Stories from Tagore
Stories from Tagore-7
The loss of the scholarship drove Kalipada to do
extra work as a private tutor and to stick to the
same unhealthy room in the lodging house. The
students overhead had hoped that they would be relieved
of his presence. But punctually to the day the
room was unlocked on the lower floor. Kalipada
entered, clad in the same old dirty check Parsee coat.
A coolie from Sealdah Station took down from his
head a steel trunk and other miscellaneous packages
and laid them on the floor of the room; and a long
[Pg 181]
wrangle ensued as to the proper amount of pice that
were due.
In the depths of those packages there were mango
chutnies and other condiments which his mother had
specially prepared. Kalipada was aware that, in his
absence, the upper-story students, in search of a jest,
did not scruple to come into his room by stealth.
He was especially anxious to keep these home gifts
from their cruel scrutiny. As tokens of home affection
they were supremely precious to him; but to the
town students, they denoted merely the boorishness
of poverty-stricken villagers. The vessels were
crude and earthen, fastened up by an earthen lid
fixed on with paste of flour. They were neither
glass nor porcelain, and therefore sure to be regarded
with insolent disdain by rich town-bred people.
Formerly Kalipada used to keep these stores hidden
under his bed, covering them up with old newspapers.
But this time he took the precaution of
always locking up his door, even if he went out for
a few minutes. This still further roused the spleen
of Sailen and his party. It seemed to them preposterous
that the room which was poor enough to draw
tears from the eyes of the most hardened burglar
should be as carefully guarded as if it were a second
Bank of Bengal.
"Does he actually believe," they said among themselves,
[Pg 182]
"that the temptation will be irresistible for
us to steal that Parsee coat?"
Sailen had never visited this dark and mildewed
room from which the plaster was dropping. The
glimpses that he had taken, while going up-stairs,—especially
when, in the evening, Kalipada, the upper
part of his body bare, would sit poring over his
books with a smoky lamp beside him,—were
enough to give him a sense of suffocation. Sailen
asked his boon companions to explore the room
below and find out the treasure which Kalipada had
hidden. Everybody felt intensely amused at the
proposal.
The lock on Kalipada's door was a cheap one,
which had the magnanimity to lend itself to any key.
One evening when Kalipada had gone out to his
private tuition, two or three of the students with an
exuberant sense of humour took a lantern and unlocked
the room and entered. It did not need a
moment to discover the pots of chutney under the
bed, but these hardly seemed valuable enough to
demand such watchful care on the part of Kalipada.
A further search disclosed a key on a ring under the
pillow. They opened the steel trunk with the key
and found a few soiled clothes, books and writing
material. They were about to shut the box in disgust
when they saw, at the very bottom, a packet
[Pg 183]
covered by a dirty handkerchief. On uncovering
three or four wrappers they found a currency note
of fifty rupees. This made them burst out into
peals of laughter. They felt certain that Kalipada
was harbouring suspicion against the whole world
in his mind because of this fifty rupees!
The meanness of this suspicious precaution deepened
the intensity of their contempt for Kalipada.
Just then, they heard a foot-step outside. They
hastily shut the box, locked the door, and ran upstairs
with the note in their possession.
Sailen was vastly amused. Though fifty rupees
was a mere trifle, he could never have believed that
Kalipada had so much money in his trunk. They
all decided to watch the result of this loss upon that
queer creature downstairs.
When Kalipada came home that night after his
tuition was over, he was too tired to notice any disorder
in his room. One of his worst attacks of
nervous headache was coming on and he went
straight to bed.
The next day, when he brought out his trunk from
under the bed and took out his clothes, he found it
open. He was naturally careful, but it was not
unlikely, he thought, that he had forgotten to lock
it on the day before. But when he lifted the lid he
found all the contents topsy-turvy, and his heart gave
[Pg 184]
a great thud when he discovered that the note, given
to him by his mother, was missing. He searched
the box over and over again in the vain hope of
finding it, and when his loss was made certain, he
flung himself upon his bed and lay like one dead.
Just then, he heard footsteps following one another
on the stairs, and every now and then an outburst
of laughter from the upper room. It struck
him, all of a sudden, that this was not a theft: Sailen
and his party must have taken the note to amuse
themselves and make laughter out of it. It would
have given him less pain if a thief had stolen it. It
seemed to him that these young men had laid their
impious hands upon his mother herself.
