 Story number 10 of Stories from Tagore This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Shashank Jagmohala Stories from Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore The Babus of Nayanjore Chapter 1 Once upon a time, the Babus at Nayanjore were famous landholders. They were noted for their princely extravagance. They would tear off the rough border of their Dhaka muslin because it rubbed against their delicate skin. They could spend many thousands of rupees over the wedding of a kitten. And on a certain grand occasion, it is alleged that in order to turn night into day, they lighted numberless lamps and showered silver threads from the sky to imitate sunlight. Those were the days before the flood. The flood came. The line of succession among these old world Babus with their lordly habits could not continue for long. Like a lamp with too many vex burning, the oil flared away quickly and the light went out. Kailas Babu, our neighbour, is the last relic of this extinct magnificence. Before he grew up, his family had very nearly reached its lowest ebb. When his father died, there was one dazzling outburst of funeral extravagance and then insolvency. The property was sold to liquidate the debt. What little ready money was left over was altogether insufficient to keep up the past ancestral splendours. Kailas Babu left Nayanjore and came to Calcutta. His son did not remain long in this world of faded glory. He died leaving behind him an only daughter. In Calcutta, we are Kailas Babu's neighbours. Curiously enough, our own family history is just the opposite of his. My father got his money by his own exertions and prided himself on never spending a penny more than was needed. His clothes were those of a working man and his hands also. He never had any inclination to earn the title of Babu by extravagant display. And I myself, his only son, owe him gratitude for that. He gave me the very best education and I was able to make my way in the world. I am not ashamed of the fact that I am a self-made man. Crisp banknotes in my safe are dearer to me than a long pedigree in an empty family chest. I believe this was why I disliked seeing Kailas Babu drawing his heavy checks on the public credit from the bankrupt bank of his ancient Babu reputation. I used to fancy that he looked down on me because my father had earned money with his own hands. I ought to have noticed that no one showed any vexation towards Kailas Babu except myself. Indeed it would have been difficult to find an old man who did less harm than he. He was always ready with his kindly little acts of courtesy in times of sorrow and joy. He would join in all the ceremonies and religious observances of his neighbours. His familiar smile would greet young and old alike. His politeness in asking details about domestic affairs was untiring. The friends who met him in the street were perforce ready to be butthold while a long string of questions of this kind followed one another from his lips. My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Are you quite well? How is Shashi and Dada? Is he all right? Do you know, I have only just heard that Madhu's son has got fever. How is he? Have you heard? And Hari Charan Babu? I have not seen him for a long time. I hope he is not ill. What's the matter with Rakhaal? And how are the ladies of your family? Kela's Babu was spotlessly neat in his dress in all occasions, though his supply of clothes was sorely limited. Every day he used to air his shirts and vests and coats and trousers carefully and put them out in the sun along with his bed quilt, his pillow case and the small carpet on which he always sat. After airing them he would shake them and brush them and put them carefully away. His little bits of furniture made his small room decent and hinted that there was more in reserve if needed. Very often, for a want of a servant he would shut up his house for a while. Then he would iron out his shirts and line in with his own hands and do other little menial tasks. After this he would open his door and receive his friends again. Though Kela's Babu, as I have said, had lost all his landed property, he still had some family heirlooms left. There was a silver cruet for sprinkling scented water, a filigree box for O2 of roses, a small gold salver, a costly ancient shawl and the old-fashioned ceremonial dress and ancestral turban. These he had rescued with the greatest difficulty from the moneylenders' clutches. On every suitable occasion he would bring them out in state and thus try to save the world-fame dignity of the Babus of Nayanjore. At heart, the most modest of men, in his daily speech, he regarded it as a sacred duty out to his rank to give free play to his family pride. His friends would encourage this trait in his character with kindly good humor and it gave them great amusement. The neighborhood soon learned to call him their Thakur Dada. They would flock to his house and sit with him for