Chapter I: Part 1

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Footnotes have been moved to follow the Scene in which they are referenced.

Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation.

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NIL DARPAN,
OR
THE INDIGO PLANTING MIRROR,

=A Drama.=

TRANSLATED FROM THE BENGALI

BY

A NATIVE.

------------------

_CALCUTTA_:

C. H. MANUEL, CALCUTTA PRINTING AND PUBLISHING PRESS, No. 10,
WESTON’S LANE, COSSITOLLAH.

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1861.

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INTRODUCTION.

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The original Bengali of this Drama—the NIL DARPAN, OR INDIGO PLANTING MIRROR—having excited considerable interest, a wish was expressed by various Europeans to see a translation of it. This has been made by a Native; both the original and translation are _bonâ fide_ Native productions and depict the Indigo Planting System as viewed by Natives at large.

The Drama is the favourite mode with the Hindus for describing certain states of society, manners, customs. Since the days of Sir W. Jones, by scholars at Paris, St. Petersburgh, and London, the Sanskrit Drama has, in this point of view, been highly appreciated. The Bengali Drama imitates in this respect its Sanskrit parent. The evils of Kulin Brahminism, widow marriage prohibition, quackery, fanaticism, have been depicted by it with great effect.

Nor has the system of Indigo planting escaped notice: hence the origin of this work, the NIL DARPAN, which, though exhibiting no marvellous or very tragic scenes, yet, in simple homely language, gives the “annals of the poor;” pleads the cause of those who are the feeble; it describes a respectable ryot, a peasant proprietor, happy with his family in the enjoyment of his land till the Indigo System compelled him to take advances, to neglect his own land, to cultivate crops which beggared him, reducing him to the condition of a serf and a vagabond; the effect of this on his home, children, and relatives are pointed out in language, plain but true; it shows how arbitrary power debases the lord as well as the peasant; reference is also made to the partiality of various Magistrates in favor of Planters and to the Act of last year penally enforcing Indigo contracts.

Attention has of late years been directed by Christian Philanthropists to the condition of the ryots of Bengal, their teachers, and the oppression which they suffer, and the conclusion arrived at is, that there is little prospect or possibility of ameliorating the mental, moral, or spiritual condition of the ryot without giving him security of landed-tenure. If the Bengal ryot is to be treated as a serf, or a mere squatter or day-labourer, the missionary, the school-master, even the Developer of the resources of India, will find their work like that of Sisyphus—vain and useless.

Statistics have proved that in France, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, Sweden, Denmark, Saxony, the education of the peasant, along with the security of tenure he enjoys on his small farms, has encouraged industrious, temperate, virtuous, and cleanly habits, fostered a respect for property, increased social comforts, cherished a spirit of healthy and active independence, improved the cultivation of the land, lessened pauperism, and has rendered the people averse to revolution, and friends of order. Even Russia is carrying out a grand scheme of serf-emancipation in this spirit.

It is the earnest wish of the writer of these lines that harmony may be speedily established between the Planter and the Ryot, that mutual interests may bind the two classes together, and that the European may be in the Mofussil the protecting Ægis of the peasants, who may be able “to sit each man under his mango and tamarind tree, none daring to make him afraid.”

THE AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

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I present “The Indigo Planting Mirror” to the Indigo Planters’ hands; now, let every one of them, having observed his face, erase the freckle of the stain of selfishness from his forehead, and, in its stead, place on it the sandal powder of beneficence, then shall I think my labour successful, good fortune for the helpless class of ryots, and preservation of England’s honor. Oh, ye Indigo Planters! Your malevolent conduct has brought a stain upon the English Nation, which was so graced by the ever-memorable names of Sydney, Howard, Hall, and other great men. Is your desire for money so very powerful, that through the instigation of that vain wealth, you are engaged in making holes like rust in the long acquired and pure fame of the British people? Abstain now from that unjust conduct through which you are raising immense sums as your profits; and then the poor people, with their families, will be able to spend their days in ease. You are now-a-days purchasing things worth a hundred rupees by expending only ten;—and you well know what great trouble the ryots are suffering from that. Still you are not willing to make that known, being entirely given up to the acquisition of money. You say, that some amongst you give donations to schools, and also medicine in time of need—but the Planters’ donations to schools are more odious than the application of the shoe for the destruction of a milch cow, and their grants of medicine are like unto mixing the inspissated milk in the cup of poison. If the application of a little turpentine after being beat by Shamchand,[1] be forming a dispensary, then it may be said that in every factory there is a dispensary. The Editors of two daily newspapers are filling their columns with your praises; and whatever other people may think, you never enjoy pleasure from it, since you know fully the reason of their so doing. What a surprising power of attraction silver has? The detestable Judas gave the great Preacher of the Christian religion, Jesus, into the hands of odious Pilate for the sake of thirty rupees; what wonder then, if the proprietors of two newspapers, becoming enslaved by the hope of gaining one thousand rupees, throw the poor helpless people of this land into the terrible grasp of your mouths. But _misery and happiness revolve like a wheel_, and that the sun of happiness is about to shed his light on the people of this country, is becoming very probable. The most kind-hearted Queen Victoria, the mother of the people, thinking it unadvisable to suckle her children through maid-servants, has now taken them on her own lap to nourish them. The most learned, intelligent, brave, and open-hearted Lord Canning is now the Governor-General of India; Mr. Grant, who always suffers in the sufferings of his people, and is happy when they are happy, who punishes the wicked and supports the good, has taken charge of the Lieutenant-Governorship, and other persons, as Messrs. Eden, Herschel, etc., who are, all well-known for their love of truth, for their great experience and strict impartiality, are continually expanding themselves lotus-like on the surface of the lake of the Civil Service. Therefore, it is becoming fully evident that these great men will very soon take hold of the rod of justice in order to stop the sufferings which the ryots are enduring from the great giant _Rahu_, the Indigo Planter.