This was the first time that Kalipada had ascended
those stairs. He ran to the upper floor,—the old
jersey on his shoulders,—his face flushed with anger
and the pain of his illness. As it was Sunday, Sailen
and his company were seated in the verandah, laughing
and talking. Without any warning, Kalipada
burst upon them and shouted:
"Give me back my note!"
If he had begged it of them, they would have
relented; but the sight of his anger made them
furious. They started up from their chairs and
exclaimed:
[Pg 185]
"What do you mean, sir? What do you mean?
What note?"
Kalipada shouted: "The note you have taken
from my box!"
"How dare you?" they shouted back. "Do you
take us to be thieves?"
If Kalipada had held any weapon in his hand at
that moment he certainly would have killed some one
among them. But when he was about to spring,
they fell on him, and four or five of them dragged
him down to his room and thrust him inside.
Sailen said to his companions: "Here, take this
hundred-rupee note, and throw it to that dog!"
They all loudly exclaimed: "No! Let him
climb down first and give us a written apology.
Then we shall consider it!"
Sailen's party all went to bed at the proper time
and slept the sleep of the innocent. In the morning
they had almost forgotten Kalipada. But some of
them, while passing his room, heard the sound of talking
and they thought that possibly he was busy consulting
some lawyer. The door was shut from the
inside. They tried to overhear, but what they heard
had nothing legal about it. It was quite incoherent.
They informed Sailen. He came down and stood
with his ear close to the door. The only thing that
[Pg 186]
could be distinctly heard was the word 'Father.'
This frightened Sailen. He thought that possibly
Kalipada had gone mad on account of the grief of
losing that fifty-rupee note. Sailen shouted "Kalipada
Babu!" two or three times, but got no answer.
Only that muttering sound continued. Sailen called,—"Kalipada
Babu,—please open the door. Your
note has been found." But still the door was not
opened and that muttering sound went on.
Sailen had never anticipated such a result as this.
He did not express a word of repentance to his followers,
but he felt the sting of it all the same. Some
advised him to break open the door: others thought
that the police should be called in,—for Kalipada
might be in a dangerous state of lunacy. Sailen at
once sent for a doctor who lived close at hand.
When they burst open the door they found the
bedding hanging from the bed and Kalipada lying
on the floor unconscious. He was tossing about and
throwing up his arms and muttering, with his eyes
red and open and his face all flushed. The doctor
examined him and asked if there were any relative
near at hand; for the case was serious.
Sailen answered that he knew nothing, but would
make inquiries. The doctor then advised the removal
of the patient at once to an upstairs room and
proper nursing arrangements day and night. Sailen
[Pg 187]
took him up to his own room and dismissed his followers.
He got some ice and put it on Kalipada's
head and began to fan him with his own hand.
Kalipada, fearing that mocking references would
be made, had concealed the names and address of his
parents from these people with special care. So
Sailen had no alternative but to open his box. He
found two bundles of letters tied up with ribbon.
One of them contained his mother's letters, the other
contained his father's. His mother's letters were
fewer in number than his father's. Sailen closed the
door and began to read the letters. He was startled
when he saw the address,—Saniari, the house of the
Chowdhuries,—and then the name of the father,
Bhavani. He folded up the letters and sat still,
gazing at Kalipada's face. Some of his friends had
casually mentioned, that there was a resemblance
between Kalipada and himself. But he was offended
at the remark and did not believe it. To-day he
discovered the truth. He knew that his own grandfather,
Shyama Charan, had a step-brother named
Bhavani; but the later history to the family had remained
a secret to him. He did not even know that
Bhavani had a son named Kalipada; and he never
suspected that Bhavani had come to such an abject
state of poverty as this. He now felt not only relieved,
but proud of his own relative, Kalipada, that
[Pg 188]
he had refused to enter himself on the list of protégés.
IV
Knowing that his party had insulted Kalipada almost
every day, Sailen felt reluctant to keep him in
the lodging house with them. So he rented another
suitable house and kept him there. Bhavani came
down in haste to Calcutta the moment he received a
letter from Sailen informing him of his son's illness.
