# The Spoilt Child/Chapter 30

CHAPTER XXX. Matilall at Benaras: Home Again.
A Good disposition is created by good advice and good associations: to some it comes early in life, to others later; and from lack of it in early youth great harm happens. As a fire, when it has once caught hold of a jungle, blazes furiously, destroying everything in its path, or as a wind, when it has once got up with any force, on a sudden increases in violence, and hurls down in its course large trees and buildings, so an evil disposition, when it has once been formed in childhood, gradually assumes fearful proportions, if roused into activity by the natural passions of the blood. Bad examples of this are constantly seen; but examples may also be seen of persons long given over to evil thoughts and evil ways becoming virtuous all of a sudden, quite late in life. A conversion like this may have its origin either in good advice or in good companionship. However, it occasionally happens that people come suddenly to their right mind; it may be by chance, it may be by an accident, it may be by a mere word. Such conversions, however, are very rare.
When Matilall returned home from Jessore in despair, he said to his companion: "It is evidently not my destiny to be rich: it is idle therefore for me to seek further for wealth. I am now going to travel for a time in the North-West: will any of you accompany me?" The darling of Fortune may call all men his friends: when a man has wealth he has no need to summon any one to his presence: numbers will crowd to him uninvited, but a poor man ​finds it very hard to get companions. All those who had been in attendance upon Matilall had made a show of friendship for him because of the amusement and profit they had derived; but, as a matter of fact, they had not a particle of real affection for him. As soon as they saw that his means were exhausted, and that he was hampered on all sides by debt, and that, far from being any longer able to maintain his old style of living, he could hardly keep himself, they began to ask themselves what possible benefit they could derive from keeping on friendly terms with him,-- far better drop his acquaintance altogether[74]! When Matilall put that question to them then, he saw at once that none of them would give him any answer. They all hummed and hawed, and pleaded all sorts of excuses. Matilall was very angry at their behaviour, and said: "Adversity is the real test of friendship: at last, after all this time, I have got to know your real character: however, go to your respective homes, -- I am about to proceed on my journey." His companions replied: "Oh, sir! do not be angry with us: nay, go on in advance, we will follow you as soon as we have settled all our affairs."
Matilall, paying no heed to what they said, proceeded on his way on foot, and being hospitably entertained, at some of the places on the road, and begging his way at others, he reached Benares in three months. Having fallen into this pitiable condition, the course of his mind began to be changed, from his long solitary meditations. Temples, once built at great expense, ghâts, and buildings of all kinds, all sooner or later begin to crumble away: sooner or later some vigorous old tree, whose great branches spread far and wide, is seen to decay: rivers, mountains, valleys, none continue long the same. Indeed, time brings change and decay, to all alike. Everything is transient; all is vanity. Man, too, is subject to disease, old ​age, separation from friends, sorrow and troubles of every kind; and in this world, passion, pride, and pleasure are all but as drops of water. Such were Matilall's meditations, as day after day he made the circuit of Benares, sitting, when evening came, in some quiet spot on the banks of the Ganges, and meditating again and again on the unreality of the body, and the reality of the soul, and on his own character and conduct. By such a course of reflection, the evil passions within him became dwarfed[75], and he was roused in consequence to a sense of his former conduct and his present evil condition. As his mind took this direction, there sprang up within him a feeling of self-contempt, and, accompanying that self-contempt, deep remorse. He was always asking himself this question, "How can I attain salvation? When I remember all the evil I have committed, my heart burns within me like a forest on fire." Absorbed in such thoughts, paying no attention to food or clothing, he went wandering about like one demented.
