The Spoilt Child/Chapter 26
CHAPTER XXVI.
Thakchacha in Jail.
Sleep will never come when fear and anxiety have entered the mind. Thakchacha was exceedingly uncomfortable in the lock-up: he had thrown himself on a blanket, and was tossing restlessly from side to side: now and again he got up to see what hour of the night it was. Whenever he heard the sound of carriage-wheels, or a voice, he imagined it must be daybreak: he kept getting up in a hurry, and saying to the sepoy guard: "Friends, how far advanced is the night?" They were very angry, and said to him: "Ho, you there! the gun will not be fired for two or three hours yet! Keep quiet now; why do you keep on disturbing us like this every hour?" Thakchacha, at these words, began to toss about on his blanket again. Conflicting emotions rose in his mind, and he revolved a variety of plans: his reflections continually taking this turn;-- "Why have I been so long conversant with craft and trickery? Where is now the money that I have earned in this way? I have nothing left of all my sinful gains. The only result, so far as I can see, is that I got no sleep at night for fear of being detected in some crime or other. I lived in constant terror: if the leaves of a tree only shook, I imagined some one was coming to apprehend me. How often did my sister-in-law's husband, Khoda Buksh, warn me against all this trickery and craft! His words to me were: 'It would be much better for you if you would get your living by agriculture or trade or service: you can come to no harm so long as you walk in the straight path: by such a course you will keep body and mind alike in sound health.' And Khoda Buksh, because he does himself walk thus, is happy. Alas I why did I not listen to his words? How shall I find a release from this present calamity? Unless I can secure a pleader or a barrister, I shall never succeed in doing so. But if there is no evidence against me, I cannot possibly be punished. How will they find out where the forgery was committed, or who committed it?" He was still revolving all these thoughts in his mind when the day began to break, and then from sheer weariness he fell asleep. Soon however he began to dream about his many misfortunes, and to talk in his sleep. "Ah Bahulya! take care that no one gets a glimpse of the pencil, the pen and the other instruments: they are all in the tank in the house at Sialdah: they will be quite safe there: be very careful now not to take them out again, and get off yourself as soon as you can to Faridpore; I will meet you there, when I have been set free."
It was now morning, and the rays of the sun fell through the venetians full on Thakchacha's beard. The jemadar of the lock-up had been standing near Thakchacha, and had heard all he said. He now shouted: "Ho, you old rascal! what! have you been asleep all this time? Get up, you have revealed all your secrets yourself." Thakchacha got up in a great flurry, and rubbing his eyes, his nose, and his beard with his hand, commenced repeating his prayers: and again, he looked at the jemadar with eyes half-open, and then closed again. The jemadar frowned, and said: "You are a fine hypocrite, you are! sitting there with a whole sack of virtue! Well, well! your virtue will be fully manifest when we have taken the instruments out of the tank at Sialdah." At these words Thakchacha trembled all over like a plantain leaf, and said: "Ah, sir! I have a heavy fever on me; hence the lies I told in my sleep." "Well," replied the jemadar, "we shall soon know the meaning of all you have said: get ready at once." With these words, he departed.
As soon as it struck ten, the officers of the court took Thakchacha and the other accused into court. Bancharam had been walking up and down the police court with Mr. Butler, long before nine. He was thinking -- "If we can only get Thakchacha off this time, we may still secure a good deal of business through his agency: he is an extremely useful person in many ways, through his power of talking people over, and his special knowledge and experience in every kind of business, legal or otherwise; but I have always for myself acted, on the principle;-- 'No rupees, no investigation' I cannot, as the saying is, 'drive away the wild buffalo at my own expense;' and again, as another saying has it, 'I have sat down to dance, why then a veil?' Why conceal my sentiments? Besides, Thakchacha has bled a good many people, what harm then in bleeding him? But a good deal of skill is necessary to get the flesh of a crow[59] to eat, and it will not be easy to make anything out of so wary an individual as Thakchacha." Mr. Butler, seeing Bancharam so absent-minded, asked him what he was anxious about. Bancharam replied: "Ah, dear Saheb, I am thinking how to get money to enter my house!" Mr. Butler, who had moved away a little distance, exclaimed: "A capital idea, capital."
