The Salt Inspector

When the Department of Salt came into being and imposed restrictions on the natural resource, people started to trade it in the black market. All kinds of lies and deceit were used for this – some bribed for salt, while others cheated and stole. Meanwhile, the authorities benefitted by raking in huge sums of money. Men were ready to give up their respectable jobs as accountants and settle for being a low-level security guard at the Department. Even lawyers greedily eyed the role of the Salt Inspector.

This was a time when English education and the Christian faith were indistinguishable from one another. Persian was still a popular language – the lores of love and hymns of faith appointed Persian poets to the highest honours. Munshi Vanshidhar, besides Julekha’s chronicles of bravery, also relished the love stories of Majnu and Farhad, the battles of Neel and Nal, and the marvellous discoveries of the Americans. And once he had his fill of stories, Munshi set out in search of a job.

His father was a sentimental man. In a pitiful voice, he said, ‘Beta, do you see the sorry state of this house? We are burdened by debt. The girls are growing up like weeds. I’m no better than a tree growing along a ledge. Who knows when I will collapse? You are now the breadwinner of the family. Do not worry about the post, any workplace is as holy as a saint’s shrine. Your eyes should be set on rising in ranks, that will be the chaadar that makes the shrine look beautiful. Look for a job where you can earn on the side, you know, under the table. A salary is like a full moon, clearly visible for a night until it rapidly wanes into the dark. Whereas the money you earn on the side is like a flowing stream, it will quench your thirst. Salaries are given by men, they are of no use. The surplus cash is a blessing from the Almighty, a gift. You are smart enough, I do not need to tell you all this. One has to be wise to have a grip on such things. Keep an eye out for people, their needs and hardships, and the opportunities they present. Do what you feel is right. Selfish people must be dealt with with a strong hand. But it is the obstinate fools who are more difficult to understand. Always remember what I just told you. This is what I have learned in my long years of hardships.’