Rashmani parted with all her savings giving instructions
to her husband to spare no expense upon her
son. It was not considered proper for the daughters
of the great Chowdhuri family to leave their
home and go to Calcutta unless absolutely obliged,
and therefore she had to remain behind offering
prayers to all the tutelary gods. When Bhavani
Charan arrived he found Kalipada still unconscious
and delirious. It nearly broke Bhavani's heart
when he heard himself called 'Master Mashai.'
Kalipada often called him in his delirium and he
tried to make himself recognized by his son, but in
vain.
The doctor came again and said the fever was
getting less. He thought the case was taking a more
favourable turn. For Bhavani, it was an impossibility
to imagine that his son would not recover. He
[Pg 189]
must live: it was his destiny to live. Bhavani was
much struck with the behaviour of Sailen. It was
difficult to believe that he was not of their own kith
and kin. He supposed all this kindness to be due to
the town training which Sailen had received. Bhavani
spoke to Sailen disparagingly of the country
habits which village people like himself got into.
Gradually the fever went down and Kalipada recovered
consciousness. He was astonished beyond
measure when he saw his father sitting in the room
beside him. His first anxiety was lest he should
discover the miserable state in which he had been
living. But what would be harder still to bear was,
if his father with his rustic manners became the butt
of the people upstairs. He looked round him, but
could not recognize his own room and wondered if
he had been dreaming. But he found himself too
weak to think.
He supposed that it had been his father who had
removed him to this better lodging, but he had no
power to calculate how he could possibly bear the
expense. The only thing that concerned him at that
moment was that he felt he must live, and for that
he had a claim upon the world.
Once when his father was absent Sailen came in
with a plate of grapes in his hand. Kalipada could
not understand this at all and wondered if there was
[Pg 190]
some practical joke behind it. He at once became
excited and wondered how he could save his father
from annoyance. Sailen set the plate down on the
table and touched Kalipada's feet humbly and said:
"My offence has been great: pray forgive me."
Kalipada started and sat up on his bed. He could
see that Sailen's repentance was sincere and he was
greatly moved.
When Kalipada had first come to the students'
lodging house he had felt strongly drawn towards
this handsome youth. He never missed a chance of
looking at his face when Sailen passed by his room
on his way upstairs. He would have given all the
world to be friends with him, but the barrier was
too great to overcome. Now to-day when Sailen
brought him the grapes and asked his forgiveness,
he silently looked at his face and silently accepted
the grapes which spoke of his repentance.
It amused Kalipada greatly when he noticed the
intimacy that had sprung up between his father and
Sailen. Sailen used to call Bhavani Charan "grandfather"
and exercised to the full the grandchild's
privilege of joking with him. The principal object
of the jokes was the absent "grandmother." Sailen
made the confession that he had taken the opportunity
of Kalipada's illness to steal all the delicious
[Pg 191]
chutnies which his "grandmother" had made with
her own hand. The news of his act of "thieving"
gave Kalipada very great joy. He found it easy
to deprive himself, if he could find any one who could
appreciate the good things made by his mother.
Thus this time of his convalescence became the happiest
period in the whole of Kalipada's life.
There was only one flaw in this unalloyed happiness.
Kalipada had a fierce pride in his poverty
which prevented him ever speaking about his family's
better days. Therefore when his father used to
talk of his former prosperity Kalipada winced.
Bhavani could not keep to himself the one great event
of his life,—the theft of that will which he was
absolutely certain that he would some day recover.
Kalipada had always regarded this as a kind of
mania of his father's, and in collusion with his mother
he had often humoured his father concerning this
amiable weakness. But he shrank in shame when
his father talked about this to Sailen. He noticed
particularly that Sailen did not relish such conversation
and that he often tried to prove, with a certain
amount of feeling, its absurdity. But Bhavani,
who was ready to give in to others in matters much
more serious, in this matter was adamant. Kalipada
tried to pacify him by saying that there was no great
[Pg 192]
need to worry about it, because those who were enjoying
its benefit were almost the same as his own
children, since they were his nephews.
Such talk Sailen could not bear for long and he
used to leave the room. This pained Kalipada, because
he thought that Sailen might get quite a wrong
conception of his father and imagine him to be a
grasping worldly old man. Sailen would have revealed
his own relationship to Kalipada and his
father long before, but this discussion about the theft
of the will prevented him. It was hard for him to
believe that his grandfather or father had stolen
the will; on the other hand he could not but think
that some cruel injustice had been done in depriving
Bhavani of his share of the ancestral property.
