In the morning, Rama sent his man to Ratan. He wrote in the letter, “I am deeply sorry that Jalpa behaved with you yesterday as she should not have. It was never my intention to return the money to you; I had taken it from you only to press the goldsmith for the bangles. The bangles will certainly be ready in two or four days. Please send the money. There were also two hundred rupees of mine in that same bag. Please send those too.” While preserving his dignity, he had left no stone unturned in making the request as humbly as he could. Until the man returned, he waited for him with great anxiety. He kept wondering whether Ratan might make some excuse, or might not even be at home, or might promise to pay after two or four days. Everything depended on Ratan’s money. If Ratan gave him a clear refusal, then all would be lost! At the very thought, Rama’s life seemed to dry up within him. At last, the man returned at nine o’clock. Ratan had given him the two hundred rupees, but had sent no reply to the letter.
Rama looked up at the sky with despairing eyes. Why had Ratan not replied to the letter? Did she not even know ordinary courtesy? What a cunning woman she was! Last night she had seemed like the very embodiment of piety and goodness, yet her heart was filled with all this resentment! Worried about the remaining money, Rama had not even thought of bathing or washing.
When the water-carrier went inside, Jalpa asked, “Do you know anything about work at all, or are you just going to keep wandering around? It is ten o’clock, and there is still no sign of the vegetables.”
The water-carrier, knitting his brows, replied, “What, should I grow four more hands and feet? I was away on work. Babu sent me to Mem Sahib to collect some money.”
Jalpa—“Which Mem Sahib?”
Water-carrier—“The one who comes riding in a motorcar.”
Jalpa—“So, did you bring the money?”
Water-carrier—“Why wouldn’t I? My legs are still attached to me, aren’t they? Running all the way, my feet started hurting!”
Jalpa—“All right, now hurry up and go bring the vegetables.”
The water-carrier went away. Rama came inside with the money, and Jalpa said, “You got your money back from Ratan, didn’t you? You won’t take any more from me now?”
Rama said indifferently, “Don’t give it.”
Jalpa—“I had already told you I would give you the money. Why did you suddenly feel the need to ask for it so soon?”
She must have thought they did not trust her enough.
Rama said helplessly, “I did not ask for the money. I merely wrote that there were two hundred rupees extra in the bag. She sent them of her own accord.”
Jalpa laughed and said, “My rupees are very lucky. Shall I show you? I have picked out brand-new notes one by one. They are all from this year, shining brightly! Just look at them; your eyes will be cooled.”
Just then someone called from downstairs, “Babuji, the merchant has sent me for the money.”
Dayanath was coming inside after his bath. Seeing the merchant’s peon, he asked, “Which merchant? What money? No one has any money due from me!”
The peon said, “The younger Babu took some goods. It has been a whole year, and he has not paid even a penny. The merchant says, ‘What good is it to pay after the matter has turned into a dispute? Make sure he pays something today.’”
Dayanath called Rama and said, “See who this man has come from. Why don’t you settle whatever account you have outstanding? How much is left?”
Before Rama could answer, the peon spoke up, “A full seven hundred, Babuji.”
Dayanath’s eyes widened until they seemed to reach his forehead. “Seven hundred! Why, he says it is seven hundred.”
Rama, intending to evade the matter, said, “I don’t know exactly.”
The peon said, “How can you not know? I have the receipt with me. You haven’t paid anything since then. How could the amount have become smaller?”
Rama called to the peon and said, “Come to the shop. I’ll come there myself.”
The peon replied, “We won’t leave without taking something, sir. You keep putting us off like this, and then we have to listen to the abuse.”
Rama could be humiliated before the whole world; but to be humiliated before his father was no less than death to him. The man who in all his life had never touched a single dishonest penny, who would rather go hungry than eat after borrowing money from someone—what disgrace it was that his son should be so shameless and dishonorable! Rama could not inflict such a grave insult upon his father’s soul. He did not want it to become known that their son was bringing disgrace upon their name. In a harsh voice he said to the peon, “You are still standing here? Get out, or you will be thrown out.”
The peon said, “Get our money paid and we’ll go. What, do we get sweets at your door?”
Ramanath said, “You won’t leave! Go and tell Lala to file a lawsuit.”
