The Complete Short Stories Page 8

  The preparations began right from the morning. The invitations went round to the neighbouring villages. There was to be a feast after the prayer meeting. Whoever heard it was filled with surprise—how had this grass sprung from sandy soil?

  In the evening, when everyone had gathered and the pandit had enthroned himself, Mahadev stood up and addressed everybody in a loud tone, ‘Brothers! I’ve spent all my life swindling people. I’ve lost count of how many I deceived, how many times I termed the authentic as fake. However, now God has been kind to me and has provided me with an opportunity to wipe the smear off my name. I hereby declare to all of you that if anyone feels that I owe him something or have stolen something from him or that I have converted his genuine goods into something spurious, he can come now and take back whatever is his due to the last penny. If perchance, that person is unable to come today, then from tomorrow onwards till a month, as and when it is convenient, he may come and settle his account. There is no need for any proof or witness.’

  A stunned silence ensued. Someone shook his head sympathetically, ‘Didn’t I say so?’ Someone asked disbelievingly, ‘How does he plan to pay up? The total may come to thousands!’ One thakur poked fun, ‘And what about those people who are deceased?’ Mahadev replied, ‘They would surely have surviving kin?’

  However, people were keener on wanting to know how he had managed to lay his hands on such a huge amount of money rather than getting their money back. Nobody dared approach Mahadev. These simple village folk did not know how to dig out skeletons from the closet. Moreover, nobody could recall exactly how much Mahadev owed them and the fear of claiming incorrectly was tantamount to committing a sacrilege on such an auspicious occasion. The most significant thing was that Mahadev’s saintly gesture had had a mesmerizing effect on them.

  Suddenly, the purohit said, ‘If you remember, I had given you some gold for a necklace and you underweighed it.’

  Mahadev agreed, ‘Yes, I recall, and how much was your loss?’

  The purohit said, ‘It couldn’t have been less than fifty rupees.’

  Mahadev took out two coins from his waistband and offered it to the purohit. Everybody began pointing out the purohit’s avarice. This was cheating! If at all, the loss could not have been more than a few rupees. He had extorted fifty rupees from the poor man! He did not even fear God! With such a poor conscience, how could he call himself a priest? Good God!

  People began to regard Mahadev with something close to veneration. An hour passed and there were no more claimants among the many who were present there. Mahadev repeated the request, ‘It seems as if you have forgotten your dues. In that case, let the prayer meeting end today. I will wait for a month and only then proceed on a pilgrimage. It is my earnest plea that you help me to redeem myself.’

  For a month Mahadev waited for his creditors. He would not get any sleep for fear of robbers. He had stopped working. He had even given up alcohol. The holy men and other guests who came to his door would be treated generously. His fame spread far and wide. The month passed by and not a single person turned up to claim anything. It now dawned on Mahadev how much goodness and right conduct there was in this world! The world was a bad place for evil people and good for the righteous!

  6

  Fifty years have gone by. If you go to Vedon village, you can see a golden urn from afar. It is placed at the thakur’s door. Adjoining it is a cemented pond where lotuses bloom in abundance. Nobody catches the fish in it, and beside it is a huge samadhi. It is Atmaram’s memorial, related to which many tales are prevalent. Some say that the bejewelled cage ascended to the heavens and some believe that it disappeared, with the parrot reciting ‘Sat gurudutt Shivdutt daata’. The truth was that the moon-like parrot had been swallowed by a saturnine cat. People say that at midnight one can still hear the incantation near the pond—‘Sat gurudutt Shivdutt daata, Ram ke charan mein chitt laaga.’

  Even about Mahadev there are many popular legends. The most accepted one is that after having memorialized Atmaram, he set off for the Himalayas with many sanyasis and never returned. He came to be known as Atmaram thereafter.

