Stories on the City

by Premchand

  Ramesh said, ‘My good man. When you’re so disillusioned, why don’t you give up your job? If nothing else, you’ll at least be able to preserve your soul.’

  ‘You worry about me later. Right now, you should worry about yourself. I’ve called you to give you a warning. Presently, you are a pain in the neck for the government. I’m afraid you might be arrested.’

  ‘I’m ready for it.’

  ‘What will you gain by jumping into the fire?’

  ‘I don’t care for gain or loss. My job is to carry out my duty.’

  ‘You’ve always been obstinate. But the situation is delicate. It will be wise for you to show some restraint. Had the public been better informed, I would’ve jumped into the arena before you. But when I find that such isolated sacrifices are of no use, I don’t feel the urge to come forward.’

  The two friends continued talking. They recalled their college days. For classmates, the memory of their student days remains a perennial source of entertainment and laughter. They discussed their professors; they talked about what their other classmates were doing now. It was almost as if they were college students again. There was no trace of seriousness in them!

  The night advanced. By the time dinner was over, it was one. Yashwant said, ‘Where will you go now? Sleep here and we can talk some more. You rarely come to see me.’

  Ramesh accepted the invitation of his friend and spent the night there. When he woke up the next morning, it was 9 a.m. Yashwant was standing beside him and smiling.

  There had been a heinous robbery in Agra the night before.

  5

  When Ramesh returned to his house at ten, he saw that the police had laid a siege on it. An officer held up a warrant. His house was searched forthwith. One didn’t know how a pistol had come to be in the drawer of Ramesh’s table. Immediately he was handcuffed. Now who could have denied that he was involved in the robbery? Misfortune befell several others. All the important leaders were rounded up. The case went to the court.

  One can’t say anything about the others, but Ramesh was innocent. He had such conclusive proof of this that no one could have doubted it. But the question was—could he use this proof?

  Ramesh had thought that Yashwant himself would cooperate with his lawyers for his release by becoming a witness. He thought that Yashwant, knowing that he was innocent, would never allow him to be sent to jail; Yashwant wasn’t that heartless. Days passed, but Yashwant didn’t take any initiative and Ramesh hesitated to name him as his witness. He didn’t want to put his friend in trouble on his account.

  Yashwant was not heartless, or without feelings, but he lacked strong conviction and courage. He was sad that his dear friend was suffering even though he was innocent. Sometimes he would break into tears. But he couldn’t muster the courage to get him released by explaining the situation. He was scared of his officers lest they thought he had sympathy for the conspirators and that he was in touch with them. This is my punishment for being an Indian. I have to swallow the poison. The police have spread such terror among the officers that even if Ramesh is let out because of my statement, they may not disbelieve me but they’ll harbour suspicions in their mind that I’ve made false statements to get my friend released. And my friend? He is accused of treason.

  A month passed. The magistrate sent the case to Yashwant’s court. Several people had been killed in the robbery and the magistrate didn’t have the power to mete out the punishment the culprits deserved.

  6

  Yashwant was in a dilemma. He applied for leave but it wasn’t granted. The civil surgeon was an Englishman. Therefore, he couldn’t dare to get a certificate from him. Misfortune had befallen him and he couldn’t think of a way to avert it.

  Look at the quirks of destiny! Two friends who had studied and played together were standing before each other, separated only by a wooden railing. But the life of one was in the hands of the other. Their eyes didn’t meet because both had lowered their heads. Although Yashwant was seated in the seat of justice and Ramesh was the accused, the real situation was the opposite. Yashwant’s soul felt restless because of shame, guilt and pain while Ramesh’s face glowed in the light of innocence.

  What a difference there was between the two friends! One was a generous soul. The other was selfish. Had Ramesh wished, he could have described what happened that night in the open court. But Yashwant knew that Ramesh wouldn’t take the help of that proof even if it meant saving himself from being hanged.

