The Miracle

1

After graduating with a BA degree, Chandraprakash could not think of doing anything else but giving tuitions. His mother had died long ago and his father too died this year. The sweet dreams that Prakash had about life grovelled in dust now. His father had occupied a high post. He had hoped that his efforts could have secured him some good job, but now all such wishful thinking was of no use. It was difficult to survive with a paltry monthly sum of thirty rupees that came from tuitions. His father had left behind no property, but had placed the burden of a wife on his head; and the woman too was something. She could read and write, was fashionable and sharp-tongued. She thought it was better to die if one could neither eat well nor be clothed well. Chandraprakash did find it humiliating to do a job for only thirty a month but Thakur Sahib alleviated his grief by giving him a place to stay in. This house was right next to the one in which Thakur Sahib lived. It was a pukka house––clean, airy, equipped with all necessities. Such a house would not be available for anything less than twenty, and the work was of two-hour duration only. The boy was slow-witted and lazy. He studied in class nine. The best thing was that Thakur and Rama Devi, his wife, were both very fond of Prakash and treated him like their own son. He was treated not as a servant but as a member of the house. His opinion was sought before any decision was taken. Thakur Sahib did not know English. He felt that a lad who knows English was certainly more intelligent, smarter and more experienced than him.

2

It was evening time. Prakash prepared to leave as his lessons with his student Virendra were over when the thakurain came in and said, ‘Don’t go now, son. Come here for a moment. I have to discuss something with you.’

Prakash thought to himself What kind of discussion was it today that it could not be done in front of Virendra? Taking him inside, she said, ‘What is your opinion, should we get Viru married? A very good proposal has come to us from an established family.’

Prakash said with a smile, ‘You should ask Viru Babu about it.’

‘No, I am asking you.’

Prakash was in a fix. He said, ‘What opinion can I have on such a matter? He is in his twentieth year. You should understand that his studies would be over once he gets married.’

‘Then we should not proceed now. Is that what you think?’

‘Whatever you think is best. I have given my opinion.’

‘Then should we go ahead? I fear that the boy might go astray.’

‘You needn’t worry about it when I am there. Yes, if you so desire, then go ahead. There is no harm in it.’

‘Hope you understand that you must do all the preparations.’

‘When have I ever refused anything?’

The final word was given and the preparations for the wedding started. Thakur Sahib was like those men who had little faith in themselves. In his view, Prakash’s degree was far more valuable than his experience of sixty years. All the arrangements for the wedding were in Prakash’s hands. To have the authority to spend ten to twelve thousand rupees was not a small matter that one wouldn’t take pride in. Gradually, the shabby youth turned into a responsible manager. While the cloth-sellers always greeted him with respect, the petty traders of the locality would gather around him and the dealers in gas and tent-house would start buttering him up whenever they saw him. Had he so desired he could have easily made some two to four hundred rupees, but he was not such a dishonest man. And how could he cheat someone who had left everything in his care? But the day he bought jewellery worth five thousand rupees, his mind vacillated to a great extent.

On returning home, he told Champa, ‘Here I am dependent on someone for my rotis––a total destitute––and on the other hand there are men in this world who can get ornaments made for some thousands or lakhs of rupees. Today Thakur Sahib bought jewellery worth five thousand rupees to offer his daughter-in-law. One is bedazzled by the beauty of the pieces. In truth, I couldn’t withstand the glitter of some of the things.’

Champa, with a jealous tone of disaffection, said, ‘Oh no! What have we to do with it? Let them wear it; gods have been kind to them. Here we are born to weep till we die.’

Chandraprakash added, ‘These people enjoy their life. They don’t need to work or earn a livelihood. Their forefathers have left behind a legacy, so they are happy to live in ease and comfort. That is why I say that the gods are very unfair.’

