Part 10

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 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 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 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_.

=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'A(C)tat_, _nom-de-plume_, _fin-de-siA(C)cle_. On the other hand, adjectives made up of two words are quite common in English. Compare _simple-hearted_, _middle-aged._

=rA(C)gime.= 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, 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 "shAel." A considerable 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 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."

THE BABUS OF NAYANJORE

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. 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.

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. 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 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."

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 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."

Somehow I felt all this very deeply indeed. I suppose the real reason was, that when a man is young, stupidity appears to him the worst of crimes. Kailas Babu was not really stupid. In ordinary business matters every one was ready to consult him. But with regard to Nayanjore his utterances were certainly void of common sense. Because, out of amused affection for him, no one contradicted his impossible statements, he refused to keep them in bounds. When people recounted in his hearing the glorious history of Nayanjore with absurd exaggerations, he would accept all they said with the utmost gravity, and never doubted, even in his dreams, that any one could disbelieve it.

II

When I sit down and try to analyse the thoughts and feelings that I had towards Kailas Babu, I see that there was a still deeper reason for my dislike. I will now explain.

Though I am the son of a rich man, and might have wasted time at college, my industry was such that I took my M.A. degree in Calcutta University when quite young. My moral character was flawless. In addition, my outward appearance was so handsome, that if I were to call myself beautiful, it might be thought a mark of self-estimation, but could not be considered an untruth.

There could be no question that among the young men of Bengal I was regarded by parents generally as a very eligible match. I was myself quite clear on the point and had determined to obtain my full value in the marriage market. When I pictured my choice, I had before my mind's eye a wealthy father's only daughter, extremely beautiful and highly educated. Proposals came pouring in to me from far and near; large sums in cash were offered. I weighed these offers with rigid impartiality in the delicate scales of my own estimation. But there was no one fit to be my partner. I became convinced, with the poet Bhabavuti, that,

In this world's endless time and boundless space One _may_ be born at last to match my sovereign grace.

But in this puny modern age, and this contracted space of modern Bengal, it was doubtful if the peerless creature existed as yet.

Meanwhile my praises were sung in many tunes, and in different metres, by designing parents.

Whether I was pleased with their daughters or not, this worship which they offered was never unpleasing. I used to regard it as my proper due, because I was so good. We are told that when the gods withhold their boons from mortals they still expect their worshippers to pay them fervent honour and are angry if it is withheld. I had that divine expectance strongly developed in myself.

I have already mentioned that Thakur Dada had an only grand-daughter. I had seen her many times, but had never mistaken her for beautiful. No thought had ever entered my mind that she would be a possible partner for myself. All the same, it seemed quite certain to me that some day or other Kailas Babu would offer her, with all due worship, as an oblation at my shrine. Indeed--this was the inner secret of my dislike--I was thoroughly annoyed that he had not done so already.

I heard that Thakur Dada had told his friends that the Babus of Nayanjore never craved a boon. Even if the girl remained unmarried, he would not break the family tradition. It was this arrogance of his that made me angry. My indignation smouldered for some time. But I remained perfectly silent and bore it with the utmost patience, because I was so good.

As lightning accompanies thunder, so in my character a flash of humour was mingled with the mutterings of my wrath. It was, of course, impossible for me to punish the old man merely to give vent to my rage; and for a long time I did nothing at all. But suddenly one day such an amusing plan came into my head, that I could not resist the temptation of carrying it into effect.

I have already said that many of Kailas Babu's friends used to flatter the old man's vanity to the full. One, who was a retired Government servant, had told him that whenever he saw the Chota LAct Sahib he always asked for the latest news about the Babus of Nayanjore, and the Chota LAct had been heard to say that in all Bengal the only really respectable families were those of the Maharaja of Cossipore and the Babus of Nayanjore. When this monstrous falsehood was told to Kailas Babu he was extremely gratified and often repeated the story. And wherever after that he met this Government servant in company he would ask, along with other questions:

"Oh! er--by the way, how is the Chota LAct Sahib? Quite well, did you say? Ah, yes, I am so delighted to hear it! And the dear Mem Sahib, is she quite well too? Ah, yes! and the little children--are they quite well also? Ah, yes! that's very good news! Be sure and give them my compliments when you see them."

Kailas Babu would constantly express his intention of going some day and paying a visit to the Lord Sahib. But it may be taken for granted that many Chota LActs and Burra LActs also would come and go, and much water would pass down the Hoogly, before the family coach of Nayanjore would be furbished up to pay a visit to Government House.

One day I took Kailas Babu aside and told him in a whisper: "Thakur Dada, I was at the Levee yesterday, and the Chota LAct Sahib happened to mention the Babus of Nayanjore. I told him that Kailas Babu had come to town. Do you know, he was terribly hurt because you hadn't called. He told me he was going to put etiquette on one side and pay you a private visit himself this very afternoon."