 This is John Steele, reporting on adventure. You can make a law that looks good on paper. Laws always do. They've written a few laws about one thing or another in India. Only they seem to forget that you cannot legislate away a thousand years of history overnight. I call this transcribed yarn, Ramset Rangaya. Bangukan is a small town in India. Enough sense of civic pride there has established an ashram. An ashram is a home for orphan girls of good repute. If they're lucky, the ashrams find them husbands for a price. Not all ashrams are what they're cracked up to be, though. The story of Ramset Rangaya and his great love for little Shana Skri may have its comical side, but it's not meant to be funny. Ramset was a young man of some education, but that was all. He had no job nor much desire to get one. That was bad, because he was in love. There'd been an epidemic, hundreds of people had died. The funeral pyres along the banks of the river burned all through the night. The river at this point was not holy, but the ashes of the dead would eventually float into holy waters downstream. All night, little Shana Skri had crouched beside the funeral pyre of her parents. And all night long, Ramset Rangaya had watched her with a sense of misery and longing. Because when morning came, little Shana Skri would be taken away to the local ashram. Why did it happen? Why ask? But I do. Filth and ignorance? Is that what color is? That is what color is. And our people die from it. They die from it? And glory in it. You do not believe as they do? No. Then you do not believe my parents are in paradise now? Oh yes, they are there. But not because they died of color. And not because of that? No. I am glad you know they are there, though. We all go there. For some, it takes longer than others. The more evil one commits, the longer the journey. And the more painful. I'll run away with me. No, no. Do you want to go to the ashram? No. Then run off with me. It would be wrong. We should be married. Who would marry us? A runaway girl and a man who has no home or job? I can earn a living. No. No. No, you are lazy. So lazy. So very lazy. Only because I spend the most important part of my time thinking. If you had only thought of some way to marry me before my parents died. Who could know they would die so soon? Oh, if only the morning would never come. Or come. We could be miles away before then. No, it would be wrong. The law says I must go to the ashram. The law. Would you have me break it? Now let me explain. Would you have the police looking for me? Police? They would find me. And find you. And what would happen? Only if we could cross into Pakistan. No, we would be caught. No, yes. I know. I know. Oh, you are so beautiful, Ram Sett. Beautiful? I shall always remember you. I shall come for you. And I shall always think of you as I see you now. I shall always think that a beautiful husband I would have had. I will take you away from the ashram. They will keep me there. Until an old man with a lot of money wants to buy a young wife. He will come to the ashram. He will see me. And he will make the ashram a big present of money. And I shall be married to him. And I will slit his throat. I wish I were your wife. I do not want to be taken away to the ashram. Oh, Shana. Yes. In two days I shall come for you. In two days I shall ring the bell of the ashram door. And I shall demand to see Funetricum, the director of the place. In two days? I am a holy sadhu, a wandering priest. I wish to see Funetricum. Tell him. Tell him a holy man is here. I am for one so holy. Holiness is a gift of the gods. Indeed. Unfortunately, poverty and holiness go hand in hand. Unfortunately. As in my case. As in your case. If I may sit down. Oh, please do. First, with your permission, let me place this jar on your desk. Water jar. Containing the holiest of water from the holiest of rivers. You've traveled a great distance with it. Distance? Oh, yes, Mr. Trichum. Over a great distance through many dangers. The dangers of the road. Barely escaping with my life once when I encountered a band of dacoits. Really? Have you ever been pounced upon by bandits? I usually travel with the proper protection. Well, sir, I being but a holy man, affording only a traveler or two along with me, we were pounced upon by four grizzly bandits, bound hand and foot, without water at our fingertips or near our mouths. Very tragic tale. And had it not been, Mr. Trichum, sir, for the fact that I prayed and the fact that a little boy came along, untied our bounds, and we traipsed off without our sandals, Mr. Trichum, sir. Is that you escaped his cause for rejoicing? I had a purpose in coming this