Champa said, ‘It is one’s own labour and valour; how are the gods to be blamed? Had your forefathers left behind an inheritance, you too would have enjoyed yourself. Here it is difficult to even manage two square meals; who cares about clothes and jewellery! There is hardly any hope for it at all in this life. I don’t even have a good sari that I can wear to the house of a respectable man. I am caught in thought now of how I would attend the wedding at the thakurain’s place? I hope I fall ill and be saved from the disgrace.’

Tears welled up in her eyes when she said this.

Prakash comforted her, ‘I will get you a sari. Shall I not be able to do even this much? Will such difficult times last forever? If I am alive then one day you will be covered from head to toe with ornaments.’

Champa smiled and said, ‘I don’t give in to such sweet talks. It is enough if we have what we need to survive. I have no desire for ornaments.’

Hearing these words, Prakash lowered his head in sad humiliation. Does Champa take him to be so worthless?

3

At night, when the duo retired to bed after dinner, Prakash brought up the topic of the ornaments again. They were deeply ingrained in his mind. He said, ‘I had no idea that such wonderful ornaments could be made in this town.’

Champa said, ‘Talk of something else. This talk about ornaments makes my heart burn.’

‘If you wear such things then you will be taken for a queen.’

‘Is one’s beauty enhanced by wearing ornaments? I have seen several women who look awful wearing ornaments.’

‘Thakur Sahib is also a man who is driven by self-interest. He could have asked me: “Take whatever you like here for Champa.”’

‘Come on! You keep talking like a child.’

‘What is so childish about this? A benevolent man would never have been so stingy.’

‘I have not seen any generous man who would give the ornaments of his own daughter-in-law to a stranger.’

‘I am no stranger. We live in the same house. I teach his son and I am making all the arrangements for the wedding. Had he given something worth a hundred or two, it would not have gone waste. But people with wealth are so burdened by it that their hearts contract under its weight. There is no place in it for being charitable.’

It was already past twelve. Prakash still couldn’t fall asleep. Time and again the glittering ornaments flashed before his eyes. Sometimes his vision got clouded and then like lightening, they flashed before him again and again.

All of a sudden he got up from his charpoy. He felt sorry to see Champa unadorned. This is the age to eat and wear good things, and in this age, the poor thing had to keep hankering for everything. With careful, soundless steps he came out of the room and went to the terrace. The terrace adjoining his was Thakur Sahib’s. There was a five-foot-high wall in between. He climbed the wall and landed gently on the terrace of Thakur Sahib’s house. There was total silence in there.

He thought: First I will go down the stairs to Thakur Sahib’s room. If he wakes up then I will laugh loudly and tell him that I was playing a trick! Or perhaps that I saw a man walking towards this side from my terrace and came after him to see what he was up to. If I get the keys to the chest then I win. No one will be suspicious of me. Everyone will suspect the servants, and I too will say, ‘Sahib, this is the work of the servants; who else would take it but them?’ I would escape unscathed. After the wedding I will shift to some other house. Then I will give these ornaments to Champa one by one so that she too isn’t suspicious.

Still, his heart beat loudly as he climbed down the stairs.

The sun had already risen. Champa woke Prakash up and said, ‘A very strange thing has happened. A theft took place in Thakur Sahib’s house at night. The thieves have stolen the cabinet containing the ornaments.’

Still lying in bed, Prakash asked, ‘Didn’t someone catch the thieves?’

‘Is anyone aware of the news yet? No one knows how they got the keys and how they learnt that the cabinet was kept in that particular chest!’

‘It must be one of the servants. It is not the work of thieves from outside.’

‘All the three servants of the house have been here for a long time.’

‘Does it take long to change one’s motives? He saw the opportunity today and took it.’

‘At least go and offer some words of comfort. The poor thakurain was crying. She was repeatedly mentioning your name. She said that you had been running around for months for these ornaments, had checked each and every item personally and now all your efforts have been rendered useless.’

Prakash got up quickly and went to their house, looking confused, and said, ‘What a calamity has befallen us! Champa just told me what happened.’

Thakur Sahib was sitting with his hand on his head. He said, ‘There is no sign of a break-in, no lock has been broken, no tenon on any door has come down. I don’t understand from where the thief came in.’