As soon as he saw Thakchacha, Bancharam ran up to him, and catching hold of his hands said to him, with tears in his eyes: "Ah, what a misfortune this is! I sat up the whole of last night in consequence of the bad news; not once did I close my eyes, and after I had in a fashion performed my religious duties, I slipped away before daylight, and brought the Saheb with me. But why be afraid? Am I a mere child that you cannot trust me? A man's life has many vicissitudes: moreover, it is the big tree[60] that the storm strikes! But no investigation can be made, and nothing done, unless money is forthcoming: I have none with me: but if you would have some of your wife's heavy ornaments fetched, business can proceed: only get off scot-free this time, and you will get plenty of jewelry afterwards." It is very hard for a man who has fallen into any misfortune to deliberate calmly. Thakchacha at once wrote off a letter to his wife. Bancharam took the letter and with a wink and a smile at Mr. Butler handed it to a messenger, saying: "Run with all speed to Vaidyabati, get some heavy ornaments from Thakchacha's wife, and return here or to the office in the twinkling of an eye; and look you, be very careful how you bring the ornaments! Look sharp, be off like a shot." The messenger testily replied: "It is easier said than done, sir! I have to get out of Calcutta first, then I have to get to Vaidyabati and then find Thakchacha's wife. I shall have to wander and stumble about in the dark, and besides, I have not yet had my bath, let alone a morsel of food: how can I possibly get back to-day?" Bancharam lost his temper and abused the man, saying: "The lower orders are all alike: each acts as he thinks proper: courtesy is wasted upon them: there is no hurrying them up without kicks and blows! People can go as far as Delhi when they have an object in view: cannot you then go as far as Vaidyabati, do your business, and come back again? You know the proverb: 'A hint is sufficient for a wise man:' now I have actually had to poke my finger into your eye, and yet you have not had wit enough to see." The messenger hung his head down, and without saying a word in reply, went slowly off like a jaded horse, muttering as he went: "What have poor persons to do with respect or disrespect? I most put up with it in order to live, but when will the day arrive when the Babu will fall into the same snare as Thakchacha? I know that he has ruined hundreds of people and hundreds of homes, and hundreds he has rendered houseless and destitute. Ah indeed, I have seen a good many attorneys' agents, but never a match for this man! See the sort he is! a man who can swear black is white, a man who can compass anything he likes by his trickery and craft, and yet all the time keeps up his daily religious duties, his Dol Jatra and his Durga Pujah, his alms to the Brahmans and his devotions to his guardian deity! Bad luck to such Hinduism as his, the unmitigated scoundrel!"
Meanwhile Thakchacha, Bancharam and Mr. Butler had all taken their seats: the case had not yet been called on, and their impatience only increased with the delay. Just as it struck five o'clock, Thakchacha was placed before the magistrate, and soon saw that the instruments wherewith he had committed the forgery had been brought into court from the tank at Sialdah, and that some villagers from that quarter were also present in court. After examination into the case, the magistrate passed these orders:-- "The case must be sent up to the High Court: the prisoner cannot be admitted to bail: he must be imprisoned in the Presidency Jail." As soon as these orders had been passed, Bancharam ran up quickly, and shaking the prisoner by the hand, said: "What cause for alarm is there? You don't take me for a child that you cannot trust me? I knew all along that the case would go up to the High Court: that is just what we want."
Thakchacha's face looked all at once pinched and withered from anxiety. The constable seized him by the arms, dragged him roughly down, and sent him off to the jail[61]. Thakchacha proceeded along, his fetters clanging as he went, and his throat parched, without so much as lifting up his eyes, for fear of seeing somebody who might recognise and jeer at him.
It was evening when Thakchacha first put his foot into that 'House of Beauty,' -- the Presidency Jail. All those who are in for debt or civil cases are imprisoned on one side, those who are in on criminal charges on the other; and after trial they may have either to work out a fixed sentence there, or grind soorkey in the mill-house, or else chains and fetters may be their lot. Thakchacha had to remain on the criminal side of the jail. As soon as he entered, the prisoners all surrounded him. Thakchacha looked closely at them, but could not recognise a single acquaintance amongst them. The prisoners exclaimed: "Ah, Munshi Ji! what are you staring at? You are in the same plight as we are: come then, let us associate together." Thakchacha replied: "Ah, gentlemen I have fallen into unmerited trouble! I have taken nothing from any man: I have touched nothing belonging to any man: it is but a turn of the wheel of fortune." One or two of the old offenders said: "Ha! And is that really so? A good many people get overwhelmed by false charges." One rough fellow said harshly: "Are we to suppose then that the charge against you is false, while those against ourselves are true? Ha! what a virtuous and eloquent man has come amongst us! Be careful, my brothers; this bearded fellow is a very cunning sort of individual." Thakchacha at once became more modest, and began to depreciate himself, but they were long engaged in a wrangle on the subject: any trifling matter will serve when people have nothing else to do, as a peg whereon to hang an argument. The jail had been shut for the night: the prisoners had had their food and were preparing, to lie down to sleep. Thakchacha was just on the point of seizing this opportunity to throw into his mouth some sweetmeats he had brought with him tied up in his waistcloth, when suddenly two of the prisoners, low fellows, with whiskers, hair and eyebrows all white, came up behind him and snatched away the vessel containing the sweetmeats, laughing loudly and harshly the while. They just showed them to the others, then tossed them into their mouths, and demolished them, coming close up to Thakchacha as they ate, and jeering at him. Thakchacha remained perfectly dumb, and keeping the insult to himself, got quietly on to his sleeping mat, and lay down.