way, Mr. Trichum. Of course. Relatives of mine lived here. The Scree family? Ah, you have not heard. That they are dead? Oh, yes, I know. The daughter is here. She is the reason I came here. I understand. I intended to make a gift of this holy water to the entire village. Instead, you will offer it to this ashram. Well, yes. In exchange for the girl. I have a suitable husband picked out for her. Yourself, Ram, said, Rangayam? Oh, so you know me. You're crafty, Jackal. What made you think I wouldn't recognize you? No release, Shana, to me. I want to marry her. Fine, 200 rupees. A donation to the ashram treasury. This is holy water, you say? Or did you fill the jar up at the nearest filthy stream? Do you know what I'm going to do with it? Break it over your head. I curse you, Fulitricum. I curse the grounds of this ashram with a thousand poisonous snakes. You will see the curse come true. The ashram in the town of Bangal Khan is a very dark building. There are bars across all the windows, and the grounds are surrounded by a high wall. The passerby can hear the screams of the girls at night, but no one interferes. New girls are given the hard work to do scrubbing cellar floors and every kind of menial service. They're beaten and abused. No one can reach them. No one tries to. Women are not that important in most parts of India. But bribery opens many doors. And one night, it permitted Ramset Rangaya to see little Shana scree. He lay flat on the ground, pressed against the building, hidden by bushes, and spoke to Shana, who stared at him through the barred windows of her basement room. Night watchman is no friend of mine. I never thought I would see you again. I promised the gateman the commission. Money? You have promised someone money? Yes. Where can you find money? You knew my father. You are so much like him. He was a great thinker. He was a lazy man, like you. Was he ever without money? No, that was the mystery about him. A mystery to everyone, except me. What did he do? He made long journeys. To do what? To perform wonders. Oh. Shana, he was a great charmer of snakes. A snake charmer? And he taught me, your son. He taught me how to handle them. How to charm them. He taught me how to go into the woods and collect as many snakes as I wanted. He taught you all that? Oh, I've never cared to bother with things like that. But now it's different. Are you going to be a snake charmer? At least once more. Oh, Shana. Last night, I went into the woods and collected almost a hundred snakes. A hundred? I fell three sacks with them. What are you going to do with them? Oh, I have been here with me. When I leave here, I'm going to turn them over. No. Oh, yes. That will be very wicked. But not very dangerous. Very dangerous. Oh, no. You must not. The gateman will give the alarm. Everyone will be very careful. Rumset, this is a very wrong thing to do. I warned Mr. Trickham a plague of snakes would fall on the ashram. Now he will see my warning come true. No. No, please, please. I will come to see Mr. Trickham again. You will go to jail. Of what will he accuse me? And in accusing me, can he prove anything? But why? Why are you going to do this terrible thing? Because I want to take a wife. And her name is Shana Scree. And Mr. Trickham says you will cost two hundred rupees. How did you do it? Do it? The snakes. I heard a plague had fallen on you. How did you do it? Well, you bewilder me. You let all those snakes loose? I came here to help you. Go to jail for this. I will go to jail. Well, jail's too good for you. If I could understand the reason for your anger. You threatened me the day you were here. I uttered a curse. I was hurt and angry. I made good your threat. It was my wish a plague of snakes should fall on this place. I made sure one did. How could I do that? I wish I knew. You're very unreasonable. If anyone should be harmed. I am here to remove the danger. I'll see you hang. Why will they hang? If anyone should be killed. No one has been killed. It's only a matter of time. If enough time is wasted, what do you mean by that? I will remove all the snakes. Reveal them? For a fee. Shackle. A four hundred rupees. So that's it. I have an affinity with snakes. I understand them. I can call to them and they will hear. Yes, it must be true. Then? You brought them here. I suppose you can take them away. I do not admit I brought them here. It's a girl you want, isn't it? One trick doesn't work. You'll try another. With four hundred rupees, I can pay you two hundred for her and have two hundred left. I have no choice, have I? Oh, there is always a choice. No, the snakes can't be left here. No, that's true now. We must submit to your blackmail. You