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Footnote 1:

_Shamchand_ is an instrument made of leather, used by the Planters for
beating the ryots.

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PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

GOLUK CHUNDER BASU. |
NOBIN MADHAB } _Sons of Goluk Chunder_.
BINDU MADHAB }
SADHU CHURN—_A neighbouring Ryot_.
RAY CHURN—_Sadhu’s brother_.
GOPI CHURN DAS—_The Dewan_.
J. J. WOOD } _Indigo Planters_.
P. P. ROSE }
THE AMIN OR LAND MEASURER.
A KHALASI, _a Tent-pitcher_.
TAIDGIR—_Native Superintendent of Indigo Cultivation_.

Magistrate, Amla, Attorney, Deputy Inspector, Pundit, Keeper of
the Gaol, Doctor, a Cow-keeper, a Native Doctor, Four Boys, a
Latyal or Club-man, and a Herdsman.

WOMEN.

SABITRI—_Wife of Goluk Chunder_.
SOIRINDRI—_Wife of Nobin_.
SARALOTA—_Wife of Bindu Madhab_.
REBOTI—_Wife of Sadhu Churn_.
KHETROMANI—_Daughter of Sadhu_.
ADURI—_Maid-servant in Goluk Chunder’s house_.
PODI MOYRANI—_A Sweetmeat Maker_.

FIRST ACT—FIRST SCENE.
SVAROPUR—GOLUK CHUNDER’S GOLA OR STORE-HOUSE.

-------

GOLUK CHUNDER BASU _and_ SADHU CHURN _sitting_.

_Sadhu._ Master I told you then we cannot live any more in this
country. You did not hear me however. _A poor man’s word bears
fruit after the lapse of years._

_Goluk._ O my child! Is it easy to leave one’s country? My family
has been here for seven generations. The lands which our
fore-fathers rented have enabled us never to acknowledge ourselves
servants of others. The rice which grows, provides food for the
whole year, means of hospitality to guests, and also the expense
of religious services; the mustard seed we get, supplies oil for
the whole year, and, besides, we can sell it for about sixty or
seventy rupees. Svaropur is not a place where people are in
want.—It has rice, peas, oil, molasses from its fields, vegetables
in the garden, and fish from the tanks;—whose heart is not torn
when obliged to leave such a place? And who can do that easily?

_Sadhu._ Now it is no more a place of happiness: your garden is
already gone, and your relatives are on the point of forsaking
you. Ah! it is not yet three years since the Saheb took a lease of
this place, and he has already ruined the whole village. We cannot
bear to turn our eyes in the southern direction towards the house
of the heads of the villages (Mandal). Oh! what was it once, and
what is it now! Three years ago, about sixty men used to make a
daily feast in the house; there were ten ploughs, and about forty
or fifty oxen; as to the court-yard, it was crowded like as at the
horse races; when they used to arrange the ricks of corn, it
appeared, as it were, that the lotus had expanded itself on the
surface of a lake bordered by sandal groves; the granary was as
large as a hill; but last year the granary not being repaired, was
on the point of falling into the yard. Because he was not allowed
to plant Indigo in the rice-field, the wicked Saheb beat the
_Majo_ and _Sajo_ Babus most severely; and how very difficult was
it to get them out of his clutches; the ploughs and kine were
sold, and at that crisis the two Mandals left the village.

_Goluk._ Did not the eldest Mandal go to bring his brethren back?

_Sadhu._ They said, we would rather beg from door to door than go
to live there again. The eldest Mandal is now left alone, and he
has kept two ploughs, which are nearly always engaged in the
Indigo-fields. And even this person is making preparations for
flying off. Oh, Sir! I tell you also to throw aside this
infatuated attachment (_maya_) for your native place. Last time
your rice went, and this time, your honour will go.

_Goluk._ What honor remains to us now? The Planter has prepared
his places of cultivation round about the tank, and will plant
Indigo there this year. In that case, our women will be entirely
excluded from the tank. And also the Saheb has said that if we do
not cultivate our rice-fields with Indigo, he will make Nobin
Madhab to drink the water of seven Factories (_i. e._ to be
confined in them).

_Sadhu._ Has not the eldest Babu gone to the Factory?

_Goluk._ Has he gone of his own will? The pyeadah (a servant) has
carried him off there.

_Sadhu._ But your eldest Babu has very great courage. On the day
the Saheb said, “If you don’t hear the Amin, and don’t plant the
Indigo within the ground marked off, then shall we throw your
houses into the river Betraboti, and shall make you eat your rice
in the factory godown;“ the eldest Babu replied, “As long as we
shall not get the price for the fifty bigahs of land sown with
Indigo last year, we will not give one bigah this year for Indigo.
What do we care for our house? We shall even risk (pawn) our
lives.”

_Goluk._ What could he have done, without he said that? Just see,
no anxiety would have remained in our family if the fifty bigahs
of rice produce had been left with us. And if they give us the
money for the Indigo, the greater part of our troubles will go
away.

NOBIN MADHAB _enters._

O my son, What has been done?

_Nobin._ Sir, _does the cobra shrink from biting the little child
on the lap of its mother on account of the sorrow of the mother_?
I flattered him much, but: he understood nothing by that. He kept
to his word, and said, give us sixty bigahs of land, secured by
written documents, and take 50 Rupees, then we shall close the two
years’ account at once.

_Goluk._ Then, if we are to give sixty bigahs for the cultivation
of the Indigo, we cannot engage in any other cultivation whatever.
Then we shall die without rice crops.

_Nobin._ I said, “Saheb, as you engage all your men, our ploughs,
and our kine, every thing, in the Indigo field, only give us every
year through our food. We don’t want hire.” On which, he with a
laugh said, “You surely don’t eat Yaban’s[2] rice.”

_Sadhu._ Those whose only pay is a belly full of food are, I
think, happier than we are.

