# Stories of Bengalee Life/The Foundling/Chapter 2

II
With the morning Sitanath arose, calling on the goddess Durga. His son's father-in-law came to join him and as they sat together, smoking, Sitanath resolved to speak. By way of preface he began thus:—
"My dear Sir, there is no way of escape from destiny. Who can upset the decrees of fate? I have four more daughters-in-law; but among them all there is not one to compare with her who was ​the youngest. As was her beauty so also was her virtue. To her charm all, even the animals and the birds, were subject. We have a cow at home named Rangi, of such an evil disposition that no one can approach it. Even if you feed it, it thrusts at you with its horns: only to the little daughter-in-law was it gracious. The young wives quarrel amongst themselves, that happens in all families, but my other daughters-in-law always regarded the little one as their very own sister. When the sad news of her death came, my eldest daughter-in-law fell to the ground from the shock. For three days and nights she did not touch food. To this day she says—I should have felt less keenly the loss of my own child."
Hrishi Kesh wept profusely. In quivering tones he said—"No more, Sir, I beseech you. What can come of dwelling upon it? Speak of something else, I beg."
Sitanath was silent. He was floored by his own ill-judged beginning. He sat cursing his own stupidity. After a while, he began to talk of different matters and then furious with himself he made a fresh attempt. Rejecting all preface he spoke to the point. In the utterance it sounded so brutal that he was himself ashamed.
​It was simply a question of the daughter-in-law's wedding ornaments. The old man had come to claim them.
The demand made, Hrishi Kesh remained silent for a long time. When he had heard that his daughter's father-in-law was coming, he perfectly understood what was bringing him. And now the claim was made. He sometimes used to cherish the hope that he would keep the jewels, and would not give them up. If his grand child should live, the burthen of getting her married would fall upon him. He would keep the jewels and let them be her wedding ornaments. When he had spent 2,000 rupees in ornaments for his daughter's wedding, he had been fairly wealthy. Now all that was changed. The thought of how his family would be maintained in the case of his own death often gave him grave concern.
Yet amid all these thoughts, despair of being able to retain the jewels grew in his mind. At last he resolved in any case to try and put it off for the present. He said—"Mukerji Mahashoi, those things belong to you. Of what I once gave to your son I will not keep back a single penny-weight. But I must ask you to wait a little. I cannot give them to you now."
Mukerji Mahashoi's face became withered. His thought was—"This man has pledged the ​ornaments. If so, it is ruin." Aloud he said—"Why so? What prevents you from giving them now?"
Uttering a deep sigh Hrishi Kesh answered—"Our grief is not six months old. Give us time. Who is to take the ornaments out of the jewel case? I know not where to look for them; and my wife, since that dreadful night, does not set foot in the girl's chamber, and to touch anything that belonged to her, makes her weep distressingly. How then can I say to her—'Open your child's box and take out her jewels?'—We lost a little girl years ago at Triveni: that is past and gone—but this second loss—. Grant us time: we will give you the things after a while."
Fourteen years before, on the occasion of the great Varuni Festival, Hrishi Kesh with his family had gone to bathe in the Ganges at Triveni, and there lost a little girl about two years old. This is the fact to which he refers here. The reason given by Hrishi Kesh for his reluctance to part with the jewels was only too true, but then every one does not regard such a reason as sufficient. Sitanath did not. He said angrily—
"Brother, is not the grief mine also? But what can I do? Where there is a family there must also be sorrow. I have never seen any one yet, who could escape it, be it the King on his throne or the beggar by the way side. But a man ​of the world gets over it in a couple of months; eats, sleeps, laughs and goes about his daily business. If she is so overwhelmed, do you yourself take the key, open the case and bring out the jewels."
Hrishi Kesh went on smoking in gloomy silence. Sitanath began to press him—still the father-in-law could not abandon the hope of retaining the ornaments. He said, sadly—"Let us wait till the year is out, Mahashoi, then come and fetch them away. Nay, if you wish it, I will undertake to deliver the jewels at your own house."
Sitanath said harshly—"Man's life is like unto the water on a lotus leaf. To-day it is here, to-morrow it is gone. We cannot be sure of an hour. Suppose I do not live a year?"
Hrishi Kesh said to himself—"If you do not live, the value of the jewels will be spent on your sradh." Aloud he said—"In that case your jewels will remain in our care and will be used for your grand daughter's wedding."
Sitanath answered with a sneer—"Do you suppose my grand daughter will always remain with you? When she has grown a little, I shall take her away. My eldest daughter-in-law is crazy to see the child. Even when I was leaving home she said—'Father, shall I come with you and see the little ​one?' You talk of the child's marriage, but how do we know what is our destiny? Will this child live? From what I saw in her face just now, I did not think there was much hope of it."
Hrishi Kesh was a shrewd man of business. He caught up the other's words saying—"Very well, let the jewels remain and do you take them when you fetch the child."
At these words Sitanath became furious. "Ho, brother! Do you distrust me? Will it be for your good to vex a Brahman by making him return without the jewels?"
Hrishi Kesh had known the character of his daughter's father-in-law before now and recognised that he was not to be turned from his purpose. So feeling it useless to raise further difficulties he said—"Then take them."
Sitanath's face became joyous. He said—"After the midday meal I will go home. I am now going to bathe in the Ganges. Do you get the jewels ready for me by the time I come back."
His bath finished, Sitanath with great ostentation seated himself on the ghat to perform his devotions. To-day the gods had shown him great favour, so his devotions were zealous and prolonged. Returning to the house, he quickly finished his meal. He could not endure longer ​delay. He said to Hrishi Kesh—"Brother, bring the jewels now. By Durga's favour I will set out this afternoon."
Hrishi Kesh went to the inner rooms and stayed there a very long time. Sitanath thought—"Give them he will, but he is putting off the evil moment as long as he can." Being in a very cheerful mood he began to hum,
"Reject, Oh mind, all earthly care, Seek Krishna's feet in constant prayer."
Then seeing Hrishi Kesh returning empty-handed his song came to an abrupt end. He said with surprise—"What has happened?"
"It cannot be."
"What does that mean?"
Hrishi Kesh explained—"Mukerji Mahashoi I was ready to give you the ornaments. When I first spoke to my wife, she wept bitterly, then she said—'There is no key. It was fastened to my daughter's waist and went with her to the funeral pyre.'"
Sitanath did not credit this story. He said angrily—"That won't do for me. If there is no key, break open the box. I will not leave without the jewels."
Hrishi Kesh said—"If you won't go, then you are welcome to stay. As there is no key, what can I do? Does it become you to compel me to ​outrage my wife's feelings by calling in a blacksmith and having the box broken open?"
Sitanath with distorted face, screamed out—"No, such a conduct does not become me. It becomes you to cheat a Brahman. Will you give them, or will you not, Sir? Speak plainly. If you will not give them, I will snap my sacred thread and depart, cursing you. It shall be your ruin and that before the third night shall expire."
Hrishi Kesh, looking at the convulsed features of Sitanath, felt highly insulted. He went himself to call in a smith, took him to the upper story and had the box broken open. The mother seeing this cruel piece of work, rolled on the ground in an agony of grief.
The father-in-law having departed with the jewels, Hrishi Kesh also laid himself down upon his bed. On that day neither husband nor wife touched food again.