Test Bank for DHO Health Science Updated 8th Edition by Simmers

Nartker Kobelak ISBN 130550951X 9781305509511

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CHAPTER 02 HEALTH CARE SYSTEMS

TRUEFALSE

1. Hospitals are classified as general, specialty, or government depending on the sources of income received. (A)
True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

2. The term clinic can refer to a group of medical or dental doctors who share a facility and other personnel.
(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

3. The National Institutes of Health (NIH) is an international agency sponsored by the United Nations.

(A) True

(B) False
Answer : (B)

4. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) is concerned with the causes, spread, and control of
diseases.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

5. Voluntary or nonprofit agencies are supported by donations, membership fees, and federal or state
grants. (A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

6. Insurance plans vary in the amount of payment and the type of services covered.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

7. Managed care is a concept that has developed in response to rising health care costs.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

8. Medicare is a medical assistance program for individuals with low incomes and individuals who are physically
disabled or blind.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

9. TRICARE is a government program that provides health care for all active duty members of the military and
their families.

(A) True
(B) False

Answer : (A)

10. An organizational structure should indicate areas of responsibility and lead to the most efficient operation of a
facility.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

11. In preferred provider organizations (PPOs), insured people are restricted to using specific hospitals or doctors.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

12. Deductibles are amounts of money subtracted from a bill by a health care agency if a person has insurance.
(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

13. Medical centers at universities offer treatment and care for many health conditions and provide a learning
experience for medical students.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

14. The health care worker should understand the functions and goals of an employing organization.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

15. Most assisted living or independent living facilities are associated with nursing homes, extended care facilities,
and/or skilled care facilities.
(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

16. Nonprofit agencies are frequently called voluntary agencies because they use only volunteers to provide
health services.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

17. Palliative care is care that is provided by genetic counselors when a genetic defect is detected in the
developing fetus during pregnancy.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

18. The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) requires the standardization of electronic
health care records in all health care agencies.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

19. The health care industry employs more than 17 million workers in over 200 different health careers.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

20. A proprietary hospital is a nonprofit hospital that relies on government funding.

(A) True

(B) False
Answer : (B)

21. Many long-term care facilities also offer special services such as the delivery of meals to the homes of the
elderly, chronically ill, or people with disabilities.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

22. Hospice agencies provide support to the family following a patient's death.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

23. Genetic counseling centers provide care to help patients with physical or mental disabilities obtain maximum
self-care and function.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

24. Health department clinics offer services such as immunizations, pediatric care, and treatment of sexually
transmitted diseases.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (A)

25. If a patient has a 75-25 percent co-insurance and a health care bill is $200, the insurance will pay $50 of the
bill.

(A) True

(B) False

Answer : (B)