Therefore he gave up arguing when the subject was
brought forward and took some occasion to leave
as soon as possible.
Though Kalipada still had headaches in the evening,
with a slight rise in temperature, he did not
take it at all seriously. He became anxious to resume
his studies because he felt it would be a calamity
to him if he again missed his scholarship. He secretly
began to read once more, without taking any
notice of the strict orders of the doctor. Kalipada
asked his father to return home, assuring him that
he was in the best of health. Bhavani had been
[Pg 193]
all his life fed and nourished and cooked for by
his wife; he was pining to get back. He did not
therefore wait to be pressed.
On the morning of his intended departure, when
he went to say good-bye to Kalipada, he found him
very ill indeed, his face red with fever and his whole
body burning. He had been committing to memory
page after page of his text book of Logic half
through the night, and for the remainder he could
not sleep at all. The doctor took Sailen aside.
"This relapse," he said, "is fatal." Sailen came
to Bhavani and said, "The patient requires a
mother's nursing: she must be brought to Calcutta."
It was evening when Rashmani came, and she
only saw her son alive for a few hours. Not knowing
how her husband could survive such a terrible
shock she altogether suppressed her own sorrow.
Her son was merged in her husband again, and she
took up this burden of the dead and the living on
her own aching heart. She said to her God,—"It
is too much for me to bear." But she did bear it.
V
It was midnight. With the very weariness of
her sorrow Rashmani had fallen asleep soon after
reaching her own home in the village. But Bhavani
had no sleep that night. Tossing on his bed for
[Pg 194]
hours he heaved a deep sigh saying,—"Merciful
God!" Then he got up from his bed and went out.
He entered the room where Kalipada had been wont
to do his lessons in his childhood. The lamp shook
as he held it in his hand. On the wooden settle
there was still the torn, ink-stained quilt, made long
ago by Rashmani herself. On the wall were figures
of Euclid and Algebra drawn in charcoal. The remains
of a Royal Reader No. III and a few exercise
books were lying about; and the one odd slipper of
his infancy, which had evaded notice so long, was
keeping its place in the dusty obscurity of the corner
of the room. To-day it had become so important
that nothing in the world, however great, could
keep it hidden any longer. Bhavani put the lamp
in the niche on the wall and silently sat on the settle;
his eyes were dry, but he felt choked as if with want
of breath.
Bhavani opened the shutters on the eastern side
and stood still, grasping the iron bars, gazing into
the darkness. Through the drizzling rain he could
see the outline of the clump of trees at the end of
the outer wall. At this spot Kalipada had made
his own garden. The passion flowers which he had
planted with his own hand had grown densely thick.
While he gazed at this Bhavani felt his heart come
up into his throat with choking pain. There was
[Pg 195]
nobody now to wait for and expect daily. The summer
vacation had come, but no one would come back
home to fill the vacant room and use its old familiar
furniture.
"O Baba mine!" he cried, "O Baba! O Baba
mine!"
He sat down. The rain came faster. A sound
of footsteps was heard among the grass and withered
leaves. Bhavani's heart stood still. He
hoped it was ... that which was beyond all
hope. He thought it was Kalipada himself come
to see his own garden,—and in this downpour of
rain how wet he would be! Anxiety about this made
him restless. Then somebody stood for a moment
in front of the iron window bars. The cloak round
his head made it impossible for Bhavani to see his
face clearly, but his height was the same as that of
Kalipada.
"Darling!" cried Bhavani, "You have come!"
and he rushed to open the door.
But when he came outside to the spot where the
figure had stood, there was no one to be seen. He
walked up and down in the garden through the
drenching rain, but no one was there. He stood
still for a moment raising his voice and calling,—"Kalipada,"
but no answer came. The servant,
Noto, who was sleeping in the cowshed, heard his
[Pg 196]
cry and came out and coaxed him back to his room.
Next day, in the morning, Noto, while sweeping
the room found a bundle just underneath the grated
window. He brought it to Bhavani who opened it
and found it was an old document. He put on his
spectacles and after reading a few lines came rushing
in to Rashmani and gave the paper into her hand.
Rashmani asked, "What is it?"
Bhavani replied, "It is the will!"
"Who gave it you?"
"He himself came last night to give it to me."
"What are you going to do with it?"
Bhavani said: "I have no need of it now."
