Three days have passed in the meanwhile. To-morrow the case would come
up for trial before a Deputy Magistrate. Bipin Babu would have to be
examined as a witness. Never before this did a _zemindar_ of Jhikrakota
appear in the witness-box, but Bipin did not mind.
The next day at the appointed hour, Bipin Babu arrived at the Court
in a palanquin in great state. He wore a turban on his head, and a
watch-chain dangled on his breast. The Deputy Magistrate invited him
to a seat on the daïs, beside his own. The Court-room was crowded to
suffocation. So great a sensation had not been witnessed in this Court
for many years.
When the time for the case to be called drew near, a _chaprassi_ came
and whispered something in Bipin Babu's ear. He got up very agitated
and walked out, begging the Deputy Magistrate to excuse him for a few
minutes.
Outside he saw his old father a little way off, standing under a
_banian_ tree, barefooted and wrapped in a piece of _namabali_.[25]
A string of beads was in his hand. His slender form shone with a gentle
lustre, and tranquil compassion seemed to radiate from his forehead.
[25] A garment with the name of Krishna printed over it.
Bipin, hampered by his close-fitting trousers and his flowing
_chapkan_, touched his father's feet with his forehead. As he did
this his turban came off and kissed his nose, and his watch, popping
out of his pocket, swung to and fro in the air. Bipin hurriedly
straightened his turban, and begged his father to come to his pleader's
house close by.
'No, thank you,' Krishna Gopal replied, 'I will tell you here what
I have got to say.'
A curious crowd had gathered by this time. Bipin's attendants pushed
them back.
Then Krishna Gopal said: 'You must do what you can to get Asim
acquitted, and restore him the lands that you have taken away from
him.'
'Is it for this, father,' said Bipin, very much surprised, 'that you
have come all the way from Benares? Would you tell me why you have made
these people the objects of your special favour?'
'What would you gain by knowing it, my boy?'
But Bipin persisted. 'It is only this, father,' he went on; 'I have
revoked many a grant because I thought the tenants were not deserving.
There were many Brahmins among them, but of them you never said a
word. Why are you so keen about these Mohammedans now? After all that
has happened, if I drop this case against Asim, and give him back his
lands, what shall I say to people?'
Krishna Gopal kept silence for some moments. Then, passing the beads
through his shaky fingers with rapidity, he spoke with a tremulous
voice: 'Should it be necessary to explain your conduct to people,
you may tell them that Asimuddin is my son--and your brother.'
'What?' exclaimed Bipin in painful surprise. 'From a Musalman's
womb?'
'Even so, my son,' was the calm reply.
Bipin stood there for some time in mute astonishment. Then he found
words to say: 'Come home, father; we will talk about it afterwards.'
'No, my son,' replied the old man, 'having once relinquished the
world to serve my God, I cannot go home again. I return hence. Now I
leave you to do what your sense of duty may suggest.' He then blessed
his son, and, checking his tears with difficulty, walked off with
tottering steps.
Bipin was dumbfounded, not knowing what to say nor what to do. 'So,
such was the piety of the older generation,' he said to himself. He
reflected with pride how much better he was than his father in point
of education and morality. This was the result, he concluded, of not
having a principle to guide one's actions.
Returning to the Court, he saw Asimuddin outside between two
constables, awaiting his trial. He looked emaciated and worn out.
His lips were pale and dry, and his eyes unnaturally bright. A dirty
piece of cloth worn to shreds covered him. 'This my brother!' Bipin
shuddered at the thought.
The Deputy Magistrate and Bipin were friends, and the case ended in a
fiasco. In a few days Asimuddin was restored to his former condition.
Why all this happened, he could not understand. The village people were
greatly surprised also.
However, the news of Krishna Gopal's arrival just before the trial
soon got abroad. People began to exchange meaning glances. The
pleaders in their shrewdness guessed the whole affair. One of them,
Ram Taran Babu, was beholden to Krishna Gopal for his education and
his start in life. Somehow or other he had always suspected that
the virtue and piety of his benefactor were shams. Now he was fully
convinced that, if a searching inquiry were made, all 'pious' men
might be found out. 'Let them tell their beads as much as they
like,' he thought with glee, 'everybody in this world is just as
bad as myself. The only difference between a good and a bad man is
that the good practise dissimulation while the bad don't.' The
revelation that Krishna Gopal's far-famed piety, benevolence, and
magnanimity were nothing but a cloak of hypocrisy, settled a difficulty
that had oppressed Ram Taran Babu for many years. By what process
of reasoning, we do not know, the burden of gratitude was greatly
lifted off his mind. It was a vast relief to him!