Tales of Bengal (S. B. Banerjea)/A Foul Conspiracy
A FOUL CONSPIRACY.
On a certain morning in February Ramani Babu sprung a mine on his tenants by circulating a notice among them to the effect that they would have to pay up every pice of rent on or before the 10th prox. Some hastened to discharge their liabilities, while others ran about asking for loans or sat with downcast eyes, unable to decide what course to take. The English reader is perhaps unaware that every Bengal landowner is required to pay revenue to Government four times a year, viz., on the 28th January, March, June and September. Any one failing to do so before sunset on these dates becomes a defaulter, and his estate is put up to auction in order to satisfy the demand, however small it may be. Property worth many thousands of rupees has often been sold for arrears of eight annas (a shilling) or even less. The near approach of these kist (rent) days is of course a period of great anxiety to landlords; some of whom are forced to borrow the necessary amount on the security of their wives' ornaments.
On March 28th, 18—, Ramani Babu had to pay about Rs. 10,000 as land revenue; but his ryots' crops had failed, owing to want of rain, and by the end of February he had been able to realise only Rs. 1,000, the greater portion by threats of force. The Indian peasant's lot is not a happy one. He depends solely on the produce of the soil, which yields little or nothing if the annual rains should fail, or there be an excess of moisture. Millions of cultivators never know what it is to have a good, solid meal. In order to meet the landlord's demands they have recourse to a Mahájan (moneylender) whose exactions leave them a slender margin for subsistence. But religion and ages of slavery render them submissive creatures. They murmur only when very hard pressed.
Sádhu Sheikh, of Simulgachi, lived by raising vegetables for sale in Kumodini Babu's market, until he was forbidden to do so by Ramani Babu's clubmen. Failing this resource, he abandoned the little trade; and thus got deeper into the books of his moneylender. At this crisis he received a written notice ordering him to attend Ramani Babu's kacheri (office) on 17th March without fail. A visit to the local moneylender was fruitless and only led to a hint that old scores must be cleared off. So Sádhu returned home crestfallen and determined to abide by his fate. On obeying the summons, he found Ramani Babu sitting in his office to receive rent, which was brought him by a crowd of dejected-looking ryots. A great hubbub was going on; one Bemani insisting that he had paid up to date while Ramani Babu's gomastha (bailiff) stoutly denied the assertion and called on the objector to produce his receipt. This was not forthcoming for the simple reason that Bemani had mislaid it. He asked the bailiff to show him the ledger account, and after spelling through the items laboriously be found that not a pice stood to his credit, although he had paid nearly sixty rupees since the last kist (rent) day. There are few who understand the value of the dákhilas (rent receipts) which landlords are compelled by law to give them. The little slips of paper are lost or destroyed, with the result that many ryots have had to pay twice over. Bemani vainly invoked Allah to witness that he had discharged his dues; the bailiff ordered him to pay within twenty-four hours on pain of severe punishment. Goaded to fury by this palpable injustice the poor man declined to do anything of the kind. At this stage Ramani Babu intervened:—
"You son of a pig, are you going to obey my orders or not?"
"No, I have paid once, and I won't pay again," yelled Bemani, thoroughly roused.
Ramani Babu beckoned to a stalwart doorkeeper from the Upper Provinces, who was standing near.
"Sarbeshwar, give this rascal a taste of your Shámchand (cane)!"
He was zealously obeyed and poor Bemani was thrashed until he lay writhing in agony on the ground. After taking his punishment he rose, and looking defiantly at Ramani Babu said:—
"You have treated me cruelly; but you will find that there is a God who watches all our actions. He will certainly deal out retribution to you!" He then turned to go.
"I see you are not yet cured," exclaimed Ramani Babu. "Let him have another dose of Shámchand."
"Yes, go on!" roared Bemani, "beat me as much as you please; you'll have reason to repent sooner or later!" With this remark he stood erect, looking fearlessly at his tormentors. Sarbeshwar administered another welting, which drew blood at every stroke but was borne without sound or movement. When the doorkeeper stopped for want of breath, Bemani cast a look of scorn at Ramani Babu and strode out of the house in silence, full of rage.
Presently another disturbance was heard. One of the ryots had paid his rent in full but declined to add the usual commission exacted by the bailiffs, who fell on him in a body and pummelled him severely.
Sádhu witnessed these horrors from a corner of the room and inwardly besought Allah to save him from the clutches of those demons. But Srikrishna, who was the bailiff of his circle, happened to see him and asked whether he had brought his rent. Sádhu got up, salámed humbly, and replied, "Babuji, you know my present circumstances well". "Answer yes or no," thundered Srikrishna, "I have no time to listen to your excuses."
"Your servant is a very poor man," continued Sádhu, shaking from head to foot.
"Who is this person?" inquired Ramani Babu.