can send for a professional snake charmer. Never mind. He will charge you a thousand rupees. I have told you we submit to your terms. Four hundred rupees? I have told you yes. This guy Ramset was no fuckier. It's an old trick all the way from Tangier to Mandalay for snake charmers to deprive the snakes they use of their poisonous secretion. Either that, or they let their snakes eat all they want before a performance. A sluggish reptile is usually incapable of ejecting poison through its fangs. But every now and then, you meet up with a real McCoy. Ramset Rangaya's father had been a wizard. Ramset had inherited his genius. He didn't use a loot. He used his own lips. It was quiet on the ashram grounds. Ramset squatted there, relaxed and confident. A sound came from his lips. It was a curious sort of sound. Like the plaintive cry of a disembodied soul that floated gently through the hot sunshine. At first, nothing happened. Then something slid out from among the bushes. A snake, it coiled. Then its head slowly rose up until the bright, beady malignant eyes were level with Ramsets. Then the head started to sway from right to left until the snake surrendered to the craving to sleep. It became rigid, still. Then and only then did Ramset move. His hand shot out and gripped the reptile's neck. In a split second, the snake was wide awake. Its body turned into a slashing whip. But without trouble, Ramset dropped it into a sack and waited for the next victim. Out! But my fee... Get out before I send for the police. You promise? I promise nothing. You do not honor your promise? Get out. Unless you pay me... Well... I will turn the snake's loose again. Impossible. I gave orders to dispose of them. I should have known. Yes. But I trusted your words. How have I told you? At least let me have Shana's grief. I may look at this girl myself. She must be very attractive. Mr. Trickerm, I swear I will kill you if... If what? If you touch that girl... Listen to me, you low-caste swine. There are no cast laws. Now I'm as good as you. No cast laws? And you are as good as me? But you know better. The law says... The law. The temples do not say so. Ram said, Rangaya, let me tell you what I'm going to do. You threatened me. I believe you will try to harm me. So I must protect myself. Even now I would kill you. In coming here you passed in front of the temple. You had no right. It's against the cast law. You polluted the temple for that. You can be stoned to death. Killed. Now get out. The law says I may walk in front of the temple. I may even go into it. You will see. Now get out. See if you can think of another trick. If there's time. Manu. He was the character who first dreamed up the Hindu caste system. Was probably the worst social criminal the world has ever known. But he created something that has survived since about 1200 BC. And that system isn't going to die a natural death overnight just because of some recent law. Ram said Rangaya found that out the hard way. He fled. His body cut and bleeding from the stones that had struck him. He was lucky he went on living. It was a month before he could even stand up properly. And that time he lived in the woods on a diet of berries, fruit and water. Occasionally stealing meat and bread that had been placed at the foot of shrines for the little gods. One day he crept to the outskirts of Bangal Khan. The town of the ashram that imprisoned little Shana Skri. It was dawn when he saw the man he waited for. The night gateman from the ashram on his way home. They talked for a while. You ask me about the girl Shana Skri. What can I tell you? That she is happy, but she is not. What girl is ever happy in an ashram? What can I tell you about her? That she is going to be married. Married. I am beyond 60. The man she is to marry could be my father. Oh, but he is rich. An old widower. You know how they are. They like to marry young girls. When? Tomorrow. Will he be married in the ashram? No, no, no. The old man is taking her with him to Jin. You know where Jin is. Yes, north of Delhi. He is taking her there in a horse and carriage along this very road. You ask me what time? I would say about nine o'clock in the morning. The director of the ashram had threatened to interest himself in little Shana Skri. And he would have, except that the old widower had come along to look the girls over. He had spotted Shana and that was it. He paid the ashram a thousand rupees as a so-called donation. Mr. Trickham settled for that and was in a pleasant frame of mind when he went to fetch Shana Skri. Do you know how lucky you are? Oh, yes. I wonder. Oh, yes, I know. He's a very, very old man. And rich. I hope you will