Tales of Bengal Part 12

repeated at least twenty times. Below was "A.G. Henderson," also multiplied many-fold. The manager asked where Ramtonu had found the paper, and received the following answer:--"Your Highness, Pulin Babu here did not come to office on Monday; and for the next few days his work was done by Gyanendra Babu, who got the keys of his desk. I knew that he and some other clerks detested Pulin Babu, so I watched their movements narrowly, to see whether they would try to get him into a sc.r.a.pe, and more than once I surprised Gyanendra and Lakshminarain whispering together. On Tuesday neither of them left the office for lunch with the other clerks, and I seized some pretext for entering the room where they sit. Gyanendra roughly bade me begone; so I went to the verandah outside and peeped through the jilmils (Venetian blinds) of a window close to their desk. Lakshminarain was copying some English words from a paper on his left side, while the other clerk looked on, nodding and shaking his head from time to time. After writing in this fashion for a while, Lakshminarain took a sheet of notepaper covered with writing and copied the signature many times, until both babus were satisfied with the result. Then I saw Gyanendra unlock Pulin Babu's desk, take out a cheque-book, and hand it to the other man, who filled up the counterfoil and body of one blank cheque, glancing sometimes at the paper in front of him. He returned it to Gyanendra who placed it in a pocket-book. After tearing up the papers they had used and throwing them into the waste-paper basket, they left the room. I ran round, carefully avoiding them, picked the fragments of paper out of the basket, tied them in a corner of my gamcha (wrapper), and left the office quickly, asking the doorkeeper what direction they had taken. When he said that they had turned northwards, I guessed that they were off to the Bank, in order to cash the cheque, and sure enough I overtook them not more than a ra.s.si from the office. Following them at a little distance on the other side of the street, I saw them stop outside the Standard Bank and look anxiously around. Presently a schoolboy pa.s.sed by, whom they hailed and, after talking for a while, Gyanendra handed him the cheque with a small linen money-bag, and pointed to the door of the Bank. The lad went inside, while both babus waited round the corner. In a short time he came out and handed the bag full of money to Gyanendra, who gave him something and hurried back to the office with his companion. Putting two and two together I felt a.s.sured that those clerks had forged the cheque; and had I known where Pulin Babu lived, I would certainly have communicated my suspicions to him. Having to work without his help, I persuaded a student, who lodges near my quarters, to piece the sc.r.a.ps of paper together. It took him two hours to do so, and we then pasted them carefully on this sheet of foolscap. You will see, Saheb, that there are thirty-seven in all, and only three missing."

The story made a deep impression on Mr. Henderson and the Police Inspector, while Pulin was raised to the seventh heaven of delight by the thought that his innocence might yet be established.

"Could you identify the boy?" asked the Europeans with one breath.

"I don't know his name," was Ramtonu's rejoinder; "but I think I could pick him out, for he pa.s.ses this office daily on his way to and from school. But this is just the time when he goes home for tiffin. With your Highness's permission, I will watch for him in the street."

"Do so by all means," was the Inspector's reply. "Meanwhile, I'll take down notes of your statement."

Ramtonu went out and in a few minutes returned dragging with him triumphantly a well-dressed lad of fifteen, who seemed terribly alarmed by the company into which he was thrust. The Inspector calmed his fears by a.s.suring him that he would come to no harm if only he spoke the whole truth. "You have been unwittingly made the instrument of a forgery," he added, "and we want your help towards detecting it." The boy plucked up courage and answered every question put him quite candidly. His tale corroborated Ramtonu's in most particulars, with the addition that the tall babu had given him eight annas bakshish for cashing the cheque. He had not seen either of the men previously, but thought he should be able to recognise one of them owing to his unusual height.

"Now, bearer," said Mr. Henderson, "go and fetch both the clerks; bring in the tall one first, but keep an eye on the other outside and beyond earshot."

