Early the next morning, Rama set out for Ramesh Babu's house. They too had a tableau for Janmashtami. He himself had no particular affection for it, but his wife used to celebrate the festival, and they had continued holding it in her memory. Seeing Rama, he said, “Come in. Why didn't you come last night? But why would you come to the house of poor people? How could you have missed the merchant's tableau? It must have been splendid!”
Ramanath—“It wasn't as elaborate as yours, though it was better than in previous years. Several Kathak dancers and prostitutes had also come. I left, but I heard the singing continued throughout the night.”
Ramesh—“The merchant had promised that prostitutes would not be allowed to come, so what did he do this for? These fools will destroy Hindu religion. The very name of prostitutes is bad enough, and then at a temple! Shame, shame. Who knows when these donkeys will acquire some sense?”
Ramanath—“If there are no prostitutes, who would go to see the tableau? Not everyone is a yogi and ascetic like you.”
Ramesh—“If it were in my power, I would use the law to put a stop to this misconduct. Anyway, if you have some free time, come and let us play a game or two.”
Ramanath—“And why else have I come? But today you will have to accompany me to the jewellers' market. I am acquainted with several major establishments, but having you with me will make all the difference.”
Ramesh—“I will go with you, but I am completely ignorant about this subject. I have never had anything made or bought anything. What do you want to buy?”
Ramanath—“It isn't that I necessarily want to buy anything. I just want to look at the prices.”
Ramesh—“It seems you have been reprimanded at home.”
Ramanath—“Not at all. She doesn't even mention jewelry. Even when I ask, she refuses. But surely I have some duty too. Not a single piece has been made since the jewelry was stolen.”
Ramesh—“It seems you have learned how to earn money. Why wouldn't you? You are a Kayastha's son. How much have you saved?”
Ramanath—“Who has money? I will take them on credit.”
Ramesh—“Don't get caught up in this obsession. Until you have money in hand, don't even go toward the market. Old men use jewelry to please their young wives. Poor fellows have nothing besides jewelry. Young men have many other attractions. If I wished, I could get you goods worth two or four thousand rupees, but, my friend, the habit of borrowing is bad.”
Ramanath—“I will repay all the money within two or three months. If I did not have confidence in that, I would never have mentioned it.”
Ramesh—“Then why don't you wait another two or three months? There is no greater sin than debt, nor a greater calamity. Once the fever starts, you will be seen standing at the jeweller's shop every day. Don't take it badly. I know your income is good, but trust the future for anything else you like—never borrow money. I don't know how the disease of jewelry has spread through this poor country. Even people who have no certainty of food give their lives for jewelry. Every year billions of rupees are spent merely on buying gold and silver. No other country in the world consumes so much of these metals. What is the reason? In advanced countries, wealth is invested in trade.”
“Here, wealth that should support people's lives and increase their prosperity is spent on adornment. The two great forces of progress and public benefit are thereby destroyed. Simply understand that the more foolish the people of a country are, the more widely jewelry will be worn there. Here people are content merely to pierce their noses and ears; but there are countries where people pierce their lips and wear ornaments there.”
Rama asked curiously, “Which country is that?”
Ramesh—“I cannot remember exactly at the moment, but perhaps it is Africa. It amazes us to hear this, but to people in other countries, piercing the nose and ears would probably be no less astonishing. It is a terrible disease, a very terrible one. Money that should be spent on food is taken from the mouths of children and offered to jewelry. Let the children go without milk; it does not matter. Let them never even smell ghee; that does not matter. Let them never see nuts and fruit; no one cares. But the goddess must wear jewelry, and the husband must certainly have jewelry made for her. I see clerks who earn ten or twenty rupees a month and spend their lives like animals in rotten little rooms, who cannot even afford breakfast in the morning, yet they too are obsessed with jewelry. This practice is destroying us. I say that this slavery is far worse than political subjugation. Because of it, we are suffering spiritual, moral, physical, economic, and religious decline. Even Brahma could not estimate its extent.”
Ramanath—“I think there is no country where women do not wear jewelry. Isn't jewelry customary in Europe?”