And he tore the will to pieces.
When the news reached the village Bagala proudly
nodded his head and said: "Didn't I prophesy
that the will would be recovered through Kalipada?"
But the grocer Ramcharan replied: "Last night
when the ten o'clock train reached the Station a
handsome looking young man came to my shop and
asked the way to the Chowdhuri's house and I
thought he had some kind of bundle in his hand."
"Absurd," said Bagala.
WORDS TO BE STUDIED
detailed. From the French "tailler," to cut. Compare
tailor, entail, retail.
[Pg 197]
patrimony. From the Latin "pater," a father. Compare
paternal, patriarch, patriot. The ending -mony is from
the Latin -monium. Compare testimony, matrimony,
sanctimony.
revert. From the Latin "vertere," to turn. Compare
convert, subvert, divert, invert, advert, version, conversion,
adverse.
amazement. This word is of doubtful origin. We have
the simpler form "maze" but do not know how it has
come into English.
preposterous. The Latin word "pre" means "before,"
and the Latin word "posterus" behind. The literal
meaning, therefore, is "before-behind" and so "absurd,"
"outrageous."
treachery. This comes from the Old French "treacher,"
to trick. It is to be distinguished from the word
"traitor," which comes from the Latin "traditor," one
who gives up another. Compare intricate, trickery,
trick, intrigue.
parasites. From the Greek word "sitos," food,—one who
feeds on another.
property. From the Latin "proprius," meaning "one's
own." Compare proper, appropriate, improper.
haggle. This is an Old Norwegian word which has come
into English, meaning literally to chop.
good-for-nothing. Such "phrase" words as these are not
very common in English. They are more common in
French. Compare the English ne'er-do-well, lazybones,
out-of-the-way, and the French coup-d'état, nom-de-plume,
fin-de-siécle. On the other hand, adjectives
made up of two words are quite common in English.
Compare simple-hearted, middle-aged.
régime. This word still retains its French form and accent
and pronunciation. Little by little such French words
become pronounced and spelt in an English form and
take a permanent place in the language. For instance,
[Pg 198]
the French word "morale" with accent on the last
syllable is now becoming a common English word. In
time it will probably be accented on the first syllable
like ordinary English words and will drop its final "e."
gap. This is another Old Norwegian word meaning a
wide opening. Compare gape. These Norwegian
words came into English somewhat plentifully at the
time of the Danish Conquest.
sympathy. From the Greek "syn" with, and "pathos"
suffering. It should be noted that the word "compassion"
from the Latin "cum" with, and "passio" suffering,
has the same root meaning, viz. "suffering with
another."
law-suit. The English word "suit" comes from the Latin
"sequi," to follow, which in French becomes "suivre."
We have two English forms, one form directly from
the Latin, the other from the French. From the Latin
prosecute, persecute, consecutive, execute. From the
French pursue, ensue, sue.
A "suit" in a game of cards means the cards that
follow one another in a sequence.
A "suit" of clothes means the trousers, coat, waistcoat,
following the same pattern. Compare also the
French word suite which has now been taken into English,
e.g. a suite of rooms, a suite of furniture (pronounced
like "sweet").
incoherence. From the Latin "haerere," to stick. Compare
adhere, cohere, inherent, coherence.
foreign. From the Old French "forain," out of doors.
The letter "g" has become wrongly inserted in this
word as also in "sovereign."
bargain. From the late Latin "barca," a boat, because
trade was carried on by boats along the rivers. Compare
barque, barge, bark.
husky. From the noun husk,—as dry as a husk.
shawl. From the Persian word "shāl." A considerable
[Pg 199]
number of words are coming into use in English now
from the East. One of the most curious recent ones is
Blighty which is a corruption of wilayati, bilaiti. For
words introduced into English compare karma, sanyasi,
fakir, brahmin, ghat, puggaree, pyjama, pucca, curry,
chutney, chintz, cummerbund, khaki, rupee, durrie, turban,
sepoy.
doll. This is a shortened form of the English girl's name
Dorothy, Dolly, Doll. Compare poll-parrot from
Polly or Poll.
soup. This word still retains its French form, without the
final "e" (French soupe), but the English words sup,
supper have dropped their French spelling altogether.
ticket. From the Old French "estiquette," meaning something
fixed like a bill on the wall. (Compare the English
word to "stick" which comes from the same root.)