Dayanath scolded him, “Why are you talking so shamelessly? If you didn’t have the money, why did you buy the things? And once you did buy them, pay the money as best you can. I told you to let him file a lawsuit. If he does, how much honor will be left? Have you thought of that at all? Fingers will be pointed at us throughout the city, but what do you care? What possessed you to load such a huge bundle onto your head all at once? If it had been for a wedding or some such occasion, that would have been one thing. And what sort of woman is she who watches her husband behaving so foolishly and does not stop him? After all, what were you thinking when you took this debt? It is not as if you have some great income!”
Rama was deeply offended by his father’s scolding. In his view, his father had no right to say anything about this matter. He replied without hesitation, “You are getting angry for no reason. If you want me to ask you for money, then say so. I will repay everything little by little from my salary.”
To himself he thought, “This is the result of your own deeds. I am atoning for your sins.”
Seeing the quarrel between father and son, the peon quietly went away. Munshiji went off to bathe, muttering under his breath. When Rama went upstairs, his face was being lashed by shame and remorse. The humiliation from which he had been fleeing, running from branch to branch and leaf to leaf, had finally come upon him. In the face of this humiliation, even the worry about the government money disappeared. Those who live by borrowing are extraordinarily bold. An ordinary sensible man, falling into such circumstances, would be terrified; but the habitual spendthrift does not even furrow his brow. Rama had not yet mastered this art. If at that moment the messenger of death had come to take his life, he would have rushed forward with open arms to welcome him. How would everything happen? The words seemed to emerge from every pore of his body. How would everything happen! He could explain this problem no further than that. The same question appeared to be pursuing him like an all-pervading demon. How would everything happen! Those same words seemed to rise all around him like countless whirlwinds. He could not bring himself to think about it. He could only close his eyes to it. His heart became so despondent that his eyes filled with tears.
Jalpa asked, “You said there was only a little money left to pay him.”
Ramanath lowered his head and said, “The wretch is lying. I have paid him some money.”
Jalpa said, “If you had paid him, why would he be demanding money? If your income was so small, why did you buy the jewelry at all? I never insisted. And even if I had said it two or four times, you should have used your judgment. You have made me listen to all this along with you. A man hides things from the whole world, but he does not hide them from his wife. You hide things even from me. If I had known your income was so small, would I have had such a crazy desire to put the women of the whole neighborhood into carriages and take them out for rides?
“At most, I would sometimes have felt unhappy, but I would not have had to endure these demands for payment. If he files a lawsuit, seven hundred could become a thousand. How was I to know that you were deceiving me like this? I was not some prostitute whose job was to claw and scrape money out of you and fill my own house. I am your companion in both good and bad times. In good times, you may not ask my opinion; but in bad times, I will certainly cling to you.”
Not a word came from Rama’s lips. It was time for the office. There was no time for food. Rama put on his clothes and left for the office. Jageshwari asked, “Are you going without eating anything?”
Rama gave no answer. He was just about to leave the house when Jalpa hurried downstairs and called out, “Why don’t you give the two hundred rupees I have to the goldsmith?”
Rama had deliberately not asked Jalpa for the money when leaving. He knew that the moment he asked, Jalpa would give it to him; but after hearing all those things, he felt not merely embarrassed but afraid to hold out his hand before her for money. What if she sat down to lecture him again? The calamities that awaited him seemed lighter by comparison. But when Jalpa called him, a little hope arose in him. He stopped and said, “All right, bring them.”
He sat in the outer room. Jalpa ran upstairs, brought the money, counted it carefully, and put it into his bag. She had thought that Rama would be overjoyed on receiving the money, but her expectation was not fulfilled. He still had to worry about three hundred rupees. Where would they come from? A hungry man longs for a full meal; two or four flatbreads do not satisfy him.
After coming out onto the road, Rama took a carriage and told the driver to go to Georgetown—perhaps he might meet Ratan. If she wished, she could very easily arrange the three hundred rupees. On the way he kept thinking, “Today I will have no hesitation at all.” In a short while he reached Georgetown. Ratan’s bungalow also came into view. She was sitting on the veranda. Rama raised his hand when he saw her, and she raised hers too; but there his entire self-control collapsed. He could not enter the bungalow. The carriage passed in front of it. If Ratan had called him, he would have gone. Perhaps if she had not been sitting on the veranda he would have gone inside; but seeing her sitting there, he was overcome with embarrassment.