"This is Sádhu Sheikh, of Simulgachi," was the bailiff's reply, "the very same rascal who gave evidence against your honour in that faujdári (criminal) case."
"Is that so?" roared Ramani Babu. "And the son of a pig owes me rent?"
"Now, please, do not abuse me, Babuji," protested Sádhu, "only listen to my tale for one minute!"
"What, you dare to bandy words with me, haramzádá (bastard)?" shouted Ramani Babu, rising from his seat. "Doorkeeper, let him have fifty cuts, laid on hard!"
Swish, swish, swish, sounded the nimble cane, and made a grey pattern on Sádhu's naked flesh. His screams and prayers for mercy were mocked by the obsequious crowd, and at length he fell senseless on the floor.
"Look, he is shamming," observed Ramani Babu; "drag him outside and souse him with water until he comes to." The command was obeyed, and when Sádhu was able to sit up he was brought back to the dreaded presence. Again his arrears of rent were demanded, and once more he feebly protested that he could not discharge them. Thereon Ramani Babu ordered him to be hung up. Forthwith, a dozen eager hands were laid on him, a rope was passed under his armpits, and the free end thrown over a rafter of the office. By this means he was hauled from the ground and swung suspended, a butt of sarcasm and abuse for Ramani Babu's myrmidons. After enduring this humiliation for an hour or so, he was let down and a final demand made on him for the arrears of rent. On his again asserting inability Ramani Babu ordered his hut to be levelled with the ground and pulse to be sown on its site, as a punishment for his disobedience. He was then allowed to leave the scene of his misery.
On reaching home he found Bemani seated in the porch, in expectation of his arrival. His fellow-victim said that he had lodged an information against Ramani Babu and his servants at the police station and intended going to Ghoria, next day, to complain to the Deputy Magistrate. Would Sádhu help him by giving evidence? he asked. "That I will," was the reply, "but I must first consult Jadunath Babu, who, I am sure, will help me." After Bemani's departure Sádhu went to his protector and told the story of his sufferings in full. Jadunath Babu bade him be of good cheer; for he would do all in his power to bring Ramani Babu to justice. Sádhu was comforted by this promise. He returned home and soon forgot all his sorrows in sleep.
About midnight he was aroused by voices in his yard, and, sallying forth, discovered a gang of clubmen employed by Ramani Babu, in the act of tearing the roof from his hut. Remonstrance was met by jeering and threats of violence; so the luckless man stood helplessly under a neighbouring tamarind tree, while his house was reduced to a heap of bamboos and thatch. The material was taken away in carts, the site dug up, and pulse sown thereon. Thus not a trace of Sádhu's home was left. He passed the remaining hours of the night under the tree; and early next morning he called on Jadu Babu, to whom he unfolded the story of this latest outrage. His patron boiled over with indignation. He sent Sádhu to the police station, in order to lay an information against his persecutors, promising to give him a house and land to compensate his losses. In less than a fortnight, the injured man was installed in a new hut and in possession of enough land to support him comfortably. Then he settled down, with heartfelt prayers for Jadu Babu's long life and prosperity. He even sent for his wife and a young sister-in-law, who had been staying with her brother near Calcutta.
Meantime Bemani had taken out a summons for causing grievous hurt against Ramani Babu and his servants. When the case came on for hearing before a Deputy Magistrate at Ghoria, all the accused pleaded "not guilty". They could not deny the fact that he had been beaten within an inch of his life, but alleged provocation on his part, inasmuch as he had fomented a rebellion among the ryots. Jadu Babu was not idle. He provided the complainant with first-rate legal advice and paid all the expenses of adducing witnesses. Emboldened by his support, at least a dozen of Ramani Babu's ryots who were present while he was being thrashed, came forward to give evidence of the brutal treatment he had received and to deny the counter charge brought by the defendants. Thus the case ended in the conviction of Ramani Babu and three of his servants, who were sentenced to fines aggregating Rs. 200. Then the charges preferred by Sádhu were taken up by the Deputy Magistrate. As they were of a far graver character, the barrister brought from Calcutta by Ramani Babu obtained a week's adjournment in order to procure rebutting evidence.
At this time the Muharram festival was in full swing. Sádhu was too busy in getting up his case to take part in it; but he sent his wife to some relatives at Ghoria, while his young sister-in-law, who was suffering from fever, remained at home. He was aroused one night by loud screams coming from the hut occupied by this girl. On running out to see what was the matter, he fell into the arms of a stranger who was crossing his yard in a desperate hurry. A struggle ensued, but the intruder managed to escape, not before Sádhu had recognised him as a ryot of Ramani Babu, named Karim. On asking his sister-in-law what had happened, the poor girl told him with many sobs that a man had broken into the hut, and awakened her by seizing her throat, but had been scared away by her screams. As soon as day dawned, Sádhu ran to the house of Karim's uncle, in the hope of finding him there. The uncle, however, declared that Karim had been absent since the previous evening, and on learning the grave charge preferred by Sádhu, he begged with folded hands that the scandal might be stifled, at any cost, for the sake of both families. Sádhu would promise nothing, but for obvious reasons he laid no information against Karim.
