobar — were you well? Were you in service somewhere in Lucknow?"

Gobar said with bravado, "I didn't go to Lucknow to do slavery. Service is slavery. I did business."

The Thakur looked him over from head to foot with curious eyes. "How much did you make a day?"

Gobar made a knife into a spear and drove it at him. "About two and a half or three rupees. If it picked up, even four. Not more than that."

Jhinguri, for all his clawing and grabbing, could not earn more than twenty-five or thirty. And this rustic lad had begun earning a hundred rupees. His head fell. By what claim could he now lord it over him? In caste, certainly, he was higher, but who looks at caste. This was not the moment to rival him; now, by flattering him, some work could be got out of him. He said, "Such earnings are no small thing, son — out of which one can manage to spend. In the village you don't get even three annas. Get Bhavania (this was his eldest son's name) some work somewhere too, and I'll send him off. Neither learning nor letters — he keeps stirring up one mischief or another. If a clerkship falls vacant, tell me, else take him along with you. He's your friend, after all. Even if the pay is small, no matter. As long as there's room for four paisa on the side."

Gobar said with a pride-filled laugh, "This taste for income on the side ruins a man, Thakur — but our ways have got so spoiled that until we cheat, our bellies just won't fill. In Lucknow a clerkship can be had, but every mahajan wants an honest, careful man. I might tie Bhavani round someone's neck, but if afterwards he lays his hands on something, then it's my neck he'll grab. In the world, learning is not valued — honesty is valued."

Dealing this slap, Gobar walked on. Jhinguri sat fuming inwardly. What proud talk the lad makes — as if he were the very incarnation of righteousness.

In the same way Gobar gave Datadin a grinding. He was going to his meal. Seeing Gobar he said, pleased, "Were you well, Gobar? I hear you've found some good place there. Get Matadin fixed up somehow too. Apart from lying about drunk on bhang, what other work is there here!"

Gobar made fun of him. "What is lacking in your house, Maharaj? At whatever patron's door you go and stand, you'll fleece something or other. Take it at a birth, take it at a death, take it at a wedding, take it at a funeral; you farm, you lend and collect, you broker; if anyone makes some slip or oversight, you lay a fine and loot his house. You can't fill your belly with so much earning? What will you do, hoarding so much wealth — have you found some way to take it with you?"

Datadin saw how brazenly Gobar was speaking, as though he had quite forgotten respect and deference. He probably did not yet know that his father was doing slavery for him. True — a small river does not take long to overflow; but he let no stain show on his face. As great men laugh even when children pull at their moustaches, so he too took this rebuke in jest, and said playfully, "Breathing the Lucknow air has made you a great sharp one, Gobar! Come, what have you earned and brought — take some out. I tell you truly, Gobar, we missed you very much. Now you'll stay some days?"

"Yes, I'll stay some days now. I have to file a suit against those panches who, on the pretext of a fine, have swallowed a hundred and fifty rupees of mine. I'd like to see who stops my hookah and water, and how the brotherhood casts me out of caste."

Giving this threat, he walked on. His bravado had thrown his young devotees into awe.

One said, "File the suit, Gobar bhaiya! The old man's a black snake — there's no charm against his bite. You gave him a good scolding. Heat up the patwari's ears a bit too. Dada's a great mischief-monger! He'll set fire between father and son, set fire between brother and brother. Joining hands with the agent, he cuts the tenants' throats. Plough your own field afterwards — first plough his field. Irrigate your own afterwards — first do his irrigation."

Gobar twisted his moustache and said, "What do you tell me, brother — I haven't forgotten in a year. I'm not going to stay here at all, else I'd have made every one of them dance. This Holi, celebrate it with great fanfare, and make a Holi mummers' show and smear paint thickly on all of these fellows."

The Holi programme began to take shape. Lots of bhang would be ground — milky bhang too, and coloured bhang too — and along with the colours, lampblack too would be made, and on the leaders' faces the lampblack alone would be daubed. In Holi, who can say anything! Then the mummery would come out and the panches be put to shame. No worry over money. Gobar bhai had come back with earnings.

