# The Spoilt Child/Chapter 24

CHAPTER XXIV. Thakchacha Apprehended.
The morning breeze was blowing softly: the champac, the sephalika, and the mallika were diffusing sweet odours abroad: birds were chirping merrily. Beni Babu had taken Barada Babu home with him to his house in Ghatak, and was engaged in converse with him, when suddenly to the south of where they were, the dogs began to bark violently, and some boys came laughing loudly along the road. During a temporary lull, they heard the charming accents of a nasal voice, expostulating with the boys, and singing a Vaishnava song:--
"In Brindabun's woods, and the sweet-scented bowers "Of Brindabun's maidens, O waste not your hours."
Rising from their seats, Beni Babu and Barada Babu saw that it was Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar who had just arrived: he was rapt in his song, and was snapping his fingers by way of accompaniment: dogs were barking about him, and boys laughing derisively, and the man of Bow Bazar had been angrily expostulating with them. Beni Babu and Barada Babu greeted him very courteously and invited him to be seated. When they had enquired after each other's welfare, Becharam Babu, putting his hand on Barada Babu's shoulder, said to him:-- "My good friend, I have seen a great many people in my day since I was a boy, and many of them possessed of good qualities, but after all I can only regard them as moderately good, their standard little above the average. Be that as it may, I have never seen anyone with modesty, ​sincerity, moral courage, simplicity and straightforwardness, equal to yours. I am somewhat modest myself; but still there are occasions when my pride manifests itself: the sight of another man's pride is sufficient to evoke it, and with the manifestation of my pride my anger rises, and my pride is increased still more by my anger. I can never abate a jot of my claims on others. I always say what comes uppermost in my mind, but to tell you the truth, I am never sincere enough to be willing to acknowledge openly any mean action I may have been guilty of, for I always fear that I may have to endure mortification, if I acknowledge the truth. I have a very limited amount of moral courage: I may be convinced in my own mind that I ought to take a particular course, but I lack the moral courage to act uniformly up to my convictions. I find it very difficult, too, to maintain a straightforward attitude in dealing with others. True, I am aware that a man should always exert himself for the welfare of mankind, but I find it very hard to carry the conviction into actual practice. It is only necessary for a man to speak harshly to me for me to lose all respect for him, and to regard him as utterly beneath contempt. Now a man may have done you an actual injury, but your feelings towards him are still sincere and kind. I mean to say, that you would never think of doing him an injury, but on the contrary a kindness; and even abuse does not make you angry. Can qualities such as these be considered trifling?"
Barada.-- Any man who loves another sees nothing but good in him, whereas a man who cannot know another intimately only misinterprets his conduct. It is pure kindness on your part to speak as you have of me: it cannot be owing to my own qualities. It is well-nigh an impossibility for man to maintain a mind that shall be simple and honest at all times, in all respects, and towards all ​men. Our minds are full of passion, envy, malice, and pride, and is it an easy task to hold all these in restraint? If one's character is to be simple and unaffected, humility is the one thing necessary. Some persons display a mock modesty: some are made humble by fear, others by trouble and misfortune. Humility of this kind is but transient. If humility is to be an enduring and permanent quality, such sentiments as these should be firmly fixed in our minds. Our Creator, He is all-powerful, omniscient, without spot, or stain: ourselves, we are here to-day, gone to-morrow. Our strength, what is it? Our learning, what is it? Every moment of our lives we are subject to error, evil thoughts and evil deeds: where then is the ground for pride? Such humility as this being implanted in the mind, passion, envy, malice, and pride, all are dwarfed, and the mind becomes simple and sincere. Where this is the case, we derive no pleasure from a display of our own learning or intelligence, our own pride of wealth or place, which can only anger others; neither is our envy excited by the sight of the prosperity of others. We have no desire, either to abuse others, or to think meanly of them neither does an injury we may have received from another arouse our anger, or hatred against him. Our thoughts are directed solely to the purification of our own minds, or to other's welfare. But much harsh self-discipline is necessary before this result can be attained. It is wonderful, the pride that springs up in the mind of the man possessed of but a modicum of wit: his own words, his own deeds, stand forth, in the estimation of such a man, as superior to those of all others; nothing that others may say or do is worthy of the slightest attention on his part.
Becharam.-- Ah, my dear friend, how it refreshes me to hear you talk! I have been all along wishing to have such an opportunity. ​
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the harried arrival of Premanarayan Mozoomdar, with the news that the Calcutta police had apprehended Thakchacha and taken him off to prison. Becharam Babu was immensely delighted when he heard the news, and exclaimed: "This is indeed good news to me." Barada Babu was astounded, and fell into deep thought. Becharam Babu said to him: "Why are you so deep in thought? Why, there is nobody I know who would not be delighted if so wicked a man were to be transported."
Barada.-- What grieves me is the thought that the man from his youth upwards should have done evil and not good. Besides, there is his family to think of: they will die of starvation if he is put in chains.
Becharam.-- Ah, my good friend! why do people reverence you but for all your qualities? Thakchacha never lost an opportunity of maligning and injuring you: he never ceased insulting and abusing you. Why, it was he who fabricated that charge of illegal confinement and assault against you, and he made every effort to press the charge home by means of forgery. And yet there is not a trace of anger or enmity in your mind against him on that account. The very meaning of retaliation is unknown to you. Your idea of retaliation was to restore him and his family to health again when they fell sick, by administering medicines, and by unremitting attention on your part; and even now all your anxiety is for his family. Ah, my dear friend, you may be a Kayasth in caste, but I should be willing to take the dust off the feet of such a Kayasth and put it on my head!
