MATILALL saw that his mother, his brother, and his sister, had now
all gone from the house. "A good riddance!" thought he: his path
was at length cleared of thorns; all bother was at an end. This
had come about by a slight display of passion on his part, --
'Dhananjoyas got rid of by a blow[45]!' True it was, a single blow
had sufficed to get rid of them all, but his resources were
now exhausted. What was to be done? How could he go on living
in such style? The small retail shopkeepers would not be put off
with excuses any more, and no one would supply him with anything
on credit: just too as the great bathing festival of the
_Snan Jatra_ was coming off. The expenses of engaging a _budgerow_
had to be provided: earnest money would have to be advanced to
the nautch girls: sweetmeats must be ordered: tobacco, _ganja_,
and liquor all had to be procured for the occasion; and for these
preliminary arrangements he had no money at his disposal. In such
anxious thoughts Matilall was wrapped when Bancharam and Thakchacha
arrived. After exchanging a few remarks, they said to Matilall:
"Well, sir! why this melancholy? It makes us quite sad to see
it. At your age you should be always lively and cheerful. Why this
anxiety? Fie! be merry." Affected almost to tears by this sweet
language, Matilall told them all that was in his mind. Bancharam
said: "Why be so anxious on that account? Are we mere grass-cutters
that we cannot help you out of a difficulty? What brought us to
see you to-day was a splendid idea that has occurred to us. Within
a year you will have paid off all your liabilities, and be able to
enjoy yourself at your leisure, and your sons and your grandsons in
their turn will be able to play the rich man on a grand scale. Is
it not written in the _shástras_? --
'Lakshmi, fair goddess,
'Of commerce is queen.'
There is a fortune to be made in trade: by it people spring
to sudden affluence. Why, look at the numbers of people I have
known, -- many of them of very low origin and blessed with no
brains to speak of, -- who have sprang to sudden importance by
trade! It makes me quite envious to see them. What troubles me is
that we are wasting all our energies with only one string to our
bow. This is not as it should be! 'Chandi Charan gathers cow-dung
while Ram is riding on horseback[47].'"
_Matilall_.-- Ah, a brilliant notion! I am daily in need of
money. Does commerce flourish in the bazar, or does it grow in
an office? Is it merely the buying and selling that goes on in
a sweetmeat-maker's shop? My business will lack all importance
unless I am to be the chief agent of some English merchant.
_Bancharam_.-- You need only sit at home on the _guddee_,
sir! The burden of business will devolve entirely upon us. A
Mr. John, a friend of one Mr. Butler, has but recently arrived
from England. You might make some arrangement with him and become
his agent: he is a very shrewd business man.
_Thakchacha_.-- I shall be with you to help you, whether it be the
courts of law or the Treasury Office, or the police department,
or commerce. They none of them have any secrets for me: I know
all the ins and outs of them! My Shena also understands all these
matters. Ah, sir, it is a grief to me that my great capacity for
business has been lying dormant all this time! it has never been
roused into action or had full play. I am not the kind of man
to sit idle: if I find an enemy in my way, I promptly assault
him and put him to the rout. If I once put my hand to business
I shall get on like the famous Rustem Jol.
_Matilall_.-- And who is Shena, Thakchacha?
_Thakchacha_.-- Shena is your humble servant's wife. How can I
possibly extol her qualities adequately? Her beauty is as the
beauty of Zuleeka, and her understanding as that of an angel
of light.
_Bancharam_.-- Enough of this talk for the present: let us get
to business. We shall have to advance Mr. John ten or fifteen
thousand rupees, but there need be no risk. I have arranged to
find this money by mortgaging the Kotalpore Taluk. I will deposit
the necessary deeds in Mr. Butler's office: the expense will
not be very great; it will come to between four and five hundred
rupees. Besides this, you have to give five hundred rupees to
the money-lender's _amlah_. Ah, those _amlahs_! they are our
mortal enemies: our enterprise may all come to nought if they
put any obstacle in our way. When we have smoothed away all the
preliminary difficulties, we shall find the auspices favourable for
our success. I am just going off to Calcutta with Thakchacha. I
have a variety of commissions to execute, and shall be in a
fever till I have finished them. Do you, sir, for your part,
ascertain from friend Tarka Siddhanta a propitious day for the
commencement of the enterprise, and then come at once; under the
auspices of Durga, to my house in Sonagaji. You will have to remain
a few days in Calcutta; but only a short time will elapse before,
like Chand Sadagar, you will return to Vaidyabati Ghât with
seven[48] vessels laden with wealth, drums beating, young men and
old men, women and children, as they gaze on the splendour of your
return, greeting you with blessings. Oh, may the day speedily dawn!
