The Bitter Benevolence

By Subhadeep Santra

There was a small village in Bihar named Rewari that ran along a tiny river Ponsiri. The police in-charge of the village was referred by the name of ‘Janak daroga’ (daroga-police officer In-charge) and nobody knew his full name. He was a very kind hearted person. The residents of the village highly respected him, except of course the anti social elements.

Speaking of anti social elements, it must be stated here that the village had near zero crime rate. It is near Zero because of two reasons. One, the villagers were naïve and the greatest crime that could happen is theft that too once in a year. Two, he would not register FIR for petty affairs and forgive the culprit. It was this benevolence that earned him the title ‘Dayavan Daroga’ (the kind police).

Then there emerged an infamous thief in the village. He was called the Chandu ‘chor’ (thief). There was a speculation that he lived at a nearby village. However, no village in close proximity admitted to have known Chandu chor. He remained a menace for quite some time until Janak Daroga caught him red handed.

***

Janak Daroga sat on the chair with legs spread wide like a king tired after a satisfactory hunting game. His stomach was bulging out of the button of his shirt.

Chandu chor was seated at the ground like a crouching goat at the mercy of the tiger. He spoke with trembling words, “Believe me hujoor (Sir), I am unable to feed my wife and children without having to steal something. My father never educated me. We also had no farm land. Nobody had the grace to give me the job of a mere manual labour or watchman.”

Janak Daroga yawned and retaliated, “Oh! You mean no body was ready to give you a job but some fool gave his daughter to you for marriage. How convenient?”

Chandu chor clarified, “It was a love marriage. Father-in-law did not agree. He still does not accept me as his son-in-law. I wish he accepts me someday.”

“Did you become thief after marriage?” Daroga inquired.

“Yes sir, added responsibilities turned me into a thief” He replied.

Daroga inquired, “What did you do before marriage?”

He answered, “Pick pocketing.”

Daroga burst out laughing, “And you wish that your father-in-law may accept you someday! What an imbecile?!” After a pause he added, “Women! I tell you! Love with a pickpocket! Wow!”

Daroga got engaged in deep thought. After a minute or so he announced to his staff present at the police station, “We will not file a charge sheet against this Chandu. If he goes to jail his wife will suffer and as a consequence her father will suffer too. It must have been so devastating for the man to see his daughter eloping with a pickpocket and later witness his son-in-law getting promotion in his job profile and becoming a thief.”

He turned to Chandu and mocked, “How do you choose to retire? As a dacoit!?” adding a peal of laughter to his sentence. The staff also had a good laugh. Daroga gestured them to stop laughing with a stroke of his hand as he could feel that some were grinning more to please him. He continued to speak, “We will keep him in our cell for 15 days so that he learns a lesson. We shall then leave him if he promises to earn money through legal means. If he is found breaking his promise in future, I shall make it even by breaking his bones.”

He now turned to Chandu “Do you agree?”

Chandu jumped at his feet and held his ankles tight. “Hujoor! How can I ever repay you! I promise to be a good man now. I promise!” He shed tears like a leaking water tap.

Daroga was trying to keep his balance as Chandu was reluctant to leave his ankles. Daroga stood up in apprehension that the chair may fall. Being annoyed he told Chandu, “Are you going to empty your reservoir on my legs? Leave my legs and get lost Idiot?”

Chandu relieved his legs and Daroga fell on his chair with the sudden release of grip. He sighed in relief. Chandu rose up and left the station with folded hands and bowed demeanour.

***

Two years passed.

Daroga was taking a stroll at a garden near his house. It was 6 in the morning. Today he was late for his morning stroll because he was distracted on the way by a funeral procession. He did not know who died because he has come to this village only a month ago. He was so busy adjusting to the nuances of his new posting that he rarely remembers anybody. Gone are the days when he could remember a stranger’s attire with precision even if he met him several days ago. Age has taken a toll on him. Now he forgets people he met yesterday.

None the less, curiosity did not die with age. When on the way home he saw that the funeral procession has still not reached the burning ghat (Cremation ground for Hindus) he was curious. A group of women were lamenting continuously. He gestured to a random gentleman and inquired, “Why is the procession taking so long? Was the gentleman who expired very popular?”

The random gentleman gave him a not-so-gentle look and irritatingly said, “You do not even know that it is a lady who expired! Are you from the other world?”

Daroga was little embarrassed. He was about to express apology when a man came to his rescue. He rebuked the rude gentleman saying, “He is our Daroga, he is not from the other world, in fact YOU are from the other world. You do not know how to behave with people. He does not know your ‘mausi’ (aunty) personally. How does he know who expired?!”

The man now folded hands in apology, “Oh! I did not know that you are the new Daroga. I do not live in this village and therefore did not recognise you. I am deeply sorry.”

Daroga smiled and gestured his hand to show that he has not taken offence.