26. An individual with a health maintenance organization (HMO) plan has ready access to health examinations
and early treatment and detection of disease.
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minded man, hair-lipped from his birth, and highly excitable on the
smallest provocation. Seeing Beni Babu, he called to him in his peculiar
nasal tone: "Come, tell me what is in your mind now?"
Beni.— Well, seeing that Baburam Babu has no relative like yourself in
Calcutta, I have come to request of you that his boy Matilall may live in
your house while he is attending school, going to Vaidyabati for his
Saturday holiday.
Becharam.— Well, there can be no possible objection to that. He is
perfectly welcome to come and stay in my house: this is as much his
home as his father’s house is. I have no children of my own, and only
two nephews; let Matilall then stay with me as long as he pleases.
On hearing Becharam Babu’s nasal twang, Matilall burst out laughing.
Beni Babu gave a sigh of disgust, thinking to himself that there would be
little peace here so long as such a boy as this was about. Becharam noted
the jeering laugh, and observed to Beni Babu, "Ah! friend Beni, the
youngster appears somewhat ill-mannered and boorish. I imagine that he
must have been constantly indulged from infancy."
Beni Babu was a very shrewd man. His former history was known to all.
He too had led a wild life, but had remedied everything by his own good
qualities. He now told himself that if he were to express his real opinion
of Matilall, the boy might be ruined: there would be an end to his
remaining in Calcutta and to his school education, and it was his own
earnest wish that the boy should grow to man’s estate with some sort of
training at least. So after exchanging ideas on many other topics, he took
his leave of Becharam Babu and went with Matilall to the school of one
Mr. Sherborn. Owing to the establishment of the Hindu College, this
gentleman’s school had somewhat diminished in numbers: it required all
his attention, and constant toil day and night, to keep it going. He himself
was a stout man with heavy and bushy eyebrows; was never seen without
pán in his mouth and a cane in his hand; and would vary his walks up
and down his classes by occasionally sitting down and pulling at a
hooka. Beni Babu having placed Matilall at his school, returned to Bally.
 CHAPTER IV.
MATILALL IN THE POLICE COURT.
WHEN the British merchants first came to Calcutta, the Setts and
Baisakhs were the great traders, but none of the people of the city knew
English: all business communications with the foreigners had to be
carried on by means of signs. Man will always find a way out of a
difficulty if need be, and by means of these signs a few English words
get to be known. After the establishment of the Supreme Court,
increased attention was paid to English: this was chiefly due to the
influence of the law courts. By that time Ram Ram Mistori and Ananda
Ram Dass, who were representative men in Calcutta, had learned many
English expressions: Ram Narayan Mistori, a pupil of Ram Ram Mistori,
was engaged as clerk to an attorney and used to write out petitions for a
great many people; he also kept a school, his pupils paying from fourteen
to sixteen rupees a month. Following his example, others, as for instance
Ram Lochan Napit and Krisha Mohun Basu, adopted the profession of
schoolmaster: their pupils used to read some English book and learn the
meaning of words by heart. At marriage ceremonies and festivals,
everybody would contemplate with awe and astonishment, and loudly
applaud, any boy who could utter a few English expressions. Following
the example set by others, Mr. Sherborn had opened his school at a
somewhat late period, and the children of people belonging to the upper
grades of society were being educated at his establishment.
Now boys with a real desire to learn may pick up something or other, by
dint of their own exertions, at any school they may be attending. All
schools have their good and bad points, and there are a large number of
lads so peculiarly constituted that they keep wandering about from
school to school, under pretence of being dissatisfied with each one they
go to, and think, by passing their time in this unsettled way, to deceive
their parents into the belief that they are learning something. So Matilall,
after attending Mr. Sherborn’s school for a few days, had himself entered
anew at the school of a Mr. Charles.
The chief end in view in all education is the development of a good
disposition and a high character, the growth of a right understanding, and
the attainment of a thorough mastery of any work that may have to be
attended to in the practical business of life. If the education of children is
conducted on these lines, they may become in every way respectable
members of society, competent to understand and duly execute all their
business both at home and abroad. But to ensure that such a training shall
be given, both parents and teachers have need to exert themselves. The
young will naturally follow in the footsteps of their elders. Goodness in
the parents is a necessary condition of the growth of goodness in the
children. If a drunken father forbids his child liquor, why should the
child listen to him? If a father, himself addicted to immorality, attempts
to instruct a son in morals, he will at once recall the mousing cat that
professed asceticism[8], and will only mock at his hypocrisy. The son
whose father lives a virtuous life has no great need of advice and
counsel: mere observation of his father will generate a good disposition.
The mother too must keep her attention constantly fixed on her child:
there is nothing so potent in its humanising effect on a child’s mind as a
mother’s sweet conversation, kindness and caresses. A child’s good
behaviour is assured when he distinctly realises that if he does certain
things, his mother will not take him into her lap and caress him. Again, it
is the teacher’s duty to guard against making a mere parrot of his pupil,
when he is teaching him by book. If a boy has to get all he reads by
heart, his faculty of memory may be strengthened, it is true; but if his
intelligence is not promoted, and he gets no practical knowledge, then
his education is all a sham. Whether the pupil be old or young, the matter
should be explained to him in such a way that his mind may grasp what
he is learning. By a good system of education, and judicious tact in
teaching, an intelligent comprehension of a subject may be effected such
as no amount of mere chiding will bring about.
Matilall had learned nothing of morality or good conduct in his
Vaidyabati home, and now his residence in Bow Bazar proved a curse
rather than a blessing. Becharam Babu had two nephews, whose names
were Haladhar and Gadadhar. These boys had never known what it was
to have a father; and though they occasionally went to school out of fear
of their mother and uncle, it was more of a sham than anything else.
They mostly wandered at their pleasure, unchecked, about the streets, the
river ghâts, the terraced roofs of houses and the open common; and they
utterly refused to listen to anybody who tried to restrain them. When
their mother remonstrated, they would just retort: "If you do this we will
both of us run away;" so they were left to do pretty much as they
pleased. They found Matilall one of their own sort, and within a very
short time a close intimacy sprang up between them; they became quite
inseparable; would sit together, eat together, and sleep together; would
put their hands on each other’s shoulders and go about both in doors and
out of doors hand in hand, or with their arms round each other’s necks.
Whenever Becharam’s wife saw them, she would say: "They are three
brothers, sons of one mother."
Neither children nor youths nor old men can remain for any length of
time passive or engaged in one kind of occupation: they must have some
way of dividing the twenty-four hours of the day and night between a
variety of occupations. In the case of children, special arrangements will
have to be made to ensure their having a combination of amusement with
instruction. Neither continuous play nor continuous work is a good thing.
The chief object of all recreation is to enable a man to pay greater
attention to his labour afterwards, his body refreshed by relaxation. The
mind only becomes enfeebled by unbroken exertion, and anything learnt
in that condition simply floats about on the surface without sinking into
it. But in all games there is this to be considered, that those only are
beneficial in which there is a certain amount of bodily exertion; no
benefit is to be derived from cards or dice or any pastimes of that kind:
the only effect of such amusements is to increase the natural tendency to
idleness, which is the source of such a variety of evils. Just as there is no
good to be derived from unceasing work, so by continuous play the
intelligence is apt to get blunted, for thereby the body only is
strengthened, the mind is not disciplined at all; and as the latter must be
engaged in something or other, is it to be wondered at that in such a
condition it should adopt an evil rather than a good course? It is thus that
many boys come to grief.
Matilall and his companions Haladhar and Gadadhar roamed about
everywhere like so many Brahmini bulls, doing just as they pleased and
paying no attention to any one. They were constantly amusing
themselves either with cards and dice or else with kites and pigeon-
flying. They could find no time either for regular meals or for sleep. If a
servant came to call them into the house, they would only abuse him, and
refuse to go in. If ever the maid came to tell them that her mistress could
not retire to rest until they had had their supper, they would abuse her in
a disgraceful manner. The maid-servant would sometimes retort: "What
courteous language you have learned!" All the most worthless boys of
the neighbourhood gradually collected together and formed a band.
Noise and confusion reigned supreme in the house all day and night, and
people in the reception-room could not hear each other’s voices: the only
sounds were those of uproarious merriment. So much tobacco and ganja
was consumed that the whole place was darkened with smoke: no one
dared pass by that way when this company was assembled, and there was
not a man who would venture to forbid such conduct. Becharam Babu
indeed was disgusted when the smell of the tobacco reached him, as it
occasionally did; but he would only give vent to his favourite
exclamation of disgust and impatience.
Most terrible of all evils are the evils that spring from association with
others. Even where there is unremitting attention on the part of parents
and teachers, evil company may bring ruin; but where no such effort is
made, the extent of corruption that association with others brings about
cannot be estimated in language. Matilall’s character, far from
improving, was, by the aid of his present associates, deteriorating day by
day. He might attend school for one or two days in the week, but would
merely remain seated there like a dummy, treating the whole thing as a
supreme bore. He was continually joking with the other boys or drawing
on his slate; would scarce attend for five minutes together to his lessons;
and could think of nothing but the fine time he would have with his
companions out of school. There are teachers possessed of sufficient
skill and tact to draw to the acquisition of knowledge the mind of even
such a boy as Matilall: being acquainted with various methods of
imparting instruction, they adopt that which is likely to prove most
efficacious in each particular case. Now the teaching in Mr. Charles
school was as indifferent as the teaching in Government schools often is
at the present day. Equal attention was not paid to all the classes and all
the boys, and no pains were taken to ascertain whether they thoroughly
understood the easy books they had to read before they proceeded to
more difficult ones. A good many people are firmly convinced that a
school derives its importance from the number of books prescribed, and
the amount read. It was considered quite sufficient for the boys to repeat
their lessons by heart: it was not supposed to be necessary to know
whether they understood or not; and it was never taken into
consideration at all whether the education they were receiving was one
that would fit them for the practical business of afterlife. Unless
influences are very strong in their favour, boys attending such schools
have not much chance of receiving any education at all. Take into
account Matilall’s father, the companions he had collected about him, the
place he was living in, the school he was attending, and some idea may
be formed of the extent of his intellectual training.
Teachers vary as much as schools do. One man will take immense pains,
while another will simply trifle away his times, fidgetting about and
pulling his moustache. Mr. Charles’ factotum was Bakreswar Babu, of
Batalata; and he could do nothing without him. This man made it his
practice to visit his pupils’ rich parents, and say to them all alike: "Ah
sir, I always pay special attention to your boy! he is the true son of his
father: he is no ordinary boy, that: he is a perfect model of a boy."
Bakreswar Babu had charge of the education of the higher classes in the
school, but it was exceedingly doubtful whether he himself understood
what he taught. If this had got generally known he would have been
disgraced for life, so he kept very quiet on the subject. His sole work was
to make the boys read; and if any boy asked him for the meaning of a
word, he would bid him look in the dictionary. He was bound of course
to make a few corrections here and there in the translation exercises the
boys did for him; for if he were to pass them all as correct, where would
be his occupation as a school-master? So he would make corrections,
even when there was no necessity for doing so, and when by doing so he
actually made mistakes which did not exist before: then if the boys asked
him what he was about, he would tell them they were very insolent and
had no business to contradict him. He generally paid most attention to
rich men’s sons, and would question them at length about the rents and
value of their property. In a very short time, Matilall became a great
favourite with Bakreswar Babu: the boy would bring him presents of
flowers or fruit or books, or handkerchiefs. Bakreswar Babu’s idea was
that he ought not to let boys like Matilall slip out of his hands, for when
they reached man’s estate, they might become as a "field of beguns"[9] to
him,— a perpetual source of profit. What benefit too, he thought, would
he derive in the next world from looking after the affairs of this school!
The time of the great autumn festival, the Durga Pujah, had now arrived.
In the bazaars and everywhere there was a great stir, and the general
bustle and confusion gave additional zest to Matilall’s passion for
amusement. He suffered agonies so long as he had to remain in school:
his attention was perpetually distracted; at one moment sitting at his
desk, at the next playing on it; never still for a single moment. One
Saturday he had been attending school as usual, and having got a half-
holiday out of Bakreswar Babu, had left for home. On his way he
purchased some betel and pán, and was proceeding merrily along, his
whole attention fixed on the pigeon and kite shops that lined the road,
and taking no note of the passers-by, when suddenly a sergeant of police
and some constables came up and caught him by the arm, the sergeant
telling him that he held a warrant for his arrest, and that he must go
quietly along with him. Matilall did his best to get his arm free, but the
sergeant was a powerful man and kept a firm grasp as he dragged him
along. Matilall next threw himself on the ground and, bruised all over
and covered with dust as he was, made repeated efforts to escape: the
sergeant thereupon hit him with his fist several times. At last, as he lay
overpowered on the ground, the thought of his father caused the boy to
burst into tears, and there rose forcibly in his mind the question: "Why
have I acted as I have done? Association with others has been my ruin."
A crowd now began to collect in the road, and people asked each other
what was the matter. Some old women discussing the affair inquired:
"Whose child is this that they are beating so?— the child with the moon-
face? ah, it makes one’s heart bleed to hear him cry!" The sun had not set
when Matilall was brought to the police-station: there he found Haladhar,
Gadadhar, Ramgovinda and Dolgovinda, with other boys from his
neighbourhood, all standing aside, looking extremely woe-begone. Mr.
Blaquiere was police magistrate at that time, and it would have been his
business to examine the prisoners; but he had gone home, so they had to
remain for the night in the lock-up.
 CHAPTER V.
BABURAM IN CALCUTTA.
SINGING snatches of a popular love-song:—
"For my lost love’s sake I am dying:"
"And my heart is faint with sighing."