The thakurain said, weeping, ‘I have lost everything, brother. The wedding is just round the corner. Oh God, how can things be managed now? You had been running around so we could get everything together. Who knows what evil shadow has caused this!’

Prakash whispered in Thakur Sahib’s ear, ‘I think it is the handiwork of one of the servants.’

The thakurain dismissed the idea and said, ‘Oh no, brother, there is none among the servants who would do such a thing. There are tens and thousands of rupees lying out there; not a single penny has been ever amiss.’

Thakur Sahib wrinkled his nose and said, ‘What do you know of people? How quickly do their minds change! You cannot say with any certainty that one who has so long not stolen would never steal. I will report the matter to the police and get each and every servant searched. It could be that the goods have been taken away. When they are beaten by the police, they will automatically admit the truth.’

Prakash felt that the entry of the police in the house might prove to be dangerous. If they searched his house, then it would be a disaster. He said, ‘To report to the police and get them to inquire the matter is useless. The police will not be able to retrieve the goods. Yes, they might beat up the servants. But one has to reward them too; otherwise they will create some other hurdle. My suggestion is to call each servant and question him individually.’

Thakur Sahib made a face and said, ‘You talk so childishly, Prakash Babu! Why should the one who stole admit to his crime? And you can’t beat them to get a confession. Yes, I do think reporting it to the police is useless. The goods would hardly ever be retrieved; instead, one would be harassed for months.’

‘But something or the other has to be done,’ said Prakash.

‘It’s of no use. Yes, if there is a secret police who would investigate the matter stealthily, then of course the goods would come out. But where is such a police team here? Curse your fate and sit idle, what else is there to do?’

‘You keep sitting; I am not one to remain idle. I am going to make these servants confess the name of the thief.’

Thakurain butted in. ‘I have full trust in the servants. Even if one of their names come up, I would still be uncertain. This is the work of some outsider. He certainly came from outside. He could have come from your house too.’

Thakur Sahib consented. ‘Yes, just look up your house to see if there is any evidence. The door wasn’t left open yesterday, was it?’

Prakash’s heart started thudding. He said, ‘I close the door at ten. Yes, if someone seized the opportunity and went to the terrace and hid himself there, then it is a different matter.’

All three of them went to the terrace and in the middle of the parapet they saw footprints––as if someone had rubbed his feet there. The whitewash had come off in the place where Prakash had landed. When they went to the roof of Prakash’s house and looked over the parapet, they saw similar footprints on his terrace. Thakur Sahib hung his head low and could not say anything. Prakash stated what was in his mind––‘This makes it clear that the thief had come from my house. Now there is no doubt at all.’

Thakur Sahib said, ‘Yes, that is what I think too, but what is the use of knowing this? The goods that were taken are gone forever. Now let’s go and find some means to raise money.’

‘I will leave that house today, ‘Prakash declared.

‘Why? This is none of your fault,’ Thakur Sahib reassured him.

Prakash said, ‘You might say so, but I feel that it is all my fault. The blame lies on my head. The door of my house is left open till nine or ten. The thief must have noticed it. It is possible that he would come again in two or three days. A lone woman in the house can hardly keep an eye on everything. While she is sitting in the kitchen, someone can easily go upstairs and one will not hear a sound. I come home sometimes at nine or ten in the night. During the days of the wedding, I will be further delayed. The entry to this house from that side must be blocked. I feel that I am to be blamed for this theft. I take full responsibility for it.’

The thakurain said fearfully, ‘If you go away, brother, then this house would be split apart.’

‘Whatever it is, Mataji, I have to leave the house soon. The theft happened because of my negligence; I have to atone for it.’

When Prakash left, Thakur Sahib said to his wife, ‘What a worthy man!’

The thakurain said, ‘How amazing! The thief came from that side, and this fact hurt him.’

‘If he is able to catch the thief, then it seems he will eat him alive.’

‘He will kill him.’

