Nothing particularly noteworthy happened at the tea party. Ratan had brought another female relative with her. The lawyer had not come. Dayanath thought it best to stay away from home for that length of time. Yes, Ramesh Babu remained standing in the veranda throughout. Rama wanted several times to include him in the party, but Ramesh did not have the courage.
Jalpa introduced both guests to her mother-in-law. The young women seemed somewhat frivolous to her. Their running all over the house, going thump-thump up to the upper floor, peering and hopping about on the roof, and laughing loudly seemed like rowdy behavior to her. In her view, daughters-in-law and daughters should be dignified and modest. What surprised her was that Jalpa too had now joined them.
Ratan did not even mention the bracelet today.
Until now Rama had not had enough time amid the preparations for the party to go to Gangu's shop. He had thought that if he paid Gangu six hundred rupees, it would be credited against the previous account. Only two hundred and fifty rupees would then remain. Under the new account, after adding another six hundred, eight hundred and fifty would again remain due. In this way he would get an excellent opportunity to establish his credit. The next day Rama went happily to Gangu's shop and said with an air of authority, "Well, Maharaj, how are things going? Have you had anything new made lately?"
Gangu had become so disgusted with Rama's evasions that even the hope of receiving some money today could not make him happy. He said reproachfully, "Babu Sahib, how many things have been made and how many have been sold? You have stopped coming to the shop altogether. This is not the way we conduct business. It has been eight months, and we haven't received a single penny from you."
Ramanath—"Brother, I am ashamed to come to the shop empty-handed. We are not among those people who have to be chased for payment. Deposit these six hundred rupees today, and prepare a good bracelet."
Gangu took the money, put it in the cash box, and said, "It will be made. When will the remaining money be paid?"
Ramanath—"Very soon."
Gangu—"Yes, Babuji, now please clear the previous account."
Gangu promised to have the bracelet made very soon; but once the bargain had been struck, he realized that the money would not be recovered from here quickly. The result was that Rama asked every day and Gangu found an excuse every day and put him off. Sometimes the craftsman fell ill, sometimes he went to his in-laws' home to get medicine for his wife, sometimes his sons fell ill. A month passed, and the bracelet was not made. Afraid of Ratan's demands, Rama stopped going to the park, but he had already kept her waiting at home. During that month she came once to press him for the bracelet. Finally, when the month of Sawan arrived, she said to Rama one day, "If that swine won't make it for you, why don't you give the order to some other craftsman?"
Ramanath—"That scoundrel has deceived me so badly that don't even ask. Every day he says today or tomorrow. I made a great mistake by giving him an advance. Now it is difficult even to get the money back from him."
Ratan—"Show me his shop. I will recover the money from his father. And I will make him pay damages separately. A dishonest man like that should be handed over to the police."
Jalpa said, "Yes, what else? All goldsmiths are slow, but not like this—swallow the money and then make the customer run around for months for the goods."
Rama scratched his head and said, "Please be patient for another ten days. I will get the money from him today and give it to another jeweler."
Ratan—"Why don't you simply show me that scoundrel's shop? I will talk to him with a whip."
Ramanath—"I am telling you. You will have the bracelet within ten days."
Ratan—"You yourself are being too lenient. You must be getting taken in by his flattering words. If you had once put the pressure on, would he have dared to keep making excuses like this?"
At last Ratan left with great difficulty. That very evening Gangu gave a definite answer: "The bracelet cannot be made without receiving half the money. The previous account must also be settled."
Rama felt as though he had been shot. He said, "Maharaj, this isn't fair. It is a woman's order; she paid you an advance. Think what face I will show her. Take a promissory note from me for your money, take a stamped agreement, whatever you want. What else can you do?"
Gangu—"Am I going to spread honey on the promissory note and lick it? Eight-month credit is not possible. One month, two months—that is plenty. You are a big man; what are five or six hundred rupees to you? The bracelet is ready."
Rama said through clenched teeth, "If this was the matter, why didn't you tell me a month ago? I would have made some arrangement for the money by now!"
Gangu—"How was I to know you hadn't understood even this much?"
Rama returned home in despair. If even now he had told Jalpa the whole story plainly, however much pain it caused her, she would have taken off her bracelet and given it to him. But Rama did not have the courage. He could not describe his financial difficulties and strike at her tender heart.