  Translated from the Hindi by Deeba Zafir

  The Correction

  1

  The gardener Durga worked at the bar-at-law Dr Mehra’s place and earned five rupees a month. His wife and three young children made up his family. His wife ground wheat for her neighbours while his two children, sensible for their age, foraged for dry twigs, leftover grains of wheat from fields, and dried cow dung for fuel. Yet, despite this hard work, they lived in penury. Durga would often steal flowers from the garden, keeping away from Doctor Sahib’s eyes to sell them off to the temple priests. Sometimes he would also lay his hands on fruit. This was his extra income which took care of his smaller domestic needs. Many a times he requested Doctor Sahib for a hike in his salary, but for Doctor Sahib any increase in a servant’s salary was tantamount to the spread of a contagious disease which devours one and all. He would openly declare, ‘Look, you are not bound to me. If you don’t find this salary good enough, you can always find some other place to work. There is no dearth of gardeners for me.’ So, Durga had no courage to leave a secure job and search for another. He languished in this job and continued.

  Doctor Sahib loved gardening. He had planted a good variety of flowers and plants in his garden which he had procured from places such as Darbhanga, Malihabad, Saharanpur, among others. He would be extremely happy to see his fruit-laden trees and gifted his friends with bouquets of flowers and baskets of green vegetables. He was not very interested in having the fruits himself and instead derived greater happiness in seeing his friends relish them. During each season, he would invite his friends over to his place for parties and his picnics would be the star attraction of their entertainment.

  Once, during the summer, he invited some of his friends to feast on mangoes. A rich harvest of Malihabadi Safeda mangoes awaited them in the garden. Doctor Sahib had been watching over the fruits every day. As it was the first time that the trees had borne fruit, he wanted to hear the compliments his friends paid to the sweetness and taste of his mangoes. The mere thought of this gave him the same joy a wrestler would gain by showing off the talent of his apprentices. He, too, hadn’t come across such big and succulent mangoes. He firmly believed that each of them would be so delicious that it was unnecessary to taste them beforehand mainly because one fruit tasted would deprive one of his friends from having it.

  It was evening and the month of Chaitra. Friends had arrived and were sitting on chairs in the garden beside the pool. Arrangements for milk and ice had already been made but the mangoes had not been picked as yet. Doctor Sahib had wanted to first show them the fruit hanging on the branches before picking them so that everyone believed that the mangoes actually came from his garden. When all the gentlemen arrived, he announced, ‘You would be inconvenienced a little but you must come and see the fruits hanging on the trees. It is a sight worth watching! Even roses don’t carry such a lovely blush as these seem to have. Their colour seems to ensure their taste. I had got the cutting especially from Malihabad and the plant was nurtured carefully.’

  The friends got up. Doctor Sahib led them on the path to the garden, on both sides of which were rosebeds. Pointing out their loveliness, he finally reached the Safeda mango trees. But surprise of all surprises! There was not a single fruit on them. Doctor Sahib thought perhaps this wasn’t the tree, so he moved a couple of steps ahead; he found another tree, he moved on and found the next tree. Then, he retraced his steps and stood below a Safeda tree in shocked surprise. Undoubtedly, these were the trees, but where had all the fruit gone? There had been around two dozen mangoes, but now there were none! Then he looked at his friends with guilt and exclaimed: ‘How strange! This tree does not have a single fruit. I had seen in the morning that the trees were laden with fruit. Look, these are the stalks of the fruits. I am sure this is the mischief of the gardener. I will break his bones today. See! How this rogu
e has cheated me! I am very sorry for the trouble this has unnecessarily caused you. Honestly, I am so pained by this incident that I cannot express it. Never in my life had I seen such lovely, luscious and tender fruit! The manner in which they vanished has broken my heart.’

  Having said this, he collapsed in a chair in great sorrow.

  His friends consoled him, ‘Servants are the same everywhere. The very race of servants is cunning. Please don’t worry about our inconvenience. Forget about these Safedas, we can have other ones.’