‘You see, he will retrieve the goods.’

‘He will certainly not stay in this house, no matter how much one pleads with him.’

‘I will give him twenty rupees more for his rent.’

‘Why should we pay for his rent? He is leaving the house on his own. We have not told him anything.’

‘We will have to pay him for his rent. One doesn’t mind doing so for a man like him.’

‘I think he will not take the money.’

‘One cannot live on thirty rupees a month.’

4

Prakash left the house the very same day. It was risky to stay there. But as long as the wedding celebrations were on, he was present there almost the entire day. He told Champa, ‘I have got another job with Sethji for fifty rupees a month. I will keep depositing the money with him. That money will be spent only on buying jewellery. I will not take a single penny from it for household expenses.’ Champa’s heart missed a beat. When she saw her husband’s love for her, she praised the gods; her faith in them increased manifold.

Till now there was nothing that Prakash and Champa had kept from each other. Whatever he had, she had it too. His boxes, chest, cabinet and keys to the almirah were all in Champa’s custody. But now one of his chests always remained closed. Champa did not know where the keys to it were. When she asked him, he casually said, ‘There is nothing; some old books that were lying here and there have been locked in it.’ There was no reason for Champa to feel suspicious.

One day, when she went to give her husband paan, she saw him sitting with the chest open, peering into it. Seeing her, he quickly closed the chest. His face had turned pale. Seeds of suspicion sprouted but without any water, they soon shrivelled up. She could not imagine a reason good enough to feel suspicious.

But it was impossible for Prakash to set this matter aside and not think at all of the possessions worth five thousand rupees. Whenever he returned home, he opened the chest at least once to reassure himself.

One day there was a theft in the neighbourhood. From that day on, Prakash started sleeping inside the room. It was the month of Ashad. The humidity was suffocating. There was a neat and clean veranda upstairs, made perhaps for sleeping during the rainy season. Champa told him several times to sleep upstairs but he paid no heed. How could he leave the room unattended?

Champa then said, ‘Theft doesn’t take place in houses like ours. Thieves risk their lives only after seeing something in the house. What is there worth stealing here?’

Prakash retorted in anger, ‘There is nothing here! What about utensils and other household essentials? For a poor man his pot too is indispensable.’

One day, Champa, while sweeping the room, dragged the chest and kept it on the other side. Finding the position of the chest changed, Prakash asked her, ‘Have you moved the chest?’ He sounded uneasy.

There was no reason to inquire about something like this. While cleaning the room, it was normal for things to be moved around. She said, ‘Why should I be moving it?’

‘Then who moved it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You are the one who stays in the house. Who else would know?’

‘Okay, if I had moved it then what is there to ask?’

‘Nothing. I just asked.’

But how could Prakash be at peace until he had opened the chest and checked if everything was there? As soon as Champa went to cook their meal, he opened the chest.

Champa had made pakoras that day. They are good when served hot. Prakash liked them too. She transferred a few on to a plate and went to give them to him. Seeing her, Prakash slammed down the lid of the chest and locked it up, and then, with the intention of distracting her, asked, ‘What have you got in that plate? Okay, they are pakoras, aren’t they?’

Champa became suspicious. She wanted to know what was in the chest. She soon started thinking of ways to whisk the keys away. One day a hawker came to sell different kinds of keys. Champa took the key that fit the lock of the chest and opened it. Arré! These are ornaments! She took them out one by one and examined them. Where did these come from? She thought, Prakash had never mentioned anything about it. Suddenly it struck her––are these not Thakur Sahib’s ornaments? The ornaments were just like how he had described them. Now she had no doubt; but such a terrible downfall! She hung her head in shame and regret.

She immediately closed the chest and lying down on the charpoy, began to think. How did he have such courage? Why did such an evil thought enter his head? I have never demanded any ornaments from him. Even if I had insisted, should he have stolen them? Stealing––and that too for ornaments! Why did his mind become so feeble?

