His brother Nagendra passed the Entrance Examination, but failed to secure a First Arts certificate. This rebuff so disheartened him that he gave up all idea of continuing the University course and returned to Ratnapur with the intention of living in idleness on his property. In vain did Samarendra point out the advantages of a degree. Nagendra declared that such distinctions were beyond his reach. Sudden wealth, in fact, was injurious to both of them.
Two uneventful years passed away. Samarendra’s wife was the mother of an idolised boy and was herself adored by her mother-in-law, who never allowed her to do any manner of household work. The result was that her temper changed for the worse. When the old lady fell ill, the young one made horrible messes of her curry and rice. If her husband ventured to remonstrate, she silenced him with abuse, and even emphasised her remarks with a broomstick.
Samarendra, in fact, was completely under his wife’s thumb. Her word was law in the household; her mother-in-law a mere cypher, who found both husband and wife perpetually leagued against her. Shortly after his arrival at Ratnapur, Nagendra espoused the daughter of Kanto Babu, a Zemindar residing in the neighbourhood. At first Samarendra’s wife received the new-comer graciously enough; but finding that she was of a submissive disposition, she soon began to lord it over her sister-in-law. Nagendra sympathised heartily with his young wife, but had such a horror of family quarrels that he was very loath to intervene on her behalf. One evening, however, he ventured on a word of reproof, which was received with angry words and threats of his eldest brother’s vengeance.
Next day Samarendra called him into the parlour, and, after they were seated, said: “I hear you have been rude to Barabau (the elder wife). Is that so?”
Nagendra raised his hands in wonder. “No, brother, it was she who showed disrespect to me, simply because I objected to her bullying my wife.”
“Do you mean to say that Barabau has lied?” thundered Samarendra. His brother was nettled by the tone adopted. He replied hotly, “Yes, she has lied!”
“What!” asked Samarendra beside himself with indignation. “Is my wife a liar and are you a Judisthir?” (the elder of the five Pandav brothers, heroes of the Mahabharata). “You are a creature without shame!” So saying, he shook his fist at Nagendra who started from his seat as if to attack him. Luckily a respectable neighbour came in at the very nick of time and separated the would-be combatants.
On the morrow, Nagendra told his brother curtly that these perpetual bickerings must be avoided at all cost, and that the only course open to them was to separate. Samarendra raised not the slightest objection, and from that day forward two distinct establishments were set up in the same house. It only remained to divide the estates equally, and as a preliminary step Nagendra asked for accounts during the last three years. They were furnished in a few weeks, and he spent several nights in examining them carefully, taking lists of defaulters in order to verify them by independent inquiry.
While returning home, one evening, from supper at a friend’s house, he met a Mohammadan ryot who, according to the accounts, was heavily in arrears of rent. He paused and, after acknowledging the man’s salám, remarked that he ought to make an effort to pay a part at least of what was due. The ryot stood aghast with surprise, but invoked Allah to witness that he had paid up every pice, adding that he held Dákhilas (rent receipts) from Bara Babu (the elder brother) which would prove his assertion. Nagendra asked him to call next day with the receipts in question.
When the man presented himself, Nagendra, in his brother’s presence, asked for the arrears of rent shown in the jamá wásil báqi (accounts). Again the ryot affirmed that he owned nothing and appealed to the Bara Babu for corroboration. Samarendra was taken aback.