Barada Babu was standing on one side with Beni Babu and Ramlall, and was perfectly amazed when he heard the kind of judgments that were being delivered. Considering the depositions that had been made in his own case, he began to think that there was very little chance of matters turning out auspiciously for him. That the sheristadar would show him any favour was in the highest degree improbable, but he knew the old proverb: “Destiny is the friend of the helpless.” As he thus reflected, his case was called on for hearing. Thakchacha had been sitting inside the court: he at once took his witnesses with him, and stood before the magistrate, proud and confident. When the papers in the case had been read, the sheristadar said: “My lord, this is a clear case of illegal confinement and assault.” Thakchacha thereupon ceased stroking his moustache and glared at Barada Babu, thinking that at last his end was achieved. In the other cases no questions had been put to the defendants when the records had been read: they had been treated as summarily as goats for the sacrifice; but the magistrate’s glance, as luck would have it, falling upon Barada Babu before he passed his orders, the latter respectfully explained to him in English, all the circumstances of the case, saying: “I have never even seen the person who has been put forward as having been confined and assaulted by me, nor did the police-officers when they searched my premises find anybody there. Beni Babu and Ramlall were with me at the time; if you will be good enough to take their evidence, my declaration will be substantiated.”
Remarking the gentlemanly appearance of Barada Babu and the good judgment that had distinguished his language, the magistrate was anxious to make an enquiry. Thakchacha gave many significant hints to the sheristadar, and he for his own part, seeing the turn things were taking, reflected that he might after all have to disgorge the rupees he had taken, so laying aside all his fears before the magistrate, he said: “My lord, there is really no necessity for hearing this case over again.” Upon this the magistrate pursed his lips in some perplexity and turned the matter over in his mind, cutting his nails the while. Barada Babu seeing his opportunity again explained to him, quietly and in detail, the real facts of the case. As soon as the magistrate had heard him, he took the evidence of Beni Babu and Ramlall, and the charge appearing upon their statements to be manifestly a false one, was dismissed.
The final orders had not been passed before Thakchacha was off as hard as he could run. Barada Babu saluted the magistrate respectfully and went out. When the court was closed, everybody began to compliment him: he paid little heed however to them and manifested no particular pleasure at winning his case, but quietly got into his boat, accompanied by Beni Babu and Ramlall.
CHAPTER XVI.
THAKCHACHA AT HOME.
THAKCHACHA’s house was on the outskirts of the city: on either side of it were filthy tanks, and in front the shrine of some guardian saint. Inside the enclosure was a storehouse for grain, and ducks and fowls were running about the yard. Rogues of every description were in the habit of assembling at the house early every morning.
Thakchacha could assume many characters in the conduct of his business: he could be gentle or passionate: he could laugh or frown: he could make a parade of virtue or a show of force, with equal facility[32]. When the business of the day was over, he would take his bath and his food, and then sit by his wife and smoke: and as he smoked the tobacco would gurgle and hiss in its well-chased bowl of Bidri ware. Their conversation was generally on their mutual joys and sorrows.
Thakchacha’s wife was held in great repute amongst the women of the district. They were firmly convinced that she was well versed in religious ritual and incantations, in the art of making bad qualities good, in mesmerising, in causing even death or timely disappearances, in magic and sorcery, and in fact in every variety of the black art. For this reason women of all classes of life came constantly to her to hold secret converse. An old proverb has it: “As the god, so the goddess,” and Thakchacha and his wife were a well-matched pair: the husband got his living by his wits, and the wife by her reputed learning.
A woman who earns her own living is apt to become somewhat imperious, and her husband rarely receives from her unfeigned respect and attention. Thakchacha had consequently to put up occasionally with his wife’s reproaches. She was now sitting upon a low cane stool, saying to her husband: “You are always roaming about everywhere but at home. What good does it all do to me or the children? You are always saying that you have such a lot of business on hand; is our hunger appeased by such talk as that? Now it is the desire of my heart to dress well and to mix in the society of women of good position, but I never get a glimpse of any money. You go wandering about like a lunatic; do remain quietly at home for a change.” Thakchacha replied somewhat testily: “How can I possibly tell you all the trouble I have had to undergo. Look at my great anxieties, look at all the artifices, intrigues and trickery I have to employ: I have no language to express it all. Then just as the game is on the point of falling into my hands, off it flies again. Never mind, sooner or later it will be caught.” Just at this moment, a servant came to tell them that a messenger was arrived from Baburam Babu’s house to summon Thakchacha, who thereupon looked at his wife and said: “You see, the Babu is continually sending for me: he will do nothing without consulting me. I will strike when the hour is come.”