Ramtonu left the room with alacrity and presently returned ushering Lakshminarain into the dreaded presence. The newcomer was beside himself with terror; and when he was identified by the schoolboy as one of the men who had employed him to cash the cheque, he did not wait to be asked for an explanation. Throwing himself at Mr. Henderson's feet he begged for mercy, promising to reveal the entire truth. The Inspector would make no promises but simply adjured him to make a clean breast of his share in the transaction. Lakshminarain obeyed, and his statement, interrupted by many sobs, was duly recorded. His accomplice was next introduced. At first Gyanendra was inclined to put a bold face on the matter, stoutly affirming that it was a put-up affair between Pulin and Ramtonu. When, however, the Inspector read out to him the deposition of the bearer and schoolboy, he saw that the game was up and confessed his misdoings, accusing the head clerk of having prompted them. The culprits were taken in a ticca gari (four-wheeled cab) to the police station Pulin occupying the box, while Ramtonu ran behind.

Well, to cut a long story short, the prisoners stuck to their confession and refunded their ill-gotten gains. They were duly committed to the High Court on charges of forgery and conspiring to accuse an innocent man of the like offence. They both pleaded guilty, and the judge remarked that it was one of the worst cases of the kind he had ever tried. In pa.s.sing sentence of two years rigorous imprisonment on each prisoner, he added that they would have fared worse but for the patent fact that they had been made catspaws of by some one who kept in the background. As there was no evidence against Debnath Babu, except that of accomplices, he was not prosecuted; but immediately after the trial, Messrs. Kerr & Dunlop dismissed him without notice. Kisari Babu was promoted to the vacant office of head clerk, while Pulin stepped into his friend's shoes. By unfailing application to duty, he won Messrs. Kerr & Dunlop's entire confidence, and in fulness of time succeeded Kisari Babu as head clerk. Ten or twelve years later, Pulin was rich enough to build a pakka (masonry) house at Kadampur, which far eclipsed his father-in-law's, and had a well-paid doorkeeper in the person of Ramtonu. The once-despised gharjamai took a leading position among the local gentry.

CHAPTER XVI

Gobardhan's Triumph.

Jadu Babu's four-year-old daughter, Mrinalini, or Mrinu as she was called in the family, came to her mother one evening to say that her kitten was lost. In vain was she taken on the maternal lap, her tears gently wiped away, and all manner of pretty toys promised. Her little frame was convulsed with sobs, and she refused to be comforted. So her mother sent a maidservant to search for the plaything. The girl returned shortly and said that the kitten was certainly not in the house. At this Mrinu howled more loudly than ever, bringing her father on the scene. He pacified the child by undertaking to produce her pet, and told the servants that the finder would be handsomely rewarded. Meanwhile his wife was trying to keep Mrinu's attention engaged by telling her a long story, when she suddenly exclaimed, "What has become of your jasam (gold bracelet)?"

Mrinu replied, "I took it off to play with kitty and laid it down somewhere".

This was all the information she could vouchsafe in answer to repeated questions. The mother set her down and proceeded to search every hole and corner for the jasam, but it was not to be found. Her husband was greatly alarmed on hearing of this untoward event. The loss of Rs. 100, at which the trinket was valued, might have been borne; but Hindus believe that misfortune invariably follows the loss of gold. He set all his servants and hangers-on to look for the jasam, but they were unsuccessful. In despair he hurried to Nalini for advice and was told to send for Gobardhan, which he promptly did.

The astrologer listened attentively to his story and then asked whether Jadu Babu would try Bati Chala (divination by the bata leaf), or some simpler method of discovering the lost jasam. On learning that the matter would be left entirely in his hands, he told Jadu Babu to collect all his servants in the parlour and let him have half a seer (1 lb.) of raw rice, with as many strips of banana leaf as there were servants. When all were a.s.sembled, Gobardhan thus addressed them, "Mrinu has lost her jasam, have any of you seen it?" The reply was a chorus of "Noes" with emphatic head-shakings. "Then none of you have stolen it?" Again a volume of protestations. "Very well, then," said Gobardhan, "I must try the ordeal of chewed rice." After uttering many mantras (incantations) and waving his hand over the pile of grain and banana leaves, he dealt out a quotum of each to the servants.

