Baba sighed, then, looking above Rasheed’s head in the direction of the village, said: ‘Well, this affair is bound to get out. That is the problem. There are five of us here. Six. We may all promise not to speak a word, but the word will get spoken somehow. Of course, we understand from our guest, your friend, that you have not involved him in all this, which is good –’
‘Maan?’ said Rasheed, disbelievingly. ‘You’ve been talking to Maan?’
‘– but there is also the patwari, who will hide or reveal whatever suits his convenience. He is a sly man.’ Baba paused to consider his next words. ‘It will get out, and plenty of people will believe Kachheru put you up to this. We have to set an example. I am afraid you have not made things easier for him.’
‘Baba –’ protested Rasheed.
But his father cut in, his voice thick with rage: ‘You should have thought of all this before. What would have happened to him at worst? We would have rotated him from field to field. He would still have the support of our family, he would still be able to use our cattle and our tools – it is you, it is you who have harmed my old chamar.’
Rasheed covered his face with his hands.
The Bear said: ‘Well, nothing has yet been decided finally, of course.’
‘No,’ agreed Baba after a pause. Rasheed was sighing deeply, his chest moving up and down.
Rasheed’s father said: ‘Instead of being censorious about other people’s behaviour, I hope this experience will make you examine your own. We have heard from you no word of apology so far, no admission of wrongdoing. Believe me, if it had not been for your Mamu and the Imam Sahib here, we would not have been so lenient with you. You can still continue to live here whenever you wish. Some land may still be restored to your name in time, depending on whether you show yourself to be worthy of it. But rest assured, if you close the door of trust on this house, the doors of this house will be closed to you. I am not afraid of losing a son. I have lost one already. Now go downstairs. See to your wife and child – children. We have the matter of Kachheru to discuss.’
Rasheed looked around the circle of faces. He saw sympathy in some, but support in none.
He got up, said a low ‘Khuda haafiz’, and walked down the stairs into the courtyard. For a while he looked at the pomegranate tree, then he went inside. The baby and Meher were asleep. His wife looked deeply worried. He told her he would not be having supper. In a daze he walked out of the house.
Maan, when he saw Rasheed emerge, smiled with relief. ‘I heard sounds of people talking, and thought you were never coming down,’ he said. He brought out Saeeda Bai’s letter from the pocket of his kurta.
For a second, Rasheed thought of unburdening himself to Maan, even of seeking his help. This was the son of the very author of the act that aimed to do justice. But then he turned abruptly away.
‘But this –’ said Maan, waving the envelope.
‘Later, later,’ said Rasheed dully, and began to walk away from the house in a northerly direction.
Part Eleven
11.1
AT THE STROKE of ten, from behind the dull scarlet velvet hangings to the right of Courtroom Number One of the High Court of judicature at Brahmpur, the five white-turbaned, red-liveried, gold-braided ushers of the judges emerged. Everyone rose to his feet. The ushers stood behind the tall-backed chairs of their respective judges and, at a nod from the Chief Justice’s usher – who looked even more magnificent than the others owing to the insignia of crossed maces on his chest – pulled them back to give the judges room.
All eyes in the packed courtroom had followed the ushers as they moved towards the bench in what was almost a procession. Normal cases required a single judge or a bench of two, and cases of great importance and complexity might be assigned to three judges. But five judges implied a case of exceptional moment, and here were the heralds of the five in all their resplendent regalia.
And now the judges followed in their black gowns, a sad anticlimax to their ushers. They wore no wigs, and a couple of them appeared to shuffle slightly. They entered in order of seniority: the Chief Justice first, followed by the puisne judges whom he had assigned to this case. The Chief, a small, dry man with almost no hair on his head, stood before the central chair; to his right stood the next seniormost judge, a large, stooping man who fidgeted continually with his right hand; to the Chief ’s left stood the next seniormost judge of this bench, an Englishman who had served with the judicial service of the ICS and had stayed on after Independence; he was the only Englishman among the nine judges in the High Court at Brahmpur. Finally, at the wings, stood the two juniormost judges.