It was evening. Silence had settled over the municipal compound. The employees were leaving one by one. The sweeper was cleaning the rooms. The peons had also begun putting on their shoes. The hawkers were counting the day's sales. But Ramanath sat in his chair writing in the register.
He had come in the morning as usual, but once again no big catch had fallen into his hands; he had managed only those same ten rupees. What other means did he now have of saving his honor? Rama decided to bluff Ratan. He knew very well that Ratan's impatience was due only to her suspicion that perhaps he had spent her money. If she learned that her money was immediately available, she would become calm. Rama wanted to show her a purse full of money and dispel her doubts. He was waiting for the cashier to leave. He had deliberately delayed today. He had eight hundred rupees from the day's collections with him. He wanted to take this money home. The cashier got up exactly at four. Why should he have bothered to ask Rama for the day's receipts? He was free only after counting the money. After spending the whole day writing the accounts and counting money, the poor man's back was aching. When Rama felt sure that the cashier must have gone some distance away, he closed the register and said to the peon, "Pick up the bag. Let's go and deposit it."
The peon said, "The cashier has already gone!"
Rama stared at him. "The cashier has gone? Why didn't you tell me? How far can he have gone by now?"
Peon—"He must have reached the corner of the road."
Ramanath—"How will this money be deposited now?"
Peon—"If you order me, shall I call him back?"
Ramanath—"Oh, go on! You didn't say anything before, and now you want to call him back from halfway. You really are an absolute fool. Had you been drinking too much today? Never mind. The money will remain in this drawer. It will be your responsibility."
Peon—"No, Babu Sahib, I won't let the money remain here. One never knows what may happen. If the money were stolen, I would be ruined even though I was innocent. And there isn't even a proper lock here."
Ramanath—"Then where should I keep this money?"
Peon—"Sir, take it with you."
That was exactly what Rama wanted. He called for a carriage, put the bag of money on it, and went home. As he went, he thought that if Ratan came storming in, he would simply say that only two or four hundred rupees were still short. Seeing the money before her eyes, she would be reassured.
Jalpa saw the bag and asked, "Didn't the bracelet arrive?"
Ramanath—"It wasn't ready yet. I thought I would bring the money along so that she would be reassured."
Jalpa—"What did the jeweler say?"
Ramanath—"What could he say? He keeps saying today and tomorrow. Hasn't Ratan Devi come yet?"
Jalpa—"She must be coming. Where would she have any peace?"
When Ratan had still not come by the time the lamps were lit, Rama thought she would not come now. He put the money in the cupboard and went out for a walk. He had been gone no more than ten minutes when Ratan arrived, and the moment she entered she said, "The bracelet must have arrived by now?"
Jalpa—"Yes, it has arrived. Put it on! The poor fellow has gone to the jeweler several times. The wretched man simply won't give it; he keeps making excuses."
Ratan—"What sort of jeweler is he that he has been making excuses for so long? If I had known my money would get tied up like this, why would I have given it? I am getting neither my money nor the bracelet."
Ratan said this with such an air of distrust that Jalpa was provoked. Proudly she said, "Your money is kept here. Take it whenever you want. It isn't in our hands to make the bracelet. In the end, we can bring it only when the jeweler gives it to us."
Ratan—"Does he make any promise? When will he give it?"
Jalpa—"Who can rely on his promises? He has made hundreds of them."
Ratan—"Then does that mean he won't make the thing now?"
Jalpa—"Take it to mean whatever you like!"
Ratan—"Then just give me my money. I have had enough of such a bracelet."
Jalpa sprang up, took the bag from the cupboard, threw it down in front of Ratan, and said, "Here is your money. Take it."
In fact, the reason for Ratan's impatience was exactly what Rama had understood. She suspected that these people had spent her money. That was why she kept demanding the bracelet again and again. Seeing the money, her suspicion was dispelled. Somewhat embarrassed, she said, "If he has promised to give it within two or four days, then let the money remain."
Jalpa—"I don't expect him to give it so quickly. Once the thing is ready, we will ask him for the money."
Ratan—"Who knows whether I will have the money at that time or not? Money seems to appear when it comes, but when it goes, it disappears without a trace. Who knows how it flies away? Why not simply keep it here yourself?"