hours together. To prevent his incurring any expense, one or other of his friends would bring him tobacco and say, Thakur Dada, this morning some tobacco was sent to me from Gaia. Do take it and see how you like it. Thakur Dada would take it and say it was excellent. He would then go on to tell of a certain exquisite tobacco which they once smoked in the old days of Nayanjore at the cost of a Guinea announce. I wonder, he used to say, if anyone would like to try it now, I have some left and can get it at once. Everyone knew that if they asked for it, then somehow or other the key of the cupboard would be missing or else Ganesh, his old family servant, had put it away somewhere. You can never be sure, he would add, where things go to when servants are about. Now, this Ganesh of mine, I can't tell you what a fool he is, but I haven't the heart to dismiss him. Ganesh, for the credit of the family, was quite ready to bear all the blame without a word. One of the company usually said at this point, never mind Thakur Dada, please don't trouble to look for it, this tobacco we're smoking will do quite well, the others would be too strong. Then Thakur Dada would be relieved and settle down again and the talk would go on. When his guest got up to go away, Thakur Dada would accompany them to the door and say to them on the doorstep, oh by the way, when are you all coming to dine with me? One or other of us would answer, not just yet Thakur Dada, not just yet, we'll fix a day later. Quite right, he would answer, quite right, we had much better way till the rains come, it's too hot now and a grand-rich dinner, such as I should want to give you, would upset us in the weather like this. But when the rains did come, everyone was very careful not to remind him of his promise. If the subject was brought up, some friend would suggest gently that it was very inconvenient to get about when the rains were so severe and therefore it would be much better to wait till they were over. Thus the game went on. Thakur Dada's poor lodging was much too small for his position and we used to condole with him about it. His friends would assure him they quite understood his difficulties. It was next to impossible to get a decent house in Calcutta. Indeed, they had all been looking out for years for a house to suit him, but I need hardly add, no friend had been foolish enough to find one. Thakur Dada used to say, with a sigh of resignation, well, well, I suppose I shall have to put up with this house after all. Then he would add with a genius smile, but, you know, I could never bear to be away from my friends. I must be near you. That really compensates for everything. Somehow, I felt all this very deeply indeed. I suppose the real reason was that when a man is young, stupidity appears to him the worst of crimes. Kailas Babu was not really stupid. In ordinary business matters, everyone was ready to consult him. But with regard to Nayanjore, his utterances were certainly void of common sense. Because, out of amused affection for him, no one contradicted his impossible statements. He refused to keep them in bounds. When people recounted in his hearing the glorious history of Nayanjore with absurd exaggerations, he would accept all they said with the utmost gravity and never doubted even in his dreams that anyone could disbelieve it. Chapter 2 When I sit down and try to analyze the thoughts and feelings that I had towards Kailas Babu, I see that there was still deeper reason for my dislike. I will now explain. Though I am the son of a rich man, and might have wasted time at college, my industry was such that I took my MA degree in Calcutta University when quite young. My moral character was flawless. In addition, my outward appearance was so handsome that if I were to call myself beautiful, it might be thought a mark of self-estimation but could not be considered an untruth. There could be no question that among the young men of Bengal, I was regarded by parents generally as a very eligible match. I was myself quite clear on the point and had determined to obtain my full value in the marriage market. When I pictured my choices, I had before my mind's eye a wealthy father's only daughter, extremely beautiful and highly educated. Proposals came pouring in to me from far and near, large sums in cash were offered. I weighed these offers with rigid impartiality in the delicate scales of my own estimation. But there was no one fit to be my partner. I became convinced with the poet Bhabhavati that in this world's endless time and boundless space, one may be born at last to match my sovereign grace. But in this puny modern age and this contracted space of modern Bengal, it was doubtful if the peerless creature existed as yet. Meanwhile, my praises were sung in many tunes and in different meters by designing parents. Whether I was pleased with their daughters or not, this worship which they offered was never unblazing. I used to regard it as my