"We will come," said I; "and I pray you to give your lord notice that we have accepted your invitation to visit him; nay, that we are desirous of paying our respects to him."
As I finished speaking, an elderly man of decent appearance had entered the Chowree; he was a Hindoo, and looked like a merchant. He demanded, in rather a peremptory tone, a place to rest in, declaring, that if he did not get it immediately, he would go and complain to the ruler of the town. The spirit of the old kotwal seemed to be roused by the man's behaviour, and he declared in round terms that he would not give a foot of ground, or an empty shop, without he was civilly asked.
"Look you, gentlemen," said he to us; "I ask you to decide between us; I swear by the Prophet, I care no more than a snap of my fingers for him; I have seen twenty thousand better; and if he goes to complain, why let him go; he will be driven from the presence with stripes. People like him come in hundreds every day, and who can trouble themselves in looking after them?"
"You and your master may be the portion of the devil," said the old merchant; "ever since I have entered the territories of the Nizam, I have been treated in this manner. But it is only what I have heard before; not a night have I passed without an alarm of thieves; and God knows, if I had any protection, I would rather lie outside your wretched walls, than in the zenana of your amil himself. Your bunneas are rascals: I am refused grain at nearly double the price I paid yesterday; I am refused shelter at night. In God's name, what am I to do? Gentlemen," cried he to us, "what am I to do?"
Bhudrinath answered, as I was going to speak, and, to my astonishment, angrily. "What would you have? O discontented man! I suppose some place has been offered to you, and you have thought it not good enough; or are you drunk with opium? or has hunger after your journey spoilt your temper? Go, betake yourself to the bazar; be thankful that you can get any place; and, if no one will shelter you, lie in the street; bethink yourself that many a better man has done so before you."
The man stood aghast: he looked first at us, then at the kotwal and his men, while expressions of delight at his discomfiture ran through the kotwal's party: "Well said!" "Proper fellows!" "He ought to be turned out of the village," &c. At last, without saying a word, he threw down his turban and ran out, bellowing as loud as he could. We all burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
"That is a queer fellow," said I to the kotwal; "I doubt not you have often such to plague you; but send for him back, we will make him ashamed of himself, and I will beg you to give him a place to stay in."
"As you will," replied he; "but for your intercession I should not have troubled myself about him. Many such have I to deal with. One day a fellow comes swearing he is cheated by every one; another, that he can get nothing to eat, when perhaps both are too stingy to buy; another, that he has no shelter, when he will not pay the trifle demanded by the bunnea for the use of his shop. Again, a third must have every delicacy to be found in a city, and he is furious because he cannot get them; when, if they were all before him, he could not afford to buy one. In short, sirs, there is no end to the fancies, foolishnesses, and, I may say, tyranny, of travellers, and who think me, I suppose, to possess superhuman power, and to have jins (genii) at my command, to bring them whatever their foolish ideas may desire."
"You have indeed no easy situation, and to please every one is impossible," said I; "but here comes the merchant,"—and he entered.
"Take up your turban, good fellow," said the kotwal, "and do not be angry; you are no child to be quarrelling with decent people. Have you never travelled before, that you should be angry and throw dust on our beards in this manner? In God's name, take up your turban; and do some one of you go and see that the good man gets a place for himself."