Two days later he was engaged on his evening meal, when a Sub-Inspector appeared. After asking whether his name was Sádhu, the policeman slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and turned a deaf ear to his bewildered request for information as to the charge preferred against him. Thus he was ignominiously taken to the station lock-up, followed by a crowd, whom he begged to inform Jadu Babu of his trouble. The latter was speedily fetched by a compassionate neighbour, and, after conversing with the police officer, he told Sádhu that he was actually charged with murder! Karim's uncle had informed the police that, his nephew having disappeared since the day of the alleged trespass, he suspected Sádhu of foul play. An inquiry followed which led to Sádhu's transfer to the district jail.
Jadu Babu was certain that his enemy had instigated the charge, and knew that he was quite capable of suppressing Karim in order to get Sádhu into trouble. He was advised by friends whom he consulted not to poke his nose into so ugly an affair: but his sense of justice prevailed. He went to Ghaneshyám Babu, whom he told the whole story related by Sádhu. On learning that Ramani Babu was implicated, the pleader saw an opportunity of wreaking vengeance on the persecutor of his brother. Gladly did he undertake the prisoner's defence.
In due course the charge preferred by Sádhu against Ramani Babu was heard by a Deputy Magistrate. With Ghaneshyám Babu's aid, the complainant proved it up to the hilt, and all concerned were heavily fined. Soon afterwards Sádhu himself appeared before the Deputy Magistrate to answer a charge of murder. The circumstantial evidence against him was so strong that he was committed to the Sessions Court. When brought up for trial there, he astounded his backers by pleading guilty and offering to point out the spot where he had buried Karim's corpse. The case was forthwith adjourned for a local inquiry; and the European District Superintendent of Police took Sádhu to the place indicated, where he had the soil turned up in all directions without result. Sádhu admitted that he was mistaken and piloted the police to another spot, where they again failed to discover any trace of the missing man. On these facts being reported to the judge, he fixed the morrow for final hearing.
At 11 a.m. he took his seat on the bench in a Court packed with eager spectators, and was reading a charge to the jury, strongly adverse to the prisoner, when an uproar was heard outside. Proceedings were suspended while the judge sent an usher to ascertain the cause; but ere he returned, half a dozen men burst into the courtroom crying Dohai! (justice!). Jadu Babu, who was one of the intruders, signalled the others to be silent, and thus addressed the judge with folded hands:—
"Your Honour, the dead has come to life! Here is Karim, who was supposed to have been murdered!"
There was a tremendous sensation in Court. When it subsided the judge thrust aside his papers and asked for evidence as to Karim's identity, which was soon forthcoming on oath. Then he ordered him to be sworn, and recorded the following deposition:—
"Incarnation of Justice! I will make a full confession, whatever may happen to me. I was sent for about a month ago by my landlord Ramani Babu, who ordered me to insult some woman of Sádhu's household, in order that he might be excommunicated. In fear of my life I consented to do so, and that very night I broke into the hut where Sádhu's sister-in-law lay asleep. Her cries attracted Sádhu, who grappled with me in his yard. However, I managed to escape, and on reporting my failure to Ramani Babu, he sent me in charge of a Barkandáz (guard) to Paliti, which is ten coss (20 miles) away. There I was confined in a Kacheri (office building) until yesterday, when I got away after nightfall. I had to pass through Ghoria Bazar, on my way home this morning, and there I ran up against Jadu Babu, who stopped and questioned me closely about my movements. There was nothing for me but to make a clean breast of everything. He took me to a babu's house where he was staying, and thence brought me to your honour's presence."
Karim's confession took every one by surprise, and it was corroborated by Jadu Babu in the witness-box. The judge then asked Sádhu why he pleaded guilty.
"Incarnation of Justice," was the reply, "it was the Daroga Babu (Sub-Inspector of Police) who frightened me into making a confession. He told me again and again that he had quite enough evidence to hang me, and advised me to escape death by admitting the charge of murdering Karim. While I was shut up alone in jail, I had no one to consult or rely on. Through fear, my wits entirely left me and I resolved to obtain mercy by making a false confession."
These circumstances, strange as they may appear to the Western reader, were no novelty to the Sessions Judge. In charging the jury, he commented severely on the conduct of the station police and directed them to return a verdict of not guilty, which they promptly did.
Ghaneshyám Babu did not let the matter drop. He moved the District Magistrate to prosecute Ramani Babu and his bailiff, Srikrishna, for conspiring to charge an innocent man with murder. Both were brought to trial and, despite the advocacy of a Calcutta barrister, they each received a sentence of six months' rigorous imprisonment. Justice, lame-footed as she is, at length overtook a pair of notorious evil-doers.