Some time had been spent by him thus, when one day he chanced to see an old man sitting deep in meditation, under a tree, glancing at one moment at a book, and at the next shutting his eyes, and meditating. To look at the man one would at once imagine him to be a very learned person, and one, too, who had attained to perfect knowledge and complete subjection of mind. The mere sight of his face would arouse a feeling of reverence in the mind. Matilall at once approached him, and, after making a most profound salutation[76], remained standing before him. After a while, the old man looked intently at Matilall, and said, "Ah, my child, from your appearance I should imagine that you belong to a good family; but why are you so sorrowful?" This gentle address gave Matilall confidence, and he acquainted the old man with ​the whole story of his life, concealing nothing. "Sir," he said, "I perceive you to be a very learned man: now, and from henceforth, I am your humble servant: pray give me some good advice." The old man replied, "I see that you are hungry: we will postpone our conversation till you have had some food and rest." That day was spent in hospitality. The old man was pleased at the sight of Matilall's simplicity and straightforwardness. It is a characteristic of human nature that there cannot be any frank interchange of thought amongst men where they receive no mutual gratification from each other's society; but where there is this mutual gratification, then the thoughts of each man's heart are revealed in quick succession. Moreover, when one man displays frankness, the other, unless he is exceedingly insincere, can never manifest insincerity. The old man was a very worthy person; pleased at Matilall's frankness and sincerity, he began to love him as a son, and, at a later period, he expounded to him his own notions about the Supreme Being. He often used to say to him:-- "My son, to worship the Almighty with all our powers, with faith, affection, and love, is the main object of all virtue: meditate always on this, and practise it in thought, and word, and deed: when this advice has taken firm root the course of your mind will be changed, and the practice of other virtues will naturally follow; but to have a constant and uniform love of the Almighty, in thought, word, and deed, is no easy thing; for, in this world, such enemies as passion, envy, avarice, and lust, put extraordinary obstacles in the way, and therefore there is every need for concentration of thought and steadfastness." Matilall, after receiving this advice, engaged every day in meditation on the Almighty, and in prayer, and endeavoured to examine into all his faults, and to correct them. As a consequence of a long-continued ​course of action like this, faith and devotion towards the Lord of the Universe sprang up in his mind. The honour due to good companions is beyond the power of words to express: pre-eminent amongst the virtuous stood Matilall's instructor; was it then in any way astonishing that Matilall's mind should have so changed from association with such a man? A feeling of brotherly kindness towards all men developed itself in the mind of Matilall as one consequence of his very great faith in God, and then, in quick succession, a feeling of affection for his parents, and for his wife, and a desire to alleviate the sorrows of others, and to confer benefits upon others, grew in intensity. To see or hear anything opposed to truth and sincerity made him intensely unhappy. He would often tell the old man the thoughts that were passing in his mind, and his former history; and he would sometimes say in a mournful tone, "Oh, my teacher! I am very wicked: when I think of what my behaviour has been towards my father, my mother, my brother, my sister, and others, I sometimes think that no place can be found for me even in hell." The old man would console him by saying, "My child, devote yourself to the practise of virtue at any cost: men are constantly sinning in thought, in word, and in deed: our only hope of salvation is the mercy of Him who is all mercy: the man who displays heartfelt grief for his sins, and who is sincerely zealous for the purification of his soul, can never be destroyed." Matilall would listen attentively, and meditate with bowed head upon all he heard. Sometimes he would exclaim, "My mother, my step-mother, or my sister, my brother, my wife, where are they all? My mind is exceedingly anxious on their account."
It was a day at the commencement of the autumn season; the time was the early dawn. Who can give ​expression to the amazing beauty of Brindabun? Palms and trees of every kind flourished everywhere in abundance; thousands of birds were singing in every variety of note, perched on their branches. The waves of the Jumna, as if in merry play, embraced its banks. The boys and girls of Brindabun, in arbours and in the roads, were playing their sitars, and singing as they played. The night had come to an end, and all the temples, now that the hour for waving the lamps before the shrines had come, resounded with the hoarse murmur of tens of thousands of conch shells, and with the clanging of innumerable bells, shoals of tortoises played around the Kashi Ghât: hundreds of thousands of monkeys were leaping and jumping about on the trees, now curling their tails, now stretching them out, and now and again plunging headlong down with hideous grimaces, and carrying off some poor people's stores of food. Hundreds of pilgrims were wandering about the different groves, and as they gazed on the different objects of interest, were talking about the sports of Sri Krishna. As the sun grew hot, the earth got baked with the heat; it became irksome to walk about any longer on foot, and the majority of the pilgrims sat about under the shade of the trees, and rested.