Ramesh—“Your country is not Europe. The people there are wealthy. It suits them to squander their wealth. We are poor; not a single penny of our earnings should be wasted.”
Ramesh Babu became so absorbed in this debate that he forgot about chess. It was a holiday anyway, and two or four acquaintances came to visit. Ramanath quietly slipped away. One point in this debate lodged firmly in his heart: the idea of taking jewelry on credit left his mind. What disgrace there would be if he failed to repay the money quickly! He did go as far as the jewellers' market, but he did not have the courage to enter any shop. He decided that for another three or four months he would not mention jewelry at all.
When he reached home, it was nine o'clock. Dayanath saw him and asked, “Where did you go so early this morning?”
Ramanath—“I went to see the head clerk for a while.”
Dayanath—“Why don't you go to the library for an hour or half an hour? You waste your days gossiping. You are still at the age when you should be reading and studying. Even if you are not preparing for an examination, you can improve your abilities. Whenever you have to write even a simple letter, you begin looking helplessly from side to side. Real education begins only after leaving school, and that is the education that actually serves us in life. I have heard some things about you that have saddened me greatly, and I consider it my duty to advise you. I absolutely do not want a single penny of ill-gotten money to enter my house. I have been in service for thirty years. If I had wanted, I could have accumulated thousands of rupees by now; but I swear that I have never taken even a single penny dishonestly. I cannot understand where this habit has come to you from.”
Rama pretended to be angry and said, “Who told you? Just tell me his name. I'll pull out his moustache!”
Dayanath—“Whoever told me is none of your concern. I won't tell you, because you would pull out his moustache. But I only want to ask whether the matter is true or false.”
Ramanath—“Completely false!”
Dayanath—“Completely false?”
Ramanath—“Yes, completely false!”
Dayanath—“You don't take customary fees?”
Ramanath—“A customary fee is not a bribe. Everyone takes it, openly. People give it on their own without being asked; I don't go around asking anyone for it.”
Dayanath—“If everyone takes it openly and people give it without being asked, that does not make the evil of bribery any less.”
Ramanath—“Stopping customary payments is not within my power. I may not take them myself, but I cannot hold back the hands of the peons and copyists. If servants earning eight or nine rupees do not take them, they simply cannot get by. I may not take anything myself, but I cannot stop them.”
Dayanath said indifferently, “I have explained my position. Whether you accept it or not is up to you.”
Saying this, Dayanath left. Rama felt like saying plainly, “What have you achieved by being so detached that you now blame me? You were always in need of money. You could not even educate your sons properly. Such boasting would be appropriate only if your intentions had been pure and your life had also passed comfortably.”
When Rama went inside, his mother asked, “Where did you go today, son? Your father was getting angry about this.”
Ramanath—“He wasn't exactly angry; he was merely advising me not to take customary payments. He said it weakens one's soul and brings disgrace.”
Jageshwari—“You should have told him, ‘You were so honest—what great flags did you plant? You spent your whole life merely keeping your stomach filled.’”
Ramanath—“I wanted to say it, but he would have become offended. Just as you remained dependent on every penny, he wants to make me the same way. You don't know how to take money. When he saw that nothing would work, he became a saint. But there are no such simpletons here. It takes intelligence to squeeze money out of merchants; it is not a joke! When someone acts like a saint and the other person realizes that he is a fool who does not know how to take money, what else can the poor fellow do? He has to wipe his tears somehow.”
Jageshwari—“That's exactly it, son. Whoever knows how to take will certainly take. He only knows how to preach rules at home, and in front of other people he cannot even get a word out of his mouth. Getting money out of him is extremely difficult.”
As Rama was going upstairs to put on his clothes before going to the office, Jalpa gave him three envelopes to post. He put all three envelopes into his pocket, but on the way he opened them and began reading the letters. They were not really letters; they were a sorrowful lament of misery and pain that she had addressed to her three friends. All three concerned the same subject. Only the emotional emphasis differed:
“Life has become a mountain. I can neither sleep at night nor rest during the day. To please my husband, I sometimes laugh and talk, but my heart is always weeping. I neither go to anyone's house nor show my face to anyone. It seems that this grief will not leave me until it takes my life. Promises are made to me every day: money is being saved, a goldsmith is being selected, designs are being decided—but all this is a deception and nothing more.”