and varying his song with whistling, Meeah Jan, a cartman, was urging
his bullocks along the road, abusing them roundly for their slowness,
twisting their tails, and whacking them with his whip. A few clouds were
overhead, and a little rain was falling. The bullocks as they went
lumbering along, succeeded in overtaking the hired gharry in which
Premnarayan Mozoomdar was travelling. It was swaying from side to
side in the wind: the two horses were wretched specimens of their kind,
and must surely have belonged to the far-famed race of the Pakshiraj,
king of birds. They were doing their best to get along, poor beasts, but
notwithstanding the blows that rained down on their backs from the
driver’s whip, their pace did not mend very considerably. Before starting
on his journey, Premnarayan had eaten a very hearty meal, and at each
jolt of the gharry his heart was in his mouth. His disgust however
increased as the bullock cart drew ahead of his vehicle. Premnarayan
need not be blamed for this. Every man has some self-respect which he
does not care to lose. The majority have a high opinion of themselves,
and while some lose their tempers if there is the slightest failing in the
respect they think due to them, others feel humiliated and depressed.
Premnarayan, in his passion, expressed his thoughts thus to himself:—
"Ah! what a hateful thing is service. The servant is regarded as no better
than a dog! he must run to execute any order that is given. How long has
my soul been vexed by the rude behaviour of Haladhar, Gadadhar, and
the other boys! They would never let me eat or sleep in peace: they have
even composed songs in derision of me: their jests have been as irritating
to me as ant-bites; they have signalled to other boys in the street to annoy
me: they have gone so far as to clap their hands at me behind my back.
Can any one submit tamely to such treatment as this? It is enough to
drive a sane man out of his senses. I must have a good stock of courage
not to have run away from Calcutta long ago: it is due to my good genius
only that so far I have not lost my employment. At last the scoundrels
have met with their desserts: may they now rot in jail, never to get out
again! Yet after all these are idle words; is not my journey being made
with the express object of effecting their release? has not this duty been
imposed upon me by my employer? Alas, I have no voice in the matter!
if men are not to starve, they must do and bear all this."
Baburam Babu of Vaidyabati was seated in all a Babu’s state; his servant,
Hari, was rubbing his master’s feet. Seated on one side of him the
pandits were discussing some trivial points relating to certain
observances enjoined by the Shástras, such as:— "Pumpkins may be
eaten to-day, beguns should not be eaten to-morrow; to take milk with
salt is quite as bad as eating the flesh of cows." On the other side of him,
some friends were engaged in a game of chess: one of them was in deep
thought, his head supported on his hand: evidently his game was up, he
was checkmated. Some musicians in the room were mingling their
harmonies, their instruments twanging noisily. Near him were his
mohurrirs writing up their ledgers, and before him stood sundry
creditors, tenants of his, and tradesmen from the bazaar, some of whose
accounts were passed, and others refused. People kept thronging into the
reception-room. Certain of his tradespeople were explaining how they
had been supplying him for years with one-thing and another, and now
were in great distress, having hitherto received nothing by way of
payment; how, moreover, from their constant journeyings to and fro,
their business was being utterly neglected and ruined. Retail shopkeepers
too, such as oilmen, timber-merchants and sweetmeat-sellers, were
complaining bitterly that they were ruined, and that their lives were not
worth a pin’s head: if he continued to treat them as he was doing, they
could not possibly live: they had worn out the muscles of their legs in
their constant journeyings to and fro to get payment: their shops were all
shut, their wives and children starving. The whole time of the Babu’s
dewan was taken up in answering these people. "Go away for the
present," he was saying, "you will receive payment all right; why do you
jabber so much?" Did any of them venture to remonstrate, Baburam
Babu would scowl, abuse him roundly, and have him forcibly ejected
from the room.
A great many of the wealthy Babus of Bengal take the goods of the
simple country-folk on credit: it would give them an attack of fever to
have to pay ready-money for anything. They have the cash in their
chests, but if they were not to keep putting their creditors off, how could
they keep their reception-rooms crowded? Whether a poor tradesman
lives or dies is no concern of theirs; only let them play the magnifico,
and their fathers’ and grandfathers’ names be kept before the public!
Many there are who thus make a false show of being rich; they present a
splendid figure before the outside world, while within they are but men
of straw after all.
"Out of doors you flaunt it bravely, wealth is in your very air:"
"In the house the rats are squealing, and the cupboard’s mostly bare."