Jalpa—"But it is the same here too. Besides, keeping someone else's money in the house is risky. If something goes wrong, we would have to suffer unnecessary punishment. On the fourth day after my marriage, all my jewelry was stolen. We stayed awake all night, but somehow our eyes closed for a moment, and the thieves did their work. We suffered a loss of ten thousand rupees. If the same accident happened again, we would be ruined."
Ratan—"All right, I will take the money with me; but don't become complacent. Tell Babuji not to let the jeweler off the hook."
Ratan left. Jalpa was happy that the burden had been lifted from her head. Often the harshest blows in our lives come from the very people who are our true well-wishers.
Rama returned from his walk at about nine. Jalpa was cooking. As soon as she saw him, she said, "Ratan came. I gave her all her money."
The ground seemed to disappear beneath Rama's feet. His eyes widened and rose almost to his forehead. Alarmed, he said, "What did you say? You gave Ratan the money? Who told you to give it to her?"
Jalpa—"It was her money that you had brought and kept here. You yourself were waiting for her. As soon as you left, she came and began asking for the bracelet. I got irritated and threw her money at her."
Rama said cautiously, "She hadn't asked for the money, had she?"
Jalpa—"Why wouldn't she? Yes, after I gave it to her, she did say, 'Why are you returning it? Let it remain with you.' I told her, 'I don't keep money belonging to suspicious people like you.'"
Ramanath—"For God's sake, don't do things like this without asking me."
Jalpa—"What has happened now? Go and ask her for the money again. But why would you bring the money into the house in the first place and take on this trouble?"
Rama became so dejected that he did not even have the strength to be angry with Jalpa. With tears in his eyes, he went downstairs and began considering the situation. It would have been unjust to be angry with Jalpa. Rama had clearly said that the money belonged to Ratan, but he had not even hinted that Jalpa should not return it to Ratan without asking him. Jalpa was therefore not at fault.
He thought: Getting angry and losing my temper will not solve the problem now. I need to think with a calm mind. It is essential to get the money back from Ratan. If I had been present when she came here, how beautifully the whole difficulty could have been resolved! What possessed me to go out for a walk? If I had skipped one day's walk, who would have died? Some hidden power seems determined to ruin me. Ten minutes of absence spoiled the whole game. She was saying that I should keep the money. If Jalpa had used a little common sense, this situation would never have arisen. But why am I thinking about what has already happened? The problem is how to get the money back from Ratan. Why not go and say, "I heard that you were offended when I returned your money. In fact, I had not brought the money for you. I had obtained it from the jeweler so that he would make the thing and give it to you." Perhaps she herself will feel embarrassed, apologize, and return the money. Yes, I should go there right now.
Having made this decision, he looked at the clock. It was half past eight. Darkness had fallen. Ratan could not go out of her house at such a time. Rama took his bicycle and went to see her.
There was great liveliness at Ratan's bungalow that day. Some celebration, feast, or party took place there almost every day. Ratan's solitary and monotonous life rushed toward such things just as a thirsty person rushes toward water. At this moment there was a crowd of children there. A swing had been hung from a mango tree. Electric lights were burning, children were swinging, and Ratan stood there pushing the swing. There was a great deal of shouting and excitement. Even in this weather the lawyer was sitting in the veranda wearing a woolen overcoat and smoking a cigar. Rama wanted to go to the swing and speak to Ratan, but seeing the lawyer standing there, he could not go over out of shyness. As soon as the lawyer saw him, he extended his hand and said, "Come, Rama Babu. Tell me, what news is there from your municipal board?"
Rama sat down on a chair and said, "Nothing new has happened."
The lawyer—"When will your board pass the proposal for compulsory education for girls? Several other boards have already passed it. Until women's education becomes widespread, we shall never progress. You have not been to Europe, I suppose? Ah! What freedom, what wealth, what life, what enthusiasm! It seems that is heaven itself. And truly, the women are goddesses. So cheerful, so free—this is the fruit of women's education!"
Rama, basing his reply on the little he had read in newspapers about those countries, said, "Women's conduct there is not particularly good."