  As long as the hearing continued, Yashwant’s inner turmoil remained unbearable. There was a constant tussle going on between his conscience and his selfish interests and on the day of the judgment, he felt like he was the one accused of murder. He didn’t have the courage to climb up to the pulpit. He had to reach the court at three. The accused were standing there to hear their fate. Ramesh looked more forlorn today. In his life’s struggle, the moment had arrived when his head would be placed under the sword. So far, fear had been an abstract feeling; today it appeared in an ugly, physical form.

  Yashwant pronounced the judgment in a firm voice, though his voice choked when he declared that Ramesh Chandra was condemned to seven years of rigorous imprisonment. He placed the judgment paper on the table, and sitting on the chair he pretended to wipe away his sweat although he was wiping his tears. He couldn’t read from the judgment any more.

  7

  By the time he was out of jail, Ramesh had become a confirmed revolutionary. After the hard labour of the day, he sat in the dark cell and made plans about the welfare of the people. Why do people commit sin, he wondered. Is it because there is such disparity in the world? While some live in huge mansions, others do not have even the shelter of a tree. While some are wrapped in silk and pearls, others cannot afford even a tattered rag. Who is to blame for the robbery, murder and other injustices that happen in this morally skewed world? He dreamt of establishing a society that would dedicate itself to the removal of such disparities. The world is for everyone and everyone has an equal right to happiness. If the rich do not share their wealth willingly with others, what is wrong with distributing their wealth against their wish? If the rich call it a sin, let them. If the laws made by them provide punishment for it, let them do so. Our course will be different. Before this court all those who have more wealth than they need will be declared criminals. We’ll award them punishments, we’ll extract hard labour from them. He had barely come out of the jail when he declared this social revolution. Secret societies were formed, arms were gathered and in a few days robbery became the rage. The police began to look for clues. The revolutionaries started attacking the police as well. Their strength grew by the day. Everything was done with such skill that no one knew who the perpetrators were. Ramesh opened charitable dispensaries for the poor at one place and banks at some others. He began to buy land out of the money gathered from the robberies. Wherever an area was put on auction, he bought it off. In a short time, he became the owner of a large property. The profit from the property went to the welfare of the poor. Everyone knew that Ramesh was behind it but no one dared to open their mouths. In the eyes of the civilized society, there was no one more reprehensible than Ramesh. People would seal off their ears when they heard his name. If anyone saw him dying of thirst they wouldn’t have given him even a drop of water. But no one had the courage to oppose him publicly.

  Several years passed. The government declared big awards for any information on the dacoits. Experts of the secret police from Europe were invited for this purpose but the robbers were so clever that no strategy worked against them.

  However, Ramesh couldn’t live according to his own principles. As the days passed, he realized that discontent was spreading among his followers. The cleverer and more courageous among them would dominate others and wouldn’t give them an equal share of the booty. Some of them, in fact, became jealous of Ramesh. He lived a royal lifestyle. Others would say, ‘What right does he have to spend the money earned by everyone?’ A sense of dis
content brewed among them as a consequence.

  It was night; black clouds were hovering in the sky. That day they had planned to raid the mail wagon. Everything was pre-decided. Five valiant youths were selected for the purpose.

  Suddenly, one young man stood up and said, ‘Why do you pick me again and again? Everyone else gets a fair share, so why should I risk my life time and again?’

  Ramesh said firmly, ‘It’s my job to decide who will be sent where. Your job is simply to carry out my orders.’

  The young man persisted, ‘If I’m made to do more work, why shouldn’t I be given a greater share?’

  Ramesh gauged his attitude, picked up the pistol in his hands and said, ‘This will be decided when you return.’

  ‘I want it decided before I go.’

  Ramesh didn’t reply. He wanted to make short work of him with his pistol when the young man jumped out of the window and fled. There was no one who could beat him at running and jumping. It was an easy job for him to jump from a running train.