It would be death to them to be obliged to regulate their expenditure by

their income, for then they could not be the owners of gardens or live the
luxurious life of the rich Babu. By keeping up a fine exterior they hope
to throw dust in the eyes of their tradesmen. When they take money or
goods from others, they practically borrow twice over; for when pressure
is brought to bear upon them to make them pay, they borrow from one
man only to pay what they owe someone else; and when at last a
summons is issued against them, they register their property under
another person’s name, and are off somewhere out of the way for the
time being.
Baburam Babu was devoted to his money and very close-fisted[10]: it was
always a great grief to him to be obliged to take cash out of his chest. He
was engaged in wrangling with his tradespeople when Premnarayan
arrived, and whispered in his ear the news from Calcutta. Baburam was
thunderstruck for a time. When shortly after he recovered himself, he
had Mokajan Meeah summoned to his presence. Now Mokajan was
skilled in all matters of law. zemindars, indigo planters, and others were
continually going to him for advice; for a man like this, gifted with such
ability for making up cases, for suborning witnesses, for getting police
and other officers of the court under his thumb, for disposing secretly of
stolen property, for collecting witnesses in cases of disputes, and
generally for making right appear wrong and wrong right, was not to be
found every day. Out of compliment to him, people all called him
Thakchacha.: this was a great gratification to him, and his thoughts often
shaped themselves thus: "Ah, my birth must have taken place at an
auspicious moment! my observances of the seasons of Ramjan and Eed,
have answered well; and if I am only properly attentive to my patron
saint, I fancy my importance will increase still further." Though engaged
in his ablutions at the time that Baburam Babu’s peremptory summons
reached him, he came away at one and listened, in private, to all
Baburam had to say. After a few minutes’ reflection, he said: "Why be
alarmed, Babu? How many hundred cases of a similar kind have I
disposed of! Is there any great difficulty in the way this time? I have
some very clever fellows in my employ; I have only to take them with
me, and will win the case on their testimony: you need be under no
apprehension. I am going away just now, but I will return the first thing
in the morning."
Baburam, though somewhat encouraged by these words, was still not at
all comfortable in his mind. He was much attached to his wife, and
everything she said was always, in his view, shrewdly to the point: were
she to say to him. "This is not water, it is milk," with the evidence of his
own eyes against him, he would reply: "Ah, you are quite right! this is
not water, it is milk. If the mistress of the house says so, it must be so."
Most men, whatever the affection they have for their wives are at least
able to exercise some discretion as to the matters in which those ladies
are to be consulted and to what extent they should be listened to. Good
men love their wives with heartfelt affection; but if they are to accept
everything their wives say they may just as well dress in saris, and sit at
home. Now Baburam Babu was entirely under his wife’s thumb: if she
bade him get up, he would get up; if she bade him sit down, he would sit
down.
Some months before this, she had presented her husband with a son, and
she was busy nursing the infant on her lap, her two daughters seated by
her. Their conversation was running on household affairs and other
matters, when suddenly the master of the house came into the room and
sitting down with a very sad countenance, said: "My dear wife, I am
most unlucky! The one idea of my life has been to hand over the charge
of all my property to Matilall on his reaching man’s estate, and to go and
live with you at Benares[11]; but all my hopes have, I fear, been dashed to
the ground."
The Mistress of the House.— my dear husband, what is the matter?
Quick, tell me! my breast is heaving with emotion. Is all well with my
darling Matilall?
The Master.— yes, so far as his health goes he is well enough, but I have
just received news that the police have apprehended him and put him in
jail.
The Mistress.— What was that you said? They have dragged away
Matilall to prison? And why, O why, my husband, have they imprisoned
him? Alas, alas! The poor boy must be a mass of bruises! I expect, too,
he has had nothing to eat and not been able to get any sleep. O my
husband, what is to be done? Do bring my darling Matilall back to me
again!
With this, the mistress of the house began to weep: her two daughters
wiped away the tears from her eyes, and tried their best to console their
mother. The infant too seeing its mother crying, began to howl lustily.
In the course of his enquiries, made under pretence of conversation, her
husband got to know that Matilall had been in the habit, under one
pretext or another, of getting money out of her. She had not mentioned
the matter to her husband for fear of his displeasure: the boy had been
unfortunate, and she could not tell what might have happened if he had
got angry. Wives ought to tell all that concerns their children to their
husbands, for a disease that is concealed from the surgeon can never be
cured. After a long consultation with his wife, the master sent off a letter
by night, to arrange for some of his relatives to meet him in Calcutta at
his lodgings.
A night of happiness passes away in the twinkling of an eye, but how
slowly drag the hours when the mind is sunk in an abyss of painful
thought! It may be close to dawn, and the day may be every moment
drawing nearer, but yet it seems to tarry. Ways and means occupied the
whole of Baburam Babu’s thoughts throughout the night: he could no
longer remain quietly in the house, and long before the morning came
was in a boat with Thakchacha and his companions. As the tide was
running strong, the boat soon reached the Bagbazaar Ghât.
Night had nearly come to an end: oil-dealers were busy putting their
mills in order, ready to work: cartmen were leading their bullocks off to
their day’s toil: the washermen’s donkeys were labouring with their loads
upon the road: men were hurrying along at a swing-trot with loads of fish
and vegetables. The pandits of the place were all off with their sacred
vessels to the river for their morning bathe; the women were collecting at
the different ghâts and exchanging confidences with each other. "I am
suffering agonies from my sister-in-law’s cruelty," said one. "Ah, my
spiteful mother-in-law!" exclaimed another. "Oh, my friends!" cried
another, "I have no wish to live any longer, my daughter-in-law
tyrannises over me so, and my son says nothing to her; in fact, she has
made my son like a sheep with her charms." "Alas!" said another, "I have
such a wretch of a sister-in-law! she tyrannises over me day and night."
Another lamented, "My darling child is now ten years old; my life is so
uncertain, it is high time for me to think of getting him married."
There had been rain in the night, and patches of cloud were still to be
seen in the sky; the roads and the steps of the ghâts were all slippery in
consequence. Baburam Babu puffed away at his hooka and looked out
for a hired gharry or a palki, but he would not agree to the fare
demanded: it was a great deal too much to his mind. When the boys who
had collected in the road saw how Baburam Babu was chaffering, some
of them said to him: "Had you not better, sir, be carried in a coolie’s
basket? The charge for that will be only two pice." As Baburam Babu ran
after them and tried to hit them, roundly abusing them the while, he fell
heavily to the ground. The boys only laughed at this and clapped their
hands at him from a safe distance. Baburam with a woe-begone
countenance then got into a gharry with Thakchacha and his
companions. The gharry went creaking along, and eventually pulled up
at the house of Bancharam Babu, of Outer Simla.
Bancharam Babu was the principal agent of a Mr. Butler, an attorney
living inBoitakhana; he had had a good deal of experience in the law-
courts and in cases-at-law: though his pay was only fifty rupees a month,
there was no limit to his gains, and festivals were always in full swing in
his house.
Beni Babu of Bally, Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar, and Bakreswar Babu
of Batalata, were all seated in his sitting-room, waiting for Baburam
Babu. With the arrival of that worthy the business of the day
commenced.
Becharam.— Oh Baburam, what a venomous reptile have you been
nourishing all this time! You would never listen to me, though time after
time I sent word to you. Your boy Matilall has pretty well done for his
chances in this world and in the next: he drinks his fill, he gambles[12],
he eats things forbidden: caught in the very act of gambling, he struck a
policeman: Haladhar, Gadadhar, and other boys were with him at the
time. Having no children of my own, I had fondly thought that Haladhar
and Gadadhar would be as sons to me, to offer the customary libation to
my spirit when I was no more, but my hopes are as goor into which sand
has fallen. I really have no words to express my disgust at the boy’s
behaviour.
Baburam.— Which of them has corrupted the other it may be very
difficult to say with any certainty; but just now please tell me how I am
to proceed with reference to the investigation.
Becharam.— So far as I am concerned, you may do exactly as you think
fit. I have been put to very great annoyance. The boys have been going
into the temple at night and drinking heavily there: they have made the
beams black with the smoke from tobacco and ganja: they have stolen
my gold and silver ornaments and sold them; and one day they even
went so far as to threaten to grind the holy shalgram to powder and eat it
with their betel in lieu of lime. Can you expect me then to subscribe
towards their release? Ugh! certainly not.
Bakreswar.— Matilall is not so bad as all that: I have seen a good deal of
him at school: he has naturally a good disposition. He was no ordinary
boy; he was a perfect model of behaviour: how then he can have become
what you describe is beyond me.
Thakchacha.— May I ask what need there is of all this irrelevant talk?
We are not likely to get our stomachs filled by simply chatting of oil and
straw: let a case be thoroughly well got up for the trial.
Bancharam [highly delighted at the prospect of making a good thing out
of the case].— Matters of business require a man of business.
Thakchacha’s words are shrewdly to the point: we must get a few good
witnesses together and have them thoroughly instructed in their role
betimes; we must also engage our friend Mr. Butler the attorney. If after
all that we do not win our case, I will take it up to the High Court. Then
if the High Court can do nothing, I will go up to the Council with the
case; and if the Council can do nothing, we must carry it to England for
appeal. You may put implicit confidence in me: I am not a man to be
trifled with[13]. But nothing can be done unless we secure the services of
Mr. Butler. He is a thoroughly practical man: knows all manner of
contrivances for upsetting cases, and trains his witnesses as carefully as a
man trains birds.
Bakreswar.— A keen intelligence is needed in time of misfortune. A very
careful preparation for the trial is required: why be jeered at for want of
it?
Bancharam.— So clever an attorney as Mr. Butler it has never fallen to
my lot to see. I have no language capable of expressing his astuteness:
three words will suffice for him to have all these cases dismissed. Come,
gentlemen, rise and let us go to him.
Beni.— Pardon me, sir, I could not do what I know to be wrong, even
were my life at stake! I am prepared to follow your advice in most
matters, but I cannot risk my chances of happiness in the next world. It is
best to acknowledge a fault if one has really been committed: there is no
danger in truth, whereas to take refuge in a lie only intensifies an evil.
Thakchacha.— Ha! ha! what business have bookworms with law? The
very mention of the word sets them all atremble! If we take the course
this gentleman advises, we may as well at once prepare our graves! Sage
counsels indeed to listen to!
Bancharam.— At this rate, gentlemen, it will be the case of the old
proverb over again,— "The festival is over, and your preparations still
progressing." I have no doubt that Beni Babu is a man of very solid
parts; why, in the Niti Shástras, he is a second Jagannath
Tarkapanchanan! I shall have to go some day to Bally to hold an
argument with him, but we have no time for that just now; we must be up
and doing.
Becharam.— Ah, Beni my friend, I am quite of your mind! I am getting
an old man now: already three periods of my life have passed away and
one only is left to me. I too will do no wrong, even if my life be at stake.
Who are these boys that I should do what is wrong for them? They have
made my life a perfect burden to me. Shall I be put to any expense for
them? Certainly not: they may go to jail for all I care, and then perhaps I
may contrive to live in peace. Why should I trouble myself any more
about them? The very sight of their faces makes my blood boil. Ugh! the
young wretches!
 CHAPTER VI.
MATILALL’S MOTHER AND SISTERS.
THE Vaidyabati house was all astir with preparations for a religious
ceremonial. The sun had not risen when Shridhar Bhattacharjea, Ram