Matilall's mother had been wandering about holding her daughter by the hand; soon overcome with fatigue, she lay down in a quiet spot with her head in her daughter's lap. The girl fanned and cooled her wearied mother with the border of her sari. The mother, feeling at length somewhat refreshed, said to her, "Pramada, my child, take a little rest yourself. Now I will sit up awhile." "Now that your fatigue is removed, mother," said the girl, "mine also has gone: continue lying down, and I will shampoo your feet." Tears rose in the mother's eyes as she heard her daughter's affectionate address, and ​she said, "My child, the mere sight of your face has revived me. How many must be the sins that I committed in my other births, or why should I be experiencing this grief? It is no pain to me that I should myself be dying of starvation: my great sorrow is that I have not the wherewithal to give you even a morsel of food: the world is too small to contain such sorrow as mine. My two sons, where are they? I know not what has become of them. My daughter-in-law, how is she? Why did I display such anger? Matilall struck me, he actually struck me, his mother! My soul, too, is in constant anxiety on Ramlall's account, as well as on Matilall's." The girl, wiping away her mother's tears, tried to console her; after a while, her mother went to sleep, and the girl, seeing her asleep, sat perfectly motionless, gently fanning her: though mosquitoes and gadflies settled on her person, and annoyed her with their bites, she moved not for fear of interrupting her mother's sleep. A marvellous thing is the love and endurance of women? Herein are they far superior to men. The girl's mother dreamt in her sleep that a youth clothed in yellow came near her, and said, "Lady, weep no more! You are virtuous: you have warded off sorrow from many of the afflicted poor: you have never done anything but good to any: all will soon be well with you: you will find your two sons and be happy again." The sorrowful woman started out of her sleep, and, on opening her eyes, saw only her daughter near her; without speaking a word to her she took her by the hand, and they returned in great trouble to their hut of leaves. The mother and daughter were constantly conversing together: one day the mother said to her daughter, "My child, my mind is very restless: I cannot help thinking that I ought to return home." Not seeing her way ​to that, the girl replied, "But mother, we have amongst our stock of supplies but one or two cloths, and a brass drinking vessel: what can we get by the sale of these? Remain here quietly for a few days, while I earn something as a cook, or as a maid-servant somewhere, and then we shall have got something together to defray the expenses of our journey." The girl's mother at these words sighed heavily, and remained motionless: she could restrain her tears no longer: seeing her distressed, the girl was distressed also.
As luck would have it, a resident of Mathura, who lived near them, and who was constantly doing them small kindnesses, came up at that moment: seeing them in such sorrow, she first consoled them, and then listened to their story: the woman of Mathura, sorrowing in their sorrow, said to them, "Ladies, what shall I say? I have no money myself I should like to alleviate your distress by giving you all I possess: let me now tell you of a plan you had better adopt: I have heard that a Bengali Babu has come to live at Mathura, who has amassed a fortune in service, and by making advances to agriculturists: I have heard, too, that he is very kind and liberal: if you go to him, and ask for your travelling expenses, you will certainly get them." As the two distressed women could see no other resource open to them, they agreed to adopt the plan proposed; so they took their leave of the woman of Mathura, and reached Mathura in about two days.
On arrival there, they went to the vicinity of a tank, where they found collected together the afflicted, the blind, the lame, the sorrowful and the poor, all in tears. The girl's mother said to an old woman amongst them: "My friend, why are you all in tears?" "Ah, mother!" replied the woman, "there is a certain Babu here; words ​fail me to tell of his virtues: he goes about among the homes of the poor and afflicted, and is continually attending to their wants, supplying them with food and clothing, and, moreover, he watches by the bedside of the sick at night, administering medicines and proper diet. He sympathises with us in all our joys and all our sorrows. Tears come into my eyes at the mere thought of the Babu's virtues. Blessed is the woman who has borne such a child in her womb: she is certainly destined for the joys of heaven. The place where such a one lives is holy ground. It is our miserable destiny that this Babu is just leaving the country: our tears are flowing at the thought of what our condition will be when he has gone." The two women, hearing this, said to each other: "All our hopes appear to be fruitless: sorrow is our destined lot. Who can rub the writing off our foreheads?" Seeing their despondency, the old woman already mentioned said to them, "I fancy you are ladies of good family who have fallen into misfortune: if you are in want of money, then come with me at once to the Babu, for he assists many persons of good family as well as the poor." The two women at once agreed to this, and following the old woman they remained outside, while she entered the house.
