THE cutting of the rice-crops had already begun in the
Soonderbunds: boats were constantly coming and going with their
loads. There was water everywhere: here and there were raised
bamboo platforms to serve as refuges whence the ryots could watch
their crops; but, for all their produce the people were no better
off. On the one hand there was the _mahajan_, who made them
advances, to be satisfied, on the other, the zemindar's _paik_
with his extortion: if they succeeded in selling their crops
well, they might perhaps have two full meals a day, otherwise
all they had to depend upon was fish or vegetables, or what
they could earn as day labourers. On the higher lands only the
autumn rice-crops are grown, the spring crops being generally
raised on the lower lands. Rice is very easily grown in Bengal,
but the crops have many obstacles to contend with: they are
liable to destruction from excess of rain and from want of it;
then there are the locusts and all kinds of destructive insects,
and the late autumn storms: the rice-crop, moreover, requires
continual attention for without very great care being exercised,
blight attack the plants. Bahulya, after looking after his little
property all the morning, was sitting in his verandah smoking,
a bundle of papers before him. Near him were seated certain
scoundrels of the deepest dye, and some persons connected with
the courts: the subject of their conversation was the law as
administered by the magistrate, and certain suits-at-law then
pending. One of the men was hinting at the necessity of getting
some fresh documents prepared and some additional witnesses
suborned: another was loudly applauding his successful devices,
as he unfastened rupees from his waistcloth. Bahulya himself
seemed somewhat absent-minded and kept looking about him in all
directions: now and again, he gave some trivial orders to his
cultivators. "Ho there! lift that pumpkin on to the _machan_"
"Spread those bundles of straw in the sun." Then again he would
gaze all about him, evidently restless and agitated. One of the
company remarked: "Moulvi Saheb! I have just heard some bad
news about Thakchacha. Is there not likely to be some trouble?"
Bahulya had no wish to tell any of his secrets, so shaking his
head from side to side he replied in a light sententious manner:
"Man is encompassed about with every danger; why should you be
in any fear?" Another man remarked: "That is all very true, but
Thakchacha is a very clever man: he will escape from the danger
by the mere force of his intelligence. But be that as it may, we
shall be very glad if no calamity befalls you: we have no allies,
no resources save you, in this Bhowanipore. Talk of our strength,
of our wisdom; why, you are all in your own person: if you were
not here we should have to remove our abode hence. It was most
fortunate for me that you fabricated those papers for me, for I
managed to give that idiot of a zemindar a good lesson by their
means: he has done me no injury since: he knows very well that
all the weight of your influence has been thrown into the scales
on my behalf against him." Bahulya, contentedly puffing away at
his _hooka_, with its pedestal of _Bidri_ ware, and letting the
smoke out of his eyes and mouth, laughed gently to himself. Another
man remarked: "When a man has to take land into his own hands in
the Mofussil there are two ways of keeping the zemindar and the
indigo planter quiet; the first is to get the protection of a man
like the Moulvi Saheb here: the second to become a Christian. I
have seen a good many ryots, under the protection of the _padri_,
lording it over their fellows, like so many Brahmin bulls among
a herd of cows: there is power in the _padri's_ money, in his
signature, and in his recommendation. 'People always look after
their own' says a proverb. I do not say that the ryots are all
really Christian at heart, but those that go to the _padri's_
church get a good may advantages, and in police cases a letter
from the _padri_ is of great service to them." Bahulya replied:
"That may be all very true but it is a very bad thing for a man
to renounce his faith." They all at once said: "Very true, very
true, and on this account we never go near the _padri_."
They were all gossiping away merrily like this, when suddenly a
police inspector, some _jemadars_, and sergeants of police, rushed
forward and caught hold of Bahulya by the arms, saying: "You have
committed forgery along with Thakchacha: there is a warrant for
your apprehension." The men who had been with Bahulya were seized
with terror when they heard these words, and ran off as fast as
they could. Bahulya appealed to the avarice of the inspector and
the sergeant of police, but they would not listen to the offer of
a bribe for fear of losing their appointment; they seized him and
took him off with them. As the news spread in Upper Bhowanipore,
a great crowd collected, and some of the more respectable people in
the crowd exclaimed;-- "The punishment of crime must come sooner
or later: if people who have been perpetrating crimes pass their
lives in happiness, then must the creation be all a delusion and
a lie; but such can never be." As Bahulya proceeded on his way,
with his head bent low, he met a good many people, but he affected
to see no one. Some there were who had at some time or other been
victimised by him: seeing that their opportunity had now come,
they ventured to approach him, and said: "Ah, Moulvi Saheb! how
deep in thought you are -- Krishna pining for Brindabun! you
must have some very important business on hand." Bahulya answered
not a word. After having crossed over from Bansberia Ghât he
arrived at Shahganj. Some of the leading Mahomedans of that place
remarked when they saw him, "Ah! the rogue has been caught: that
is a very good thing, and it will be still better thing if he
is punished." All these remarks directed against him seemed so
much added to his disgrace: they were as the strokes of a sword
upon a dead body. Exceedingly mortified by all the insults he
had been exposed to, he at length reached Bhowanipore.