Gopal Charamani and other Brahman priests, set to work repeating
mantras. All were employed upon something: one was offering the
sacred basil to the deity: some were busy picking the leaves of the
jessamine: others humming and beating time on their cheeks. One was
remarking: "I am no Brahman if good fortune does not attend the
sacrifices;" and another, "If things turn out inauspiciously, I will abandon
my sacred thread." The whole household was busily engaged, but not a
member of it was happy in mind. The mistress of the house was sitting at
an open window and calling in her distress upon her guardian deity: her
infant boy lay near her, playing with a toy and tossing his little limbs in
the air. Every now and again she glanced in the direction of the child,
and said to herself: "Ah my darling, I cannot say what kind of destiny
awaits you! To be childless is a single sorrow and anxiety: multiplied a
hundred-fold is the misery that comes with children. How is a mother’s
mind distracted if her child has the slightest complaint! she will
cheerfully sacrifice her life in order to get him well again: so long as her
babe is ill, all capacity for food and sleep deserts her: day and night to
her are alike. If a child who has caused her so much sorrow grows up
good, she feels her work accomplished; but if the contrary be the case, a
living death is hers: she takes no interest in anything in the world and
cares not to show herself in the neighbourhood. The haughty face grows
wan and pinched: in her inmost heart, like Sita, she gives expression to
this wish: ‘Oh, Earth, Earth, open, and let me hide myself within thy
bosom!’ The good God knows what trouble I have taken to make
Matilall a man: my young one has now learned to fly, and heavy is my
chastisement. How it grieves me to hear of such evil conduct: I am
almost heartbroken with sorrow and chagrin. I have not told my husband
all: he might have gone mad had he heard all. Away with these thoughts!
I can endure them no longer: I am but a weak woman. What will such
laments avail me now? what must be, must be."
A maid-servant came in at that moment and took the child away, and the
mistress of the house engaged in her daily religious duties.
Man’s mind is so constituted that it cannot readily forget any particular
matter it may be absorbed in, to attend to other affairs in hand. When
therefore she tried to perform her usual devotions, she found herself
unable to do so. Again and again she set herself to fix her attention on
the mantras she had to repeat, but her mind kept wandering: the thought
of Matilall surged up like a strong and irresistible flood. At one time she
fancied that the orders for his imprisonment had been passed, and her
imagination depicted him as already in fetters, and being led off to jail:
she even thought she saw his father standing near him, his head bowed
down in woe, weeping bitterly; and again she almost fancied that her son
was come to see her, and was saying to her: "Mother, forgive me: what is
past cannot now be mended, but I will never again cause you such
trouble and sorrow." She then began to dream of some great calamity as
about to befall Matilall,— that he would be transported perhaps for life.
When these phantoms of her imagination had left her, she began to say to
herself: "Why, it is now high noon! can I have been dreaming? No,
surely this is no dream! I must have seen a vision. I wish I could tell why
my mind is so distracted to-day!" With these words she laid herself
silently down on the ground, and wept bitterly.
Her two daughters, Mokshada and Pramada, were busy drying their hair
on the roof, and Mokshada was saying to her sister: "Why sister
Pramada, you have not half combed your hair, and how dry it is too! But
it must be so, for it is ages since a drop of oil fell upon it. It is just the use
of oil and water that keeps people in good health: to bathe once a month,
and without using oil, would be bad for any one. But why are you so
wrapped in thought? anxiety and trouble are making you as thin as a
string."
Pramada.— Ah, my sister, how can I help thinking? Cannot you
understand it all? Our father brought the son of a Kulin Brahmin here
when I was a mere child and married me to him. I only heard about this
when I was grown up. Considering the number of the different places
where he has contracted marriage, and considering his personal character
too, I have no wish to see his face: I would rather not have a husband at
all than such a one.
Mokshada.— Hush, my dear! you must not say that. It is an advantage to
a woman to have a husband alive, whether his character be bad or good.
Pramada.— Listen then to what I have to tell you. Last year, when I was
suffering from intermittent fever and had been lying long days and nights
on my bed, too weak to rise, my husband came one day to the house.
From the time of my earliest impressions, I had never seen what a
husband was like: my idea was that there was no treasure a woman could
possess like a husband, and I thought that if he only came and sat with
me for a few moments and spoke to me, my pain would be alleviated.
But, my sister you will not believe me when I say it! he came to my
bedside, and said: "You are my lawful wife, I married you sixteen years
ago: I have come to see you now because I am in need of money, and
will go away again directly: I have told your father that he has cheated
me: come, give me that bracelet off your wrist!" I told him that I would
first ask my mother, and would do what she bade me. Thereupon he
pulled the bracelet off my wrist by brute force; and when I struggled to
prevent his doing so, he gave me a kick and left me. I fainted away, and
did not recover till mother came and fanned me.
Mokshada.— Oh my dear sister Pramada, your story brings tears into my
eyes. But consider, you still have a husband living: I have not even that.
Pramada.— A fine husband indeed, my sister! Happily for me, I once
spent some time with my uncle, and learned to read and write and to do a
little fancy work with my needle; so by constant work during the day and
by a little occasional reading, writing or sewing, I keep my trouble
hidden. If I sit idle for any time, and begin to think, my heart burns with
indignation.
Mokshada.— What else can it do? Ah, it is because of the many sins
committed by us in previous births that we are suffering as we are! It is
by plenty of hard work that our bodies and minds retain their vigour:
idleness only causes evil thoughts and evil imaginations and even disease
to get a stronger hold upon us: it was uncle that told me that. I have done
all I can to soften the pains of widowhood. I always reflect that
everything is in God’s hands: reliance upon Him is the real secret of life.
My dear sister, if you so constantly ponder on your grief, you will be
overwhelmed in the ocean of anxiety: it is an ocean that has no shore.
What good can possibly result from so much brooding? Just do all your
religious and secular duties as well as you can: honour our father and
mother in everything: attend to the welfare of our two brothers: nourish
and cherish any children they may have, and they will be as your own.
Pramada.— Ah my sister, what you say is indeed true, but then our elder
brother has gone altogether astray. He is given over to vicious ways and
vicious companions; and as his disposition has changed for the worse, so
his affection for his parents and for us has lessened. Ah, the affection that
brothers have for their sisters is not one-hundredth part of the affection
that sisters have for their brothers! In their devotion to their brothers,
sisters will even risk their lives; but brothers always think that they will
get on much better if they can only be rid of their sisters! We are
Matilall’s elder sisters: if he comes near us at all, he may perhaps make
himself agreeable for a short time, and we may congratulate ourselves
upon it; but then have no any influence whatever upon his conduct?
Mokshada.— All brothers are not like that. There are brothers who
regard their elder sisters as they would their mother, and their younger
sisters as they would a daughter. I am speaking the truth: there are
brothers who look upon their sisters in the same light as they do their
brothers: they are unhappy unless they are free to converse with them;
and if they fall into any danger, they risk their lives to save them.
Pramada.— That is very true, but it is our lot to have a brother just in
keeping with our unhappy destiny. Alas, there is no such thing as
happiness in this world!
At this moment, a maid-servant came to tell them her mistress was
crying: the two sisters rushed downstairs as soon as they heard it.
It was a fine moonlight evening, the moon shedding her radiance over
the breadth of the Ganges. A gentle breeze was diffusing the sweet
fragrance of the wild jungle flowers; the waves danced merrily in the
moonlight: the birds in a neighbouring grove were calling to each other
in their varied notes. Beni Babu was seated at the Deonagaji Ghât,
looking about him and singing snatches of some up-country song on the
loves of Krishna and Radha. He was completely absorbed in his music
and was beating time to it, when suddenly he heard somebody behind
him calling his name and echoing his song. Turning round, he saw
Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar: he at once rose, and invited his guest to
take a seat.
Becharam opened the conversation. "Ah! Beni, my friend! those were
home truths you told Baburam Babu to-day. I have been invited to your
village: and as I was so pleased with what I saw of you the other day, I
wanted to come and call on you just once before leaving."
Beni.— Ah, my friend Becharam, we are poor sort of folk here! We have
to work for our living: we prefer to visit places where the secrets of
knowledge or virtue are investigated. We have a good many rich
relatives and acquaintances, but we feel embarrassed in their presence;
we visit them very occasionally, when we have fallen into any trouble, or
have any very particular business on hand. It is never a pleasure to call
on upon them, and when we do go we derive no intellectual benefit from
the visit; for whatever respect rich men may show to other rich men, they
have not much to say to us; they just remark "It is very hot to-day. How
is your business getting on? Is it flourishing? Have a smoke?" If only
they speak cheerfully and pleasantly to us, we are fully satisfied. Ah,
learning and worth have nothing like the respect shown to them that is
shown to wealth! Paying court to rich men is a very dangerous thing:
there is a popular saying:— "The friendship of the rich is an
embankment made of sand." Their moods are capricious: a trifle will
offend them just as a trifle will please them. People do not consider this:
wealth has such magic in it that they will put up with any humiliation,
any indignity from a rich man; they will even submit to a thrashing, and
say to the rich man after it:— "It is your honour’s good pleasure."
However this be, it is a hard thing to live with the rich and not forfeit
one’s chances of happiness in the next world. In that affair of to-day, for
instance, we had a hard struggle for the right.
Becharam.— From observation of Baburam Babu’s general behaviour, I
am inclined to think that his affairs are not prospering. Alas, alas, what
counsellors he has got! That wretched Mahomedan, Thakchacha, a
prince of rogues! there is an evil magic in him. Then Bancharam, the
attorney’s clerk! he is like a fine mango, fair outside but rotten at the
core. Well-practised in all the arts of chicanery, like a cat treading
stealthily along in the wet, he simulates innocence while all the while
exercising his wiles to entrap his prey. Anybody falling under the
influence of that sorcery would be utterly, and for ever, ruined. Then
there is Bakreswar the schoolmaster, a teacher of ethics forsooth! A
passed master indeed in the art of cajolery, a very prince of flatterers!
Ugh! But tell me, is it your English education that has given you this
high moral standard?
Beni.— Have I this high moral standard you attribute to me? It is only
your kindness to say so. The slight acquaintance I have with morality is
entirely due to the kind favour of Barada Babu, of Badaragan: I lived
with him for some time, and he very kindly gave me some excellent
advice.
Becharam.— Who is this Barada Babu? Please tell me some particulars
about him. It is always a pleasure to me to hear anything of this kind.
Beni.— Barada Babu’s home is in Eastern Bengal, in Pergunnah Etai
Kagamari. On the death of his father he moved to Calcutta, and found
great difficulty at first in providing himself with food and clothing: he
had not even the wherewithal to buy his daily meal. But from his
boyhood he had always engaged in meditation upon divine things, and so
it was that when trouble befell him it did not affect him so much. At this
time he used to live in a common tiled hut, his only means of subsistence
being the two rupees a month which he received from a younger brother
of his father’s. He was on terms of intimacy with a few good men and
would associate with none but these: he was very independent, and
refused to be under obligations to anybody. Not having the means to
keep either a man-servant or a maid-servant, he did all his own
marketing, cooking for himself as well; and he did not neglect his studies
even when he was cooking. Morning noon and night, he calmly and