We have here a case of a French word branching off
into two quite distinct English words,—"etiquette"
and "ticket," each having its own meaning.
jersey. One of the islands in the English Channel called
Jersey first made this special form of woollen vest.
Many English words are thus taken from the names of
places. Compare currant (Corinth), argosy (Ragusa),
calico (Calicut), bronze (Brundusium), gipsy (Egyptian),
cashmere (Kashmir).
impertinence. Originally this word means that which is
not "pertinent," and so something "out-of-place."
Later on it got the present meaning of something insolent.
mosquito. From the Spanish. The word is the diminutive
of the Latin "musca," a fly.
scruple. From the Latin "scrupulus," a small sharp stone.
This word meant first in English a very small weight
of twenty grains; then it came to mean a slight weight
on the mind or conscience. In the Trial Scene of
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice we have the original
[Pg 200]
sense used,—"the twentieth part of one poor scruple."
exuberant. From the Latin "uber," udder. Thus it
comes to mean "flowing from the udder" and so "overflowing."
handkerchief. "Kerchief" came from two French words
"couvre," to cover, and "chef," the head. It meant a
head cloth. Then a smaller cloth was used in the hand
and this was called a hand-kerchief.
lunacy. From the Latin "luna," the moon. In former
times Europeans used to think that madness was due
to some influence of the moon. Compare the word
moonstruck.
algebra. This is one of the many words from Arabic beginning
with "al," the. Compare alkali, albatross, alcohol,
alembic, alchemy, alcove.
Euclid. This word was originally the name of a great
Greek mathematical writer. His writings were called
"Books of Euclid." Now the subject is usually called
Geometry.
absurd. From the Latin "surdus," deaf. Deaf people
generally appear stupid to those who can hear. So this
word has come to mean foolish or ridiculous.
topsy-turvy. This probably is a shortened form of topside-turvy,—"turvy"
being a colloquial corruption for
"turned" or "turned over."
[Pg 201]
THE BABUS OF NAYANJORE
[Pg 202]
[Pg 203]
X
THE BABUS OF NAYANJORE
I
Once upon a time the Babus at Nayanjore were
famous landholders. They were noted for their
princely extravagance. They would tear off the
rough border of their Dacca muslin, because it
rubbed against their delicate skin. They could spend
many thousands of rupees over the wedding of a
kitten. And on a certain grand occasion it is alleged
that in order to turn night into day they lighted
numberless lamps and showered silver threads from
the sky to imitate sunlight.
Those were the days before the flood. The flood
came. The line of succession among these old-world
Babus, with their lordly habits, could not continue
for long. Like a lamp with too many wicks burning,
the oil flared away quickly, and the light went out.
Kailas Babu, our neighbour, is the last relic of
this extinct magnificence. Before he grew up, his
family had very nearly reached its lowest ebb.
When his father died, there was one dazzling outburst
of funeral extravagance, and then insolvency.
[Pg 204]
The property was sold to liquidate the debt. What
little ready money was left over was altogether insufficient
to keep up the past ancestral splendours.
Kailas Babu left Nayanjore and came to Calcutta.
His son did not remain long in this world of faded
glory. He died, leaving behind him an only daughter.
In Calcutta we are Kailas Babu's neighbours.
Curiously enough our own family history is just the
opposite of his. My father got his money by his
own exertions, and prided himself on never spending
a penny more than was needed. His clothes
were those of a working man, and his hands also.
He never had any inclination to earn the title of
Babu by extravagant display; and I myself, his only
son, owe him gratitude for that. He gave me the
very best education, and I was able to make my way
in the world. I am not ashamed of the fact that
I am a self-made man. Crisp bank-notes in my safe
are dearer to me than a long pedigree in an empty
family chest.
I believe this was why I disliked seeing Kailas
Babu drawing his heavy cheques on the public credit
from the bankrupt bank of his ancient Babu reputation.
I used to fancy that he looked down on me,
because my father had earned money with his own
hands.
[Pg 205]
I ought to have noticed that no one showed any
vexation towards Kailas Babu except myself. Indeed
it would have been difficult to find an old man
who did less harm than he. He was always ready
with his kindly little acts of courtesy in times of
sorrow and joy. He would join in all the ceremonies
and religious observances of his neighbours.
His familiar smile would greet young and old alike.