  He went straight to the chief of the secret police from there.

  8

  After his retirement, Yashwant had started practising law. He was friendly with everyone in the department of justice. His practice looked up in no time and he made lots of money. He also received a pension. Had he wanted, he could’ve spent the rest of his life comfortably in his house. He also had no difficulty in working for the country and the community. One could expect selfless service from such men. But Yashwant had spent his entire life earning money. He couldn’t have done any work that didn’t bring him money.

  Though the entire civilized society hated Ramesh, Yashwant hated him the most. He’d say, ‘If a suit is filed against Ramesh, then I’ll fight on behalf of the government without charging any fees.’ He would openly cast aspersions on Ramesh—‘He’s not a man, but the devil himself. He is a demon. One shouldn’t look at such a man’s face! Alas! Good families have been ruined at his hands. Good men have lost their lives, numerous women have become widows and children became orphans. If it was up to me, I’d have him shot or buried alive.’

  9

  Uproar spread throughout the city—Ramesh Babu has been caught! It was true. Ramesh had been caught. That young man who had jumped from the train and run away from Ramesh had spilled the beans. What he revealed about Ramesh’s life appeared to be a sensational, demonic and sinful tale of forceful extraction and murder.

  The civilized society heaved a sigh of relief. Buttermilk lamps were lit in the house of the seths. The naked swords that had been hanging over their heads had disappeared. Now they could enjoy their sleep.

  Ramesh’s exploits were printed in newspapers—tales that had previously not been narrated out of fear. Reading them, one realized what disasters Ramesh had caused. Many nobles and kings used to give him a monthly tax. He would send them a chit conveying the date and the amount of money he wanted and no one dared disobey him. He extracted money from the rich and spent a part of it in the service of the people. He would write the amount and the rich had to pay off without a demur.

  However, if the elite were happy, the common people were sad. Now who would protect them from the tyranny of the police? Who would save them from the exploitation of the seths? Who would open technical schools for their boys? Who would they now turn to for help? They had become orphans. He had been their sole support. Now there was no one to listen to their complaints.

  The police were collecting evidence. The public prosecutor was preparing for the case but there was no lawyer ready to support Ramesh. In the whole district, there was just one man who could’ve saved him from the shackles of law. It was Yashwant. But would Yashwant, who didn’t even want to hear Ramesh’s name, stand in support of Ramesh? Impossible.

  It was nine at night. A woman entered Yashwant’s room. Yashwant was reading the newspaper. He asked, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want a lawyer for my husband,’ said the woman.

  ‘Who’s your husband?’ asked Yashwant.

  ‘The one who studied with you and on whom a false case of robbery was slapped.’

  Yashwant got up with a start and asked, ‘Are you Ramesh’s wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I can’t be his lawyer.’

  ‘As you wish. You are from this district and you were my husband’s friend. That is why I thought I should not go to a stranger. Now I’ll call somebody either from Allahabad or Calcutta.’

  ‘Can you pay them for their service?’

  ‘What are the charges of a big lawyer?’

  ‘Three thousand rupees a day.’

  ‘That’s all? Please accept this case then, I’ll pay you three thousand rupees per day.’

  ‘Three thousand rupees per day!’

  ‘Absolutely. And if you are able to get him acquitted, then I’ll give you fifty thousand rupees as a reward.’

  Greed filled Yashwant’s heart. If the case ran for two months, he could earn at least one lakh rupees. On top of that, there was the reward. It would be a deal of two lakh rupees. He hadn’t been able to earn this much money in his entire life. But what would people say? His own conscience didn’t support him. To save such a man from the hands of the law was like murdering a lot of people. But it was a question of two lakh rupees. And his group wouldn’t perish even if Ramesh was given punishment. His followers would be there. They would probably make even more trouble. Then why should I let these two lakh rupees go? I won’t be able to show my face to anyone, no problem. I don’t care if people are happy or displeased with me. I can’t let go of so much money. I’m not throttling anyone, I’m not robbing anyone. It’s my duty to save the accused.