The day was drawing to a close: the rays of the setting sun gave a golden tinge to the trees and to the tanks. Near where the two women were standing was a small walled garden, in which every variety of creeper was growing, carefully trained on trellis work: the turf in it was nicely kept, and at intervals raised platforms had been erected to serve as seats. Two gentlemen were walking about in this garden, hand in hand, like Krishna and Arjuna; as their gaze chanced to fall upon the two women outside, they hurried out of the garden to meet them. The two women, out of confusion, veiled their ​faces and drew a little to one side. Then the younger of the two men said to them in a gentle tone: "Regard us as your sons: do not be ashamed: tell us fully the reason of your coming here: and if any assistance can be rendered by us, we will not fail to render it." Hearing these words, the mother, taking her daughter by the hand, moved forward a little, and briefly informed them of the plight they were in. Even before she had finished telling her story, the two men looked at each other, and the younger of them, in the enthusiasm of his joy, fell to the ground, exclaiming, "My mother! my mother!" The other, and the elder of the two, made a profound obeisance to the sorrowful mother, and, with his hands humbly folded, said, "Dear lady, look, look! He who has fallen to the ground is your precious one, your treasure[77]: he is your Ram! and my name is Barada Prasad Biswas." When she heard this, the mother unveiled her face, and said: "Oh, dear sir, what is this that you are saying? Shall such a destiny as this befall so miserable a wretch as I am?" On coming to himself, Ramlall bowed down to the earth before his mother, and remained motionless. Taking her son's head into her bosom and weeping the while, his mother poured the cool waters of consolation over his heated mind; and his sister, with the edge of her sari, wiped away his tears and the dust that had collected on him, and remained still and silent.
By-and-by the old woman, not finding the Babu in the house, came running into the garden, and when she saw him lying on the ground with his head in the lap of the elder of the two women, she screamed out: "Dear me, what is the matter? Oh dear! Oh dear! Is the Babu ill? Shall I go and fetch a Kabiraj?" Barada Prasad Babu said to her, "Be quiet, the Babu has not been taken ill: these two women that you see are the Babu's mother and his sister." ​"Oh Babu!" exclaimed the old woman, "Must you make fun of me because I am a poor old woman? Why, the Babu is a very rich man: is he not the chosen lord of Lakshmi? and these two women are but poor tramps: they came with me. How can one be his mother, and the other his sister? I rather fancy they are witches from Kamikhya who have deceived you by their magical arts. Oh, dear! I have never seen such women. I humbly salute their magic." And the old woman went away in high dudgeon, muttering to herself.
Having recovered their composure, they all went into the house, and great was the satisfaction of the mother when she found Mati's wife and her own co-wife there. Having received full particulars of all the other members of her family she said: "Ah, my son, Ram! come, let us now return home: as for my Mati, I do not know what has become of him, and I am very anxious on his account." Ramlall had been already prepared to return home: he had a boat, and everything ready at the ghât. Having, in accordance with his mother's instructions, ascertained an auspicious day for the journey[78], he took them all with him, and prepared to depart. The people of Mathura all thronged round him at the time of his departure: thousands of eyes filled with tears: from thousands of mouths issued songs in celebration of Ramlall's virtues: and thousands of hands were uplifted in blessing. As for the old woman, who had gone away in such dudgeon, she drew near Ramlall's mother, with her hands humbly folded, and wept. All remained standing on the banks of the river Jumna, like so many lifeless and inanimate beings, until the boat had passed away out of their sight. As the current was running down and the wind was not blowing strong from the south, the boat glided quickly down, and they all reached Benares in a few days. ​
Early morning in Benares! Oh the beauty of the scene! There in their thousands were Brahmans of two Vedas, and Brahmans of four Vedas, worshippers of Ram, worshippers of Vishnu, worshippers of Shiva, followers of Shakti, worshippers of Ganesh, religious devotees and Brahman students, all devoutly engaged in reciting their hymns and prayers. There too in their thousands were men reciting portions of the Samvedas, and hymns to Agni and Vayu: crowds of women, hailing from Surat, from the Mahratta country, from Bengal, and from Behar, all clothed in silk garments of various hues, were engaged in perambulating the temples after due performance of their ablutions: beyond calculation in number were the temples sweetly perfumed with the odours of aromatic tapers, of incense, of flowers, and of sandal. Devotees in countless numbers crowded the streets puffing their cheeks, and shaking their sides, as they shouted aloud in enthusiasm: "Oh, Mahadeva! Lord of the Universe!" Women, devotees of Shiva, carrying tridents in their hands, and wearing scarlet raiment, were perambulating in their hundreds, about the temple of Shiva, engaged in their devotions to Shiva and Durga, and laughing madly the while. Ascetics there were in great numbers, who striving hard to subdue their bodies, and their passions, sat solitary with their hands uplifted, hair all matted, and bodies covered with ashes. There, too, in countless numbers, were religious devotees, each sitting apart by himself in some secluded corner, engaged in various mystic ceremonies, now emitting their breath, now holding it in: musicians and singers with their lutes and their tabors, their violins and their guitars, were there in great numbers, all completely absorbed in every variety of tone and tune.