proper due because I was so good. We are told that when the gods withhold their boons from mortals, they still expect their worshippers to pay them for wind honour and are angry if it is withheld. I had divine expectance strongly developed in myself. I have already mentioned that Thakur Dada had an only granddaughter. I had seen her many times but had never mistaken her for beautiful. No thought had ever entered my mind that she would be a possible partner for myself. All the same, it seemed quite certain to me that some day or other Kailas Babu would offer her with all due worship as an oblation at my shrine. Indeed, this was the inner secret of my dislike. I was thoroughly annoyed that he had not done so already. I heard that Thakur Dada had told his friends that the babus of Nayanjore never craved a boon. Even if the girl remained unmarried, he would not break the family tradition. It was this arrogance of his that made me angry. My indignation smordered for some time but I remained perfectly silent and bore it with the utmost patience because I was so good. As lightning accompanies thunder, so in my character a flash of humour was mingled with the mutterings of my wrath. It was, of course, impossible for me to punish the old man merely to give vent to my rage and for a long time I did nothing at all. But suddenly, one day such an amusing plan came into my head that I could not resist the temptation of carrying it into effect. I have already said that many of Kailas Babu's friends used to flatter the old man's vanity to the full. One who was a retired government servant had told him that whenever he saw the Chhota Lat Sahib, he always asked for the latest news about the babus of Nayanjore and the Chhota Lat had been heard to say that in all Bengal, the only really respectable families were those of the Maharaja of Kosipur and the babus of Nayanjore. When this monstrous falsehood was told to Kailas Babu, he was extremely gratified and often repeated the story. And wherever after he met this government servant in company, he would ask along with other questions. By the way, how is the Chhota Lat Sahib? Quite well, did you say? Yes, I am so delighted to hear it. And the dear ma'am Sahib, is she quite well too? Yes, and the little children. Are they quite well also? Ah, yes, that's very good news. Be sure and give them my compliments when you see them. Kailas Babu would constantly express his intention of going someday and paying a visit to the Lord Sahib. But it may be taken for granted that many Chhota Lats and Burra Lats also would come and go and much water would pass down the Hoogli before the family coach of Nayanjore would be furnished up to pay a visit to government house. One day I took Kailas Babu aside and told him in a whisper. Thakur Dada, I was at Livi yesterday and the Chhota Lat Sahib happened to mention the Babus of Nayanjore. I told him that Kailas Babu had come to town. Do you know? He was terribly hurt because you hadn't called. He told me he was going to put etiquette on one side and pay you a private visit himself this very afternoon. Anybody else could have seen through this plot of mine in a moment. And if it had been directed against another person Kailas Babu would have understood the joke. But after all that he had heard from his friend the government servant and after all his own exaggerations a visit from the lieutenant governor seemed the most natural thing in the world. He became highly nervous and excited at my news. Each detail of the coming visit exercised him greatly. Most of all his own ignorance of English. How on earth was that difficulty to be met? I told him there was no difficulty at all. It was aristocratic not to know English. And besides the lieutenant governor always brought an interpreter with him and he had expressly mentioned that this visit was to be private. About midday when most of our neighbours are at work and the rest are asleep a carriage and pair stopped before the lodging of Kailas Babu. Two flunkies in livery came up the stairs and announced in a loud voice the Chhota Lad Sahib has arrived. Kailas Babu was ready waiting for him in his old-fashioned ceremonial robes an ancestral turban. And Ganesh was by his side dressed in his master's best suit of clothes for the occasion. When the Chhota Lad Sahib was announced Kailas Babu ran panting and puffing and trembling to the door and led in a friend of mine in disguise with repeated salams bowing low at each step and walking backward as best he could. He had his old family shawl spread over a hard wooden chair and he asked the Lad Sahib to be seated. He then made a high-flown speech in Urdu the ancient court language of the Sahibs and presented on the golden salwar a string of gold mohurs the last relics of his broken fortune. The old family servant Ganesh with an expression of awe bordering on terror stood behind with the scent sprinkler drenching the Lad Sahib and touched him gingerly from time