The lawyer—"Nonsense! Every country has its own customs. You see a young woman walking alone with a young man and immediately bite your fingers in astonishment. Your conscience has become so impure that you cannot see a man and woman together without suspicion. But where boys and girls are educated together, and where distinctions of caste are not considered very important, such bonds of affection and sympathy develop between them that there is very little room left for sensuality. Understand this: the more freedom women have in a country, the more civilized that country is. Keeping women imprisoned, behind screens, or miles away from men means only that the people here are so morally corrupt that they do not hesitate even slightly to insult women. Young men have politics, religion, fine arts, literature, philosophy, history, science, and thousands of such subjects on the basis of which they can develop deep friendships with young women. Sexual desire becomes the principal attraction only in countries where people's mental outlook remains narrow. I have lived in Europe and America for a whole year. I was friends with many beautiful women. I played with them and danced with them too, but never did a word leave my mouth that could make a young woman lower her head in shame. And besides, where are there not good and bad people?"
Rama took no pleasure in these matters at that moment; he was absorbed in an entirely different anxiety.
The lawyer continued, "Until men and women are allowed to develop their minds freely and independently, we shall continue sliding toward decline. Do not bind society's feet with restraints; do not put chains of imprisonment around its neck. Promote widow remarriage, promote it vigorously, but I cannot understand why such an uproar appears in the newspapers when a middle-aged man marries a young woman. In Europe, eighty-year-old men marry young women, seventy-year-old women marry young men, and no one says anything. No one even hears about it. We want to kill our old people before they die. Yet if a human being ever needs a companion, it is in old age, when he constantly needs support, when he has become dependent upon others."
Rama's attention was on the swing. He wanted somehow to get an opportunity to speak privately with Ratan. That was his greatest desire at the moment. It was contrary to etiquette for him to go there. Finally, after a moment, he looked toward the swing and said, "Where did all these boys come from?"
The lawyer—"Ratan Bai is very fond of the children's world. I don't know where so many children gather from. If you love children, go over there!"
Rama wanted nothing more than this, and immediately reached the swing. Ratan smiled when she saw him and said, "These little devils have made my life miserable. The swing never satisfies them. Come, do some unpaid labor yourself. I am exhausted." Saying this, she sat down on the brick platform, and Rama began pushing the swing. When the children saw a new man, every one of them became impatient for his turn. Ratan's hands had already given them two turns, but how could some children swing a third time while the rest sat staring? As soon as two got off, four more would climb onto the swing. Rama had not the slightest love for children, but he was trapped there now; what could he do?
At last, after half an hour of unpaid labor, he became bored. The clock showed half past nine. How could he bring up the matter he had come about? Ratan was so absorbed in the swing that she seemed to have forgotten all about the money.
Suddenly Ratan went to the swing and said, "Babuji, I will sit down. Push me, but stand on the swing from below and give it a good sweep."
Rama had been afraid to sit on swings since childhood. Once his friends had forced him onto one and he had become dizzy; but this request forced him to get on. How could he reveal his incompetence? Ratan sat down with two children and began singing:
"The swing hangs from the kadam tree, Radha Rani has come to swing."
Rama stood on the swing and tried to give it momentum, but his legs were trembling and his heart was sinking. When the swing fell from its highest point, it seemed to him as though some liquid substance were piercing deeper and deeper into his chest. Ratan was singing with the girls:
"The swing hangs from the kadam tree, Radha Rani has come to swing."
After a moment Ratan said, "A little higher, Sahib. You cannot get the swing going at all."
Rama, embarrassed, pushed harder, but the swing would not go any higher. His head began to spin.
Ratan—"You don't know how to push a swing. Have you never swung before?"
Rama said hesitantly, "Well, I haven't been on one for years."
Ratan—"Then you sit and take care of these children; I will push you. If the swing doesn't touch that branch, just tell me!" Rama's blood ran cold. He said, "It has become quite late today. I will come another time."
Ratan—"Oh, how can it be late already? It isn't even ten. Don't be frightened; there is plenty of night left. Have a good swing before you go. Bring Jalpa tomorrow; the two of us will swing together."
Rama got down from the swing, his face frightened. He looked as though he might fall at any moment. He staggered toward his bicycle, mounted it, and immediately hurried home.
For some distance he was hardly conscious of anything. His feet turned the pedals by themselves. After he had gone half the distance, he came to his senses. He turned the bicycle around, rode some distance, then got off and began thinking: Today, out of embarrassment, I lost such an opportunity. I came back from there with my face hanging. Why couldn't I say a word? Ratan was not some monster who would eat me. Suddenly he remembered that there had been eight hundred rupees in the bag. Jalpa had irritably handed the bag over to him. Perhaps she had not counted it either, otherwise she certainly would have said something. What if she gave the bag to someone else or mixed it with other money? Then it would be disastrous. I would be ruined. Why not go back right now and ask for the extra money? But it is very late; I will have to come again in the morning.
But even if I got these two hundred rupees, there would still be a shortage of five hundred. How would that be arranged? Only God could get me across that river. What would happen if no arrangement could be made in the morning? The thought made him tremble.
There are moments in life when even in despair we still possess hope. Rama thought, Let me go once more to Gangu; perhaps I will find him at his shop and can beg him, holding his hands and feet. Perhaps he will take pity on me. He reached the jewelry market, but Gangu's shop was closed. He had just turned back when he saw Charan Das approaching. As soon as he saw Rama, he said, "Babuji, you have completely stopped coming this way. Tell me, when will the money be paid?"
Rama said humbly, "Very soon now, brother. It won't be long. Look, I have paid Gangu's money; now it is your turn."
Charan Das—"I know that whole story. If Gangu had not cleverly collected his money, we would have gone on waiting just like this. It has been almost a year. Even at forty-eight percent interest, the interest on hundreds of rupees amounts to forty-eight rupees. Come tomorrow and settle the account. If you cannot pay it all, at least pay a half or a third. When there are regular payments, the owner remains reassured. If you sit with your ears plugged and make no payment, he begins to suspect that your intentions are bad. So when will you come tomorrow?"
Ramanath—"Brother, I cannot come tomorrow with the money, but I can come whenever you say. Why don't you arrange four or five hundred rupees from your employer for me at this moment? I will warm your palm too."
Charan—"What are you talking about, Babuji? The master won't give even a penny. He has already treated you very generously by not filing a lawsuit. I have to listen to complaints because of you. Must I go and tell the head munshi?"
Rama said irritably, "I am your debtor, not the head munshi. I am not dead, nor am I running away from home. Why are you becoming so impatient?"
Charan Das—"It has been a year and we haven't received a penny. If we aren't impatient, what should we be? At least arrange two hundred rupees for tomorrow."
Ramanath—"I have told you, I don't have any money right now."
Charan Das—"Every day you count and put away your bundles, and then at the crucial moment you say you have no money. Have the money ready tomorrow. A man will certainly come tomorrow."
Rama gave him no answer and moved on. He had come here hoping something might work out; instead he had to endure another demand for payment. What if the wretch actually sent someone to demand payment from Babuji? His father would be furious. Jalpa too would think, What sort of liar is this man?
At this moment tears did not come from Rama's eyes, but every hair on his body was weeping. What a grave mistake he had made by hiding his true condition from Jalpa! She was an intelligent woman. If she had known that there was not even enough roasted gram in his house, she would never have allowed him to take jewelry on credit. She herself had never asked for anything. It was he who was killing himself to maintain his prestige. Even with such a huge burden on his head, why had he not lived economically? He should have held on to every penny. In a year his total income could not have been less than a thousand rupees. If he had lived frugally, he would have paid half the money owed to each of these two moneylenders. But no—disaster seemed to be riding on his head. What need was there for Jalpa to gather all the women of the neighborhood and go out every day? The carriage driver must have taken hundreds of rupees from him. But he had been intent on impressing her. Let the whole market know that the man was a worthless spendthrift, but his wife must not know! Bravo, what wisdom! Why had he needed curtains for the doors? Why had he bought two lamps? Why had he ordered new bedsteads to be made? On the way he calculated all those expenses that a man of his means should have avoided. As long as a person is healthy, he does not worry about what he eats, how much he eats, or when he eats; but when some disorder arises, he remembers, "Yesterday I ate fritters." Victory looks outward, but defeat turns inward.
Jalpa asked, "Where did you go? You took such a long time."
