Chapter 26

Lala Pateshwari was the very incarnation of the virtues of the patwari fraternity. He could not bear to see one tenant encroach even an inch on another brother's land. Nor could he bear to see a tenant withhold a moneylender's money. To protect the interests of all the creatures of the village was his supreme duty. In compromise or in fellowship he had no faith — those are the marks of lifelessness! He was a worshipper of conflict, which is the mark of life. Every other day he kept making efforts to give this life a stimulus. He kept dropping one tangle or another. On Mangaru Sah these days he had a special grace of regard. Mangaru Sah was the richest man in the village, but he took no part at all in the local politics. He had no craving for influence or authority. His house too was outside the village, where he had got an orchard, a well and a small Shiva temple built. He had no child, so he had reduced his lending too, and was mostly engaged in worship and recitation. Many a tenant had swallowed up his money, but he had brought neither suit nor complaint against anyone. Against Hori too, his interest and dues together, some hundred and fifty had built up, but Hori had no anxiety about repaying the debt, nor he about recovering it. Two or four times he had pressed and threatened and scolded too, but, seeing Hori's condition, he had fallen silent. This time, by chance, Hori's cane was the finest in the whole village. He would surely realize a clear two or two and a half hundred — such was people's estimate. Pateshwari Prasad suggested to Mangaru that if a suit were brought against Hori at this time, all the money would be recovered. Mangaru was not so much merciful as lazy. He did not wish to get into trouble; but when Pateshwari took on the responsibility that Mangaru would not have to go to the kachahri even a single day, nor have any other trouble, that, sitting idle, his decree would be obtained, then he gave permission to bring the suit, and gave the money for the court costs too.

Hori had no idea what khichri was being cooked. When the suit was filed, when the decree was obtained, he came to know nothing at all. When the court bailiff came to auction his cane, then he learned of it. The whole village gathered at the edge of the field. Hori ran to Mangaru Sah, and Dhaniya began abusing Pateshwari. Her natural good sense had told her that it was Pateshwari's handiwork, but Mangaru Sah was at his worship and could not be met; and Dhaniya, for all her shower of abuse, could do no harm to Pateshwari. There the cane was auctioned for a hundred and fifty rupees, and the bid too was in the name of Mangaru Sah himself. No one else could bid. Even Datadin did not have the courage to listen to Dhaniya's abuse.

Goading Hori, Dhaniya said — "Why do you sit there; why do you not go and ask the patwari — is this your dharma towards the men of your own village and home?"

Wretchedly Hori said — "Only if you had left him fit to be asked. Will he not have heard your abuse?"

"Whoever does the work to earn abuse will surely get abuse."

"You will both give abuse and keep up the brotherhood."

"I shall see who goes near my field."

"The mill people will come and cut it and carry it off; what will you do, and what shall I do? By giving abuse you may scratch the itch of your tongue, if you like."

"While I live, will someone cut my field and carry it away?"

"Yes, while you live and while I live. The whole village together cannot stop him. That thing is no longer mine; it is Mangaru Sah's."

"Did Mangaru Sah do the irrigating and the weeding in the noon-heat of the month of Jeth, dying by inches?"

"All that you did, but now that thing is Mangaru Sah's. Are we not his debtors?"

The cane was gone, but along with it a new problem arose. It was on this very cane that Dulari had been ready to lend money. Now on what security should she lend? Her earlier two hundred rupees were still outstanding. She had thought that with the cane the old money would come back, and then a new account could start running. In her eyes Hori's credit was good for two hundred. To give more than this was a risk. The wedding season was upon him. The date had been fixed. Gauri Mahto must have made all the preparations. Now to postpone the marriage was impossible. Hori felt such anger that he could go and throttle Dulari. Whatever entreaty and supplication could be done, he had done; but that goddess of stone did not soften in the least. As he was leaving, he folded his hands and said — "Dulari, I shall not run off with your money. Nor am I going to die so soon. There are fields, there are trees and orchard, there is a house, there is a grown son. Your money will not be lost; my honour is going — save it." But Dulari did not agree to mix mercy with business. Had she been able to give business the form of mercy, she would have had no objection. But to give mercy the form of business she had not learned.

Coming home, Hori said to Dhaniya — "Now?"

Dhaniya let out the smoke of her heart upon him — "This is just what you wanted!"

With wounded eyes Hori looked at her — "Is it my fault alone?"

"Whoever's fault it be, it happened as you wished."

"Is it your wish that I mortgage the land?"

"If you mortgage the land, then what will you do?"

"Labour."

But the land was equally dear to them both. It was on it alone that their honour and reputation depended. He who has no land is no householder, but a labourer.

Getting no answer, Hori asked — "Then what do you say?"

In a wounded voice Dhaniya said — "What is there to say? Gauri will come with the wedding party. Feed them one meal. Send the daughter off in the morning. The world will laugh — let it laugh. If it is God's will that our nose be cut, that black be smeared on our faces, then what shall we do!"

Suddenly Nohri, wearing a chunari, was seen passing in front. The moment she saw Hori, she drew a little veil. She considered him in the relation of a relative-by-marriage.

She had become acquainted with Dhaniya. Dhaniya called out — "Which way today, my fellow-marriage-mother? Come, sit."

Nohri had completed her conquest of all quarters, and was now making efforts to gather public opinion to her side. She came and stood there.

Looking her over from head to foot with critical eyes, Dhaniya said — "How have you strayed this way today?"

In a humble voice Nohri said — "Just so, I came along to meet you people. When is the daughter's marriage?"

In a vague tone Dhaniya said — "It is in God's hands — whenever it is done."