From a short distance off it appeared as if there was a crowd
of people standing on the left side of the road. When they came
nearer, the police sergeant stopped with Bahulya, and asked why
there was such a crowd there: then, pushing his way into the
circle, he saw a gentleman seated on the ground with an injured
man in his lap: blood poured in a continuous stream from his
head, and the clothing of the gentleman was all saturated with
it. Upon the sergeant asking the gentleman who he was and how the
man got injured, he replied:-- "My name is Barada Prasad Biswas:
I was coming here on business, and, as it happened, this man was
accidentally run over by a carriage, and I have been looking after
him. I am trying to find some means of taking him to the hospital
at once: I sent for a _palki_, but the _palki_-bearers refuse on
any consideration to take the man, as he is of the sweeper caste. I
have a carriage with me, but the man cannot get into a carriage:
if I can only get a _palki_, or a _dooly_. I am fully prepared to
pay the hire, whatever it may amount to." The heart even of the
most worthless may be melted by the sight of such goodness. Bahulya
marvelled to see this behaviour of Barada Babu's, and a feeling
of remorse rose in his mind. The sergeant of police said to Barada
Babu: "Sir, the people of Bengal never touch a man of the sweeper
caste: it must be no easy matter for you, being a Bengali, to
do as you are doing: you must be no ordinary person." As he said
this, he put the prisoner in the charge of a constable and went
off himself to a _palki_ stand, where by a liberal expenditure
of threats and promises, he managed to get a _palki_, and sent
the injured man off to the hospital in charge of Barada Babu.
At one time, criminal cases were tried at the High Court at
intervals of three months in the year; now, they are held much more
frequently. Two kinds of juries are empanelled for the purpose
of deciding upon criminal cases. First, there is the grand jury,
who, after due deliberation as to whether an indictment framed
by the police or others is a true bill or not, inform the court;
secondly, there is a petty jury, who help the judge to come
to a decision in cases that have been found to be true bills,
in accordance with the deliberate opinion of the grand jury,
and find the accused guilty or not guilty. At every sessions of
the Criminal Court, twenty-four persons are called on the grand
jury: any person with property of the value of two lakhs, or any
merchant, may be on it. During the sessions, the petty jury may
be empanelled every day, and when their names are called on, the
defendants or the plaintiffs may raise objections to them if they
please: that is to say, they may have some one appointed on the
jury in place of anyone about whom they have any doubts; but when
the twelve persons have once been sworn in as the petty jury, no
change can be made. On the first day of the sessions, three judges
preside, and as soon as the grand jury have been empanelled, the
judge, whose turn of duty it may be, charges them, that is to say,
explains to them all the cases on for trial at the sessions. After
the charge has been delivered, the two other judges, who are not
on duty, depart; and the grand jury will then withdraw to record
their deliberate opinion on the cases before them, and when they
have sent it in to the judge, the trial will commence.
The night had nearly come to an end: a gentle breeze was
blowing. At this beautifully cool morning hour Thakchacha was
fast asleep and snoring loud, with his mouth wide open: the
other prisoners were up and smoking, and some of them hearing
the sound of snoring kept whispering into Thakchacha's ears:
"Eat a burnt buffalo[62]!" but Thakchacha went on sleeping as
soundly as the famous Kumbha Karna[63];--
"Oh! the thunder of a snore;
"How it terrifies me sore!"
Not long afterwards the English jailor came and told the prisoners
that they must get ready at once, as they were all wanted at the
High Court immediately.
Upon the opening of the sessions, the verandah of the High
Court was crowded with people, even before the clock struck
ten. Attorneys, barristers, plaintiffs defendants, witnesses,
attorneys' touts, jurymen, sergeants of police, _jemadars_,
constables, and others were all collected there. Bancharam was
pacing up and down with Mr. Butler, and any rich man he saw,
no matter whether he knew him or not, he would greet with
hands uplifted, in order to parade his Brahmanical degree[64];
but he deceived no one who knew him well by this assumption of
courtesy. They would perhaps speak with him for a moment or
two, and then on some imaginary plea or other slip away from
him. Soon the jail van arrived, with sepoys on it before and
behind: everybody looked down on it from the verandah above. The
police removed the prisoners from the van and placed them in an
enclosure in a room below the court-room.
Bancharam hurried below to have an interview with Thakchacha
and Bahulya. "You two are Bhima and Arjuna[65]," said he to them;
"have no fear; you may put full confidence in me, I am not a
child you know."