There was no doubt that Rama received about a hundred rupees in extra income, and if he had known how to economize, he would certainly have paid at least half of what he owed the two jewelers during these eight months. But extra income brought extra expenditure as well. Whatever he received was spent on outings and amusements, while payment to the jewelers was postponed in the hope of getting a lump sum. Turning pennies into rupees is the business of merchants. Babu gentlemen, on the other hand, turn rupees into pennies.
Late that night Rama once again went around the jewelry market. He very much wanted to bluff some jeweler, but nothing worked. News traveled through the market as though by telegraph.
Rama could not sleep all night. If someone would only give him five hundred rupees against a promissory note for a thousand, he would be overjoyed; but among his acquaintances he could see no one who would do so. He had maintained an air of prosperity among everyone he knew. He spent money lavishly on entertaining people. Now how could he tell anyone about his misfortune? He regretted having paid the money to Gangu unnecessarily. Gangu was not the sort to file a lawsuit. At this moment, if Rama were to contract some terrible illness, he would welcome it. At least it would give him ten or fifteen days' respite; but death does not come even when summoned! It comes only when we are completely unprepared for it. If only God would somehow send a telegram. He could not even think of a friend who might send a false telegram in his name. He was tossing from side to side in these anxieties when Jalpa awoke. Rama immediately hid his face under the sheet, as though he were sleeping soundly. Jalpa gently pulled the sheet away and looked at his face. Finding him asleep, she studied his face carefully. The difference between wakefulness and sleep did not escape her. She gently shook him and said, "Are you still awake?"
Ramanath—"I don't know why I can't sleep. I was lying here thinking that I should go somewhere away for a few days. I could earn some money."
Jalpa—"You'll take me with you, won't you?"
Ramanath—"Where could I drag you around in a strange land?"
Jalpa—"Then I have lived alone here before. I won't stay here alone for even a minute. But where will you go?"
Ramanath—"I haven't decided anything yet."
Jalpa—"Are you really going to leave me and go? I couldn't live without you even for a day. I understand now—you don't love me. You only love me because of how I look."
Ramanath—"It is the bonds of your love that have kept me tied here. Otherwise I would have gone long ago."
Jalpa—"You are just making excuses. If you truly loved me, you would keep nothing hidden from me. There must be something in your mind that you are concealing from me. I have been watching you for several days; you remain sunk in worry. Why don't you tell me? Where there is no trust, how can love remain?"
Ramanath—"That is only your imagination, Jalpa. I have never hidden anything from you."
Jalpa—"Then do you truly love me from your heart?"
Ramanath—"How could I possibly say that aloud?"
Jalpa—"All right, now I am going to ask you a question. Be careful. Why do you love me? I swear you by me, tell me the truth."
Ramanath—"That is an odd question. If I asked you the same question, what answer would you give me?"
Jalpa—"I know."
Rama—"Tell me."
Jalpa—"You tell me, and I will tell you."
Ramanath—"I don't know myself. I know only that you are woven through every part of my being."
Jalpa—"Think and tell me. I know very well that I am not an ideal wife. I have hardly served my husband at all until now. By God's grace, you have never yet had to suffer anything for my sake. I know nothing about running a household. Whatever I have learned, I learned here. Then why do you love me? I am not skilled in conversation. My appearance is not particularly attractive either. Do you know why I am asking you this?"
Ramanath—"How should I know? I cannot understand what you are getting at."
Jalpa—"I am asking because I want to make your love permanent."
Ramanath—"I don't know, Jalpa, honestly. Until today I have never noticed any deficiency or fault in you. But what have you seen in me? I have neither wealth, nor learning, nor good looks. Tell me."
Jalpa—"Shall I tell you? I am captivated by your goodness. What should I hide from you now? When I came here, although I regarded you as my husband, whenever I wanted to say or do something, I worried whether you would like it or not. If I had married another man instead of you, I would have behaved the same way with him. That is the conventional relationship between wife and husband. But now I would not exchange you even for Krishna of the Gopis. Yet there is still a thief in your heart. Even now you keep some things hidden from me!"
Ramanath—"That is only your suspicion, Jalpa. I conceal nothing even from my friends. And you are the queen of my heart."
Jalpa—"Look at me when you say it. Lowering one's eyes is not a man's way!"