  Suddenly, the woman asked, ‘What’s your answer?’

  ‘I’ll give you an answer tomorrow. Let me think about it.’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t have so much time. If you have a problem, then tell me clearly. I’ll explore other options.’

  Yashwant was not granted any time to reflect on the matter. A hasty decision is always taken in self-interest. There’s no possibility of any loss here.

  ‘Can you give me some money in advance?’ Yashwant asked the woman.

  ‘Please do not mention money again and again. What is money worth against his life? You take as much money from me as you want. Even if you are not able to get him acquitted make sure you give a tough fight to the government.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll fight the case. I must have some consideration for our old friendship.’

  10

  The police tried their best, and presented a plethora of evidence. The informer gave a full account. But Yashwant offered such arguments, picked so many holes in the evidence and pulled up the informer with such finesse that Ramesh was acquitted without a stain on his character. The court couldn’t produce any further proof of his crimes. The fact that a sober and sagacious lawyer was pleading for the plaintiff was proof enough that the government had committed some error.

  It was dusk. A tent was pitched in front of Ramesh’s door. The poor were being fed. His friends were invited. The celebration was in honour of Ramesh’s acquittal. Everyone was thanking Yashwant. Ramesh was being congratulated. Yashwant tried to engage Ramesh in conversation several times but the latter just turned his face away. So far they had not exchanged even a single word. Eventually Yashwant said, annoyed, ‘I can see you’re avoiding me, as though I’ve done you a bad turn.’

  ‘And do you think you’ve done me a good turn? Earlier, you destroyed my prospects for this world, this time you’ve spoiled my hereafter. If you had done justice to me on the earlier occasion, my life would’ve been saved. And this time if you had allowed me to go to jail my future would’ve been saved.’

  ‘Don’t you admit that I acted with extreme courage in your case?’

  ‘You did not act with courage; you acted out of self-interest. You are a worshipper of your own interests. I consider you a “hired pony”. I know I’ve ruined my life to a considerable extent but I’m not ready to
exchange it for your life. Don’t expect any gratitude from me.’

  Translated from the Hindi by M. Asaduddin

  The Debt Collector

  1

  Seth Chetaram took a bath, offered prayers to Lord Shiva, chewed two small pieces of chilli, drank two lotas of water, picked up his stick and went on his way to collect his debts.

  Sethji was around fifty. He had turned bald and his pate could be seen as clearly as if it were a barren field. His eyes were small but round. His protruding stomach began almost below his face, and his legs were right below his belly as if two pegs had been planted in a pontoon. But this was not an empty pontoon. It was full of life and driven by a sense of duty. Seeing the leaps and bounds, and the many changes of stance of this pontoon before a delinquent debtor, even a skilled acrobat would have been put to shame. How he would glare furiously! How he would shout! It’d attract quite a crowd. He couldn’t exactly be called a miser because he would toss a coin to every beggar when he sat at the shop. Yes, he would show such displeasure then, his eyes would become so fearsome and his nose would become hooked in such a manner that no beggar would ever come to his shop again.

  He was an incomparable devotee of the principle that the greatest of all profits is debt collection. After having his breakfast, he would collect debts without a break till evening. By doing this, he would save his ration on the one hand, even as he had his fill of milk, puris and sweets at the expense of the tenants on the other. Saving a meal every day is not an ordinary thing! Even if one estimated an anna for every meal, then in his thirty years of life as a moneylender, he would have saved eight hundred rupees in this manner. On his way back, he would again receive milk, curd, oil and vegetables for his dinner, along with cow-dung cakes. Often he did not have to arrange for the evening meal either. So, he never failed to collect his debts. The sky could fall, there could be a rain-fire or a tempest but Sethji would unfailingly go out to collect his debts like an inviolable principle of nature.