"Now" he said, "you will masticate the rice for a minute thoroughly and then drop the result on your leaves. I warn you that it will be deadly poison for the thief." All obeyed with alacrity, and Gobardhan, after examining the contents of each leaf, a.s.sured Jadu Babu that the jasam had not been stolen.

My readers who are versed in science will understand that, in point of fact, there is nothing magical about this rite, which is based on the circ.u.mstance that fear checks the flow of saliva. In all probability a thief would eject the rice absolutely dry.

The inference was that the jasam had been mislaid; and Jadu Babu asked whether Gobardhan's lore was equal to recovering it.

"Possibly," answered the astrologer, "but it is not a case of Bati Chala; if you can guarantee me Rs. 10, I will perform Nakha Darpan (literally 'nail-mirror'). Let me have an almanac, please, to find an auspicious day."

After examining it and receiving a ten-rupee note from Jadu Babu, the astrologer said oracularly that he would return on the following afternoon, with a lad of twelve, who had been born under the Constellation of the Scales.

At the appointed hour, Gobardhan came accompanied by his acolyte, with whom he sat down at the Chandimandab (a shrine of the G.o.ddess Durga, found in most Hindu houses, which serves for social gatherings). Jadu Babu and the bhadra-lok (gentle-folk) took their seats there too, while the underlings formed a respectful half-circle in front. Adjuring all to keep perfect silence, he asked the lad to gaze into the nail on his own right index finger and tell the people what he saw there. After staring at it for a minute or so, the boy began to tremble violently and whispered: "I see a mango-tope (orchard); a little girl is playing with her kitten under the trees. Now I see her slipping a jasam from her arm, the kitten frisks about, and the child follows it; now it disappears, and the child runs indoors." Then, raising his voice to a shrill scream, he pointed with his left hand to the north and asked:--

"What are those animals which are prowling in the orchard? Are they dogs? No--they are jackals--one, two, three jackals! They pounce on the kitten, and tear her limb from limb! Now everything is growing hazy; I can't see any more!"

A thrill of fear ran through the audience, and one might have heard a pin drop. At length Gobardhan broke the silence:--

"Let us go to the mango-tope north of this house," he said solemnly.

Thither they hurried and, after a few minutes' search, one of the maidservants cried out that she had found the jasam half-hidden by the gnarled roots of a tree.

Jadu Babu was overjoyed by the recovery of his missing jewel, and pressed another fee of ten rupees on the astrologer. As for Gobardhan, his fame spread far and wide, and his hut was rarely without some client, eager to learn the future.

CHAPTER XVII

Patience is a Virtue.

Sadhu Sheikh of Simulgachi was not long in finding a husband for his half-sister, Maini Bibi. Before she was fourteen, a young farmer named Ramzan proposed for her hand, offering a den mohur of Rs. 100. The den mohur is a device recognised by Mohammadan law for protecting married women from capricious repudiation. The husband binds himself to refund a fict.i.tious dowry, generally far above his means, in case he should divorce his wife for no fault of hers. Ramzan was accepted by Sadhu, and the marriage was duly celebrated. Maini Bibi was a handsome girl; but beauty was among the least of her gifts. She was sweet-tempered, thrifty, and obedient, winning sympathy on all sides. The one discordant note was struck by Ramzan's mother, Fatima Bibi by name, who took a violent dislike to the bride and evinced it by persistently scolding and ill-using her. Ramzan was completely under his mother's thumb and saw everything with her eyes. His love for Maini was slowly sapped by her innuendoes, and he treated the poor girl with something worse than coldness. Maini, however, bore her hard lot without a murmur, hoping that time and patience would win back her husband's heart.

On returning one evening from the fields, Ramzan was hailed by his mother who was evidently in a worse temper than usual.

"Hi! Ramzan," she shrieked, "I am an old woman, and you, doubtless, find me an inc.u.mbrance. Speak out, my son; you have only to say 'go,'

and I will leave this house in half an hour."

