28

Forty-seven persons had been sent to lock-up, not because any offence had been tried and proved against them, but solely to bring the village to heel.

After his meeting with the Magistrate, Gora went out in search of a lawyer. Someone told him that Satkari Haldar was a capable lawyer in these parts. The moment Gora arrived at Satkari’s house, the latter exclaimed, “Why, it’s Gora! You here!”

It was as Gora had supposed — Satkari had been his schoolfellow. Gora said that the accused from Char-Ghoshpur must be released on bail and their case conducted in court.

Satkari said, “Who will stand bail?”

Gora said, “I will.”

Satkari said, “What means have you to stand bail for forty-seven persons?”

Gora said, “If the pleaders will collectively stand bail, I shall pay their fees.”

Satkari said, “That will require no small sum of money.”

The following day an application for bail was placed before the Magistrate in court. The Magistrate cast one sidelong glance at that turbaned, warrior-like figure in his faded garments — the same man as the previous day — and dismissed the application. From boys of fourteen to old men of eighty, they were left to rot in gaol.

Gora pressed Satkari to take up the fight on their behalf. Satkari said, “Where will you find witnesses? All those who could have served as witnesses are themselves among the accused. Moreover, the investigations arising from this business of the assault on the Englishman have driven the people of this region to their wits’ end. The Magistrate has formed the impression that respectable persons are involved behind the scenes; he may well suspect me too, one cannot say. The English newspapers keep writing that if the native population is emboldened to such insolence, the defenceless and helpless English will no longer be able to live in the districts at all. Meanwhile, the people of the country can barely survive where they are. I know oppression is being committed, but there is nothing to be done.”

Gora burst out fiercely, “Why is there nothing to be done?”

Satkari laughed and said, “I see you are exactly as you were at school — not a whit changed. Nothing to be done means this: we have wives and children at home — if we do not earn each day, a good many people must go hungry. Men willing to take on the burden of others’ troubles and perish in the attempt are not many in this world — above all in a land where the household is no small or trivial matter. Those on whom ten persons depend have no leisure to look towards another ten persons beyond their own.”

Gora said, “Then you will do nothing at all for these people? If a motion were made in the High Court —”

Satkari said impatiently, “Good heavens, it is an Englishman who has been struck — can you not see that! Every Englishman is, in effect, a king — to strike even a minor Englishman is in some measure a petty act of sedition. I cannot afford to make a futile effort that will yield no result and bring down the Magistrate’s wrath upon me.”

Gora was setting out the next day, intending to travel by the half-past-ten train, with the thought of going to Calcutta to see whether some advantage might be obtained with the help of a lawyer there — when a sudden obstacle fell in his way.

A cricket match had been arranged between a party of Calcutta students and a local team of students, on the occasion of the fair held thereabouts. The Calcutta boys had been playing among themselves to sharpen their game. A cricket ball struck one of the boys on the leg, causing a serious injury. By the edge of a large tank that lay near the field, two students had supported the injured boy and laid him down upon the bank, and were binding his leg with cloth torn from a sheet and soaked in water, when suddenly a policeman appeared from nowhere and at once laid his hand on the shoulder of one of the students, shoved him, and reviled him in the filthiest language. The tank was reserved for drinking water, and it was forbidden to enter its water; the Calcutta students had not known this, and even had they known it, they were unaccustomed to bearing such sudden humiliation at the hands of a constable, and they were not lacking in bodily strength either — so they began to exact appropriate retribution for the affront. Seeing this sight, four or five constables came running. It was precisely at this moment that Gora arrived upon the scene. The students knew Gora — he had played cricket with them on many an occasion. When Gora saw that the students were being beaten and taken away, he could not endure it; he cried out, “Beware! Do not strike them!” The moment the constables flung their vilest abuse at him as well, Gora struck out with his fists and boots and created such a commotion that a crowd gathered in the road. Meanwhile, the body of students assembled in no time at all. Heartened and commanded by Gora, they fell upon the police, and the constables turned and fled. The bystanders on the road found it exceedingly entertaining; but needless to say, for Gora the entertainment was something far from trivial.

When the hour was three or four in the afternoon, and Binoy, Haranbabu, and the young women were occupied with rehearsal at the dak bungalow, two students of Binoy’s acquaintance arrived and reported that Gora and several of the students had been arrested by the police and placed in lock-up, and that the case would come before the Magistrate at the very first sitting of court the next morning.

Gora in lock-up! At this news everyone except Haranbabu was utterly taken aback. Binoy at once rushed out, went first to their schoolfellow Satkari Haldar, told him everything, and then took him along to the lock-up.

Satkari proposed to appear as his lawyer and make immediate efforts to have him released on bail. Gora said, “No — I shall retain no lawyer, and no effort need be made to release me on bail.”

What a thing to say! Satkari turned towards Binoy and said, “You see! Who would believe Gora had left school! His head is still exactly as it was!”

Gora said, “Simply because by chance I have money and friends, I do not wish to be freed from lock-up and handcuffs. The moral law of our country teaches us that it is the king’s business to deliver justice; injustice towards the subject is the king’s own sin. But in this kingdom, if a subject rots in lock-up for want of a lawyer’s fees, dies in gaol, if one must be stripped of everything one has in order to buy justice with money while the king sits above — then I am not willing to spend a quarter-pice on such justice.

Satkari said, “Brother, in the age of the Kazi one had to sell one’s very soul to pay bribes.”