peacefully meditated on God. The clothes in which he attended school
were torn and dirty, and excited the derision of rich men’s sons: he
pretended not to hear them when they laughed and jeered at him, and
eventually succeeded by his pleasant and courteous address in winning
them completely over. With very many, pride is the only result of
English learning: they scorn the very earth they live on. This however
found no place in the mind of Barada Babu: his disposition was too calm
and mild. When he had completed his education he left school, and at
once obtained employment as a teacher, on thirty rupees a month. He
then took his mother, his wife and his two nephews to live with him, and
did his very utmost to make them comfortable. He would also look after
the wants of the many poor people living in his immediate
neighbourhood, helping them, as far as his means allowed, with money,
visiting them when they were sick, and supplying them with medicine.
As none of these poor people could afford to send their children to
school, he held a class for them himself every morning. One of his
cousins who had fallen dangerously ill after his father’s death, recovered
entirely, thanks to the unremitting attention of Barada Babu, who sat by
his bedside for days and nights together. He was deeply devoted to his
aunt, and regarded her quite as a mother. Some men appear to have a
contempt for the things of this world in comparison with things of
eternity, like the contempt for death that is characteristic of those who
are in constant attendance at burning-ghâts. Does death or calamity
befall any of their friends or kinsfolk, the world, they feel, is nothing,
and God all. This idea is constantly present to the mind of Barada Babu:
conversation with him and observation of his conduct soon make it
apparent; but he never parades his opinions before the world. He is in no
sense ostentatious: he never does anything for mere appearance sake. All
his good deeds are done in secret: numbers of people meet with kindness
from him, but only the person actually benefited by him is aware of it;
and he is much annoyed if others get any inkling of it. Though a man of
varied accomplishments, he is without a particle of vanity. It is the man
who has only a smattering of learning who is puffed up with pride and
self-importance. "Aha!" says such a one to himself, "what a very learned
man I am! Who can write as I do? Who is so erudite as I? How I always
do speak to the point!" Barada Babu is a different sort of man altogether:
though his learning is so profound, he never treats the thoughts of others
as beneath his attention. It does not annoy him to hear an opinion
expressed opposite to his own: on the contrary, he listens with pleasure,
and reviews his own beliefs. To describe in detail all his good qualities
would be a long affair, but they may be summed up in the remark that so
gentle and god-fearing a man has rarely been seen: he could not do
wrong even if his life were at stake. Yes, the amount of instruction to be
had from personal intercourse with Barada Babu far exceeds any to be
got from books!
Becharam.— Ah, how it charms one to hear of a man like that! But now,
as it is getting very late, and I have to cross the river, I will, with your
permission, return home. Let me see you for a moment at the police
court to-morrow.
 CHAPTER VII.
THE TRIAL OF MATILALL.
VERY strange is this world’s course, and past man’s comprehension.
How hard it is to determine the causes of things! When we remember for
instance the account of the origin of Calcutta, it will appear almost
miraculous; for even in a dream none could have imagined that Calcutta
as it was could ever have become Calcutta as it is. The East India
Company first had a factory at Hooghly, their factor being Mr. Job
Charnock. On one occasion he quarrelled with the leading police official
of the place; and as the East India Company did not in those days possess
the power and dignity which they afterwards acquired, their agent was
maltreated and forced to have recourse to flight. Job Charnock had a
house and a bazaar of his own at Barrackpur, which in consequence has
been known as Chanak, even down to the present time. He had married a
woman whom he had rescued from the funeral pile just as she was about
to become a suttee; but whether the marriage contributed to the mutual
happiness of each, there is no evidence to show. Job Charnock was
constantly journeying to and fro between Barrackpur and Uluberia,
where he was building a new factory: it was the wish of his heart to have
a factory there, but how many undertakings fall just short of
completion[14]! As he journeyed to and fro, he used often to pass by
Boitakhana, and would halt for a rest and a smoke under a large tree
there. This tree was the favourite resort of many men of business, and
Job Charnock was so enamoured of the shade of it that he decided upon
building his factory there. The three villages of Sutanati, Govindpur and
Calcutta, which he had purchased, soon filled up, and it was not long
before people of all classes took up their abode there for trade, and so
Calcutta soon became a city, and populous. The first beginnings of
Calcutta as a city date from the year 1689 of the Christian era. Job
Charnock died some three years after that. In those days the great plain
where the Fort and Chowringhee now are was all jungle. The Fort itself
formerly stood where the Custom House now stands, and Clive Street
was the chief business quarter of the city. So fatal to health was Calcutta
at one time considered, that the English gentlemen who had escaped with
their lives during the year, would annually meet together on the 15th of
November and offer their congratulations to each other. One prominent
characteristic of Englishmen is to have everything about them
scrupulously clean, and disease gradually diminished as sanitary
precautions came more and more into vogue. But the people of Bengal
do not take this lesson to heart: to the present day there are tanks near the
houses of our wealthiest citizens, which smell so bad that one can hardly
approach them.
In former days the duties connected with the Revenue and Criminal
Courts and the Police Administration of Calcutta devolved upon a single
Englishman: he had a Bengali official as his subordinate, and he himself
was called the jemadar. Later on, there came to be other Courts; and
with the view of checking the high-handedness of the English in the
country, the Supreme Court was established. The administration of the
Police was made an independent charge, and was very ably conducted.
In the year 1798 of the Christian era, Sir John Richardson and others
were employed as Justices of the Peace; and afterwards, in the year 1800,
Mr. Blaquiere and others were appointed to hold this office. The
jurisdiction of the Justices extended to every part of the country. When it
became necessary for the jurisdiction of those who were simply
Magistrates to extend beyond their head districts, the assistance of the
Judge’s Court of the particular district had to be sought, and
consequently many Magistrates in the Mofussil have now been made
Justices of the Peace. Mr. Blaquiere has been dead some four years; it
was currently reported that his father was an Englishman and his mother
a Brahman woman, and that he had received his earliest education in
India, but had afterwards gone to England and been well educated there.
During his tenure of office as head of the Police Department, Calcutta
trembled at his stern severity, and all were afraid of him. After some time
he gave up the detective part of his work and the apprehension of
criminals, to confine his attention to the trial of prisoners brought before
him. He made an excellent judge, being well versed in the language of
the country, its customs, manners, and all the inner details of the life of
the people. He had the Criminal Law too at his fingers’ ends; and having
for some time acted as interpreter to the Supreme Court, was thoroughly
well acquainted with the proper method of conducting trials.
Time and water run apace. Monday came. Ten o’clock had just struck by
the church clock: the police court was crowded with police officers,
sergeants, constables, darogahs, naibs, sub-inspectors, chowkidars, and
with all sorts and conditions of people. Some of these were keepers of
low lodging-houses and women of loose character, who sat about the
Court chewing betel and pán: some, as their bloodstained clothes
sufficiently showed were victims of assaults: some were thieves, who sat
apart dejected and sad: some, conspicuous by their turbans, were
engaged in writing out petitions in English. Some were complainants in
the different cases, who tramped noisily about the court; others, who
were to be witnesses, were busily whispering to each other: the men who
make it their business to provide bail were sitting about as thick as crows
at a ghât. Here were pleaders’ touts, using all their arts to get clients for
theirmasters: there were pleaders engaged in coaching their witnesses:
and here the amlahs were writing out cases that had been sent up by the
Police. The sergeants of police looked very important as they marched
up and down with proud and pompous port. The chief clerks were
discussing different English magistrates: this one was declared to be a
great fool, that one a very cunning man, a third too mild and easily
imposed upon, a fourth too harsh and rough; they pronounced also an
unfavourable criticism on the orders passed the previous day in a
particular case. The police court was so crowded, indeed, that it seemed
the very Hall of Yama, and all looked forward with fear and trembling to
their fate.
Baburam Babu came bustling up to the court, accompanied by his
pleader, his counsellor Thakchacha, and some of his relatives.
Thakchacha was wearing a conical cap, fine muslin clothes, and the
peculiar turned-up shoes of his class. His crystal beads in hand, he was
invoking the names of his special guardian genius and his Prophet, and
muttering his prayers with repeated shakings of the head; but this was all
mere ostentation. A man so full of tricks as Thakchacha is not met with
every day. At the police court he spun about hither and thither, for all the
world like a peg-top. At one moment he was coaching his witnesses in a
whisper; the next, walking about hand in hand with Baburam Babu; the
next, consulting with Mr. Butler: in this way he attracted everybody’s
attention. Now it is a failing with many people to imagine their fathers
and grandfathers (who may have been great rogues in reality) to have
been celebrated people, well known to all; and the consequence is that
when they have to introduce themselves to others they will do so, saying:
"I am the son of so-and-so, and the grandson of so-and-so." To anybody
who came up to converse with Thakchacha, he would introduce himself
as the son of Abdul Rahman Gul, and the grandson of Ampak Ghulam
Hosain. A sircar in the court, who was fond of his joke, remarked to
him: "Come, tell me what is your special business? A few low-class
Mahomedans in your own neighbourhood may perhaps know the names
of your father and grandfather, but who is likely to know them in this
city of Calcutta? perhaps however they carried on the profession of
syces." Thakchacha, his eyes inflamed with passion, replied: "I can say
nothing here, as this is the police court: in any other place, I would fall
upon you and tear you to pieces." As he said this, he grasped Baburam
Babu’s hand in his, to make the sircar imagine him a man of much
importance, held in high honour.
Meanwhile there was a stir near the steps of the police court: a carriage
had just driven up: the door was opened, and a withered old gentleman
alighted from it. The sergeants of police raised their hats in salute, and
called out, "Mr. Blaquiere has arrived." The magistrate, having taken his
seat on the bench, disposed first of some cases of assault. Matilall’s case
was then called: The complainants, Kale Khan and Phate Khan, took up
their position on one side, while on the other side stood Baburam Babu
of Vaidyabati, Beni Babu of Bally, Bakreswar Babu of Batalata,
Becharam Babu of Bow Bazar, and Mr. Butler of Boitakhana. Baburam
Babu was wearing a fine shawl, and had a gorgeous turban on his head:
his sacred caste mark, with the sign of the Hom offering over it, was
conspicuous on his forehead. With tears in his eyes, and his hands folded
humbly in supplication, he gazed at the magistrate, who, he fondly
imagined, would be sure to commiserate him if he saw his tears. Matilall,
Haladhar, Gadadhar, and the other accused, were brought before the
magistrate: Matilall stood there, with his head bowed low in shame.
When Baburam Babu saw the boy’s face pinched from want of food, his
heart was pierced. The complainants charged the accused with gambling
in a place of ill-fame, and with having effected their escape when
arrested by grievously assaulting them; and they stripped and showed the
marks of the assault upon their persons. Mr. Butler cross-examined the
complainants and their witness at some length, and conclusively showed
that there was no case made out against Matilall. This was not at all
surprising, considering that for one thing he had all a pleader’s art
exercised in his favour, and for another that there was collusion between
the complainants and the counsel of the accused. What will not money
do? An old proverb[15] runs:—
"Gold for the dotard a fair bride will win."