"Why, what's the matter, mother?" asked Ramzan with open eyes.

"Matter," she yelled. "Would you believe it, that black-faced daughter of a pig has actually abused me--me, your old mother!"

"What did she say?" rejoined Ramzan angrily.

"My son," was the answer, "you know how she neglects household duties, leaving all the hard jobs to me. Well, this afternoon, I ventured on a word of remonstrance, and she actually abused me." And the old woman wiped her tears away with a corner of her cotton wrapper, adding with eyes cast heavenwards, "Merciful Allah, to think that I should come to this in my old age!"

"But what did she say?" repeated Ramzan wearily.

"She told me to my face that I had forgotten to put salt into the curry!"

"That's hardly abusive," rejoined Ramzan.

"You think so," shouted Fatima. "Now you're taking sides with her against your mother, who bore you. You will a.s.suredly suffer in Jehannam (h.e.l.l) for such a crime! But I'll have it out with that she-devil!"

So saying, she dashed from the room to the kitchen, where the luckless Maini was cowering in antic.i.p.ation of a coming storm. She was not deceived. Fatima seized her by the hair and administered a sound thumping.

Several days pa.s.sed by, bringing no alleviation to her fate. But matters came to a crisis on a certain morning, owing to Ramzan's complaint that his wife had over-salted the curry. On tasting the food, Fatima burst into violent imprecations and "went for" her daughter-in-law, who took refuge in the neighbouring brushwood. At nightfall she crept back to the house and found Ramzan closeted with his mother. They were talking earnestly, but Maini could not distinguish the purport of the conversation. It seemed to her that Fatima's voice was raised in entreaty, and Ramzan was objecting to some scheme proposed by her. She pa.s.sed the night sleepless and in tears.

Early next day Ramzan entered her room and said gruffly, "Get up, collect your chattels, and follow me. I am going to take you back to Sadhu's." Maini obeyed without a word of remonstrance, and a quarter of an hour later the ill-a.s.sorted pair might have been seen walking towards Simulgachi.

The rainy season was now in full swing, and their path lay across a deep nullah (ravine) through which mighty volumes of drainage water were finding their way to the Ganges. On reaching a bamboo foot-bridge which spanned it, Ramzan ordered his wife to go first. Ere she reached the opposite bank, he gave her a violent shove, which sent her shrieking vainly for help into the swirling torrent below.

Hardly had Ramzan perpetrated this odious deed than he felt he would give his chances of bihisht (paradise) to recall it. He ran along the bank shouting frantically, "Maini! Maini!" Alas! her slender body was carried like a straw by the foaming water towards the Ganges and soon disappeared in a bend of the nullah. Then her murderer sat down and gave himself up to despair. But the sun was up; people were stirring in the fields; and so he slunk homewards. Fatima stood on the threshold and raised her eyebrows inquiringly; but Ramzan thrust her aside, muttering, "It is done," and shut himself up in his wife's room. There everything reminded him of her; the scrupulous neatness of floor and walls--no cobwebs hanging from the rafters, the kitchen utensils shining like mirrors. He sat down and burst into a flood of tears.

For several days he did not exchange a word with his accomplice, and dared not go to market lest his worst fears should be realised. Dread of personal consequences added new torture to unavailing remorse. Every moment he expected the red-pagried ministers of justice to appear and hale him to the scaffold. The position was clearly past bearing. So, too, thought Fatima, for she waylaid her son one afternoon and said: "Ramzan, I cannot stand this life any longer; let me go to my brother Mahmud Sardar, the cooly-catcher".

"Go," he replied sullenly, and the old woman gathered up her belongings in a bundle and departed, leaving him to face the dark future alone.

While brooding over his fate, he was startled by the sudden arrival of Sadhu. "Now I'm in for it," he thought and began to tremble violently while his features a.s.sumed an ashen hue. But Sadhu sat down by his side and said, "Ramzan, I've come about Maini".

"Then she's drowned!" gasped Ramzan. "By Allah the Highest, I swear that I did my best to save her."