"But I heard it would be this very wedding season. Has the date been fixed?"

"Yes, the date is fixed."

"Give me an invitation too."

"You are family — what invitation?"

"You must have had the dowry things sent for? Let me see them too."

Dhaniya was in a quandary, what to say. Hori covered for her — "No things have been sent for yet, and what is there to do with things? We are to give a kusha-maiden."

With disbelieving eyes Nohri said — "Why should you give a kusha-maiden, Mahto? She is the first daughter; do it with an open heart."

Hori laughed, as though to say, "To you everything must look green; here it is mere drought."

"There is a shortage of money — how am I to do it with an open heart? What screen is there from you?"

"The son earns, you earn, and still no one will believe there is a shortage of money."

"Had the son been worthy, then what need was there to weep? He does not even send a letter; what will he send money? This is the second year — not one letter."

Just then Sona, with a bundle of green fodder for the bullocks on her head, stealing her youth with her anchal, simple as a young girl, came and, flinging down the bundle there, went inside.

Nohri said — "The girl has grown quite grown-up."

Dhaniya said — "The growth of a girl is the growth of the castor-plant. She is yet only of a few days."

"The bridegroom has been settled, has he not?"

"Yes, the bridegroom is settled. If the money can be arranged, we shall do the marriage this very month."

Nohri was small of heart. The little money she had lately put by was leaping about in her belly. If she gave some money for Sona's marriage, how much fame she would get. The talk of her would spread throughout the village. People would say in astonishment, "Nohri gave so much money. She is a great goddess." Hori and Dhaniya would go from house to house singing her praises. How much her honour and respect in the village would rise. She would sew up the mouths of those who pointed fingers. Then who would have the courage to laugh at her or fling taunts at her? Just now the whole village was her enemy. Then the whole village would become her well-wisher. At this fancy her face lit up.

"If you can manage with a little or a moderate sum, take it from me; when money comes into your hands, give it back."

Both Hori and Dhaniya looked at her. No, Nohri was not joking. In the eyes of both was wonder, was gratitude, was doubt, and was shame. Nohri was not so bad as people thought.

Nohri said again — "Your honour and ours is one. If you are laughed at, will I not be laughed at? However it may have come about, you are now our relative-by-marriage."

Hesitating, Hori said — "Your money is right here in the house; when need arises, we shall take it. A man, after all, trusts his own people; but if an arrangement can be made from outside, why touch the money of one's own household?"

Dhaniya endorsed it — "Yes, what else!"

Nohri made a show of intimacy — "When there is money in the house, why hold out your hand before outsiders? You will have to pay interest too, and on top of it write a stamp deed, get witnesses, give a commission, do flattery. Yes, if there is some pollution in my money, that is another matter."

Hori covered up — "No, no, Nohri, when the work can be managed within the house, why should we hold out our hand outside? But it is a matter between our own people. Farming is not to be relied upon. If you suddenly have some need and we cannot get the money together, you too will feel bad, and our life too will fall into difficulty. That is why I said it. No — the daughter is yours, after all."

"I have no such urgent need of money just yet."

"Then we shall take it from you. Why should even the fruit of giving away a daughter in marriage go outside?"

"How much money do you need?"

"How much can you give?"

"Will a hundred manage the work?"

Greed came over Hori. When God has torn open the thatch and given money, then why not take as much as one can.

"A hundred will manage it. Five hundred would manage it too. As much as one has heart for."

"I have two hundred rupees in all; that I shall give."

"Then with that much the work will manage very comfortably. There is grain in the house. But, Thakurain, today I tell you — I had not thought you to be such a Lakshmi. In this age, who helps anyone, and who has anything? You have saved me from drowning."

The time for lighting the lamp had come. It had begun to grow cold. The earth had drawn a blue sheet over itself. Dhaniya went inside and brought the firepan. All began to warm themselves. In the glow of the straw-fire, the dainty, gay-coloured, wanton Nohri sat before them like a boon. At this moment, in those eyes of hers, how much warm-heartedness there was, on her cheeks how much modesty, on her lips how much noble prompting!

After talking of this and that for a while, Nohri rose and, saying this, set off home — "It is getting late now. Come tomorrow and take the money, Mahto!"

"Come, let me see you home."

"No, no, you sit; I shall go on my own."

"My heart longs to seat you on my shoulders and carry you home."

Nokheram's chaupal was at the other end of the village, and the path going round outside was clear. The two set off by that path. Now all around was silence.

Nohri said — "Just explain a little to the Rawat. Why does he quarrel with everyone? When one has to live among these very people, one should live in such a way that four men become one's own. And his case is this — a quarrel with everyone, a fight with everyone. When you cannot keep me behind a veil, when I have to do labour for others, then how can it work that I should neither laugh nor speak with anyone, that no one should look at me or laugh? All that can happen only behind a veil. Just ask — if someone looks at me or stares at me, what should I do? I cannot put out his eyes, can I? Then by friendship and goodwill a man's hundred tasks get accomplished. Behave as you see the times to be. There was a time when the elephant swayed at your door, but of what use is that to you now? Now you are a labourer at three rupees. There were a hundred buffaloes tethered at my house, but now I am a labouring woman; yet not a single thing gets into his head. Sometimes he thinks of living with the sons, sometimes he thinks of going off to live in Lucknow. He has driven me to distraction."

Hori played the flatterer — "This is sheer foolishness of Bhola's. He has grown old, by now he should have some sense. I shall explain it to him."

"Then come in the morning, I shall give the money."

"Some writing……."

"You will not gobble up my money, I know."

Her house had come. She went inside. Hori turned back home.