27

Magistrate Brownlow Sahib was taking his evening walk along the riverside road, with Haranbabu in attendance. A little way off, his memsahib had gone out for an airing in a carriage, with Pareshbabu’s daughters.

Brownlow Sahib was in the habit of inviting Bengali gentlemen to his house from time to time for garden parties. He presided over the prize-distribution ceremonies at the district entrance school. When invited to a wedding or other ceremony at the home of a wealthy man, he would accept the host’s welcome. He had even, on being called to a jatra performance, sat in a large armchair and made a patient effort for some time to listen to the singing. At the house of the government pleader attached to his court, during the Puja holidays, two young boys had acted the parts of a water-carrier and a sweeper-woman at a jatra; he had expressed particular delight at their performance, and at his request their parts had been re-enacted before him more than once.

His wife was the daughter of a missionary. At his house there were occasional tea gatherings of missionary ladies. In the district he had established a girls’ school, and he took considerable pains to ensure that the school did not lack pupils. Seeing the pursuit of learning among the daughters of Pareshbabu’s household, he had always encouraged them; even when at a distance, he maintained an occasional correspondence and sent them religious books as Christmas gifts.

A fair had been convened in the district. On that occasion, Haranbabu had come along with Sudhir and Binoy, and Baradasundari with her daughters — they had been given accommodation in the inspection bungalow. Pareshbabu could not abide such commotion and had remained alone in Calcutta. Sucharita had made every effort to stay behind with him for companionship, but Paresh had given her particular instruction to attend to her duties at the Magistrate’s invitation and sent her off. The day after tomorrow, the Commissioner Sahib and the Lieutenant-Governor together with their wives were to attend a dinner at the Magistrate’s residence, after which there was to be an evening party at which the daughters of Pareshbabu were to perform a short dramatic piece and recitations. For this occasion, a number of the Magistrate’s English friends had been invited from the district and from Calcutta. Arrangements were also being made for the attendance of a few select Bengali gentlemen. It was said that a refreshment tent prepared by a Brahmin cook would also be set up in the garden for them.

Haranbabu had managed in a very short time to win the particular satisfaction of the Magistrate Sahib with his elevated conversation. The sahib had been astonished at Haranbabu’s uncommon familiarity with Christian scripture and had gone so far as to ask Haranbabu why he still maintained even so slight a reservation about embracing Christianity.

This afternoon, walking along the riverside path, the sahib had been engaged in deep discussion with Haranbabu on the workings of the Brahmo Samaj and the reform of Hindu society — when Gora appeared before him saying, “Good evening, sir.”

The previous day, attempting to call on the Magistrate, he had discovered that to cross the threshold of the sahib’s residence one had first to pay toll to his orderlies. Unwilling to submit to such a penalty and such an indignity, he had come today to meet the sahib during his evening constitutional. At this encounter, neither Haranbabu nor Gora showed any sign of recognition toward the other.

The sahib was somewhat taken aback on seeing the man. He could not recall having previously seen in Bengal a man taller than six feet, with such large bones and such a powerful frame. The colour of his complexion too was not like that of an ordinary Bengali. He wore a khaki-coloured Punjabi shirt, a coarse and soiled dhoti; in his hand was a bamboo staff, and he had wrapped his shawl around his head like a turban.

Gora said to the Magistrate, “I have come from Char-Ghoshpur.”

The Magistrate gave a sort of astonished whistle. He had received word only the day before that some stranger was coming to obstruct the investigation at Ghoshpur. So this was the man! He scrutinised Gora sharply from head to foot and asked, “What is your caste?”

Gora replied, “I am a Bengali Brahmin.”

The sahib said, “Oh! I suppose you have some connection with the newspapers?”

Gora said, “No.”

The Magistrate said, “Then what brings you to Char-Ghoshpur?”

Gora replied, “I was travelling and had taken shelter there. Seeing the marks of the village’s distress under the police’s tyranny, and knowing that further trouble was likely, I have come to you to seek redress.”

The Magistrate said, “You are aware, I take it, that the people of Char-Ghoshpur are thoroughly villainous?”

Gora replied, “They are not villainous — they are fearless, independent-minded — they cannot quietly endure unjust oppression.”

The Magistrate grew irritated. He concluded inwardly that this young Bengali had read some books of history and picked up a handful of stock phrases — insufferable!

“You know nothing at all of the situation here,” said the Magistrate, giving Gora a sharp rebuke.

“You know a great deal less of the situation here than I do.” Gora replied in a voice deep as thunder.

The Magistrate said, “I am warning you — if you interfere in the Ghoshpur affair in any manner whatsoever, you will not escape so cheaply.”

Gora said, “Since you have resolved not to redress the injustice, and since your opinion of the villagers is already fixed, I have no other recourse — I shall encourage the people of the village to stand up against the police through their own efforts.”

The Magistrate, who had been walking on, stopped suddenly, wheeled round towards Gora like a flash of lightning, and thundered, “What! Such extraordinary insolence!”

Gora said nothing further and walked away at an unhurried pace.

The Magistrate said, “Haranbabu, what is the meaning of such signs as these among the people of your country?”

Haranbabu said, “Education is not being imparted with sufficient depth — above all, there is virtually no spiritual or moral instruction in the country, and that is why such things occur. These people have not attained the capacity to receive what is finest in English learning. That the British rule over India is the ordinance of God — these ingrates still refuse to acknowledge it. The sole reason is that they have merely committed their lessons to memory, yet their sense of religion remains utterly undeveloped.”

The Magistrate said, “Without the acceptance of Christ, this religious sense will never reach its fullness in India.”

Haranbabu said, “In one sense that is true.” So saying, he engaged the Magistrate in a refined discussion concerning acceptance of Christ — precisely wherein his own views agreed and wherein they differed from those of a Christian — and so thoroughly absorbed that gentleman in the conversation that when the memsahib, having conveyed Pareshbabu’s daughters to the dak bungalow by carriage and turning back on her way home, said to her husband, “Harry, we must get back,” he started up, drew out his watch, and said, “By Jove, it is twenty past eight.”

As he was getting into the carriage, he pressed Haranbabu’s hand warmly in farewell and said, “I have passed a very pleasant evening in your company.”

Haranbabu returned to the dak bungalow and gave a full and detailed account of his conversation with the Magistrate. But of his meeting with Gora he made not the slightest mention.