After eating, Gobar set off to meet Bhola. He would not rest until he brought his pair of bullocks and tied them at his own door. He was ready to fight to the death.

Hori said in a piteous voice, "Don't stir up a quarrel, son! Bhola took the bullocks — may God do him good — but his money was owing, after all."

Gobar said excitedly, "Dada, don't you butt in. His cow was worth fifty. Our pair cost a hundred and fifty. We ploughed with them three years. Even so it was worth a hundred and fifty. He could have filed a suit for his money, got a decree, or done whatever he wanted — why did he unloose the pair from our door? And what shall I say to you? Here you lost the pair, and there paid a hundred and fifty rupees as a fine. This is the fruit of being a cow. If they'd led off the pair before my eyes, I'd have shown them. I'd have laid all three flat on the ground right there. And I wouldn't even have spoken to the panches. I'd have seen who cut me off from the brotherhood, but you sat watching it happen."

Hori bowed his head like a guilty man, but how could Dhaniya watch such injustice? She said, "Son, you go too far. If our hookah and water were stopped, how would we get on in the village — there's a grown daughter sitting at home, she has to be settled somewhere or other, doesn't she? In life and death does a man not need the brotherhood?"

Gobar cut her short. "There was hookah and water, there was respect in the brotherhood — then why was I not married? Tell me! Because there was no bread in the house. With money, there's no need of hookah and water, no need of caste and brotherhood. The world is money's. No one asks about hookah and water."

Dhaniya, hearing the child cry, went inside, and Gobar too left the house. Hori sat thinking. It was as if the lad's wits had been unlocked. How blunt and outspoken he is. His crooked logic had defeated Hori's religion and morality.

Suddenly Hori asked him, "Shall I come along too?"

"I'm not going to fight, Dada, don't be afraid. The law is on my side — why would I fight?"

"Is there any harm in my coming too?"

"Yes, great harm. You'll spoil a thing already going well."

Hori fell silent, and Gobar set off.

Hardly five minutes had passed when Dhaniya came out carrying the child and said, "Has Gobar gone, alone — I ask you, will God ever give you sense or not? Will Bhola give the pair easily? All three of them will fall upon him like hawks. May God alone keep him safe. Now whom shall I tell — run and catch hold of Gobar. I have given up on you."

Hori picked up a stick from the corner and ran after Gobar. Coming to the edge of the village, he ran his eyes over the distance. A faint line was seen merged with the horizon. How had Gobar got so far in so short a time? Hori's soul began to reproach him. Why had he not stopped Gobar? If he had said sternly, "Don't go to Bhola's house," Gobar would never have gone. And now he could not even run after him. Defeated, he sat down right there and said, "Protect him, Mahavir Swami!"

When Gobar reached that village, he saw some men sitting under the banyan tree playing dice. Seeing him, they took him for a police constable. They were scooping up the cowries and fleeing, when suddenly Jangi recognised him and said, "Hey, this is Gobardhan."

Gobar saw Jangi peering out from behind a tree. He said, "Don't be afraid, Jangi bhaiya, it's me. Ram-ram. I've only just come today. I thought I'd go round and meet everyone — who knows when I may come again. By your blessing, brother, I've got on very well. The raja in whose service I am told me — if you can find one or two men, bring them along. They're needed for watchmen's work. I said, Sarkar, I'll give you such men that even if their lives go, they won't quit the field. If you wish, come with me. It's a good place."

Jangi, seeing his fine turnout, was struck with awe. He had never even managed to get leather-soled shoes, and Gobar wore shining boots. A clean, striped shirt, his hair groomed — a complete young gentleman. There was a great difference between the ragged Gobar and this polished Gobar. The feeling of hostility had subsided of itself with the effect of time, and whatever was left now subsided too. He was a gambler in any case, and on top of that the habit of ganja. And at home he got money with great difficulty. His mouth watered. He said, "Why shouldn't I come — here I'm just lying about swatting flies. How many rupees will I get?"

Gobar said with great self-assurance, "Don't worry about that. Everything's in your own hands. Whatever you wish will come to pass. I thought — when there's a man right in the family, why go outside?"