Gora said, “But paying bribes was not the king’s ordained law. A Kazi who was corrupt took bribes — that still happens in this age too. But now, the moment one stands at the royal court seeking justice, whether plaintiff or defendant, whether guilty or innocent, the subject must weep tears. For the party that is poor, both winning and losing in a legal contest mean ruin alike. And when it is the Crown that is the plaintiff and a man such as I who is the defendant, the Crown has its lawyers and barristers at its side — while I must scramble to find my own if I can, and if I cannot, let fate determine the rest! If legal assistance is not required in a trial, why does a government prosecutor exist? And if it is required, why must the party opposing the government be compelled to find its own lawyer? Is this enmity towards the subject? What manner of kingly duty is this?”

Satkari said, “My friend, why be so hasty? Civilisation is not a cheap commodity. To render refined judgement, refined laws must be made; once refined laws are made, those who are not practitioners of the law cannot function at all; once a trade is being conducted, buying and selling must follow — and so the court of civilisation will inevitably turn itself into a marketplace where justice is bought and sold, and those without money must always face the prospect of being cheated. Tell me, if you were the king, what would you do?”

Gora said, “If I had enacted laws whose mysteries could not be penetrated even by the mind of a judge drawing a salary of a thousand or fifteen hundred rupees, then I would have provided government-appointed lawyers at public expense for both the wretched plaintiff and the wretched defendant. I would not have heaped the cost of good justice on the back of the subject and then taken pride in delivering fair judgement while vilifying the Pathans and the Mughals.”

Satkari said, “Very well then — since that happy day has not yet arrived, since you have not yet become the king, and since you are at present a defendant before the court of a civilised king, you must either spend your own money, or seek the refuge of a lawyer-friend, or else the third option will not prove a fortunate one.”

Gora said stubbornly, “Let me meet whatever fate befalls me without any effort on my part. Let my fate be that of the utterly helpless in this realm.”

Binoy pleaded at length, but Gora paid not the slightest heed. He asked Binoy, “How did you come to be here so suddenly?”

Binoy’s face flushed slightly. Had Gora not been in lock-up that day, Binoy might perhaps have stated the reason for his presence there in somewhat rebellious tones. Today the straightforward answer stuck in his throat; he said, “We can speak of me later — for now, your —”

Gora said, “I am today a guest of the Crown. The Crown itself is attending to my needs — none of you need trouble yourselves on my account.”

Binoy knew it was impossible to move Gora — and so the attempt to engage a lawyer had to be abandoned. He said, “I know you cannot eat here, at least let me arrange to send some food from outside.”

Gora said with impatience, “Binoy, why do you persist in vain efforts? I want nothing from outside. I ask for nothing more than what falls to the lot of everyone in lock-up.”

Binoy returned to the dak bungalow with a heavy heart. Sucharita had shut the door of a bedroom facing the road, opened the window, and was waiting for Binoy’s return. She could not bear, in any manner whatsoever, the company and conversation of the others.

When Sucharita saw Binoy approaching the dak bungalow with a troubled, despondent face, a turmoil of dread began to churn within her breast. With great effort she composed herself, took up a book in her hand, and came into the sitting room. Lalita did not care for needlework, but today she was sitting quietly in a corner, sewing; Labanya was playing a spelling game in English with Sudhir, with Leela as the observer; and Haranbabu was discussing with Baradasundari the arrangements for the following day’s celebration.

Binoy recounted in full the story of that morning’s conflict between Gora and the police. Sucharita sat in rigid silence; the needlework slipped from Lalita’s lap, and her face flushed red.

Baradasundari said, “Do not worry, Binoybabu — this evening I shall myself go to the Magistrate’s memsahib and entreat her on behalf of Gaurmohonbabu.”

Binoy said, “No, please do not do that — if Gora comes to hear of it, he will never forgive me as long as he lives.”

Sudhir said, “Some arrangement must be made for his defence.”

Binoy recounted all of Gora’s objections regarding the attempt to secure his release on bail and the engagement of a lawyer — and upon hearing this, Haranbabu said with ill-concealed impatience, “All this is sheer extravagance!”

Whatever Lalita’s private feelings towards Haranbabu, she had hitherto treated him with deference and had never entered into argument with him — today she shook her head sharply and spoke out, “It is not extravagance in the least — what Gourbabu has done is right. The Magistrate is to crush us and we are to make no effort to defend ourselves! We must pay taxes to provide his fat salary, and then also pay lawyers’ fees out of our own pockets to escape from his clutches! It is better to go to gaol than to receive justice of such a kind.”

Haranbabu had known Lalita since she was so small — it had never even occurred to him that she had any opinion of her own. The fierce words from her lips astonished him; he said to her in tones of reproof, “What do you understand of these matters? Those who have crammed a handful of books and barely stepped out of college, who have no religion, no understanding — to hear their irresponsible and frenzied ravings and let your heads be turned!”

So saying, he gave a full account of Gora’s meeting with the Magistrate the previous evening, and of his own subsequent conversation with the Magistrate on the subject. Binoy had known nothing of the Char-Ghoshpur affair. Hearing it now, he was seized with alarm; he understood that the Magistrate would not lightly pardon Gora.

The purpose for which Haran had narrated this story was entirely defeated. The fact that he had until now maintained a complete silence about his encounter with Gora struck Sucharita as a sign of his pettiness, and in every word Haran spoke there was revealed a personal jealousy towards Gora — which, on this day of Gora’s misfortune, bred a certain disrespect towards him in the hearts of everyone present. Sucharita had been silent all this while; an impulse to say something rose within her, but she held it back, opened her book, and began turning the pages with trembling hands. Lalita said with bold defiance, “Whatever accord there may be between the Magistrate’s views and Haranbabu’s, in the matter of Ghoshpur the greatness of Gaurmohonbabu has been amply demonstrated.”