Munshi’s father wound up the sermon by blessing him. He listened attentively and left home. He was, after all, an obedient son. In this vast world, patience was a friend; intelligence, his guide; and self-reliance, his sole support. That day the stars were aligned in Munshi’s favour – he was accepted for the position as soon as he expressed his desire for it. He was now the Salt Inspector. The salary was decent and there were no limits to how much he could make on the side. Old Munshi-babu could not stop puffing his chest when he received the good news about his son’s employment. The creeper of prosperity was already swaying with the breeze and envy had taken root in the hearts of the neighbours.

~~~

It was the month of winter. The soldiers and sepoys of the department were happily intoxicated with alcohol. It had not even been a month since Munshi Vanshidhar had become the Salt Inspector yet in this short period of time, with his diligence and good behaviour, he had made a place for himself in the good books of the senior officers. They trusted Munshi implicitly. The Yamuna River skirted like a ribbon only a mile from the eastern front of the office building. At this hour, tens of boats were lined one after the other, across the river, resembling a bridge. Having bolted the door to the office room from inside, Munshi Inspector was relishing a nap. When he finally awoke, instead of the soft lappings of river water, he was greeted with the rumbling sounds of motor vehicles and the commotions of boatmen. It was late in the night, why were so many vehicles lined up along the river? Something must be wrong. It was time to put his confusion to rest and find out for himself. He slipped into his uniform, secured a revolver in his pocket, straddled his horse, and arrived at the bridge. A long queue of vehicles was making its way across it. ‘To whom do these vehicles belong?’, Munshi thundered.

The noise quietened down briefly. The men spoke among themselves and one of them answered, ‘They belong to Pandit Alopeedin!’

‘Who Pandit Alopeedin?’

‘Of Dataganj.’

Munshi Vanshidhar was startled. Pandit Alopeedin was the most respectable zamindar in the region. He was also a moneylender conducting his business in millions of rupees. There was not a person in the village who did not owe money to the Pandit. His business was well-established. After all, he had inherited it from his forefathers. British officers hunted on his grounds and spent weeks there. The soup kitchen at his estate fed the hungry every day of the year.

‘Where are these vehicles going?’, asked Munshi. They answered, ‘Kanpur’. But when asked about what the vehicles were carrying, the men fell silent. The inspector got even more suspicious. When the men refused to answer, he asked loudly, ‘Has the cat got your tongue? I am asking for again, what are you carrying?’

When Munshi was greeted with silence again, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He galloped to a vehicle and groped at one of the burlap sacks. It was clear as day – they were carrying mounds of salt.

Riding atop an embellished chariot was a half-asleep Pandit Alopeedin who was all of a sudden woken up by the panic-stricken drivers. ‘Maharaj! The inspector has stopped the movement of all vehicles. He’s waiting by the riverbank and has summoned you.’

Pandit Alopeedin had an unshakeable faith in Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth. He was of the belief that not just the mortal world, she ruled over the heavens too. He was not wrong – after all justice and tact were Lakshmi’s playthings, and she could do with them as she pleased. Pandit Alopeedin continued to recline in his seat as before. With a touch of pride in his voice, he said, ‘Move along. I will be there soon.’ Pandit-ji decided there was no reason to worry. He merrily went on chewing his paan. As he approached the inspector, who was wrapped in a quilt, he said, ‘Babuji, blessings! Tell me, what crime have I committed that you have stopped the vehicles? You should be respectful of Brahmins.’

‘The government’s order,’ Munshi answered briskly.

At the mention of the government, Pandit Alopeedin burst out laughing. ‘I am neither aware of the government’s order nor the government itself. You are my government. This is our personal matter, how can I displease you? This has been a waste of time. I am aware that I cannot cross the river without making some kind of offering to the river gods. So I am here, at your service.’ The promises of wealth did not sway Munshi, he was still a virgin – uncorrupted by greed and with a strong conviction for honesty. He understood what the Pandit was alluding to and said sternly, ‘I am not one of those traitors whose honesty is up for sale. I won’t lie for a few pennies. You are under arrest. You will be treated according to the laws of the land. I have no time for idle talk. Captain Badlu Singh! Please arrest this man, it’s my order.’

Pandit Alopeedin was stunned. The drivers were buzzing with confusion too. This was perhaps the first time that the Pandit had to hear such stern words. Badlu Singh took a step forward, thinking he should hold the Pandit’s hands to comfort him, but the man’s flaming temper prevented him from doing so. The Pandit had never witnessed such disregard for wealth, such loyalty to one’s duty. He decided it must be the rebelliousness of youth, after all, Munshi was still a young man. He was untainted by greed or the hunger for power. He was still innocent, unsure of his ways. ‘Babu saheb, do not deal me this cruel blow, please. I will be ruined. How will I show my face? What will you gain from punishing me? I am not any different than you are’, the Pandit pleaded to Munshi with great modesty.

Munshi was not the one to be affected by the Pandit’s pleas. He replied, ‘I have no interest in what you have to say.’

What Alopeedin had thought would be the least of his worries, had turned into an insurmountable obstacle – as if the rock he was leaning against was no longer solid and the ground beneath had collapsed. Alopeedin’s self-respect and pride in his wealth were badly bruised. Nevertheless, he had complete faith that once he offered a number to Munshi, things would turn around. He turned to his right-hand man and instructed, ‘Lala ji, hand over a thousand-rupee note to Babu saheb. This is not the time to be a skinflint.’

‘Even a bribe of one lakh rupee cannot deter me from the path of honesty.’ Munshi was now fuming.

Obstinacy mistaken for diligence and the rare refusal of bribes had settled like a heavy weight on each of their hearts and the two opposing forces were now at loggerheads. Before long, money flexed its muscles and started throwing punches. One became five, five became ten, ten became fifteen, and fifteen was raised to twenty thousand. Meanwhile, the singular, fierce loyalty to one’s duty stood solidly like a rock in front of the hefty army of numbers. Still, the rock would not move.

‘I cannot offer you a sum higher than twenty thousand rupees. It is up to you now.’ The disappointment in Pandit Alopeedin’s voice was unmistakable.

Munshi called out to the captain again. Badlu Singh cursed his senior under his breath as he walked up to Pandit Alopeedin. The Pandit was scared and he hastily took a few steps back. ‘Babu saheb, for the love of God, let this go. I am ready to settle the matter for twenty-five thousand rupees.’

‘Impossible!’

‘What about thirty-thousand? Is that impossible too? What about forty-thousand, won’t that be enough?’

‘Forty-thousand! Even forty-lakh isn’t enough. Badlu Singh, arrest this man right now. I do not want to hear another word about this.’

In the end, honesty triumphed over greed. Alopeedin looked on as a well-built man approached him with handcuffs. He stole furtive glances like a coward. And then, all of a sudden, the proud man fainted and collapsed to the ground.