She felt like picking up the ornaments, going to the thakurain’s house and placed them at her feet. She wanted to tell her, ‘Don’t ask me how these ornaments came to me. Your goods have come back to you. Please be satisfied with it.’

But the outcome of it would be terrifying!

5

From that day onwards, Champa remained somewhat listless. She neither had that ardency in love nor respect for Prakash. They quarrelled over small things. The good faith that existed between the two despite their poverty had vanished by then. They used to have open-hearted exchanges, plans about the future and were sympathetic towards each other. Now they both lived dispirited lives. For several days together they did not even exchange a word with each other.

Some months passed by. In one of the banks in the town, there was a vacancy for the post of assistant manager. Though Prakash had studied economics, he had to deposit a sum of ten thousand rupees in cash as security to get the job. Where could one get such a large sum of money from? He squirmed in agony at the thought.

One day he broached the subject with Thakur Sahib.

Thakur Sahib asked, ‘Why don’t you hand in your application?’

Prakash lowered his head and said, ‘They want a security deposit of ten thousand rupees in cash. Where is the money?’

‘My dear, you give in the application first. If they accept it and all other formalities are done, then the security deposit will be given too. Don’t worry about it.’

Prakash said in utter disbelief, ‘You will give the security deposit?’

‘Yes, of course. What is so unbelievable about it?’

Prakash went home in a very sorrowful state. He was sure he would get the job but yet he could not be happy. Thakur Sahib’s simplicity and the kind of faith he had in him wounded him. His nobility trampled upon his meanness.

On returning home, he told Champa the good news. Hearing it she turned her face away from him. After a moment she said, ‘Why did you take the security deposit from Thakur Sahib?’ Prakash retorted sharply, ‘Then from whom should I have taken it?’

‘If you did not have it, you would have lost the job. But you would still be having two square meals a day, wouldn’t you? It is a matter of money. If you commit errors then his money goes down the drain with you.’

‘Why do you think I will make mistakes? Am I a novice?’

Champa said with an air of indifference, ‘The intentions of a man do not always remain the same!’

Prakash was hit by her words. He peered at her, but Champa turned her face away. He could not be certain about her feelings but her coldness even on hearing this good news made him uneasy. The question that came to his mind was, was there an insinuation hidden in her words? Was it that Champa had opened the chest and seen everything? To get an answer to this question at that moment he could even risk wagering one of his eyes.

While having his meal, he asked Champa, ‘What was in your mind when you said that the intentions of a man do not always remain the same?’ It was as if his life depended on her answer to this question.

Champa was in a state of confusion. She said, ‘Nothing. I was talking about the ways of the world.’ Prakash was not satisfied.

‘Is it so that the intentions of those who are employed in banks keep changing?’ he asked.

Champa wanted to be rid of him. ‘You keep holding on to my tongue. You could not keep your intentions clear when it came to the wedding at Thakur Sahib’s house. You have kept back goods worth a hundred or two.’

Prakash felt like a burden had been lifted from his heart. He smiled and said, ‘Okay, so you were hinting about this then. But apart from my commission, I have not touched a single penny of his. And it is not a sin to take commission! All big government officials openly hoard money in the name of commission.’

Champa said in a reproachful tone, ‘I think taking even a penny from a man who has such faith in us is a sin. I would have considered you a gentleman if you had not taken any money Do you even realize how kind he has been to you in the past six months? You left the house and he still keeps giving you twenty a month. When he receives gifts from his neighbours, he certainly sees to it that they are also sent over to you. When you did not have a watch, he gave you the one he had. When your house-help does not turn up, he sends his servant the moment he hears the news. He footed the doctor’s bills when I fell ill and came twice a day to find out how things were. Is this gesture of giving a security deposit a small matter? One does not stand as guarantor even to one’s own relatives but for your security deposit, he took out ten thousand rupees and gave it to you. Do you consider this a trivial thing? If you make any mistake now, his money would be certainly confiscated. We should be prepared to even give our lives for this man who has been so generous to us!’