Bancharam then proceeded on his way, and took Thakchacha with him.
Matilall reported the whole of the conversation to his
companions. They danced with delight when they heard it. Want of
means had almost entirely put an end to their fun. Now there was
every chance of the treasury being replenished. Mangovinda at once
hurried off to the _tol_ of Tarka Siddhanta; he was puffing and
blowing with his exertions when he arrived there. Tarka Siddhanta
was a very old man. He was taking snuff, and alternately sneezing
and coughing; his pupils were ranged all round him; in front of
him lay a Sanscrit work written on a palm leaf. Every now and
then he would glance at the manuscript through his spectacles,
then give out a passage to his pupils and explain it to them. The
cow of the establishment had not had its rack supplied, there
being a scarcity of straw, and it lowed continuously. From
inside the house the wife of the old pandit was screaming: "The
old man is rapidly losing his wits: he does nothing, all day and
all night but mind his books: he never once turns his attention
to household matters." His pupils, hearing all this, nudged each
other and winked. Tarka Siddhanta flew into a towering rage, and
taking hold of a stick, with which to keep the old women quiet,
was just getting up very slowly and deliberately, when suddenly
Mangovinda caught hold of him, and said: "Oh, Tarka Siddhanta,
respected sir! we are all going into trade. Do ascertain for us an
auspicious day." Tarka Siddhanta got up in great wrath, his face
distorted with passion. "A curse light upon you and your trade;
could you find no other time but when I had just risen from my
seat, to call me behind my back[49]? So you will go into trade,
eh? May you and your father's house come to ruin, bad luck to
you. You want to know what day will be auspicious, eh? When you
cease vexing people as you do, they will have their _Ganga Snan_
in peace. Off, away with you this minute! The day you clear out
of this will be the auspicious day." Somewhat disconcerted by
the old man's abuse, Mangovinda went and told his companions that
the next day would be auspicious.
Sounds of preparation straightway arose, and there was all the
bustle that attends arrangements for a festival: it was the
_Udjog Parba_ over again. While one of the party fixed the wire
for playing the _sitar_ on his fore-finger, another tested the
_baya_, tapping it to see whether it had any pitch or not: another
examined the _tabala_: another tightened the rings round the drums:
another put resin on a fiddle and tested the strings: another
packed up the clothes: another prepared small parcels of tobacco,
_ganja_ and other stimulants, along with bundles of firewood:
another selected, with great care, balls of opium and sweetmeats:
another examined the different purchases to see whether they were
of correct weight. All day and all night the bustle and noise
of preparation went on without any diminution. It had got about
in the village that the young Babus were about to go into trade,
and next day, when all the shopkeepers of the place, the poorer
sort of people, and the beggars and loafers, were out in the
roads looking out for them to pass, they came swaggering down to
the _ghât_, like so many wild elephants. There were a number of
pandits at the _ghât_ engaged in their early morning devotions:
hearing the stir and bustle, they looked behind them, and at
once shook with fright. Seeing them so terrified, the Babus only
jeered at them and laughed. Then they showered upon them Ganges
mud and brick-bats, and insulted them generally, and the Brahmans,
interrupted in this rude way at their devotions, went their way,
calling upon Krishna in their distress. The young men having
embarked on board a boat, all caught up a popular love-song,
screaming it out at the top of their voices. The boat glided
quickly down stream on the ebb. The Babus could not keep still
for a moment; one would get on the deck of the cabin; another
would work the rudder; one would pull an oar, and another strike a
light with a flint. They had not gone very far when they met with
Dhanamala. Now Dhanamala never cared what he said to any one: he
called out to them: "Having reduced a whole village to ashes, are
you now going to set the Ganges on fire?" To which they angrily
replied: "Shut up, you idiot! Do you not know that we are all
going into business?" Dhanamala's only answer to this was:--
"If you ever become traders, may your business come to grief!
may it perish with a halter on its neck!"