Mr. Butler afterwards produced his witnesses, who all declared that on
the day the assault was said to have been committed, Matilall was at
home at Vaidyabati; but on cross-examination by Mr. Blaquiere, they
were not so clear. Thakchacha saw that things were not going well: a
slight slip might ruin everything. Most people, reduced to the necessity
of having recourse to law, give up all ideas of right and wrong: they
sever themselves from all connection with truth, once they have to enter
the Law Courts: their sole idea must be to win their case somehow or
other. Thakchacha then went forward himself, and gave evidence that on
the day and at the time mentioned by the prosecution he was engaged
teaching Matilall Persian at his home in Vaidyabati. Though the
magistrate subjected him to severe cross-examination, Thakchacha was
not a man to be easily confused: he was well up in law-suits, and his
original evidence was not shaken in any way. Then Mr. Butler addressed
the Court, and after some deliberation the magistrate passed orders that
Matilall should be released, but that the other accused should be
imprisoned for one calendar month, and pay a fine of thirty rupees each.
Loud were the cries of Hori Bol on the passing of this order, and
Baburam Babu shouted: "Oh Incarnation of Justice, most acute is your
judgment! soon may you be made Governor of the land!"
When they were all in the courtyard of the police court, Haladhar and
Gadadhar caught sight of Premnaryan Mozoomdar, and at once
commenced singing in his ear with the intention of annoying him;—
"Hasten homeward, hasten homeward, Premnarayan Mozoomdar,"
"Hop into your native jungle, black-faced monkey that you are!"