Ramlall and his companions remained four days in Benares, bathing and performing other ceremonies at the ​ Mani Karnika Ghât. He was always with his mother and sister, and in the evening he used to roam about with Barada Babu. One day, in the course of their walks, they saw a beautiful pavilion before them. An old man was sitting inside gazing at the beauty of the Bhagirathi: the river was flowing swiftly by, its waters rippling and murmuring in their course; and so transparently clear was it that it seemed to bear on its bosom the many-hued evening sky. On the approach of Ramlall, the old man addressing him as an old acquaintance said: "What was your opinion of the Upanishad of Shuka[79] when you read it?" Ramlall looked intently at the old man, and saluted him respectfully. The old man a little disconcerted said to him: "Sir, I perceive I have made a mistake: I have a pupil whose face is exactly like yours. I mistook you for him when I addressed you." Ramlall and Barada Babu then sat down beside the old man and began to converse on a variety of topics connected with the Shástras. Meanwhile a person with a somewhat anxious expression of countenance came and sat beside them, keeping his head down. Barada Babu, gazing intently at him, exclaimed: "Ram! Ram! do you not see? It is your elder brother sitting by you." On hearing these words, Ramlall's hair stood on end with astonishment, and he looked at Matilall, Matilall, looking at Ramlall, suddenly started up, and embraced him: and remaining for some time motionless, he said: "Oh, my brother! will you forgive me?" and then winding his arms round his younger brother's neck, he bathed his shoulders in his tears. For some time both remained silent: no words issued from their mouths, and they began to realise the real meaning of the word 'brother.' Then Matilall, prostrating himself at the feet of Barada Babu and, taking the dust off his feet, said, as he humbly folded his hands: "Honoured sir, now at length I have ​ come to know your real worth: forgive me, worthless wretch that I am." Barada Babu, taking the two brothers by the hand, then took leave of the old man, and they all proceeded on their way, each in turn telling his story as they went. When Barada Babu, after a long converse, perceived the change that had taken place in Matilall's mind, his delight knew no bounds. On coming to where the other members of his family were, Matilall, while still some distance off, exclaimed with a loud voice: "Oh, mother, mother, where are you? Your wicked son has returned to you: he is now alive and well, he is not dead: ah, mother! considering what my behaviour towards you has been, I do not wish to show you my face; it is my wish to see your feet only just once before I die." On hearing these words, his mother approached with cheerful mind, and tearful eyes, and found priceless wealth in gazing on her eldest son's face. Matilall at once fell prostrate at her feet: his mother then raised him up, and as she wiped away his tears with the border of her sari said: "Oh, Mati, your stepmother, your sister, and your wife are all here: come and see them at once." After greeting his stepmother and sister, Matilall, seeing his wife, wept at the remembrance of his previous history, and exclaimed: "Oh my mother, I have been as bad a husband as I have been a son and a brother. I am in no way worthy of so estimable a wife: a man and woman, at the time of marriage, take a form of oath before the Almighty that they will love each other as long as life lasts, and that they will never forsake each other, even though they may fall into great trouble; the wife too, that she will never turn her thoughts to another man, and the husband that he will never think of another woman, as in such thoughts there is grievous sin. I have acted in numberless ways contrary to this oath: how is it then that I have not been deserted by my wife? Such a ​ brother and a sister as I have too! I have done them an irreparable injury. And such a mother! than whom a man can have no more priceless possession on earth. Ah, mother, I have given you endless trouble. I, your son, actually struck you! What atonement can there be for all these sins? If I were only to die at this moment I might find deliverance from the fire that is burning within me, but I almost think that death has been the cause of its own death; for I see no sign of disease even, the messenger of death. However, do you now all of you return home. I will remain with my teacher in this city, and depart this life in the practice of stern austerities." After this Barada Babu, Ramlall, and his mother, summoned to them Matilall's spiritual teacher, and explained matters to him at length, and then took Matilall away with them.