Barada.-- Do not, sir, I pray you, talk like this to me. I am contemptible, and of no reputation amongst men, and am in no way worthy of your praise. Ah, sir! if you keep on saying this to me, my pride will increase. ​
Meanwhile, in Vaidyabati, a police sergeant, some constables, and an inspector, were hurrying Thakchacha, his arms tied behind his back, away to prison. A great crowd had collected in the streets. One man said, quoting an old proverb:-- "As the deed, so the fruit." Another man exclaimed:-- "We shall never have any peace until the wretch is put on boardship and transported." While another remarked:-- "My only fear is that he may after all get off, and become as mischievous as ever."
As, with head bent low, beard fluttering in the breeze, and eyes glaring, Thakchacha was going along with the police, he quietly offered the sergeant half a rupee to loose his bonds: the sergeant had a capacious paunch, and at once tossed the half rupee away in contempt. Thakchacha then said to him: "Take me for a short time to Mati Babu: get him to give bail: let me go for a day only, I will put an appearance to-morrow." The sergeant only replied: "You jabbering idiot: you will get a smack on the face, if you speak to me again." Thakchacha then folded his hands in humble supplication before the sergeant, and begged and prayed to be let off. The sergeant refused to listen to him, and put him into a boat; About four o'clock in the afternoon he arrived with him at the police court; but as the police magistrate had left the court by that time, Thakchacha had to spend the night in the lock-up.
Matilall, when he heard of the evil plight of Thakchacha, became very anxious for himself. He dreaded the fall of the thunderbolt in his direction. Thakchacha having been caught, his turn he thought was safe to come next: the whole affair, he imagined, was connected with John Company, but anyhow extreme caution on his part was necessary. Acting upon this determination, he fastened the main door of the house very securely. Ramgovinda ​said to him: "Thakchacha has been apprehended, sir, on a charge of forgery: if there had been a warrant out against you, your house would have been surrounded long ago: why entertain such causeless alarm?" Matilall replied. "Ah! none of you understand: unluckily for me misfortunes are cropping up all round me: as the old proverb has it, 'The burnt shal fish has slipped out of my hands.' If I can only get through to-day somehow or other, I will go off the first thing to-morrow to my estates in the Jessore district. It is not safe for me to remain at home any longer: I am encompassed with portents, obstacles, fears, and misfortunes of every kind, and besides all this my money is all gone, my hand is mere dust."
Just as he had finished speaking, there was a loud knocking at the door, and somebody shouted out: "Open the door, friend! Ho there! Is there anybody there?" Matilall said very quietly: "Hush! just what I expected has happened." Mangovinda peeped out from above, and saw a messenger pushing away at the door: he went quietly to Matilall and said to him: "It is high time for you to be off, sir! you had better get away at once; I rather fancy that a second warrant has come in connection with Thakchacha's case. Who can foresee the end of a spark of fire? If you can find no other deserted spot, go and get into the dirty tank at the back door, and stand like a pillar in the middle, as did King Durryodhan." Dolgovinda said: "Why anticipate evil? why swamp the boat at the first sight of waves? Find out the true state of affairs first: if you wait a second I will make enquiries." Saying this, he called out: "Ho there! you messenger! from what court have you come?" The messenger replied, "Sir, I have brought a letter from Mr. John," and saying, "Here, take the letter!" he threw it up to them. They all shouted ​"Aha! we are saved! we breathe again!" Then Haladhar and Gadadhar, who were behind the others, caught up the refrain:-- "Protect us, O Lord, in this world." The news to the young Babus was like an autumn cloud: it was rain, it was sun, it was warmth, it was joy. Matilall enjoined them to be quiet a little and asked for the letter, telling them that it was possible that some other opportunity for trade might be presenting itself. When he had opened the letter, the young Babus all stooped over him: there were a good many heads collected together, but not an atom of learning amongst the lot of them: reading the letter was a sore trial to them. At last they had a man called from the house of a neighbour of theirs, a Kayasth, and they ascertained the substance of the letter to be that Mr. John was almost starving, and that he was very badly in want of money. Mangovinda remarked:-- "What a shameless wretch! So much money already thrown into the deep on his account, and yet he does not leave us alone; I like his impudence!" Dolgovinda said: "It is a very good thing to have an Englishman in our power, for their luck is sure to turn[54]: there are times when a handful of mud in their hands may become a handful of gold." Matilall said to them: "Why are you chattering like this? You may cut me up and not find any blood in me: you may whittle me away, and get no flesh off me."
One evening, about this time, Becharam Babu, having crossed over from Bally, was proceeding along in a northerly direction in a gharry. He was singing a song, the refrain of which was--
"Mahadev! thou, by thy great might, "Upholdest, all things day and night."
Bancharam Babu was driving his buggy from a southerly direction: when the two were alongside each other, they both peeped out to see who was passing. As soon ​as Bancharam caught the outline of Becharam's figure, he whipped up his horse. Becharam thereupon, holding the door of his gharry tight with his hand, put his head hurriedly out of the window and shouted out: "Ho! Bancharam! Ho Bancharam!" Upon this summons, the buggy was brought to a stop, and the gharry drew up to it with many a creak and a groan. Becharam Babu then said to Bancharam: "Aha, Bancharam! you are indeed a lucky fellow! The vessel of your gains is like Ravan's funeral pile, ever blazing[55]. At one stroke you have successfully carried out your trade ventures. Your friend and ally, Thakchacha, is now ruined; and I fancy that even out of that circumstance some trifling gain will accrue to you, perhaps the price of a goat's head. But you have only worked your own future ruin by all your vakeel's practices and stratagems; Has this thought, that you must die some time or other, never occurred to you?" Bancharam Babu was exceedingly angry at all this: he frowned and bit his moustache in his vexation, and venting his rage on his horse's back, drove away.