  One of the gentlemen said, ‘My friend! In fact, all mangoes taste alike to me. I can’t make out any difference between varieties like Safeda, Mohanbhog, Langda, Bombay, Fazali, or Dussehri. I wonder how you make a distinction by their taste.’

  Another said, ‘It’s the same with me, too! Please get us those that are available. Why cry over spilt milk?’

  Sadly pained, Doctor Sahib said, ‘There is no dearth of mangoes. The garden is full of them. Please have them to your fill and also carry them home. What else are they meant for? But, where is that taste and flavour? You won’t believe, those Safedas looked as appealing as apples. Apples do look good but where is the delicious beauty and ambrosial sweetness in them? The gardener is responsible for this crime and I feel like shooting this ungrateful wretch. If he comes before me, I will thrash him till he is half-dead.’

  The gardener had gone to the market. Doctor Sahib asked his horse keeper to pluck some mangoes. His friends relished the mangoes with milk, thanked him and left for their homes. But Doctor Sahib waited for the gardener beside the pool with a hunter in his hand.

  2

  Durga returned late in the evening from the market. He looked around with suspicion. The moment he saw Doctor Sahib sitting beside the pool with a hunter, he was frightened. He knew immediately that his game was up. This was why he had deliberately delayed his return from the market. He had presumed that by the time he reached home, Doctor Sahib would have left for a walk and he would quietly sneak into his hut under the jackfruit tree. Meanwhile, he would get some time to find an excuse by morning. He would then say, ‘My lord! You can search my hut’, and the matter would slowly die a natural death. Time is the best alibi for a successful thief. It proves him innocent with each moment. But when he is caught red-handed, there is no way out. Dried blood can be mistaken for colour but fresh blood calls attention to itself! Durga stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding with fear. Doctor Sahib had seen him now. It was useless to withdraw.

  The moment Doctor Sahib saw him, he walked towards him thinking of thrashing him well. But he was an advocate by profession so he thought it mandatory that he give him a chance to speak. He beckoned him and inquired, ‘The Safeda trees had plenty of mangoes. Now I can’t find even one. Where have they all disappeared?’

  Durga replied with feigned innocence, ‘Huzoor! When I left for the bazaar, they were all there. If during my absence someone plucked them, I can’t say.’

  ‘Who do you suspect?’

  ‘Sarkar! Now, who should I name?’

  ‘But I suspect you! If you have taken them away, return them to me or admit that you stole them. Else I will punish you really hard.’

  A thief wants to save himself not only from retribution but also from insult. Retribution does not make him as fearful as insult. Even when he is left with no hope of saving himself, he will not accept his crime. Better to face the penalty and be proven innocent than to be let off and proven guilty. Durga could have accepted his delinquency and saved himself from punishment but he said, ‘Huzoor! You are my master, do what you may, but I haven’t stolen the mangoes. You tell me, I have been serving you for this long, have I ever touched even a leaf off the branch?’

  ‘Can you swear by God?’

  ‘I swear by the holy river Ganga, if I ever touched the mangoes.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Go and get some water in a vessel, put some tulsi leaves into it, then swear by it and say “If I have stolen the mangoes, may the curse befall my son.” Only then will I believe you.’

  ‘Huzoor! Let truth prevail. I can swear by any God. When I haven’t sinned why would any curse befall me?’

  ‘Okay, now don’t tell me stories. Go and get the water.’

  Doctor Sahib was quite knowledgeable about human nature. He had to remain regularly in touch with all kinds of criminals. Although Durga was acting brave and bold, in his heart of hearts he was terrified.

  He came to his hut but had no courage to carry the pot of water back. His hands trembled. He remembered those incidents when divine wrath had befallen those who had sworn falsely by the holy river’s name. Never in his life had he experienced such heartfelt trust in divine omniscience. He decided, ‘I will not swear falsely by the holy river. The worst that could happen to me is that I would be chucked out of the job. I will find another job somewhere and if I don’t find one, a labourer’s job is always available. Even if I plough the field, it will surely provide me at least half a kilo of flour for the evening meal.’ He came and stood empty-handed before Doctor Sahib.

