‘Oh, but that’s too much,’ said the SDO. ‘I think I should set a maximum of one rupee per person. I don’t want people to contribute more than they can afford.’
Both shopkeepers, very pleased, pocketed their five-rupee notes and offered him one-rupee coins instead. The SDO looked at the coins, and then absent-mindedly put them in his pocket.
The news spread through the marketplace that the SDO himself was asking for money for Independence Day, that it was going to feed children and the poor, that there was no duress and that he had set a maximum of one rupee for each contribution. This news, together with his personal popularity, worked like magic. As he strolled casually through the lanes of Rudhia, Sandeep – who hated making speeches in his flawed Hindi and felt awkward about the whole business of asking for money – was besieged by smiling contributors, some of whom had heard that Jha was opposed to their SDO’s fund-gathering campaign. Sandeep found himself reflecting that in these early years of Independence, local Congressmen had already – through their venality, self-importance and blatant influence-peddling – made themselves quite unpopular, and that the people’s sympathy was entirely on his side in any struggle with the politicians. If he had stood for an election against Jha, he would probably, like most young SDOs in their fiefs, have won. Meanwhile, Jha’s henchmen, who had come out quickly and in force to try to persuade people to give money for the Congress celebration and not for the government one, ran into a wave of popular resistance. Some people who had already deposited a rupee into Sandeep’s kitty, decided to contribute once again, and Sandeep could do nothing to stop them.
‘No, Sir, this is from my wife, and this is from my son,’ said one triple contributor.
When his pockets were full of coins, Sandeep took off his famous sola topi, emptied his pockets into it, and used it as a bowl for further contributions. From time to time he mopped his forehead. Everyone was delighted. Money rained into his hat: some people gave him two annas, some four, some eight, some a rupee. All the urchins of the marketplace formed a processional tail behind him. Some shouted, ‘SDO Sahib ki jai!’ Others stared at the treasury that was building up in his hat – more coins than they had ever seen in one place – and took bets on how much he would gather.
It was a hot day, and Sandeep paused occasionally for breath on the ledge of a shop.
Maan, who had driven into town, saw the crowd and waded into it to see what the matter was.
‘What are you up to?’ he asked Sandeep.
Sandeep sighed. ‘Enriching myself,’ he said.
‘I wish I found it so easy to make money,’ said Maan. ‘You look exhausted. Here, let me help you.’ And he took the sola topi from him and started handing it around for contributions.
‘I say, you’d better not do that. If Jha hears about it, he won’t be pleased,’ said Sandeep.
‘Bugger Jha,’ said Maan.
‘No, no, no, here, dear fellow, give it back,’ said Sandeep, and Maan gave him his hat back.
After half an hour, when his hat had filled up, and both his pockets were bulging again, Sandeep stopped in order to count the money.
He had gathered an unimaginable eight hundred rupees.
He decided to stop his collection at once, even though there were plenty of people eagerly reaching forward with their coins. He had more than he needed to put on a really excellent show for Independence Day. He made a little speech thanking the people for their generosity and assuring them that the money would be well used; he masculinized a great many Hindi nouns in the process.
The news spread through the bazaar and reached Jha’s ears, which grew red with anger.
‘I will show him,’ he said aloud, and turned back home. ‘I will show him who is the boss in Rudhia.’
14.5
HE WAS still fuming when Mahesh Kapoor came to visit him.
‘Oh, Kapoorji, Kapoorji, welcome, welcome to my poor house,’ said Jha.
Mahesh Kapoor was short with him. ‘Your friend Joshi has been evicting tenants from his land. Tell him to stop. I won’t have it.’
Jha, his cap askew, looked shrewdly at Mahesh Kapoor and said, ‘I haven’t heard anything of the kind. Where has your information come from?’
‘Don’t worry about that, it’s reliable. I don’t want this sort of thing taking place on my doorstep. It gives the government a bad name.’
‘Why do you care if the government gets a bad name?’ said Jha with a broad smile. ‘You are no longer part of it. Agarwal and Sharma were talking to me the other day. They were saying that you had joined Kidwai and Kripalani merely to make a K-K-K group.’