About twelve o'clock, a space was cleared down the middle of
the verandah, and the people all stood on either side of it:
the _chuprassis_ of the court commanded silence: all were eagerly
expecting the arrival of the judges; then the sergeant of police,
the _chuprassis_ and the mace-bearers, bearing in their hands
staves, maces, swords, and the royal silver-crowned insignia, went
outside the court: the sheriff and deputy sheriff appeared with
rods, and then the three judges, clothed in scarlet, ascended the
bench with dignified gait and grave faces, and, after saluting the
counsel, took their seats on the bench, the counsel making profound
obeisance as they stood up in their places. The moving of chairs,
the whispering and chattering of people, made a great noise in the
court, and the _chuprassis_ of the court had repeatedly to call
out: "Silence in the court!" The sergeants of police also tried
to keep the people quiet, and then, as the town crier called out:
"Oh yes! oh yes!" the sessions opened. The names of the grand jury
were then called over, and they were duly empanelled. They then
appointed their foreman, that is, their president. It happened to
be Mr. Russell's turn to sit as judge: turning to the grand jury
he thus addressed them:-- "Gentlemen of the jury, an inspection
of the cases for trial shows me that forgery is on the increase
in Calcutta: I see that there are five or six cases of that
kind, and amongst them a case against the two men Thakchacha and
Bahulya. It appears from the depositions in their case that they
have for some years past been forging Company's paper at Sialdah,
and selling it in this city. Take this case first, please, and
be good enough to inform me whether it is a true bill or not:
it is superfluous for me to bid you do your duty in examining
into the other cases for trial."
The grand jury, having received this charge, withdrew. Bancharam
looked very despondently at Mr. Butler. After about a quarter of an
hour had elapsed, the indictment against Thakchacha and Bahulya was
returned to the court as a true bill. Thereupon the jail sentry
produced Thakchacha and Bahulya and made them stand within the
railed enclosure before the judge. As the petty jury were being
empanelled, the court interpreter called out loudly: "Prisoners
at the bar! you have been charged with forging Company's paper:
have you committed this crime or not?" The accused replied: "We
do not even know what is meant by forgery, or by Company's paper:
we are only simple cultivators: we do not concern ourselves with
things of this kind: that is the concern of our English rulers."
The interpreter then said rather angrily to them: "Your language is
all very fine: have you done this thing or have you not?" The only
reply of the accused was: "Our fathers and our grandfathers never
did such things." The interpreter then, in a great rage struck the
table with his fist and said: "Give an answer to my question: have
you done this thing or not?" "No, we never did such a thing," the
accused at last replied. The reason for putting these questions was
that, if the accused acknowledged his crime, his trial proceeded
no further: he was at once sentenced. The interpreter then said:
"Attention! These twelve men, all good and true, who are seated
here, will try you: if you have any objection to raise against
any of them, then speak at once: he will be removed, and another
man substituted." The accused, not understanding anything that was
being said, remained silent, and the trial then commenced: by means
of the depositions of the complainants, and the witnesses, the
Crown prosecutor established a clear case of forgery. The counsel
for the accused did not produce any witnesses, but did his best,
by the ingenious twistings and turnings of cross-examination and by
the chicanery of the law, to mislead the jury. When the speech for
the defence was finished, Mr. Russell gave the jury a summary of
the proofs of the case and explained the evidence of the forgery.
Having received their charge, the petty jury withdrew to
consult. Unless the jury are unanimous, they are unable to record
a verdict. Bancharam seized this opportunity to draw near the
prisoners to encourage them. A few words had passed between them,
when there was a sudden stir in the court, caused by the re-entry
of the jury. When they had all entered and taken their seats,
the foreman stood up: there was at once silence in the court:
all craned their necks and strained their ears to catch what
was said. The clerk of the Crown, the chief conductor of all
criminal cases in the court, put the question:-- "Gentlemen of the
jury! Are Thakchacha and Bahulya guilty or not guilty?" "Guilty"
was the reply of the foreman of the jury. As soon as the accused
heard this, their hearts died within them. Bancharam then hurried
up to them, and said: "Ha, ha! what, guilty? Put your trust in me,
I am no child as you know: I will petition for a new trial, that
is, for another verdict." Thakchacha only shook his head, and said:
"Ah, sir! what must be, must: we cannot afford any more expense."
Bancharam then explained, with some irritation, "How much
do you suppose I shall make by binding leaves in an empty
vessel? In business like this, is clay to be moistened by tears
only?" Mr. Russell then, examining his records very carefully,
looked fixedly at the prisoners, as he passed this sentence
upon them:-- "Thakchacha and Bahulya, your guilt has been well
established, and all who commit such crimes as yours should be
heavily punished: I sentence you therefore to transportation for
life." No sooner was the sentence delivered then the guards seized
the prisoners by their hands and took them below. Bancharam had
slipped back and was standing to one side; some people remarked
to him, "Is this your case that has been lost?" "You might have
known that," he replied; "let me never again have anything to do
with so bad a one: I have never cared for cases like this."