Stories of Bengalee Life/His Release/Chapter 1
HIS RELEASE
I
BABU Nagendra Nath was on a visit to his father-in-law in Calcutta during the Christmas holidays. He was a Deputy Magistrate in Eastern Bengal and Assam, recently transferred to the sudder station of Faridsing district. When leaving his last station he left his wife and children with his father-in-law, and has now availed himself of the holidays to fetch them to Faridsing.
Calcutta, during the present Christmas, was full of bustle and enthusiasm. The Indian National Congress was to hold its sittings shortly. The Industrial Exhibition had already opened.
Nagendra Babu's father-in-law, a retired Subordinate Judge, lived at Bhowanipur. He had three sons;—the eldest was a vakil of the High Court; the second, an assistant in a Government office; the youngest did not do anything in particular,—he was frequently seen delivering speeches at public meetings.
Nagendra Babu was twenty-seven and has been a Deputy Magistrate for five years. His University career was a brilliant one, he having topped the list of successful M.A.'s of his year.
It was the day before the opening of the Congress. The Deputy, after a comfortable morning tea, was sitting in the inner apartments, chatting with his brothers- and his sisters-in-law.
Girindra Nath, his brother-in-law, enquired—"Is there any unrest at Faridsing now?"
"No,—I haven't seen any."
Little Indumati, his sister-in-law, asked—"How is Swadeshi getting on there?"
"Fairly well,—though it is nothing like what I used to read in the papers before going there."
Satyendra, his brother-in-law, observed—"That's only natural. The enthusiasm of early days never lasts. What we saw here in Calcutta at the beginning—"
Nagendra Babu interrupted him, saying,—"Faridsing is much ahead of your Calcutta in that respect. You dare not buy a piece of Manchester dhoti there openly. You find the school-boys patrolling the streets with lathies on their shoulders"
"Are they the National School boys?"—enquired the brother-in-law who was the public speaker.
"Yes, most of them. There are boys from other schools also."
"Don't the teachers try to stop it?"
"Oh, they have given it up."
"And the Police?"
"The boys care precious little for the Police. In my rambles through the bazars, I have often heard them saying to the Police—'Look here Mr. Constable, I am picketting'—and the Constable grins."
This caused a burst of laughter. Satyendra Nath said—"Do you intend, Nagendra Babu, to send your little boy to the National School when you arrive there?"
"Heavens!—That would be as much as my job was worth"—said Nagendra Babu with a smile.
"But supposing you didn't risk your job,—would you do it?"
"Oh, certainly."
"Then why continue in such a service?"—chimed in Girindra Nath.
"One must live."
"You have completed your terms of legal study. Why not pass the examination and start practice as a vakil at the High Court?"
"Oh dear! Do you think I am fit to pass examinations at my age?"
Indumati, pouting her little lips, said—"You are not willing to give up serving the Feringhees—that's the real reason. Let us know please, are you in favour of Swadeshi or against it?"
"In favour, without question. Yesterday I brought from the bazar about fifty rupees worth of Swadeshi clothes to take to Faridsing,—you saw them."
"Aren't Swadeshi clothes available there?"
"Yes they are,—but the prices are rather high."
Satyendra, smiling sarcastically, said—"Don't you understand, Indu, he daren't patronise Swadeshi there lest the Sahibs should come to know of it."
Nagendra Babu said—"Well, well,—admitting that was the reason,—is there any harm in doing a virtuous act in secret?"
"There isn't. But take care, Nagendra Babu, that you don't sin openly to please your masters."
At this moment a chorus of voices was heard singing outside the house. Somebody said—"There's the Society of Mother-worshippers, come to collect donations for the Congress." They all came out of the house and saw about fifty young men and boys, with yellow puggries round their heads, singing a patriotic song to the accompaniment of mridang and kartal, calling upon the devoted to pay according to the means of each one for the worship of the Motherland. Some of them carried flags inscribed with "Bande Mataram" and one had a big thali in his hand containing the money already collected.
When the song was over, each one of the household placed something on the thali, silver coins of different value. Nagendra Babu gave them a ten-rupee note.
A young man of the party immediately approched him and said—"Your name, Sir, if you please."
"What does it matter?"—said Nagendra Babu.
"Our rule is to take down the names of those contributing more than five rupees."
"You may write—'A Friend'."
Satyendra said—"Write down—'A Deputy'—this gentleman is a Deputy Magistrate in Eastern Bengal and Assam where buying Swadeshi cloth is a felony and singing Bande Mataram, high treason."
Girindra interfered, saying—"No, no—don't mention the Deputy Magistrate.—'A friend' will do."
The young men made the note as desired and departed, resuming their song.