  Doctor Sahib asked him sternly, ‘Did you get the water?’

  ‘Huzoor! I will not swear by the river Ganga!’

  ‘So, it is proven that you have stolen the mangoes!’

  ‘Now, let the master think whatever he deems to be true. Suppose I did steal the mangoes, I am your servant after all. I slog day and night for you. When children cry for mangoes what do I do? Spare me this time. This will never happen again.’

  Doctor Sahib was not so generous. He was kind enough not to hand him over to the police or to whip him with his hunter. Durga’s belief in the divine had softened his attitude towards him. But it was impossible to keep a person of such weak disposition in his service. Durga was immediately dismissed without receiving half a month’s salary.

  3

  Many months later, Doctor Sahib visited Babu Premshankar to have a look at his garden. He wanted to get some good cuttings from there. Premshankar also loved gardening and this was the only common interest between them, otherwise they were very different from each other. Premshankar was a contented, simple and kindhearted man. For many years, he had lived in America, where he had studied agricultural science in depth and, after his return, made this avocation his source of livelihood. He held strange ideas on human character and the present social system. As a result, people from civilized society ignored him and considered him crazy. There was no doubt that people had a kind of philosophical empathy with his principles but they doubted their pragmatic veracity. The world is a field of action not a site for debate. Doctrines will remain only doctrines; they will have no relation with direct sensory experiences.

  When Doctor Sahib reached his place, he found Premshankar watering the plants. A man stood at the well and was drawing water with the help of a pump. Doctor Sahib recognized him at once. He was Durga the gardener. At that moment, Doctor Sahib felt a strange pang of jealousy towards Durga. How could this detestable creature, whom he had punished and fired, get a job in the first place? Had Doctor Sahib found him shabby and miserable, he would surely have felt compassion for him. Perhaps he may have given him some money, too, and said good words about him to Premshankar. He was kind and merciful towards his servants but this kindness and compassion was not at all different from the kindness he felt for his dogs or horses. The foundation of this generosity was not based on justice but was charity for the underdog. Durga saw him and saluted him from near the well and continued to work. His pride pierced Doctor Sahib’s heart like a spear. He was annoyed that Durga was better off after he was sacked. The smugness he had for his own kindheartedness suffered a dent. As soon as Premshankar shook hands with him and took him on a visit to the flower beds, he asked him, ‘Since when has this man been with you?’

  ‘He may have been around for six or seven months.’

  ‘I hope he doesn’t pilfer things. He worked as a gardener at my place. I got so fed up of his thievery that I had to sack him. Sometimes he would
pluck flowers and sell them, or else he would steal plants and saplings, and what to say about fruit? Mangoes could never be safe with him. Once I invited my friends over for a party. The Malihabadi Safeda mangoes had borne a good crop. When all my friends arrived and I took them around, the fruit had vanished into thin air! You can’t imagine how embarrassing it was! I gave him a good shouting that very moment. He is a rascal and so clever that it’s difficult to catch him. Only a person with the cunning of an advocate can see through him. He whizzes past you with such ingenuity and brazenness that you are left gaping! Has he ever fooled you?’

  ‘No, never. He has never given me an occasion to complain. Here he works so hard that he doesn’t even take a break in the afternoon to rest. I have started depending on him so much that I leave the whole orchard to him. Whatever income is made during the day, he hands it over to me by the evening and it is never short even by a penny!’

  ‘This is his ploy; he will fleece you blatantly even before you know. How much do you pay him?’

  ‘No one is paid here. All of us share the profits equally. At the end of the month, out of whatever is saved, ten rupees per hundred is given as charity and the rest is equally distributed among us. Last month we made a profit of one hundred and forty rupees. We are seven of us. Each of us got twenty rupees. This time we have a good harvest of oranges. Green peas, sugar cane, cauliflowers, etc., are generating good income. So, this time our share will not be less than forty rupees each.’