Gujarát and the Gujarátis/Scenes in a Mofussil Magistrate's Court
SCENES IN A MOFUSSIL MAGISTRATE'S COURT.
No mortal thinks himself so happy as the Native Magistrate in the Mofussil. But there are times when even he, whose smile gives life to the evil-doer and whose frown annihilates him, feels insecure and uneasy. He does not fear the Collector, the Judge, the Revenue Commissioner, or the Governor himself. He meets the requisition of each with cheerful nonchalance. But whenever he hears that an English barrister is engaged to plead for a prisoner before him, or that a European soldier or sailor is defendant in a suit, the Native Magistrate loses appetite and his sleep. He studies his Penal Code as he never studied the most sacred of his shástras. He also reads his Compendium of English Grammar and Composition, and on the day the case is to appear, goes to Court after many prayers and supplications to the gods to "preserve his abru."[1] Poor native suitors know the Magistrate's weakness, and take all precautions they can to counteract its effects.
A few months ago one of these Magistrates had to decide a case in which the town barber was plaintiff and a discharged Irish soldier defendant. The soldier seems to have thrashed the barber for some reason best known to himself. Now the barber, who was a man of sense. knew that he could not establish his case against the white man. So, with grim Oriental humour, he made his mother-in-law plaintiff in the case, and with the aid of two or three trumpery witnesses, undertook to prove that the soldier had assaulted the "poor defenceless woman" in a field of bájri[2] hard by, and that the whole town knew of it. The barber had only recently married a fourth wife, with a neat little dowry; so he said, "As Prabhu[3] has given me the means, I am determined to set an example." With this purpose in view, the barber went to the best pleader in his town, a very learned man, who "had once gone to Bombay." What better counsel for a good cause?
On the day fixed for hearing the court was crowded by spectators, some of them Parsi lads on a holiday tour. The Magistrate came first, looking very mild and anxious. Then came the soldier, looking very cool and careless. Third came the plaintiff's pleader, looking very warm and important, and with the pleader's robe and high-heeled creaking boots on. Last of all came the plaintiff, the barber's mother-in-law, with a crowd at her back. She seemed to have rheumatism, paralysis, and many other dreadful ailments besides.
"From the tears she shed in the streets," explained the jocular Musulman constable, " one might think we had rain last night; at any rate, there will be no need for watering the streets this noon!"
A minute or two after, the proceedings were formally opened. I shall only transcribe here the examination of the undefended soldier by the barber's counsel.
Pleader(with easy familiarity, and intending to procure confession for mere asking).—Well, my man, why did you do this thing?
Soldier.—What thing?
Pleader.—You know it, is it not?
Soldier.—Hanged if I do!
Pleader.—Don't use vulgar curses; you should not be contemptible towards the Court.
Soldier.—What do ye want, thin?
Pleader.—Did you assault this lady, or not?
Soldier (looking at the lady and breaking out into a horse laugh).—Did ye see me assault this lady?
Pleader.—No, but others did. It was a most indecent and brutal outrage, and you will have at least five years for it.
Soldier.—You are a d———— d————. Why the dickens should I assault that hag? Ax her yeself, ye murdhering thief, and thin git ready (putting himself in attitude).
Pleader (in a dreadful funk, turning to the Magistrate).—I seek your worship's protection of my person and property.
Magistrate.—Chhut, chhut, Mr. Rámrás. What do you mean by indecent assault in this case? That word should not be imported at this stage; it is not in the original plaint.
Pleader.—By the fifth of———— Magistrate.—Nonsense, all nonsense; that applies to cases of murder only.
Pleader (in sulks).—I will then leave the case to your worship. Ican go to the High Court.
Soldier (to the Magistrate).— Why don't ye lave this varmint to me, Sir, and ye ax the old woman hersel.
Magistrate.—Mr. Soldier, don't use bad words. Yes, I'll ask the woman.
Soldier.—Begorra, ye are a handsome gintleman, yer honour.
Magistrate (to the barber's mother-in-law).—Here, woman, stand up. Did the sahib assault you?
Woman (blubbering).—You are my father and mother!
Magistrate.—You will have to be flogged if you don't answer directly. Did the sahib beat you?
Woman.—I am a poor widow; my husband used to shave you, mábáp![4]
Magistrate(losing temper).—Here, constable—now, will you answer or not? Did this sojer beat you?
Woman.—Mábáp, beating my son-in-law is beating me! (Pleader hanging doum his head, barber looking daggers at his dear wife's mother, magistrate tittering, and soldier smiling.) The whole town knows it.
Magistrate.—Knows what?
Woman.—That Iam an honest woman!
Magistrate.—But, woman, that is not the question.
Woman.—That my Lakhi's father shaved you!
Magistrate (turning in disgust to the Pleader).—Mr. Rámrás, you see the defendant may have assaulted another person.
Pleader (taking up the cue).—Did you assault this gentleman barber? (Asking the soldier.)
Soldier.—Now, say ye so, my jewel!
Pleader (sententiously).—Weigh your words.
Soldier.—How kin I weigh my words?
Pleader.—Sir, have you come here to brandy words with me?
Soldier.—Do ye think so?
Pleader (furiously).—Now, hold out your tongue, Sir.
Pat seized this golden opportunity, and throwing a world of solemnity into his attitude, held out his tongue—a big, red, lolling thing—to the infinite amusement of the spectators, who knew not why they laughed. The Pleader was dumb-founded; the barber looked at him with pity and contempt. The Magistrate was convulsed with laughter; he thrust his silk handkerchief into his mouth till he was fairly suffocated.
The case was dismissed.