_Goluk._ We have nearly abandoned all the ploughs; still we have
to cultivate Indigo. We have no chance in a dispute with the
Sahebs. They bind and beat us, it is for us to suffer. We are
consequently obliged to work.

_Nobin._ I shall do as you order, Sir; but my design is for once
to bring action into Court.

ADURI _enters._

_Aduri._ Our Mistress is making noise within; the day is far
advanced; will you not go to bathe, and take your food. The boiled
rice is very near become dry.

_Sadhu._ (_Standing up._) Sir, decide something about this, or I
shall die. If we give the labour of one-and-a-half of our ploughs
for the cultivation of nine bigahs of Indigo-fields, our boiling
pots of rice will go empty. Now, I am going away, Sir, farewell,
our oldest Babu.

(_Sadhu goes away._)

_Goluk._ We don’t think that God will any more allow us to bathe
and to take food in this land. Now, my son, go and bathe.

(_All go away._)

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Footnote 2:

The Mahomedans and all other nations who are not Hindus, are
called by that name.

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FIRST ACT—SECOND SCENE.
THE HOUSE OF SADHU CHURN.

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RAY CHURN _enters with his plough_.

_Ray._ (_Holding his plough._) The stupid Amin is a tiger. The
violence with which he came upon me! Oh my God! I thought that he
was coming to devour me. That villain did not hear a single word
and with force he marked off the ground. If they take five bigahs
of land, what will my family eat. First, we will shed tears before
them; if they don’t let us alone, as a matter of course, we shall
leave the country.

KHETROMANI _enters_.

Is my brother come home?

_Khetra._ Father is gone to the house of the Babu’s and is coming
very soon. Will you not go to call my aunt? What were you talking
about?

_Ray._ I am talking of nothing. Now, bring me a little water, my
stomach is on the point of bursting from thirst. I told my
brother-in-law[3] so much, but he did not hear me.

SADHU _enters, and_ KHETROMANI _goes away_.

_Sadhu._ Ray, why did you come so early?

_Ray._ O my brother, the vile Amin has marked off the piece of
ground in Sanpoltola. What shall we eat; and how shall I pass the
year? Ah, our land was bright as the golden champah.[4] By the
produce of only one corner of the field, we satisfied the
mahajans. What shall we eat now, and what shall our children take?
This large family may die without food. Every morning two _recas_
(nearly 5 lbs) of rice are necessary. What shall we eat then? Oh,
my Ill-fortune! Ill-fortune (burnt forehead)! what has the Indigo
of this white man done?

_Sadhu._ We were living in the hope of cultivating those bigahs of
land; and now, if these are gone, than what use is there of
remaining here any more. And the one or two bigahs which are
become saltish, they yield no produce. Again, the ploughs are to
remain in the Indigo-field; and what can we do. Don’t weep now;
to-morrow we shall sell off the ploughs and cows, leave this
village, and go and live in the Zemindary of Babu Basanta.

KHETROMANI _and_ REBOTI _enter with water_.

Now, drink the water, drink the water; what do you fear? He who
has given life, will provide also food. Now, what did you say to
the Amin?

_Ray._ What can I say? He began to mark off the ground, on which
it seemed as if he began to _thrust burnt sticks_ _into my
breast_, I entreated, holding him by his feet, and wanted to give
him money; but he heard nothing. He said, go to your eldest Babu;
go to your father. When I returned, I only punished him with
saying, “I shall bring this before the Court.”

(_Seeing the Amin at a distance._)

Just see, that villain (_Shálá_) is coming; he has brought
servants with him, and will take us to the Factory.

_The_ AMIN _and the two Servants enter_.

_Amin._ Bind the hands of this villain.

(_Ray Churn is bound by the two Servants._)

_Reboti._ Oh! What is this? Why do they bind him? What ruin! What
ruin! (_to Sadhu_) Why do you stand looking on? Go to the house of
the Babus, and call the eldest Babu here.

_Amin._ (_To Sadhu._) Where shalt thou go now? You are also to go
with me. To take advances is not the business of Ray. We shall
have much to bear with if we are to make signature by cross marks.
And because you know how to read and to write, therefore you must
go and make the signatures in the Factory Account-book.

_Sadhu._ Sir, do you call this giving advances for Indigo; would
it not be better to call it the _cramming down_ Indigo?[5] Oh! my
Ill-fortune, you are still with me. That very blow through fear of
which I fled, I have to bear again. This land was as the Kingdom
of Rama before Indigo was established; but the ignorant fool is
become a beggar, and famine has come upon the land.

_Amin._ (_To himself observing Khetromani._) This young woman is
not bad-looking; if our younger Saheb can get her, he will, with
his whole heart, take her. But while I was unable to succeed in
getting a peshkar’s (overseer’s) post by giving him my own sister,
what can I expect from getting him this woman; but still she is
very beautiful; I will try.

_Reboti._ Khetra, go into the room.

(_Khetromani goes away._)

_Amin._ Now, Sadhu, if you want to come in a proper manner, come
with me to the Factory.

(_Going forward._)

_Reboti._ Oh Amin! have you no wife nor children? Have you kept
only the plough and this beating (_márpit_)? Did he not want to
drink a little water? By this time he ought to take a second meal,
how can he then, without taking any food, go to the Saheb’s house
which is at such a distance. I ask for the Saheb’s grace; just let
him have some food; and then take him away. Oh! he is so very much
troubled for his wife and his children. Oh! he is shedding tears,
his face is become dry. What are you doing? To what a burnt-up
land am I come? Destruction has come upon me both in life and
money. Oh! Oh! Oh! I am gone both in life and money. (_Weeps._)

_Amin._ Oh, stupid woman! Now stop your grunting. If you want to
give water, bring it soon; else I shall take him away. (_Ray Churn
drinks water; exit all._)

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Footnote 3:

Here the word is used sarcastically; and is taken to mean the
brother of the wife.

Footnote 4:

The name of a beautiful yellow flower.

Footnote 5:

There is a play here an the words _Dádan_ and _Gádan_.