~~~

The world might have shut its eyes in sleep but that did not stop its tongue from wagging. As soon as the day broke, everyone was talking about it – be it a young boy or a stooping, elderly gentleman. No matter who you spoke to, everyone had something to say about the Pandit’s misadventures. There was no end to bad-mouthing him either. One would think that until then no one else had committed any sin. The milkman who sold diluted milk, the officers who supposedly kept a diligent record of their daily tasks, office-goers who travelled ticketless on trains, and the traders and moneylenders who regularly fudged up calculations had become pictures of righteousness as they solemnly shook their heads to the news of Pandit Alopeedin’s arrest.

The next day the Pandit – now the accused – was walking with the constable in handcuffs. Though afflicted by annoyance and guilt, he bowed his head in shame as he made his way to the court. The city had been stirred alive with scandal. Even in a very crowded carnival, one wouldn’t see such anxious eyes. People blurred into one another as they looked on from rooftops and doorways.

The court was still some distance away and Pandit Alopeedin remained the enigmatic king of the jungle. The officers greeted him with great reverence, the court workers were servile, lawyers and advocates hung on to his every word, and the clerks and watchmen were nothing better than mute beasts. People rushed towards the Pandit as soon they spotted him. Everybody wore a look of heightened amazement – not because he did something disreputable but because this time he could not find a way to slip through the tight grip of the law. How could a man who always had the money to pay his way out of any inconvenience and was so slick with words end up in such a situation? They could not help but sympathise with him. With great efficiency and urgency, an army of lawyers was assembled to defend him in court. It was now a battle of dharma and dhan, duty and affluence. Munshi remained a silent spectator through it all – he had nothing in his arsenal other than the truth and its articulate narration. Sure there were witnesses, but they could all be compromised by promises of wealth.

Munshi could feel how even the law was being stretched beyond its limits. This was the court of justice yet its guardians did not shy away from picking favourites. And when the court has already picked a favourite, it cannot be expected to be just.

The matter was swiftly concluded. The Deputy Magistrate wrote in his statement that the charges against Pandit Alopeedin were not only inconclusive but also malicious. He was a respectable man, why would he put his dignity at stake for a slim profit? The court conceded that Salt Inspector Munshi Vanshidhar was not to be blamed either but it was a matter of great regret how his defiance and thoughtlessness have been a cause of suffering for an innocent man. The magistrate’s order said: We are pleased that the Inspector is diligent and honourable, but the complete loyalty to his duty has corrupted his wisdom and intelligence. We advise him to be cautious in the future.

The lawyers did not care for the dignity of the court as they broke into excited squeals when the judgment was declared. Pandit Alopeedin wore a smug smile as a badge of victory as he exited the court. His friends and family showered each other with thick wads of cash. There was no end to this deluge of generosity – the waves of which were now lapping against the court’s door. When Munshi stepped out into the streets, unlike others, he was greeted with a torrent of insults and jibes. Only the clerks seemed to hail him with some kindness. Yet, Munshi was consumed by every insult and every rude gesture was fanning the flames of anger in him. Perhaps if he had emerged victorious, he would not have strutted around like the Pandit, Munshi thought ruefully. It was also the day that he would realise something undesirable – virtue and learning, degrees from premium institutions, long flowing beard, and loose robes were not unquestioningly worthy of respect.

Munshi decided there was no reason to make enemies with wealth, one simply could not do without it. Barely a week had gone by before the letter of suspension landed on his desk. He need not report to work until further notice. Poor Munshi, feeling spent from a broken heart, regret and grief, set off for home. His father was already bubbling with anger. ‘Oh, how much I told the boy about the ways of the world yet he did not pay any heed! He did what he pleased. I endured the harsh words of the butcher and alcohol seller, thinking that in my old age, I would go about my days peacefully thanks to the salary Munshi would bring home every month. I have held jobs too, not as an officer, but they were jobs nevertheless. Yes, you should be an efficient worker but what’s the need to be an honest one! The long years of education were of no use now,’ he thought to himself.

When Munshi reached home after a few days of suspension, he was greeted with laments and despair from his old father. His father, prone to drama, exclaimed, ‘I wish I could break your skull. Mine too!’ His cries were punctuated with sorrowful rubbing of the palms. He could not stop himself from lashing out with cruel words and had Munshi not jumped out of his father’s way, in all possibility, blows would have landed on his back. There was no saying what grotesque form the old man’s anger might have taken. His mother showed signs of despair too. Her great desire to undertake pilgrimages to visit Lord Jagannath and Rameshwara had been wiped out with a poof. Munshi’s wife seemed to have taken a vow of silence – she could not bring herself to say even a word to him.