not forget us here. After all, I could have shown him other girls. But I did not speak well of them. Is he here? Waiting for you. With a horse and carriage? Waiting to take you to your new home. A big house? The servants of your own? It is like a dream. Here's how lucky you are. Indeed, I am. You have been well treated here. Sometimes. Always. I have worked hard. I have been beaten. Beaten? I do not believe it. Never mind. Here, now you are leaving us. We shall miss you. We're keeping him waiting. Patience. Come, pick up your things. Mr. Trickham, I have never ridden in a carriage. Now you will have one of your own. Oh, but it is like a dream. Ancestors, you are some ruffian standing on the road. I do hope he's a robber. What's that? Oh, somebody you know. I feel much better. Much much better. Hey, hey, you're friends coming to say something to us. Don't stay in the carriage. Come on. Come. No, but we have come for enough. Oh, why did you do it? This is Delhi, the capital. Think of it. We are free from the Ashram authorities. Let me sit down. Oh, yes, here on this step. I am so tired. We'll rest for a moment. Then we'll find a place where you can sleep. Then I'll find some food for us. What shall I do? What shall I do? You rest. I have been paid for. I belong to my husband. You were not married to him. But I was promised. You are with me, Shana. We're together. Oh, what is the use? Oh, policemen walking this way. Quickly. We can't stay here. You see? You said we were free. But the sight of a policeman frightens you. Come. What we must do? Oh, let me rest. Let me rest. Shana, we must cross into Pakistan. Let me rest. We can pretend we are Muslims. It may be better if we live as Muslims. No. No, I will not do that. At least we can go there. Why must I go there? Why must I stay with you? We are like one. No, no, we are not. What? I want to go back to my husband. He is not your husband. He is going to give me a big house. Big house? Servants. Shana. I shall have a carriage of my own. I shall be rich. He is an old man. He will die soon. And I shall be rich. I shall be a great lady. No, Shana. I am the one you love. You have always loved me. And I won't let you go. Help me. Help me. Shana. Shana, come back. Help. Saib. Saib, help me. Okay, okay. Hold everything. I have been kidnapped from my husband. I want to go back to him. Oh, Saib. Saib, she is mad. No, no, no. He kidnapped me, Saib. Help me, or I will call the police. You heard what she said, Chum. I cannot believe it. She said you kidnapped her. He did. That true? It could be described as kidnapping. Well, they could put you in jail for that. Oh, Shana. Go away. All our lives we have loved. Please, go away. You are lazy. You would let me starve. I do not want to starve. I want to be rich. I am going to live in a big house. Uh, see here. You both look as if you could use a good meal. Come on, huh? I am very kind, Mr. Steeler. It's okay for one. You've had a rough time. And you think I would be given a position as the American consulate? Uh, not exactly that, but a friend of mine is a vice consul. I think he'll find you a job. Oh, yes. Shana's scree would be rich when her husband dies. And when he dies, I will go to her. I will say to her, see, I am an American consul. And I want nothing to do with you. I am still young and you are a widow. But I do not want you. I shall tell her that, Mr. Steeler. I shall most certainly tell her that. Sure, Ken. You'll tell her plenty. Maybe this yarn wasn't too much of an adventure. But I ran into it while I was out east and I thought I'd pass it along to you for what it was worth. It's a sidelight on a kind of life a lot of people think no longer exists. But it does and will for a long time to come. Little Shana's scree married her wealthy old widower. He died a few weeks later. But Ramset Rangaya didn't look her up. I found him a job as a translation clerk at the American consulate. And he talks and walks as if he were the consul. He's very happy the way things are. Just goes to show you. Be around next week, huh? For an adventure that started in the first class compartment of the Rome Paris Express. You know, every now and then some guy gets up on a pedestal to tell us that he and he alone is the character we must depend on to save us from a fate worse than death. It's funny, depending on your sense of humor, the way some people know what's best for the rest of us. And if we don't go along with them, why, we ought to be shot for high treason. It's a real adventure I like to call the IQ boys. John Steele, adventurer, was brought to you through the facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and the television service.