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FIRST ACT—THIRD SCENE.
THE FACTORY OF BEGUNBARI. THE VERANDA OF THE LARGE BUNGALOW.

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_Enter_ J. J. WOOD _and_ GOPI CHURN DAS, _the Dewan_.

_Gopi._ What fault have I done, my Lord? You are observing me day
by day. I begin to move about early in the morning, and return
home at three o’Clock in the afternoon.

Again, immediately after taking dinner, I sit down to look over
papers about Indigo advances; and that takes my time to twelve and
sometimes to one o’Clock in the night.

_Wood._ You, rascal, are very inexperienced. There are no advances
made in Svaropur, Shamanagar, and Santighata villages. You will
never learn without Shamchand, (the leather strap).

_Gopi._ My Lord I am your servant. It is through favour only that
you have raised me from the _peshkári_ business to the Dewani. You
are my only Lord, you can either kill me or can cut me in pieces.
Certain powerful enemies have arisen against this Factory; and
without their punishment, there is no cultivation of Indigo.

_Wood._ How can I punish without knowing them? As for money,
horses, latyals (club-men), I have a sufficiency; can they not be
punished by these? The former Dewan made known to me about those
enemies. You do not. I have scourged those wicked people, taken
away their kine, and kept their wives in confinement, which is a
very severe punishment for them. You are a very great fool; you
know nothing at all. The business of the Dewan is not that of the
Kayt caste; I shall drive you off, and give the business to a
Keaot.

_Gopi._ My Lord, although I am by caste a Káystha, I do my work
like a Keaot (a shoe-maker). The service which I have rendered in
stopping the rice cultivation and making the Indigo to grow in the
field of the Mollahs, and also to take (_lákhraj_) his rent-free
lands of seven generations from Goluk Chunder Bose, and to take
away the iron crow[6] from the Government; the work I have done
for these, I can dare say, can never be done by a Keaot (a
shoemaker). It is my ill-fortune only (evil forehead) that I don’t
get the least praise for doing so much.

_Wood._ That fool, Nobin Madhab, wants the whole account settled.
I shall not give him a single cowrie. That fellow is very well
versed in the affairs of the Court; but I shall see, how that
braggart takes the advances from me.

_Gopi._ Sir, he is one of the principal enemies of this Factory.
The burning down of Polasapore would never have been proved, had
Nobin no concern in the matter. That fool himself prepared the
draft of the petition; and it was through his advice and intrigues
that the Attorney so turned the mind of the Judge. Again, it was
through his intrigues that our former Dewan was confined for two
years. I forbade him, saying, “Babu Nobin, don’t act against our
Saheb; and, especially as he has not burnt your house.” To which
he replied, “I have enlisted myself in order to save the poor
ryots. I shall think myself highly rewarded, if I can preserve one
poor ryot from the tortures of the cruel Indigo Planters; and
throwing this Dewan into prison, I shall have compensation for my
garden.” That braggart is become like a Christian Missionary; and
I cannot say what preparations he is making this time.

_Wood._ You are afraid. Did I not tell you at first, you are very
ignorant? No work is to be done through you.

_Gopi._ Saheb, what signs of fear hast thou seen in me? When I
have entered on this Indigo profession, I have thrown off all
fear, shame, and honor; and the destroying of cows, of Brahmins,
of women, and the burning down of houses are become my ornaments,
and I now lie down in bed keeping the jail as my pillow (_thinking
of it_).

_Wood._ I do not want words, but works.

SADHU RAY, _the_ AMIN, _and the two Servants enter, making
salams_.

Why are this wicked fool’s hands bound with cords?

_Gopi._ My Lord, this Sadhu Churn is a head ryot; but through the
enticement of Nobin Bose he has been led to engage in the
destruction of Indigo.

_Sadhu._ My Lord, I do nothing unjust against your Indigo, nor am
I doing now, neither have I power to do any thing wrong; willingly
or unwillingly I have prepared the Indigo, and also I am ready to
make it this time. But then, every thing has its probability and
improbability; if you want to make powder of eight inches’
thickness to enter a pipe half-an-inch thick, will it not burst? I
am a poor ryot, keep only one-and-a-half ploughs, have only twenty
bigahs of land for cultivation; and now, if I am to give nine
bigahs out of that for Indigo, that must occasion my death, but my
Lord, what is that to you, it is only my death.

_Gopi._ The Saheb fears lest you keep him confined in the godown
of your eldest Babu.

_Sadhu._ Now, Sir Dewanji, _what you say is striking a corpse_
(useless labor). What mite am I that I shall imprison the Saheb,
the mighty and glorious.

_Gopi._ Sadhu, now away with your high flown language; it does not
sound well on the tongue of a peasant; it is like a sweeper’s
broom touching the body.

_Wood._ Now the rascal is become very wise.

_Amin._ That fool explains the laws and magistrate’s orders to the
common people, and thus raises confusion. His brother draws the
ploughshare, and he uses the high word _pratápsháli_ “glorious.”

_Gopi._ The child of the preparer of cow-dung balls is become a
Court Naeb (deputy). My Lord, the establishment of schools in
villages has increased the violence of the ryots.

_Wood._ I shall write to our Indigo Planters’ Association to make
a petition to the Government for stopping the schools in villages;
we shall fight to secure stopping the schools.

_Amin._ That fool wants to bring the case into Court.

_Wood._ (_To Sadhu_) You are very wicked. You have twenty bigahs,
of which, if you employ nine bigahs for Indigo, why can’t you
cultivate the other nine bigahs for rice.

_Gopi._ My Lord, the debt which is credited to him can be made use
of for bringing the whole twenty bigahs within our own power.

_Sadhu._ (_To himself_) O oh! _the witness for the spirit-seller
is the drunkard?_ (_Openly_) If the nine bigahs which are marked
off for the cultivation of the Indigo were worked by the plough
and kine of the Factory, then can I use the other nine bigahs for
rice. The work which is to be done in the rice-field is only a
fourth of that which is necessary in the Indigo-field,
consequently if I am to remain engaged in these nine bigahs, the
remaining eleven bigahs will be without cultivation.