When the carriage reached the vicinity of Government House, Rama suddenly said, “Go to the octroi office.” The carriage driver turned the horse around.
By eleven o’clock Rama reached the office. His face was fallen and his chest was pounding. The head clerk must surely have asked about him. They would call him as soon as he arrived. There was not the slightest leniency in the office. As soon as he got down from the carriage, he first glanced toward the first room. He saw several men standing there waiting for him. Instead of going that way, he went toward Ramesh Babu’s room.
Ramesh Babu asked, “Where have you been all this time? The cashier has been looking for you. Didn’t you meet the peon?”
Rama stammered, “I wasn’t at home. I had gone over to the lawyer’s place. I have fallen into a terrible difficulty.”
Ramesh—“What kind of difficulty? Everything all right at home?”
Ramanath—“Yes, everything is all right at home. There was a great deal of work here yesterday evening. I became so caught up in it that I lost all sense of time. When I finished and got up, the cashier had already left. I had eight hundred rupees of the revenue with me. I began wondering where I should keep them. There isn’t even a chest in my room. I decided I would take them with me. There were five hundred rupees in cash, which I put in the bag, and I put three hundred rupees in notes in my pocket and went home. I had to buy one or two things in the Chowk. I reached home by way of there, and when I got there the notes were gone.”
Ramesh Babu stared at him. “Three hundred rupees in notes disappeared?”
Ramanath—“Yes. They were in the pocket over my coat. Someone must have taken them.”
Ramesh—“And they didn’t beat you and snatch the bag?”
Ramanath—“What can I tell you, Babuji? I cannot describe the state of my mind since then. I have been running around trying to solve this ever since. Nothing could be arranged.”
Ramesh—“You must not have told your father?”
Ramanath—“You know his nature. He would not give me the money; instead, he would scold me.”
Ramesh—“Then what are you going to do?”
Ramanath—“I will certainly find some way out by this evening.”
Ramesh assumed a stern expression and said, “Then do it! How could you have been so careless? I cannot understand it. Not a single penny has ever fallen out of my pocket. Do you walk along the road with your eyes closed, or were you drunk? I cannot believe your story. Tell me the truth: you didn’t spend the money recklessly, did you? Why did you ask me for money that day?”
Rama’s face turned pale. Would his deception be exposed? He tried to make the story convincing and said, “Would I spend government money? That day I asked you for money because Babuji had some urgent need. There was no money at home. I read your letter to him. He laughed a great deal and made some other arrangement. I myself am astonished that these notes have disappeared.”
Ramesh—“If you were embarrassed to ask your father, I can write to him and ask him to send the money.”
Rama put his hands over his ears and said, “No, Babuji, for God’s sake, don’t do that. If you feel like doing something of that kind, shoot me instead.”
Ramesh thought for a moment and said, “Are you confident that the money will be found by this evening?”
Ramanath—“Yes, I do have hope.”
Ramesh—“Then deposit the money in this bag. But listen, brother, I tell you plainly: if you do not bring the money by ten tomorrow, it will not be my fault. The rule is that I should hand you over to the police this very moment; but you are still a boy, so I am forgiving you. Otherwise you know that I show no consideration of any kind in government work. If you were my brother or my son, I would treat him the same way, perhaps even more harshly. I am being very lenient with you as it is. If I had the money, I would give it to you, but you know my circumstances. Yes, I never keep anyone’s debt, nor do I lend to anyone or borrow from anyone. If the money does not come tomorrow, things will be bad. Even my friendship will not be able to save you from the police’s clutches. My friendship has done its duty today; otherwise, at this moment you would have handcuffs on your wrists.”
Handcuffs! The word struck Rama’s chest like an arrow. He trembled from head to foot. At the thought of that calamity, his eyes filled with tears. He slowly lowered his head and went to sit in his chair like a prisoner who had already been sentenced; but from time to time that terrible word echoed in his heart.
Dark clouds covered the sky. There was no sign of the sun anywhere. Was it too imprisoned in that cloud-like prison? Were there handcuffs on its hands as well?