The rescuer introduced himself to the Daroga saying, “Accept my greetings sir. I am Naresh. I live at the neighbouring colony.”

Daroga was eager to know why the procession was not moving.

Naresh replied, “We villagers are very emotional. Sometimes bit too much! Niti ‘Kaki’ (aunty), that is, the women who died was in her early forties, loved by everybody in this village. Her lady friends are unable to fathom that she died so early that too, for a heart attack.”

Daroga was surprised, “Heart attack at 40? Strange!”

Naresh continued, “Early that morning she complained of chest pain. By noon the pain increased. She asked her husband to fetch a Tonga. But Ramesh Tongawala (one who rides Tonga) was not present at the market place. He had stopped giving passenger services three days ago. There is no other means of communication between the village and the nearest dispensary in the neighbouring suburbs. She was deprived of medical help and died. It is all because of Ramesh Tongawala.”

Daroga was indeed upset to hear the sad story of the poor lady. But all the same he was inquisitive to know why Ramesh Tongawala no more provides passenger services. Such services are essential to human living. Unable to hold his inquisitiveness he asked, “Where can I find this Ramesh?”

Naresh looked at him intently and spoke with inhibition in his voice, “Daroga babu I did not mean Ramesh was actually responsible. I mean he was responsible but there is no cause to arrest him.”

Daroga was annoyed, “I am not going to arrest him. I am only curious to know about him”

Naresh sighed in relief and pointed to a small green hut at a distance. There was a row of three such green huts. He specified, “Go to the middle one”

Daroga bid him bye and went straight to the green hut.

On reaching quite near to the hut he called loudly, “Ramesh Tonga wala...”

He called him again. A gentleman appeared from behind the off-white curtains that guarded the entrance. On seeing the daroga he gestured in Namaste and asked, “I am Ramesh daroga babu! Have I done something wrong?”

Daroga shook his head in a combination of disgust and annoyance. He said, “When you are police, your image precedes you. By the way, I am here for a personal reason. I have heard that Niti Devi (to denote respect to a Lady) died because you no longer provide passenger services. I do not blame you because it is completely your prerogative as to what occupation you perform. I am only interested to know about the problems in the village.”

Ramesh seemed to have attained some ease. He replied, “I did not stop the service on will. I had no choice. Not many villagers use the passenger services. They like to walk the distance. Only those who go to the suburbs or the city used the Tonga. People leave the village only if somebody is sick. The previous year Vinita got admission to a college in the city and she used to take a daily to and fro ride in my Tonga. But one day she settled in the city itself making a hard blow on my income.”

Daroga questioned, “The lady you mentioned, this Vinita...she was settled in the city the previous year, but you still carried on the Tonga business until a few days ago, as I have heard. What happened a few days ago?”

He wore a sulky look now. “Tiklu ‘bhai’ (Brother) closed his diary business a few days ago. He prepared butter, ghee, and curd in his home. To be precise, his wife makes them. ‘Bhabhi’ ji (sister-in –law) is too good at this. I transported the products to the city shop. I received 3 times the passenger fare for one trip. It compensated for the expenses incurred on Raju...I mean my horse. Now that the dairy business is shut down I cannot afford to keep Raju.”

Ramesh stopped as his voice got choked, “I will miss Raju but I must sell him. I hope he understands my dilemma.”

Daroga understood that Ram was deeply attached with his horse. “Poor fellow! He loves his horse but cannot keep it.”

Daroga patted on his shoulder to give him condolences. “Where can I find Tiklu bhai? And by the way, what is his real name?”

“Jamuni Lal. He lives just opposite the barber shop near the Vishnu temple at the middle of the village.”

In the next half an hour, Daroga was standing next to a short heighted lean and thin gentleman outside his hut. Jamuni Lal had no signs of being a business man. In fact he looked poorer than the Tonga wala.

Daroga explained, “Jamuni ji, I am here to quench my inquisitiveness. Somehow, your decision to close your diary business has affected lives badly. Ramesh has to sell his dear horse. More so, Niti Devi could not attain proper medical treatment because Ramesh do not provide passenger services any more. So the closure of the diary had indirectly caused her death.”

Jamuni lal was petrified, “Why are you blaming me for her death. I know that an udyog (enterprise) affects the lives of many people. But you cannot expect me to run a business on loss! Do you?”

“I do not wish to embitter you over her death. I only need some answers. Since when did you incur losses?” asked Daroga.

“Since Gayatri died a month ago.” He replied and added “Gayatri is my cow. I had two cows. The other one was Gunita. We sold Gunita a year ago to pay for our debts.”

“What debts?”

“My father had cancer. He did not survive but the expense of the treatment drained every blood out of our veins. It was at this vital juncture that I took a loan from Bhiru bhai. He is a kind man and gave us a huge amount at a very low interest rate. He did not even take a mortgage! Can you believe he was such a great person?”