His politeness in asking details about domestic
affairs was untiring. The friends who met him in
the street were perforce ready to be button-holed,
while a long string of questions of this kind followed
one another from his lips:
"My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Are
you quite well? How is Shashi? And Dada—is
he all right? Do you know, I've only just heard
that Madhu's son has got fever. How is he?
Have you heard? And Hari Charan Babu—I
have not seen him for a long time—I hope he is
not ill. What's the matter with Rakkhal? And
er—er, how are the ladies of your family?"
Kailas Babu was spotlessly neat in his dress on
all occasions, though his supply of clothes was sorely
limited. Every day he used to air his shirts and
vests and coats and trousers carefully, and put them
out in the sun, along with his bed-quilt, his pillowcase,
and the small carpet on which he always sat.
[Pg 206]
After airing them he would shake them, and brush
them, and put them carefully away. His little bits
of furniture made his small room decent, and hinted
that there was more in reserve if needed. Very
often, for want of a servant, he would shut up his
house for a while. Then he would iron out his
shirts and linen with his own hands, and do other
little menial tasks. After this he would open his
door and receive his friends again.
Though Kailas Babu, as I have said, had lost all
his landed property, he had still some family heirlooms
left. There was a silver cruet for sprinkling
scented water, a filigree box for otto-of-roses, a small
gold salver, a costly ancient shawl, and the old-fashioned
ceremonial dress and ancestral turban.
These he had rescued with the greatest difficulty
from the money-lenders' clutches. On every suitable
occasion he would bring them out in state, and
thus try to save the world-famed dignity of the Babus
of Nayanjore. At heart the most modest of men,
in his daily speech he regarded it as a sacred duty,
owed to his rank, to give free play to his family
pride. His friends would encourage this trait in
his character with kindly good-humour, and it gave
them great amusement.
The neighbourhood soon learnt to call him their
Thakur Dada. They would flock to his house and
[Pg 207]
sit with him for hours together. To prevent his
incurring any expense, one or other of his friends
would bring him tobacco and say: "Thakur Dada,
this morning some tobacco was sent to me from Gaya.
Do take it and see how you like it."
Thakur Dada would take it and say it was excellent.
He would then go on to tell of a certain
exquisite tobacco which they once smoked in the
old days of Nayanjore at the cost of a guinea an
ounce.
"I wonder," he used to say, "if any one would
like to try it now. I have some left, and can get
it at once."
Every one knew that, if they asked for it, then
somehow or other the key of the cupboard would
be missing; or else Ganesh, his old family servant,
had put it away somewhere.
"You never can be sure," he would add, "where
things go to when servants are about. Now, this
Ganesh of mine,—I can't tell you what a fool he is,
but I haven't the heart to dismiss him."
Ganesh, for the credit of the family, was quite
ready to bear all the blame without a word.
One of the company usually said at this point:
"Never mind, Thakur Dada. Please don't trouble
to look for it. This tobacco we're smoking will do
quite well. The other would be too strong."
[Pg 208]
Then Thakur Dada would be relieved and settle
down again, and the talk would go on.
When his guests got up to go away, Thakur Dada
would accompany them to the door and say to them
on the door-step: "Oh, by the way, when are you
all coming to dine with me?"
One or other of us would answer: "Not just
yet, Thakur Dada, not just yet. We'll fix a day
later."
"Quite right," he would answer. "Quite right.
We had much better wait till the rains come. It's
too hot now. And a grand rich dinner such as I
should want to give you would upset us in weather
like this."
But when the rains did come, every one was very
careful not to remind him of his promise. If the
subject was brought up, some friend would suggest
gently that it was very inconvenient to get about
when the rains were so severe, and therefore it would
be much better to wait till they were over. Thus
the game went on.
Thakur Dada's poor lodging was much too small
for his position, and we used to condole with him
about it. His friends would assure him they quite
understood his difficulties: it was next to impossible
to get a decent house in Calcutta. Indeed, they
[Pg 209]
had all been looking out for years for a house to
suit him. But, I need hardly add, no friend had
been foolish enough to find one. Thakur Dada
used to say, with a sigh of resignation: "Well,
well, I suppose I shall have to put up with this house
after all." Then he would add with a genial smile:
"But, you know, I could never bear to be away from
my friends. I must be near you. That really compensates
for everything."