When Prakash retired for the night after having his meal, his conscience pricked him. One realizes how much pus is in a boil when a catling is put to it. One comes to understand one’s corruption of the mind when someone lays it bare for us. Why do we react when we see a satirical presentation of some social or political injustice? It is because that image brings to light our own bestiality. The mental abyss in which he lay utterly scattered intensified to assume gigantic proportions. It is in such situations that a sigh escapes our lips—oof! Champa’s reproachful words instilled remorse in Prakash’s mind. His chest was burdened several times by its weight and like a heavy rock it now pressed him down. The guilt that had spread in his mind now converged at a point and started stabbing him.

6

Several days went by. Prakash got the job at the bank. Guests were invited to a feast in the house to celebrate it. Thakur Sahib and his wife, Viru and the new bahu—everyone had come. Champa was busy attending to all respectfully. There were two or three friends who were singing and playing musical instruments. After his meal, Thakur Sahib prepared to take his leave.

Prakash said, ‘You will have to stay here today, Dada! I will not let you go at this hour.’

Champa found something amiss in this insistence of his. There were no charpoys or bedding and not enough space in the house. She could not fathom the need to make them stay back for the night, discomforting all of them. But Prakash kept appealing and Thakur Sahib agreed in the end.

It was past twelve. Thakur Sahib was sleeping upstairs. Viru and Prakash were in the veranda outside. The three women were in the innermost chamber. But Prakash kept himself awake. The bunch of keys lay near Viru’s head. He picked it up and then he opened the room to take out the chest containing the ornaments and set out towards Thakur Sahib’s house. Some months ago he had stealthily entered Thakur Sahib’s room with his heart racing. His feet were shaking then too. But then it was the pain of being pricked by a thorn and now it was the pain of taking it out. Then the fever was on the rise––it was discomforting; and now the fever was abating––it was cool and peaceful. Then his footsteps faltered, but today it was moving ahead.

On reaching Thakur Sahib’s house, he quietly opened Viru’s room and went inside. He kept the chest under the bed and immediately came out, gently closing the door behind him, and returned home. Prakash felt as happy as the mythical Hanuman of the Ramayana, who, with great pride, had lifted the entire Dhaulagiri mountain to bring the life-giving sanjivani herb. At the time of taking the ornaments home, he had felt as if his soul was parched, as if he was falling down a deep, bottomless chasm. After returning the chest, he felt as if he was sitting in an airplane and soaring high up in the skies––higher and higher!

When he returned home, Viru was still asleep. He left the keys near his head.

7

Thakur Sahib left early in the morning.

Prakash used to go to teach in the evening. But on that day, out of impatience, he reached there at three. He wanted to see what was going on there that day.

Seeing him, Virendra happily said, ‘Bapuji, the party at your place was a great success. The ornaments that were stolen have been found.’

Thakur Sahib came in and said, ‘The party turned out to be auspicious. The whole chest has been found. Not a single item has been touched.’

How could Prakash believe these words till he saw the things in the chest himself? Has it ever happened that goods that were stolen six months ago have been returned as it is?

Seeing the chest, he said, ‘It is indeed a miracle. I am at my wits’ end.’

‘Everybody is puzzled. Viru’s mother says that it is a divine occurrence. From today I have also started having faith in gods.’

‘Had I not seen it with my own eyes I would never have believed it.’

‘To mark our happiness we will invite everyone for a party.’

‘You hadn’t performed any rituals, did you?’

‘Rituals? Several were done.’

‘Yes, then it is the result of it all.’

On coming home, he gave Champa the news. Hearing it, she ran and clung to him and, God knows why, started crying as if her estranged husband had come back home after many days.

Prakash said, ‘We are invited to their house today.’

‘Tomorrow I will feed one thousand poor people.’

‘You are making an expenditure of a few hundreds.’

‘I am so happy today that even if I spend a few lakhs it will not be enough.’

Tears rolled down Prakash’s face.

Translated from the Hindi by Anuradha Ghosh