While their boat was tied up to the shore at nightfall, off Monghyr, some one, resembling a boy in form, came close up to the boat, and raising himself up called out: "There is a light, there is a light." Seeing this peculiar behaviour, Barada Babu, bidding them all to be very careful, got on to the deck of the cabin, and saw about twenty or thirty armed men in ambush in the jungle, all ready to attack as soon as they should get the signal. Ramlall and Barada Babu got their guns out at once, and began firing: at the sound of the firing, the dacoits withdrew into the jungle. Barada Babu and Ramlall were eager to follow them up with swords and apprehend them, and give them in charge to the neighbouring inspector of police, but their families forbade it. When Matilall saw what had happened he said: "My training has been bad in every way. I have been utterly ruined by my life of luxury. I used to laugh at Ramlall when he was practising gymnastics, but now I recognise that without manly exercise from one's boyhood courage cannot exist. I was in a ​terrible fright just now, and if it had not been for Ramlall and Barada Babu we should all have been killed."
In a few days they all arrived at Vaidyabati, and proceeded to Barada Babu's house. Hearing of the return of Barada Babu and Ramlall, the villagers came from all parts to see them: joy uprose in the minds of all, and their faces beamed with delight: and all, eager for their welfare, showered down upon them prayers and flowers of blessing. On the following day, Herambar Chandra Chaudhuri Babu came, and said to Ramlall: "Ram Babu! without understanding the full circumstances of the case, and acting on Bancharam Babu's advice, I have obtained possession of your family house: I am really sorry that I should have entered into possession, and so driven away the members of your family: take up your abode there, whenever it suits your good pleasure." To this Ramlall replied: "I am exceedingly obliged to you: and if it is really your wish to give me the house back, we shall be under an obligation to you if you will accept your legitimate claims." Upon Herambar Babu agreeing to this proposal, Ramlall at once paid the money out of his own pocket, and drew up a deed in the name of the two brothers, and then, accompanied by the other members of the family, returned to the family house; raising his eye to heaven, and with heartfelt gratitude, he exclaimed: "Lord of the world, nothing is impossible with Thee."
Soon after this Ramlall married, and the two brothers passed their lives very happily, striving, with exceeding affection, to promote the happiness of their mother and the other members of their family. Under the favour of Durga, the granter of boons, Barada Babu went on special employment to Badaraganj. Becharam Babu, becoming by the sale of his property the true Becharam, ​went to live at Benares. Beni Babu, who had been for some time the independent gentleman without much training, turned his attention to the practice of law. Bancharam Babu, after a long course of trickery and chicanery, was at length killed by lightning. Bakreswar went roaming about, making nothing for all his obsequious flattery. Thakchacha and Bahulya, transported for life to the Andamans for forgery, were set to hard labour, chained hand and foot, and at length died after enduring unparalleled sufferings. The wife of Thakchacha, being left without resources, roamed about the lanes singing the song of her craft as a seller of glass bracelets:--
"Bracelets, fine bracelets have I. Come and buy, come and buy!"
Haladhar, Gadadhar, and the rest of Matilall's old boon companions, seeing Matilall's altered character, looked out for another leader. Mr. John, after his bankruptcy, commenced business again as a broker. Premnarayan Mozoomdar assumed the distinctive dress of a religious mendicant, and roamed about Nuddea, shouting out:
"To faith alone 'tis given below Mahadev's secret mind to know."
The husband of Pramada having accepted many hands in marriage[80] in different places, becoming at length himself empty-handed, came to Vaidyabati, and lived at the expense of his brothers-in-law, indulging, to his utmost bent, in every variety of sweetmeat pleasant to the taste. All that happened afterwards must be left to be related hereafter.
"Thus my story ends: The Natiya thorn withereth:"[81]
FINIS.