Faridpur at that time enjoyed a notoriety of being the stronghold of
desperate characters, dacoits by land and water. My father had captured
single-handed one of the principal leaders, whom he sentenced to a long
term of imprisonment. After release he came to my father and demanded
some occupation, since the particular vocation in which he had
specialised was now rendered impossible. My father took the unusual
course to employ him as my special attendant to carry me, a child of
four, on his back to the distant village school. No nurse could be
tenderer than this ex-leader of lawless men, whose profession had been
to deal out wounds and deaths. He had accepted a life of peace but he
could not altogether wipe out his old memories. He used to fill my
infant mind with the stories of his bold adventures, the numerous fights
in which he had taken part, the death of his companions and his
hair-breadth escapes. Numerous were the decorations he bore. The most
conspicuous was an ugly mark on his breast left by an arrow and a hole
on the thigh caused by a spear thrust. The trust imposed on this
marauder proved to be not altogether ill placed for once in a river
journey we were pursued by several long boats filled with armed dacoits.
When these boats came too near for us to effect an escape the erstwhile
dacoit leader, my attendant, stood up and gave a peculiar cry, which was
evidently understood. For the pursuing boats vanished at the signal.