The quiver in his voice and moist eyes bore testimony that he really respected this Bhiru bhai for helping at the most crucial juncture.

“When was it?”

“5 years ago”

“What were the terms of payment?”

“He gave us a period of 10 years to repay the loan. We took a loan of one lakh rupees and had to repay one lakh twenty thousand rupees”

Daroga Ji made some calculations on his fingers and said, “It means you had to pay one thousand rupees per month for the next ten years.” After a thoughtful pause he asked, “Money lenders are not generally so kind. That is a very meagre interest rate and a very long repayment period. Was there any special reason?”

“There was. ‘Babuji’ (father) was his school teacher. He was actually offering the money interest free. But Babuji insisted. He said ‘I cannot take improper advantage of the respect he has of me.’

“So you had six years more to repay him. Why did you sell the cow?” inquired Daroga.

“He suddenly asked for the money. He did not demand it but only requested for the money. He said that he was facing some financial crisis. I would have refused if it had not been Bhiru bhai. He helped at when we needed it the most. He went out of the way, breaking the norms of his business, to help his ‘masterji’ (teacher). Now if I betray him Babuji’s spirit will haunt me till death. He was very fond of his students. I could not deny. I sold Gunita and repaid him in lump sum. We were left with Gayatri alone. Now that she is gone too. We have no milk for the dairy business to prosper.”

“But a cow will not fetch you the amount needed to repay him?” asked Daroga.

“We also sold our cultivable land for the rest of the amount.” He replied.

“Where can I meet Bhiru bhai? Inquired Daroga.

He replied “The white mansion just next to the Zamindar Haveli belongs to him.”

Daroga ji once again continued his quest. This quest had no apparent meaning. Yet he was enjoying himself. He wanted to see for himself how one incident in life connects to the other. Somebody once told him that life works like a chess board. Every move begets another creating a chain of events. We are seldom able to reach at the roots of the consequence of events. It is the almighty who is playing the chess of life. He was trying to trace that single move that ended in the death of Niti Devi.

In the next ten minutes he was seated in a puffed mattress placed over raised marble flooring gaining a height of 2 feet. The protruded seating arrangement lay in the middle of a small but diligently decorated room. The Madhubani paintings in the wall embellished the aura of the house.

Bhiru Bhai was facing Daroga seated at a chair made of jute. A tiny wooden tool lay between them. Daroga took a sip of the tea served to both of them a little while ago by a lady clad in a not-so-clean sari. Bhiru Bhai spoke while he raised his cup for a sip.

“I am glad that you spared yourself some time to visit this poor man’s castle”

Daroga explained “I actually came here to inquire on something. It is no police matter. I am just trying to understand how one event leads to another creating such a bizarre chain of events that a point of time two ends of the chain seem so unrelated.”

“That is too high a philosophy for a simple man like me. Anyways, how can I help in this conquest?” replied Bhiru Bhai.

Daroga narrated the whole incident and thereafter questioned “Why did you ask Ramesh to return the complete loan amount suddenly?”

Bhiru bhai had just completed a sip. On hearing the question, he almost forgot to keep the cup down. “Till date I feel so awkward talking about it. I would have never asked for the money if it had not been for my daughter.” He took a deep pause.

“What about your daughter?”

Bhiru bhai resumed the conversation, “Bhumika is now in London. She is a medical student. I still remember how she wept when I told her that she must skip a year to be admitted in a medical school in London.”

“Why did you say so?”

“Money. All my money was invested in the market. My father had taught me never to keep Ma Lakshmi (Goddess of wealth in Hinduism) idle. I only kept cash for daily chores and lend the rest. I had kept a golden ornament aside contemplating to pay the fees of the medical college by selling the ornament.”

“So, did you sell the ornament?”

“I could not. While I was heading towards a jeweller to sell the ornament Chandu chor just snatched away. He ran away from the village and never returned. I had no liquid cash to pay the college fees. Bhumika was very upset. I cannot see her upset. I requested a few of my borrowers to make a lump sum repayment and also offered a decrease in interest rate in return. Ramesh was one of them”

The mention of Chandu chor had struck the daroga unexpectedly and hard. He had discovered to his agony that he was the real reason for the death of Niti Devi.

He left the place with a heavy heart. On the way home he tried to console himself.

“This was just a coincidence. I should not be blamed for the actions of a thief.”

He was blabbering to himself silently when somebody called him, “Daroga ji, oo Daroga ji.” He looked back to find Naresh approaching him.

“Daroga Ji, would you mind donating something for the education of the bereaved children of Niti kaki?”

“Of course, I shall be most glad to help. But do the children have no other financial back up?” Naresh made a sound emanating pity and disgust. “They are orphan now. Father had already ran away a few years ago snatching Bhiru bhai’s ornaments. Now that the mother is also dead they have nothing to cling upon.”

Daroga could not utter a word. He donated something and returned home.

By Subhadeep Santra

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