Once again Rama felt an urge to tell her the whole story of his difficulties, but false pride once again sealed his lips.
Whenever Jalpa asked whether he was paying the jewelers their money, he always said, "Yes, I pay something every month." But Rama's weakness that day had created a suspicion in Jalpa's mind. She wanted to dispel that suspicion. After a little while she asked, "You haven't paid all the money to the jewelers yet, have you?"
Ramanath—"There is only a little left now."
Jalpa—"How much might be left? Do you keep any accounts?"
Ramanath—"Of course I do. There must be somewhat less than seven hundred."
Jalpa—"Then that is still quite a bundle. You haven't paid Ratan's money with it, have you?"
Rama was trembling inwardly, afraid that Jalpa might ask this very question. At last she did. Even then, if Rama had found the courage to confess the truth, perhaps his troubles would have ended. Jalpa would certainly have been stunned for a minute. It was possible that, in a burst of anger and despair, she might have spoken two or four harsh words, but then she would have calmed down. Together they would have found some solution or other. If Jalpa told Ratan the secret, Ratan would certainly have agreed to wait. But alas, what a tyrant self-respect is! Rama heard the question and made such a face as though Jalpa had struck him cruelly. He said, "Why would I pay Ratan's money with it? If I wanted to, I could bring two or four things today. Craftsmen have a habit of delaying. A goldsmith's delays are notorious. That's all there is to it. Within ten days I will either bring the thing or return the money. But why did you suspect this? How could I possibly use someone else's money for my own expenses?"
Jalpa—"Nothing. I just asked."
Jalpa fell asleep after a little while, but Rama remained caught in the same maze of worries. Where could he get the money? If he told Ramesh Babu frankly, Ramesh would arrange a loan from some moneylender; but somehow he could not bring himself to tell him. He did not have that much courage.
In the morning he had breakfast and set off for the office. Perhaps some arrangement would be made there. He had no idea who would make the arrangement. It was like a patient who feels reassured on going to a physician without knowing whether he will actually recover. That was Rama's condition at this moment. There was no one in the office except the peon. Rama opened the register and began checking the figures. The daily balance had not been entered for several days, but the head clerk's signatures were there. When he balanced the accounts, the amount came to two thousand five hundred. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. Why not write two thousand instead of two thousand five hundred in the balance? Who checked the receipt book? Even if the theft were discovered, he could say that there had been a mistake while balancing the accounts. But he did not allow this thought to settle in his mind. Fearing that his mind might become unsettled, he inked over the pencil figures, locked the register in the drawer, and began wandering about.
One carriage after another began to arrive. When the drivers saw that Babu Sahib was there today, they thought they should pay the octroi quickly and be done with it. For this favor Rama collected twice the customary amount as a fee, and the drivers willingly paid because it was market time and, if they were delayed at the octroi office until one or two in the afternoon, they would suffer the loss of a full twenty-four hours. The market closed after ten or eleven; they would have to wait until the next day. If the market price fell even by half a quarter of a rupee, they could lose hundreds. Why would they object to giving up ten or five rupees? This was something new that Rama learned that day. He thought, after all, I simply sit at home in the mornings. If I came here and sat every day, I could earn ten or five rupees a day. Then this whole trouble would be cleared up in six months. Suppose this windfall did not come every day; if not fifteen, I could make ten, perhaps five. If I got five rupees every morning and as much again during the day, I could be free of debt in five or six months. He opened the drawer and took out the register. Having worked out this calculation, altering the register no longer seemed quite so terrible to him. A new recruit jumps at the sound of the first gunshot; later, even a rain of bullets does not frighten him.
Rama was just about to close the office and go home for lunch when a hawker's cart arrived. Rama said, "I will collect the octroi when I return." The hawker began pleading with him. He had some very urgent business. At last the matter was settled for ten rupees. Rama collected the octroi, put the money in his pocket, and went home. Twenty-five rupees had come in within only two and a half hours. If this average continued even for a month, he would be out of trouble. He was so happy that he did not go home for lunch. He did not order anything from the market either. While counting out the money, he realized that one rupee was missing. He remained seated and worked until evening. Four more rupees were collected. When he went home after the lamps were lit, a great weight of anxiety and despair had been lifted from his mind. If this pace continued for ten days, he would not have to hide his face from Ratan.