A week went by like this. The sun had set and evening crept in. Old Munshi-ji sat by himself, fingering the rosary and chanting the lord’s name. At this very moment, a gilded chariot stopped at the doorstep. Green and pink curtains, a pair of sturdy bulls, their neck adorned with blue threads and horns sheathed in brass. The servants were carrying sticks on their shoulders. Munshi ji ran to welcome the visitor. Who else could it be but Pandit Alopeedin! He bowed his head in greeting and started sucking up to the wealthy man. Oh, you have blessed us with your presence. Oh, how fortunate we are. You are no less than God to us. We are so ashamed, how do we show our face? It has been smeared with muck. We are helpless. Our son is a curse, he is our bane. He has brought shame on us. It’s better to be childless than to have a son like him.

‘No, bhai sahab. What are you saying?’ said Pandit Alopeedin.

Munshi-ji was surprised. He said, ‘What else should I say of such a son?’

Alopeedin answered in an affectionate tone, ‘Do you know of many men who have made their ancestors proud by their actions? Many people talk about being upright but how many truly are? Your son has sacrificed everything for honesty. He is a kultilak, the pride of your family.’

He now addressed Munshi, ‘Inspector sahab, do not think of this as flattery. I would not have gone through all this trouble only to heap false praises on you. Yes, you arrested me but you were well within your rights to do so. Today I am presenting myself to you of my own accord. In my lifetime, I have met thousands of wealthy men and dealt with officers in high ranks, but if anyone has been able to get the better of me, it’s you. I have enslaved many people with the bait of wealth. If you would let me, I have a request for you.’

Munshi stood up to greet Alopeedin but not without feeling rather proud. He was convinced that the Pandit was here to humiliate and enrage him. Munshi did not bother to apologise to Alopeedin and his father’s obsequiousness was unbearable to him. But his resolve was soon broken and he gave into the Pandit’s earnestness. He stole a fleeting glance at him. The man seemed to have no ulterior motive. Pride gave way to embarrassment and Munshi started to feel bad about everything that had transpired. With some hesitation, he said, ‘These kind words to me are a sign of your humility. Please forgive me for whatever I have done out of impoliteness. I was ensnared by duty, though, in reality, I am also your servant. Your wish is my command.’

Alopeedin said shrewdly, ‘You did not listen to me that day at the riverbank but you will have to today.’

‘I don’t know if I can be of help to someone like you but I will do everything that is in my power’, Munshi answered humbly.

Alopeedin pulled out a stamped paper and put it in front of Munshi. ‘Please sign the papers and accept this post. I am a Brahmin. I won’t leave until I get what I want.’

Munshi’s eyes brimmed with tears as he read the paper. Pandit Alopeedin had elected him the manager of his estates. Along with an annual salary of six thousand rupees, he would be given a daily allowance, horses for commuting, a bungalow to stay in, and a battalion of servants. In a trembling voice, Munshi remarked, ‘Pandit-ji, I do not have the appropriate words to thank you. I am not deserving of this post.’

‘I would rather have someone unsuitable’, the Pandit said with a smile.

‘I am your servant. It is my greatest honour to serve someone as renowned and respected as you.’ Munshi said solemnly. ‘Though I must tell you that I do not have the educational qualifications, or the intelligence, or the bearing that is needed to do the job properly. Such an important post belongs to a person who is learned and experienced, someone who knows the ways of the world.’

Alopeedin did not seem to have heard a word of Munshi’s. He chose a pen from the pen stand and handed it over to Munshi. ‘I did not come to you seeking intelligence, or experience, or intellect, or even skillfulness. I know what these values amount to. It is good fate and good timing that has brought me to you – a pearl that shines regardless of how deserving or learned it is. Take this pen, do not think any further, and sign your name. I pray to God that you always remain the thoughtless, stubborn, stern, but upright inspector that you were on the fateful day we met by the river.’

Munshi’s eyes had moistened with tears. His heart was suddenly too shrunken to contain the flood of gratitude that he was experiencing. He looked at the Pandit with reverence and signed the papers with a shaking hand. The deed was done – he was now the manager of Pandit Alopeedin’s estates.

Overcome with happiness, Alopeedin enveloped Munshi in a warm hug.