Rama put all three letters back into his pocket. He passed the post office, but did not post them. Does she still think that I am deceiving her? What can I do? How can I convince her? If it were within my power, I would immediately bring baskets full of jewelry and place them before Jalpa. I would take her to the shop of some great jeweller and say, “Take whatever things you want.” What immeasurable pain this is—the kind that has even stolen away trust. Today he truly understood the wound he had inflicted upon her in order to preserve his false dignity. If he had known that his pretence would produce this result, perhaps he would have torn away the curtain covering his boasts. Now that Jalpa was burning in the heat of this sorrow, did Rama really have any reason to hesitate about borrowing money? His heart became tender with distress. For the first time, he sincerely prayed to God: “God, punish me if You must, but do not take my Jalpa away from me. Take my life first. From every part of my being there seemed to arise a cry: God, God, have mercy on my miserable condition.”
But at the same time he was angry with Jalpa. Why had she not told him about this? Why had she kept it hidden from him and poured out her sorrow to her friends instead?
Goods were being weighed in the verandah. Money was being placed on the table, and Rama sat absorbed in worry. Whom could he consult? Why had he married at all? The entire fault was his own. When he knew the condition of his household, why had he not refused to marry? His heart was not in his work that day. He left before the appointed time.
Seeing him, Jalpa asked, “You didn't leave my letters behind, did you?”
Rama made an excuse. “Oh, I completely forgot about them. They remained in my pocket.”
Jalpa—“That is very good. Give them to me. I won't send them now.”
Rama—“Why? I'll send them tomorrow.”
Jalpa—“No, I don't want to send them now. I wrote some things that I should not have written. If you had posted them, I would have been sorry. I criticized you.”
She smiled as she said this.
Ramanath—“Anyone who is bad, treacherous, and deceitful deserves to be criticized.”
Jalpa asked anxiously, “Did you read the letters?”
Rama said without embarrassment, “Yes. Is that an unforgivable crime?”
In a distressed voice Jalpa said, “Then you must be very angry with me?”
Emotion choked Jalpa's voice. Her head bowed, and tears fell from her lowered eyes onto her sari. After a moment she steadied her voice and said, “I have committed a very serious offense. Punish me as you wish, but do not be displeased with me. God knows how much I suffered after you left. I do not know how such things came from my pen.”
Jalpa knew that Rama was no less concerned about jewelry than she was; but when we tell our friends about our troubles, we often exaggerate our suffering. Discussing matters that are considered private creates a sense of intimacy. Our friends feel that we hide nothing from them, and they become sympathetic toward us. The habit of displaying intimacy is somewhat stronger among women.
Wiping Jalpa's tears, Rama said, “I am not displeased with you, beloved! There is no reason for me to be displeased. A delay in hope becomes hopelessness—do I not understand that? If you had not refused me, I would by now have had one or two things made somehow. My mistake was that I asked your advice. It is like asking a guest again and again whether he wants food before serving him. At the time I did not remember that out of modesty a person may say no even when she wants something. If God wills, you will not have to wait long.”
Looking at him thoughtfully, Jalpa said, “Then will you borrow the money?”
Ramanath—“Yes, there is no harm in borrowing. If no interest has to be paid, borrowing is as good as paying cash. The world runs on credit. Who does not borrow? When money is in hand, it gets spent freely. If the debt remains over one's head, the worry of it will keep one's hands restrained.”
Jalpa—“I do not want to put you in worry. From now on I will never mention jewelry again, even by mistake.”
Ramanath—“You have never mentioned it; but your silence does not bring my duty to an end. You are unnecessarily afraid of debt. If I sit waiting for money to accumulate, perhaps it will never accumulate. In this way, by borrowing and repaying, three or four things can be made in a year.”
Jalpa—“But bring something small first.”
Ramanath—“Yes, I will certainly do that.”
By the time Rama went to the market, it had become quite dark. If he had gone during the day, it was possible that one of his friends might see him. Munshi Dayanath himself might see him. He wanted to keep the matter completely secret.