Jangi asked eagerly, "What work will I have to do?"

"For work — either be a watchman, or go out collecting dues. The collecting work is the best. Get thick with the tenant. Come and tell the master, 'He just wasn't home.' If you like, you can make a rupee or eight annas a day."

"Is a place to live provided too?"

"What lack of place — there's a whole mansion lying empty. Water tap, electricity. No lack of anything. Is Kamta here, or has he gone somewhere?"

"He's gone with the milk. No one lets me go to market. They say, you smoke up the ganja. I smoke very little now, brother, but I do need two paisa a day. Don't say anything to Kamta. I'll come with you."

"Yes, yes, come without hesitation. After Holi."

"Then it's settled."

The two men, talking, reached Bhola's door. Bhola sat spinning twine. Gobar darted forward and touched his feet, and at that moment his throat truly choked. He said, "Kaka, forgive whatever fault or error I committed."

Bhola stopped spinning the twine and said in a stony voice, "You did such a deed, Gobar, that even if I cut off your head no sin would touch me — but you've come to my door, so what shall I say now. Go — as you did with me, God will give the punishment for it. When did you come?"

Gobar told the tale of his rise in fortune with plenty of salt and pepper, and asked permission to take Jangi along with him. Bhola felt as though he had got an unasked-for boon. Jangi kept stirring up one mischief or another at home. If he went away, at least he'd earn four paisa. Even if he gave no one anything, at least he'd bear his own burden.

Gobar said, "No, Kaka, God willing, and if he keeps with me, in a year or two he'll become a man."

"Yes — if only he keeps with you."

"When trouble falls on his head, a man straightens out of himself."

"So when do you mean to go?"

"After Holi I'll go. If I can get the farming arrangement here set up again, I'll be at ease."

"Tell Hori — now let him sit and rest with prayer."

"I tell him, but only when he can sit."

"You must have an acquaintance with some physician there. The cough is troubling me very much. If it can be done, send some medicine."

"A famous physician lives right next to me. I'll tell him my condition and have him make medicine and send it. Does the cough trouble you at night or by day?"

"No, son, at night. My eyes won't close. Else if there were any arrangement there, I'd come and live there too. Here nothing makes ends meet."

"Where's the pleasure of a trade here, Kaka — what will there be here? Here no one even asks about ten seers of milk for a rupee. You have to fawn upon the confectioners. There, at five or six seers a rupee, you could, if you wished, sell maunds of milk in an hour."

Jangi had gone off to make milky sherbet for Gobar. Bhola, seeing the solitude, said, "And brother, my heart is sick now of this whole tangle. You see how Jangi is. Kamta takes the milk away. The fodder, the watering, untying and tying — all I have to do. Now my heart only longs for this — that I might eat a single bread in peace and lie down. How long shall I keep moaning and groaning? Quarrels and squabbles every day. Whose feet shall I keep stroking? The cough comes; at night I can't even get up, but no one even asks if I want a lota of water. The rope has snapped, but no one even cares. Only when I make it will it be made."

Gobar said with warmth, "Come to Lucknow, Kaka. Sell milk at five seers a rupee, cash. I have acquaintances with many, many great rich men. I'll take it on myself to find a market for a maund of milk. I have a tea-shop too. I myself take ten seers of milk every day. You'll have no trouble of any kind."

Jangi brought the milky sherbet. Gobar drank a glass of sherbet and said, "Just sit at the tea-shop morning and evening, Kaka, and a rupee won't go anywhere."

After a minute Bhola said with a shame-filled air, "In anger, son, a man goes blind. I led off your pair of bullocks. Take them along. What farming goes on here?"

"But I've already settled on a new pair, Kaka!"

"No, no — what will you do, getting a new pair? Take these along."

"Then I'll have your money sent to you."

"The money isn't outside anywhere, son — it's right within the family. It's the sham of the brotherhood, else what difference is there between you and me? If you ask the truth, I ought to have been glad that Jhuniya is in a good house and is comfortable. And I had become thirsty for her blood."

In the evening, when Gobar set off from there, the pair of bullocks were with him, and Jangi came along behind carrying two pots of curd.