Premnarayan only replied: "What wicked boys you are! Here you are
going to jail, but you cannot cease your tricks." While he was still
speaking, they were led away to jail. When Beni Babu, who was a very
worthy god-fearing man, saw virtue thus defeated and vice triumphant,
he was perfectly astounded. Thakchacha, shaking his head and smiling
sardonically, said to him: "How now, sir, what does the man of books say
now? Why, if we had acted in accordance with your suggestions, it
would have been all up with us." At this moment Bancharam Babu came
running up in haste, gesticulating and saying: "Ha! ha! see what comes
of trusting me! I told you I was no fool." Bakreswar too had his say. "Ah,
he is no ordinary boy is Matilall! he is a very model of what a boy should
be." "Ugh!" exclaimed Becharam Babu: "It was not I that wished this
wrong done: I didn’t want to see this case won, far from it." Saying this,
he took Beni Babu’s hand and went off with him. Baburam Babu having
made his offerings at Kali’s shrine at Kalighat, embarked on a boat to
return home.
Though the Bengalees have always great pride of caste, it may
sometimes fall out that even a Mahomedan may be regarded as worthy of
equal honour with the ancestral deity, and Baburam Babu began now to
regard Thakchacha as a veritable Bhishma Deva: he put his arms round
his neck and forgot everything else in the joy of victory: food and
devotions were alike neglected. Again and again they repeated that Mr.
Butler had no equal, that there was no one like Bancharam Babu that
Becharam Babu and Beni Babu were utter idiots. Matilall gazed all about
him, at one moment standing on the edge of the boat, at another pulling
an oar, at another sitting on the roof of the cabin or hard at work with the
rudder. "What are you doing, boy?" said Baburam to him, "Do sit quiet
for a moment, if you can." One of Baburam Babu’s gardeners, Shankur
Mali, of Kashijora, prepared the Babu’s tobacco for him: his heart
expanded with joy, when he saw his master looking so happy, and he
asked him: "Will you have many nautches at the Durga Pujah this year,
sir? Isn’t that a cotton factory over there? How many cotton factories
have these unbelievers set up?"
Change is the order of things in this world. Anger cannot long remain
latent in the mind, but must reveal itself sooner or later; and so with a
storm in nature, when there is great heat, and a calm atmosphere, a
squall[16] may suddenly rise. The sun was just setting, the evening
coming on, when suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, a small black
cloud rose in the west: in a few minutes deep darkness had overspread
the sky, and then with a rushing roar of wind the storm was on them. No
one could see his neighbour: the boatmen shouted to each other to look
out: the lightning flashed, and all were terrified at the loud and repeated
thunder claps: down came the rain like a waterspout, and they were
driven to take shelter in the cabin. The waters rose and dashed against
the boats, several of which were swamped. Seeing this, the men in the
remaining boats struggled hard to get to shore, but the violence of the
wind drove them in the opposite direction. Thakchacha’s chattering
ceased: frightened out of his senses, and clasping his bead chaplet in his
hands, he gabbled aloud his prayers, calling on his Prophet and Patron,—
Saint Mahomed Ali, and Satya Pir.
Baburam Babu too was in great anxiety. It seemed to be the beginning of
the punishment of his misdeeds: who can remain calm in mind when he
is conscious of wrong? Cunning and craft may suffice to conceal a crime
from the eye of the world, but nothing can escape the conscience. The
sinner is ever at the mercy of its sting: he is always in a state of alarm
and dread, never at ease: he may occasionally indulge in laughter, but it
is unnatural and forced. Baburam Babu wept from sheer fright, and said
to Thakchacha: "Oh, Thakchacha, what is going to happen? I seem to see
an untimely death before me! surely this is Nemesis. Alas, alas! to have
just effected the release of my son, and yet to be unable to get him safe
home and deliver him to his mother: my wife will die of grief if I perish.
Ah, now I call to mind the words of my friend Beni Babu: all would have
been well had I not turned aside out of the path of rectitude."
Thakchacha too was in a high state of alarm, but the old sinner was a
great boaster, and so he answered: "Why be so alarmed, Babu? Even if
the boat is swamped, I will take you to shore on my shoulders: it is
misfortune that shows what a brave man really is." The storm increased
in violence, and the boat was soon in a sinking condition: all were in an
extremity of terror, shouting for help, and Thakchacha’s only thought
was his own safety.