to time with the otto of roses from the filigree box. Kailas Babu repeatedly expressed his regret at not being able to receive his honour Bahadur with all the ancestral magnificence of his own family estate at Nayanjore. There he could have welcomed him properly with due ceremonial. But in Calcutta he was a mere stranger and sojourner in fact a fish out of water. My friend with his tall silk hat on very gravely nodded. I need hardly say that according to English customs the hat ought to have been removed inside the room. But my friend did not dare to take it off for fear of detection. In Kailas Babu and his old servant Ganesh were sublimely unconscious of the breach of etiquette. After a 10 minutes interview which consisted chiefly of nodding the head my friend rose to his feet to depart. The two flunkies in livery as had been planned beforehand carried off in state the string of gold mohors the gold salver the old ancestral shawl the silver scent sprinkler and the otto of roses filigree box. They placed them ceremoniously in the carriage. Kailas Babu regarded this as the usual habit of chhota lath sahibs. I was watching all the while from the next room. My sides were aching with suppressed laughter. When I could hold myself in no longer I rushed into a further room suddenly to discover in a corner a young girl sobbing as if her heart would break. When she saw my uproarious laughter she stood upright in passion flashing the lightning of her big tar guys in mind and said with a tear choked voice Tell me what harm has my grandfather done to you? Why have you come to deceive him? Why have you come here? Why? She could say no more. She covered her face with her hands and broke into sobs. My laughter vanished in a moment. It had never occurred to me that there was anything but a supremely funny joke in this act of mine and here I discovered that I had given the cruelest pain to this tenderest little girl. All the ugliness of my cruelty rose up to condemn me. I slunk out of the room in silence like a kicked dog. Heather too I had only looked upon Kusum the granddaughter of Kalas Babu as a somewhat worthless commodity in the marriage market waiting in vain to attract a husband but now I found with a shock of surprise that in the corner of that room a human heart was beating. The whole night through I had very little sleep. My mind was in tumult. On the next day very early in the morning I took all those stolen goods back to Kalas Babu's launching wishing to hand them over in secret to the servant Ganesh. I waited outside the door and not finding anyone went upstairs to Kalas Babu's room. I heard from the passage Kusum asking her grandfather in the most winning voice. Tadah, dearest, do tell me all that the Chhotalat Sahib said to you yesterday. Don't leave out a single word. I am dying to hear it all over again. And Tadah needed no encouragement. His face beamed over with pride as he related all manner of praises which the lath Sahib had been good enough to utter concerning the ancient families of Ney and Jor. The girl was seated before him looking up into his face and listening with wrapped attention. She was determined out of love for the old man to play her part to the full. My heart was deeply touched and tears came to my eyes. I stood there in silence in the passage while Thakur Dada finished all his embellishments of the Chhotalat Sahib's wonderful visit. When he left the room at last I took the stolen goods and laid them at the feet of the girl and came away without a word. Later in the day I called again to see Kalas Babu himself. According to our ugly modern custom I had been in the habit of making no greeting at all to this old man when I came into the room. But on this day I made a low bow and touched his feet. I am convinced the old man thought that the coming of the Chhotalat Sahib to his house was the cause of my new politeness. He was highly gratified by it and an air of benign serenity shown from his eyes. His friends had looked in and he had already began to tell again at full length the story of the lieutenant governor's visit with still further adornments of a most fantastic kind. The interview was already becoming an epic both in quality and in length. When the other visitors had taken their leave I made my proposal to the old man in a humble manner. I told him that though I could never for a moment hope to be worthy of marriage connection with such an illustrious family yet yet etc. When I made clear my proposal of marriage the old man embraced me and broke out in a tumult of joy. I am a poor man and could never have expected such great good fortune. That was the first and last time in his life that Kelaas Babu confessed to being poor. It was also the first and last time in his life that he forgot if only for a single moment the ancestral dignity that belongs to the Babus of Nayan Jor. End of chapter number 10 End of stories from Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore