laughed. 'Right, sir!' said he. 'Quite a correct speech for a schoolmaster. That is the kind of stuff I have read in books; but in the real world I have seen that man's chief business is the accumulation of outside material. Those who are masters in the art, advertise the biggest lies in their business, enter false accounts in their political ledgers with their broadest-pointed pens, launch their newspapers daily laden with untruths, and send preachers abroad to disseminate falsehood like flies carrying pestilential germs. I am a humble follower of these great ones. When I was attached to the Congress party I never hesitated to dilute ten per cent of truth with ninety per cent of untruth. And now, merely because I have ceased to belong to that party, I have not forgotten the basic fact that man's goal is not truth but success.'
'True success,' corrected my master.
'Maybe,' replied Sandip, 'but the fruit of true success ripens only by cultivating the field of untruth, after tearing up the soil and pounding it into dust. Truth grows up by itself like weeds and thorns, and only worms can expect to get fruit from it!' With this he flung out of the room.
My master smiled as he looked towards me. 'Do you know, Nikhil,' he said, 'I believe Sandip is not irreligious,—his religion is of the obverse side of truth, like the dark moon, which is still a moon, for all that its light has gone over to the wrong side.'
'That is why,' I assented, 'I have always had an affection for him, though we have never been able to agree. I cannot contemn him, even now; though he has hurt me sorely, and may yet hurt me more.'
'I have begun to realize that,' said my master. 'I have long wondered how you could go on putting up with him. I have, at times, even suspected you of weakness. I now see that though you two do not rhyme, your rhythm is the same.'
'Fate seems bent on writing Paradise Lost in blank verse, in my case, and so has no use for a rhyming friend!' I remarked, pursuing his conceit.
'But what of Panchu?' resumed my master.
'You say Harish Kundu wants to eject him from his ancestral holding. Supposing I buy it up and then keep him on as my tenant?'
'And his fine?'
'How can the zamindar realize that if he becomes my tenant?'
'His burnt bale of cloth?'
'I will procure him another. I should like to see anyone interfering with a tenant of mine, for trading as he pleases!'
'I am afraid, sir,' interposed Panchu despondently, 'while you big folk are doing the fighting, the police and the law vultures will merrily gather round, and the crowd will enjoy the fun, but when it comes to getting killed, it will be the turn of only poor me!'
'Why, what harm can come to you?'
'They will burn down my house, sir, children and all!'
'Very well, I will take charge of your children,' said my master. 'You may go on with any trade you like. They shan't touch you.'
That very day I bought up Panchu's holding and entered into formal possession. Then the trouble began.
Panchu had inherited the holding of his grandfather as his sole surviving heir. Everybody knew this. But at this juncture an aunt turned up from somewhere, with her boxes and bundles, her rosary, and a widowed niece. She ensconced herself in Panchu's home and laid claim to a life interest in all he had.
Panchu was dumbfounded. 'My aunt died long ago,' he protested.
In reply he was told that he was thinking of his uncle's first wife, but that the former had lost no time in taking to himself a second.
'But my uncle died before my aunt,' exclaimed Panchu, still more mystified. 'Where was the time for him to marry again?'
This was not denied. But Panchu was reminded that it had never been asserted that the second wife had come after the death of the first, but the former had been married by his uncle during the latter's lifetime. Not relishing the idea of living with a co-wife she had remained in her father's house till her husband's death, after which she had got religion and retired to holy Brindaban, whence she was now coming. These facts were well known to the officers of Harish Kundu, as well as to some of his tenants. And if the zamindar's summons should be peremptory enough, even some of those who had partaken of the marriage feast would be forthcoming!
IX
One afternoon, when I happened to be specially busy, word came to my office room that Bimala had sent for me. I was startled.
'Who did you say had sent for me?' I asked the messenger.
'The Rani Mother.'
'The Bara Rani?'
'No, sir, the Chota Rani Mother.'
The Chota Rani! It seemed a century since I had been sent for by her. I kept them all waiting there, and went off into the inner apartments. When I stepped into our room I had another shock of surprise to find Bimala there with a distinct suggestion of being dressed up. The room, which from persistent neglect had latterly acquired an air of having grown absent-minded, had regained something of its old order this afternoon. I stood there silently, looking enquiringly at Bimala.
She flushed a little and the fingers of her right hand toyed for a time with the bangles on her left arm. Then she abruptly broke the silence. 'Look here! Is it right that ours should be the only market in all Bengal which allows foreign goods?'
'What, then, would be the right thing to do?' I asked.
'Order them to be cleared out!'
'But the goods are not mine.'
'Is not the market yours?'
'It is much more theirs who use it for trade.'
'Let them trade in Indian goods, then.'
'Nothing would please me better. But suppose they do not?'
'Nonsense! How dare they be so insolent? Are you not...'
'I am very busy this afternoon and cannot stop to argue it out. But I must refuse to tyrannize.'
'It would not be tyranny for selfish gain, but for the sake of the country.'
'To tyrannize for the country is to tyrannize over the country. But that I am afraid you will never understand.' With this I came away.
All of a sudden the world shone out for me with a fresh clearness. I seemed to feel it in my blood, that the Earth had lost the weight of its earthiness, and its daily task of sustaining life no longer appeared a burden, as with a wonderful access of power it whirled through space telling its beads of days and nights. What endless work, and withal what illimitable energy of freedom! None shall check it, oh, none can ever check it! From the depths of my being an uprush of joy, like a waterspout, sprang high to storm the skies.
I repeatedly asked myself the meaning of this outburst of feeling. At first there was no intelligible answer. Then