Ramanath—"I had to go to Ratan's bungalow because of you. You gave away all the money, and two hundred rupees of it were mine."
Jalpa—"How was I supposed to know? You never said so. But the money cannot disappear from her hands; she herself will send it back."
Ramanath—"Granted. But I have to deposit the government money tomorrow."
Jalpa—"Take two hundred rupees from me tomorrow. I have them."
Rama could not believe it. He said, "You don't have any such money! Where did you get so much?"
Jalpa—"What does it matter to you? I am telling you that I will give you two hundred rupees."
Rama's face brightened. Some hope returned. If she gave him two hundred, he could get two hundred from Ratan, he already had one hundred, and there would then be only about three hundred rupees left to arrange. But where would those three hundred come from? There was no one from whom he could hope to get so much money. Yes, if Ratan returned all the money, the ruined situation might still be repaired. That was now his only foundation of hope.
When he lay down after dinner, Jalpa asked, "What are you worrying about today?"
Ramanath—"What is there to worry about? Am I looking sad?"
Jalpa—"Yes, you are worried about something, but you don't tell me!"
Ramanath—"If there were anything, would I hide it from you?"
Jalpa—"Oh, of course! Why would you tell me what is in your heart? The sages have forbidden it."
Ramanath—"I am not one of those sages' devotees."
Jalpa—"That is obvious enough when I look into your heart while sitting there."
Ramanath—"There you would see only your own image."
That night Jalpa had a terrible dream and cried out. Rama woke with a start and asked, "What is it, Jalpa? What were you dreaming?"
Jalpa looked around with frightened eyes and said, "I was in terrible danger. I don't know what sort of dream I was having!"
Ramanath—"What did you see?"
Jalpa—"How can I tell you? I cannot even describe it. I saw that several policemen were taking you away. They looked terrifying."
Rama's blood ran cold. A few days earlier he would have laughed off such a dream; at this moment he could not prevent himself from becoming alarmed. But he laughed outwardly and said, "Didn't you ask the policemen why they were taking me away?"
Jalpa—"You can think of joking at a time like this, while my heart is trembling."
A little later Rama began talking in his sleep: "Mother, I am telling you, you will never see my face again. I will drown myself."
Jalpa had still not fallen asleep. Frightened, she shook Rama hard and said, "You laughed at me, and now you yourself have begun talking in your sleep. It made my hair stand on end. Were you dreaming?"
Rama said embarrassedly, "Yes. I don't know what I was seeing. I don't remember anything."
Jalpa asked, "Why were you threatening Mother? Tell me the truth. What were you dreaming about?"
Rama scratched his head and said, "I don't remember anything. I must simply have started talking in my sleep."
Jalpa—"All right, sleep on your side. People talk in their sleep when they lie on their backs."
Rama turned onto his side, but it seemed as though both anxiety and fear had taken their place in his eyes and were protecting him from sleep's assault. Two o'clock came while they were still awake. Suddenly Jalpa sat up and poured water from the pitcher. "I was very thirsty. Are you still awake?"
Ramanath—"Yes. My sleep has been broken. I was wondering where you got those two hundred rupees. I am surprised."
Jalpa—"I brought that money from my parents' home. Some of it was given to me when I left for my husband's home, and some I had kept from before."
Ramanath—"Then you are very good at saving money. Why didn't you save some here?"
Jalpa said with a smile, "After getting you, I no longer cared about money."
Ramanath—"You must be cursing your fate."
Jalpa—"Why should I curse my fate? Let those women curse their fate whose husbands are worthless, drunkards, immoral, or sick, who constantly wound their wives with taunts and lose their tempers at every little thing. If a husband is pleasing to a woman's heart, she will remain happy even if she has to fast with him."
Rama said playfully, "Then I am pleasing to your heart."
Jalpa said with loving pride, "You have turned out far better than I had hoped. I have three friends. Not one of their husbands is like you. One has an M.A. degree, but is always ill. Another is learned and wealthy, but visits prostitutes. The third is a homebody and completely worthless."
Rama's heart overflowed with emotion. How great a betrayal of trust he had committed against such an embodiment of love, such a goddess of compassion. Despite all the things he had concealed from her, she loved him so deeply. If he had lived with her openly and without concealment, how happy his life would have been!