_Wood._ You, dolt, are very wicked, you scoundrel (_háramjádá_);
you must take the money in advance; you must cultivate the land;
you are a very scoundrel (_kicks him_). You shall leave off every
thing when you meet with Shamchand (_takes Shamchand from the
wall._)

_Sadhu._ My Lord, _the hand is only blackened by killing a fly_,
_i. e._, your beating me only injures you. I am too mean. We—

_Ray._ (_Angrily_) O my brother, you had better stop; let them
take what they can; our very stomach is on the point of falling
down from hunger. The whole day is passed, we have not yet been
able either to bathe or to take our food.

_Amin._ O rascal, where is your Court now? (_Twists his ears_).

_Ray._ (_With violent panting_). I now die! My mother! my mother!

_Wood._ Beat that “bloody nigger,” (_beats with Shamchand, the
leather strap_).

_Enter_ NOBIN MADHAB.

_Ray._ O thou Babu! I am dying! Give me some water. I am just
dead!

_Nobin._ Saheb they have not bathed, neither have they taken the
least food. The members of their family have not yet washed their
faces. If you thus destroy your ryots by flogging them, who will
prepare your Indigo? This Sadhu Churn prepared the produce of
about four bigahs last year with the greatest trouble possible;
and if with such severe beatings you make such cruel advances to
them, that is only your loss. For this day give them leave, and
to-morrow I myself shall bring them with me, and do as thou do’st
bid me.

_Wood._ Attend to your own business. What concern have you with
another’s affairs. Sadhu, give your opinion quickly, as it is my
dinner time.

_Sadhu._ What is the use of waiting for my opinion? You have
already marked off the four bigahs of the most productive land;
and the Amin has, to-day, marked off the remaining part. The land
is marked without my consent, the Indigo shall be prepared in the
same way; and I also agree to prepare it without taking any
advances.

_Wood._ Do you say my advances are all fictitious you cursed
wretch, bastard and heretic, (_beats him_).

_Nobin._ (_Covers with his hand the back of Sadhu_). My Lord, this
poor man has many to support in his family. Owing to the beating
he has got, I think, he will be confined in bed for a month. Oh!
What pains his family is suffering? Sir, you have also your
family. Now, what sorrow would affect the mind of your wife if you
were taken prisoner at your dinner-time?

_Wood._ Be silent thou fool, braggart, low fellow, cow-eater.
Don’t think that this Magistrate is like that one of Amaranagara,
that you can, for every word, lay complaints before him, and
imprison the men of the Factory. The Magistrate of Indrabad is as
death to you. You rascal, you must first give me a hand-note to
state you have received the advance for sixty bigahs of land, or
else I shall not let you go this day. I shall break your head with
this Shamchand, you stupid. It is owing to your not taking
advances, that I have not been able to force advances on ten other
villages.

_Nobin._ (_With heavy sighs._) O my Mother Earth! separate
yourself that I may enter into you. In my life I never suffered
such an insult. O, oh!

_Gopi._ Babu Nobin, better go home, no use of making fuss.

_Nobin._ Sadhu, call on God, He is the only support of the
helpless.

(_Nobin Madhab goes away._)

_Wood._ Thou slave of the slave. Take him to the Factory, Dewan,
and give him the advance according to rule.

(_Wood goes away._)

_Gopi._ Sadhu, come along to the Factory. Does the Saheb forget
his words?

Now _ashes have fallen on your ready-made rice_; the Yama[7] of
Indigo has attacked you, and you have no safety.

-----

Footnote 6:

An instrument made use of for breaking down buildings.

Footnote 7:

Yama is Death, the king of terror.

-----

----------

FIRST ACT—FOURTH SCENE.
GOLUK CHUNDER BASU’S HALL.

-------

_Enter_ SOIRINDRI _preparing a hair-string_.

_Soirindri._ I never did prepare such a piece of hair-string. The
youngest Bou[8] is the most fortunate, since whatever I do in her
name proves successful. The hair-string I have made, is the
thinnest possible. According to the hair, the hair-string is made.
Oh! how beautiful the hair is; it is like unto that of the Goddess
Kali. The face is as the lotus, always smiling. People may say
whatever they choose to one whom they do not like. I don’t attend
to that. For my part, I feel pleasure when I see the face of the
youngest Bou. I consider the youngest Bou in the same light, as I
do Bipin. The youngest Bou loves me as her own mother.

SARALOTA _enters with a braid in her hand_.

_Saralota._ My sister, just see whether I have been able to make
the under part of this braid? Is it not made?

_Soirindri._ (_Seeing the braid._) Yes, now it is well made. O! my
sister, this part is made somewhat bad; the yellow does not look
well after the red colour.

_Saralota._ I wove it by observing your braid.

_Soirindri._ Is the yellow after the red in that?

_Saralota._ No; in that the green is after the red. But because my
green thread is finished, therefore I placed the yellow after
that.

_Soirindri._ You were not able, I see, to wait for the market-day.
I see, my sister, every thing is in haste with you. As it is said,
“_Hurry is in Brindabun; but as soon as the desire rises, there is
no more waiting._”[9]

_Saralota._ Oh! What fault have I committed for that? Can that be
got in the market? At the last market-day, my mother-in-law sent
for it; but that was not got.

_Soirindri._ When they write a letter this time to my husband’s
brother, we shall send to ask for threads of various colours.

_Saralota._ Sister, how many days are there still remaining of
this month?

_Soirindri._ (_Laughingly._) On the place where the pain is, the
hand touches. As soon as his[10] College closes, he shall come
home, therefore you are counting the days. Ah! my sister, your
mind’s words are come out.

_Saralota._ I say truly, my sister; I never meant that.

_Soirindri._ How very good-natured our Bindu Madhab is? His words
are honey. When we hear his letters read, they _rain like drops of
nectar_. I never saw such love towards one’s brother as his; and
also his brother shows the greatest affection for him. When he
hears the name of Bindu Madhab, his heart overflows with joy, and
it becomes, as it were, expanded. Also, as he is, so our Saralota
is, (_pressing Saralota’s cheek_) Saralota is _as honesty itself_
(_Saralota_). Have I not brought with me my huká? I see, that as I
cannot remain without it for a moment, that is the first thing
which I have forgotten to bring along with me.

_Enter_ ADURI.

Aduri, will you just go and bring me some ashes of tobacco?

_Aduri._ Where shall I now seek for it?

_Soirindri._ It is stuck on the thatched roof of the cook-room, on
the right side of the steps leading into the room.

_Aduri._ Then, let me bring the ladder from the threshing floor;
else how can I reach to the roof?

_Saralota._ Very well.

_Soirindri._ Why can she not understand our mother-in-law’s word?
Don’t you understand what steps are, and what Dain[11] signifies?

_Aduri._ Why shall I become a Dain; it is my fate. _As soon as a
poor woman becomes old and her teeth fall out_ _she is immediately
called a Dain._ I shall speak of this to our mistress; am I become
so old as to be called a Dain?

_Soirindri._ (_Rising up._) Youngest Bou, sit down, I am coming;
to-day we shall hear the Betal of Vidyeasagar.

(_Soirindri goes away._)

_Aduri._ That Sagar allows marriage to the widows; fie! fie! Are
there not two parties to that? I am of the Ajah’s[12] party.

_Saralota._ Aduri, did your husband love you well?

_Aduri._ O young Haldarni, do not raise that word of sorrow now.
Even up to this day, when his face comes before my mind’s eye, my
heart, as it were, bursts with sorrow. He loved me very much. And
he even wanted to give me a daughter-in-law. He even did not give
me time to sleep. Whenever I felt drowsy, he said, “O my love, are
you sleeping.”

_Saralota._ Did you call him by his name?

_Aduri._ Fie! fie! fie! The husband is one’s Lord. Is it proper to
call him by his name?

_Saralota._ Then, how did you call him?

_Aduri._ I used to say, “O! do you hear me.”

_Enter_ SOIRINDRI _again_.

_Soirindri._ Who has irritated this fool again?

_Aduri._ She was inquiring after my husband, therefore I was
speaking with her.

_Soirindri._ (_Laughing._) I never saw a greater fool than this
our youngest Bou. While having so many subjects of talk, still you
are exciting Aduri in order to hear from her about her husband.

_Enter_ REBOTI _and_ KHETROMANI.

Welcome, my dear sister, I have been sending for you for these
many days; still I see, you don’t get time to come. O our youngest
Bou, here take your Khetra; here she is come. She was troubling me
for these days, saying, My sister Khetra, of the Ghose family, is
come from her father-in-law’s house; then, why is she not yet
coming to our house?

_Reboti._ Yes, such is your love towards us. Khetra, bow down
before your aunt.

(_Khetromani bows down._)

_Soirindri._ Remain with your husband for life; wear vermillion
even in your white hair; let your iron circlet[13] continue for
ever, and the next time you go to your father-in-law’s house, take
your new-born son with you.

_Aduri._ The young Haldarni speaks most fluently before me; but
this young girl bowed down before her; and she spoke not a single
word.

_Soirindri._ Oh! what of that. Aduri, just go and call our
mother-in-law here.

(_Aduri goes out._)

The fool knows not what she says. For how many months is she[14]
with child?

_Reboti._ Did I yet express that? The bad turn of my fortune
(_broken forehead_) is such, that I yet cannot say whether that is
actually the case or not? It is because that you are very familiar
with us, that I tell it you: at the end of this month she will be
in her fourth month.

_Saralota._ Khetra, why did you cut off the curls of your hair?

_Khetro._ The elder brother of my husband was much displeased at
seeing the curls in my hair. Our mistress said, that curls agree
best with prostitutes and women of rich families. I was so much
ashamed at hearing his words, that from that very day I cut off my
curls.

_Soirindri._ Youngest Bou, the shades of evening are spreading
about; just go, my sister, and bring the clothes.

_Enter_ ADURI _again_.

_Saralota._ (_Standing up._) Aduri, come with me; let us go up,
and bring down the clothes.

_Aduri._ Let young Haldar first come home, ha! ha! ha!

(_Ashamed, Saralota goes away._)

_Soirindri._ (_With anger, yet laughing._) Go thou unfortunate
fool; at every word, you joke. Where is my mother-in-law?

_Enters_ SABITRI.

Yes, she is come.

_Sabitri._ Ghose Bou, art thou come, and hast thou brought your
daughter with you? Yes, you have done well. Bipin was making
noise, therefore, I sent him out and am come here.

_Reboti._ My mother, I bow down before you. Khetra, bow down
before your grand-mother. (_Khetromani bows down._)

_Sabitri._ Be happy, be the mother of seven sons. (_Coughing
aside._) My eldest Bou, just go into the room, I think my son is
up. Oh! my son has no regular time for bathing, neither for taking
food. My Nobin is become very weak by mere vain thoughts—(_aside_,
“Aduri”) Oh! my daughter, go in soon, I think, he is asking for
water.

_Soirindri._ (_Aside, to Aduri._) Aduri, calling for you.

_Aduri._ Calling for me, but asking for you.

_Soirindri._ Thou burnt-faced. Sister Ghose meet me another day.

(_Exit Soirindri._)

_Reboti._ O my mother, here is none else. Some great danger has
fallen upon me, that Podi Moyrani came to our house yesterday.

_Sabitri._ Rama! Rama! Rama! who allows that nasty fool to enter
his house? What is left of her virtue? She has only to write her
name in the public notices.

_Reboti._ My mother, but what shall I do! My house is not an
enclosed one. When our males go to take dinner outside, the house
is no more a house; but you may call it a mart. That strumpet says
(I do shrink at the thought), she says, that the young Saheb is
become, as it were, mad at seeing Khetromani; and wants to see her
in the Factory.

_Aduri._ Fye! fye! fye! bad smell of the onion! Can we go to the
Saheb. Fye! fye! bad smell of the onion! I shall never be out any
more alone. I can bear every other thing, but the smell of the
onion I can never bear. Fye! fye! bad smell of the onion!

_Reboti._ But, my mother, is not the virtue of the poor actual
virtue? That fool[15] says, he will give money, give grants of
lands for the cultivation of rice; and also give some employment
to our son-in-law. Fie! fie! to money. Is virtue something to be
sold? Has it any price? What can I say? That fool was an agent of
the Saheb, or else I would have broken her mouth with one kick. My
daughter is become thunder-struck from yesterday; and now and
then, she is starting with fear.

_Aduri._ Oh, the Beard! When he speaks, it is like a he-goat
twisting about its mouth. For my part, I would never be able to go
there as long as he does not leave off his onions and beard. Fie!
fie! fie! the bad smell of the onion.

_Reboti._ Mother, again that unfortunate fool says, if you do not
send her with me, I shall take her away by certain latyals.

_Sabitri._ What more is the Burmese (Mug) power? Can anyone take
away a woman from a house in the British Dominion?

_Reboti._ O my Mother! Every violence can be committed in the
ryot’s house. Taking away the women, they bring the men under
their power. In giving advances for Indigo they can do this; only
they cannot commit this before one’s eyes. Don’t you know, my
mother, the other day, because certain parties did not agree to
sign a fictitious receipt of advances, they broke down their house
and took away by force the wife of one of the Babus.

_Sabitri._ What anarchy is this! Did you inform Sadhu of this?

_Reboti._ No, my mother. He is already become mad on account of
the Indigo; again, if he hear this, will he keep quiet? Through
excessive anger he will rather smite his head with the axe.

_Sabitri._ Very well, I shall make this known to Sadhu, through my
husband; you need not say anything. What misfortune is this! The
Indigo Planters can do anything. Then why do I hear it generally
said, that the Sahebs are strict in dispensing justice. Again, my
son Bindu Madhab speaks much in praise of them. Therefore I think
that _these are not Sahebs_; no, _they are the dregs_, (_Chandál_)
_of Sahebs_.

_Reboti._ Respecting another word which Moyrani has said, I think
the eldest Babu has not heard of it—that a new order has been
proclaimed, by which the wicked Sahebs, by opening a communication
with the Magistrate, can throw any one into prison for six months;
again, that they are making preparations for doing the same with
the Babus.

_Sabitri._ (_Sighing deeply._) If this be in the mind of God it
will be.

_Reboti._ Many other things she said, my mother; but I was not
able to understand her. Is it the fact, that there is no appeal
when once a person is imprisoned?

_Aduri._ I think, the wretch has aggravated this imprisoning.

_Sabitri._ Aduri, be silent a little, my child.

_Reboti._ Moreover, the wife of the Indigo Planter, in order to
make her husband’s case strong (_pakka_), has sent a letter to the
Magistrate, since it is said that the Magistrate hears her words
most attentively.

_Aduri._ I saw the lady; she has no shame at all. When the
Magistrate of the Zillah (whose name occasions great terror) goes
riding about through the village, the lady also rides on
horseback, with him.—The Bou riding about on a horse! Because the
aunt of Kesi once laughed before the elder brother of her husband,
all people ridiculed her; while this was the Magistrate of the
Zillah.

_Sabitri._ I see, wretched woman, thou wilt occasion some great
misfortune one day. Now it is evening, Ghose Bou, better go home.
There is Durga.

_Reboti._ Now, I go my mother. I shall buy some oil from the shop;
then there will be light in the house.

(_Exit Reboti and Khetromani._)

_Sabitri._ Can’t you remain without speaking something at every
word.

_Enter_ SARALOTA _with clothes on her head_.

_Aduri._ Here, our washerwoman is come with her clothes.

_Sabitri._ Thou fool, why is she a washerwoman? _She is my Bou of
gold, my Goddess of good Fortune_ (_patting her back_). Is there
no one in my family excepting you to bring down the clothes? Can’t
you, for one dunda[16] sit quiet in one place? Art thou born of
such a mad woman? How did you tear off your cloth. I think you
bruised yourself. Ah, her body is, as it were, a red lotus; and
this one bruise has made the blood to come out with violence. Now,
my daughter, I tell you, never move up and down the steps in the
dark, in such a manner.

_Enter_ SOIRINDRI.

_Soirindri._ Now, our young Bou, let us go to the ghát.

_Sabitri._ Now, my daughters, while the evening light continues,
you two together go and wash yourselves.

(_Exit all._)

-----

Footnote 8:

This is a term which is applied to one’s son’s wife; but
sometimes, though rarely, it means wife.

Footnote 9:

This is only a quotation, explaining, by an example, the
eagerness of the mind when the desire in once excited.

Footnote 10:

This pronoun “his” refers to the husband of Saralota.

Footnote 11:

This is a Bengali term signifying sometimes _right_ and
sometimes _a witch_.

Footnote 12:

The word Rajah is here pronounced in an odd form; and it has
reference to those rajahs who were against widow marriage. As
the word is pronounced by a woman of the lower class, it is
spelt here incorrectly.

Footnote 13:

The iron circlet worn by a woman on her left hand, is the mark
or sign of the husband being alive.

Footnote 14:

Referring to Khetromani.

Footnote 15:

Referring to Podi Moyrani (sweet-meat maker).

Footnote 16:

A dunda is equal to 24 English minutes.

-----

----------

SECOND ACT—FIRST SCENE.
THE GODOWN OF BEGUNBARI FACTORY.

