“Get up, get up, oh, do get up dear son,” said the master with a great show of affection. Shyam retreated some ten feet and stood with joined hands. There followed a long conversation between the zamindar and Shyam about all sorts of things. Dear reader, if we report everything that passed between the two, it will tire you out. Therefore, we will give you only the gist. The zamindar said that he took a fatherly interest in the welfare of Shyam’s family. Shyam’s father, Apartia, after all, used to come to him every evening to discuss problems related to farming, to seek advice on how to increase his yields, and so on.

How unfortunate Shyam did not follow his example …

Suddenly the zamindar happened to glance at Shyam’s plot of land. As if in shock, he exclaimed, in the tone of a concerned guardian, “Are you a fool, Shyama? What have you done? What kind of farmer are you? Why have you planted the seedlings so close together? There’s no room for them to breathe. You must thin out at least half of them.” Gobinda, too, took a good look at the field and heartily agreed. Shyam was trembling with fear.

With his hands joined, he said, “Master, I plant my field like this every year. So does everyone else.” This irritated the master: “You fool, you won’t even listen to good advice.” He then turned to Gobinda, “Gobinda, dear boy, go and show him how it’s done.” No sooner had these words been uttered than Gobinda and Pandia stripped the plot of half its seedlings, all this while Shyam kept howling and groveling at Mangaraj’s feet. The zamindar became a bit angry, pointing out that whether or not he knew how to farm, Shyam must remember he had a loan to repay. Shyam stood petrified. At last the master relented and called out,

“Gobinda, come away. Let him do whatever he pleases.” Saying this, he proceeded toward his unplanted acre and a half, followed by his farmhands carrying two loads of seedlings.

Chapter Five

The Mangaraj Family

Ramachandra Mangaraj was responsible for a large household, which, apart from himself and his wife, included his three sons, their wives, the maidservants, and some twenty or more domestics—in all, around thirty mouths to feed. To tell the life story of each one would require going into far too much detail. And as you already know we are simply incapable of reporting irrelevant matters, telling lies, or exaggerating. Also, as the saying goes, un-pleasant truths are better left unspoken; in other words, we are forced to forget half the truth and tell you only the other half.

The women in the house outnumbered the men and their voices drowned out all the others, except the barber’s. The zamindar was always occupied with his own affairs. As for his sons, all three spent most of their time gambling, trapping gobara birds, brawling, and squabbling with the villagers; any time left over was devoted to smoking cannabis. The owner of the cannabis shop in the market once got angry with a customer and washeard to remark, “Go away, I don’t need your business. The zamindar’s sons will keep me busy.” The zamindar and his sons rarely met. A village elder once asked Mangaraj, “Why don’t you spend more time with your sons?” He replied quoting the Shastras:

Lalayet pañca varsani daša varsani tadayet

Prapte tu sodaše varse putram mitram samacaret.

That is to say: a child dribbles helplessly until he is five; until he reaches ten, he should be kept at a distance; and at sixteen, his father should mistreat him as he does his own friends. In reality, Mangaraj mistreated everyone: he would win their trust and friendship and then drag them into the law courts to steal their land. However, where his sons were concerned, the zamindar did not strictly follow his own interpretation of the sloka. It is said he was put off by them because they squandered his money on liquor.

Mangaraj’s wife slept alone in one corner of a room apart from everyone else. Only when a wandering singer, a beggar, or someone poor, hungry, or thirsty arrived at her doorstep and asked for her would she come out of her room. Propriety forbids us to write about her daughters-in-law. What would people say if we talked about these young women who were part of such a respectable family? What would be gained if we were to tell you that they arose at one o’clock in the afternoon, that it was evening by the time they finished their morning ablutions and had their lunch, and that after that they took a short nap. Whenthey got up again night had fallen.