-------

_Torapa and four other Ryots sitting._

_Torapa._ Why do they not kill me at once? I can never show myself
ungrateful. That eldest Babu, who has preserved my caste; he
through whose influence I am living here; he, who by preserving my
plough and the cows, is preserving my life,—shall I by giving
false evidence throw the father of that Babu into prison? I can
never do that; I would rather give my life.

_First Ryot._ _Before sticks there can be no words_; the stroke of
Shamchand is a very terrible thrust. Have we a film on our eyes;
did we not serve our eldest Babu? But, then, what can we do? If we
do not give evidence they will never keep us as we are. Wood Saheb
stood upon my breast and blood began to fall drop by drop. _And
the feet of the horse were, as it were, the hoofs of the ox._

_Second Ryot._ Thrusting in the nails; don’t you know the nails
which are stuck under the shoes worn by the Sahebs?

_Torapa._ (_Grinding his teeth with anger._) Why do you speak of
the nails? My heart is bursting with having seen this blood. What
do I say? If I can once get him in the Vataramari field, with one
slap I can raise him in the air; and at once put a stop to all his
“gad dams” and other words of chastisement.

_Third Ryot._ I am only a hireling, and keep men under me. When I
heard about the plan which our master formed, I immediately
refused to take any Indigo business on my hand, saying I shall
never work for that. Why was I then confined in the godown? I
thought that serving under him at this time, I shall be able to
make a good collection and shall be able to attend to my friend;
but I am rotting here in this place for five days, and again I am
to go to that Andarabad.

_Second Ryot._ I went to that Andarabad once or twice; as also to
that Factory of Bhabnapore, every one speaks good of the Saheb of
that place; that Saheb once sent me to the Court, then I saw many
things pleasant in that place.

_Torapa._ Did he find any fault with you? The Saheb of Bhabnapore
never raises a false disturbance. “_By speaking the truth, we
shall ride on horseback._” Had all Sahebs been of the same
character with him, then none would have spoken ill of the Sahebs.

_Second Ryot._ My heart over-flows with joy.

Now his torturing is all put a stop to. In his godown there are
now seven persons; one of them a child. The vile man has filled
his house also with kine and calves. Oh, what robbery is he
carrying on!

_Torapa._ As soon as they get a Saheb who is a good man they want
to destroy him. They are holding a meeting to drive off the
Magistrate.

_Second Ryot._ I cannot understand whether they have found fault
with the Magistrate of this or the other Zillah?

_Torapa._ He did not go to dine in the Factory. They prepared a
dinner for the Magistrate, in order to get him within their power,
but the Magistrate _concealed himself like a stolen cow_; he did
not go to dinner. He is a person of a good family. Why should he
go to the Indigo Planters? We have now understood, these Planters
are the low people of Belata.[17]

_First Ryot._ Then how did the late Governor Saheb go about all
the Indigo Factories, being feasted like a bride-groom just before
the celebration of the marriage.[18] Did you not see that the
Planter Sahebs brought him to this Factory well-adorned like a
bride-groom?

_Second Ryot._ I think he has some share in this Indigo Company.

_Torapa._ No! can the Governor take a share in Indigo affairs? He
came to increase his fame. If God preserve our present Governor,
then we shall be able to procure something for our sustenance; and
the great burden of Indigo shall no more hang on our shoulders.

_Third Ryot._ (_With fear._) I die. If the ghost of this burden
once attack a person, is it true that it does not quit him soon?
My wife said so.

_Torapa._ Why have you brought this my brother here? For fear of
the Sahebs, people are leaving the village; and my uncle
Bochoroddi has formed the following sentence:

“The man with eyes like those of the cat, is an ignorant fool;
“So the Indigo of the Indigo Factory is an instrument of
punishment.”

Bochoroddi is very expert in forming such sentences.

_Second Ryot._ Did not you hear another sentence which was
composed by Nitá Atai?

“The Missionaries have destroyed the caste;
The Factory monkeys have destroyed the rice.”

_Torapa._ Aola Nochen has composed “Destroyed the Caste,” what is
it?

_Second Ryot._

“The Missionaries have destroyed the caste;
The Factory monkeys have destroyed the rice.”

_Fourth Ryot._ Ha! I do not know what is taking place in my house;
I am become the inhabitant of three villages at once. I came away
to Svaropur, and through the advice of Bose, I threw away the
advance which was offered me. When my young child was sick I came
to Bose to get from him a little sugar-candy. Ah! how very kind he
was; how agreeable and good-looking in countenance I found him;
and sitting as solemn as an elephant.

_Torapa._ How many bigahs have they given this year?

_Fourth Ryot._ Last year I prepared ten bigahs; but as to the
price of that, they raised great confusion. This year again, they
have given advances for fifteen bigahs; and I am doing exactly as
they are ordering me; still, they leave not off insulting me.

_First Ryot._ I am laboring with my plough for these two years,
and I have cultivated a little piece of ground. That piece of
ground which I prepared this year, I kept for sesamum; but one
day, our young Saheb, riding on his horse, came to the place, and
waiting there himself, took possession of the whole piece. How can
the ryots live if this is to continue?

_Torapa._ This is only the intrigue of the wicked Amin. Does the
Saheb know every thing about land? This fool goes about like a
revengeful dog: when he sees any good piece of land, he
immediately gives notice of it to the Saheb. The Saheb has no want
of money, and he has no need for borrowing money on credit. Then,
why is it that the fool does so; if he have to cultivate Indigo,
let him do so; let him buy oxen; let him prepare ploughs; if he
cannot guide the plough himself, let him keep men under him. What
want have you of lands? If you can cultivate the whole village;
and we do not refuse to give the village. In that case the land
can overflow with Indigo in two years. But he will not do it.

—(_Aside, ho! ho! ho! má! má!_) Gazi-Saheb! Gazi-Saheb! Durga!
Durga![19] call your Rama. Within this there are ghosts. Be
silent, be silent.