Motilal saw that his mother had left the house, his brother had gone, his sister too had departed. Calamity’s peace! After so many days, the coast was finally clear—no more nagging, no more endless scolding—now, with just a single glare, all work would be done, and “by force, Dhananjaya!” All that was well and good, but the family coffers were running dry—what to do now? How would the babudom continue? He could no longer juggle those petty moneylenders. Even the pawnshop-walas had stopped lending. And right ahead was the grand Snan Yatra festival—he’d have to hire a barge, pay the dancers, place orders for sweets and confections, and procure charas, ganja, and liquor too—the arrangements weren’t even half done.

Lost in such worries, Motilal sat brooding when Bancharam and Thakchacha arrived. After a few words, they asked, “Bada Babu! Why so glum? When you look downcast, we too feel downcast—you’re at an age when you should always be cheerful. Why the hand on your cheek? Shame! Sit up straight.”

Motilal, softened by these sweet words, poured out all his troubles. Bancharam said, “Why fret so much about that? Are we just here to cut grass? Today we’ve come up with a grand plan—within a year, you’ll clear all your debts and be able to put your feet up and live like a true gentleman, generation after generation. The scriptures say, ‘In trade resides Lakshmi’—it’s in business that people prosper. I’ve seen so many fellows—ragged, patched-up, half-wits, fools—who, just by dabbling in trade, have become fat and rich. Just seeing them makes my eyes burn. We’re grinding away at just one job—isn’t that a hard fate? Chandi Charan gathers dung, Rama rides a horse.”

Motilal: “That’s a fine idea—I always need money. But does trade grow in the market, or is it born in the office? Or can you buy it at the sweet shop? Unless I have an Englishman’s agent, my business won’t flourish.”

Bancharam: “Bada Babu! You just sit back on your cushion, leave all the work to us. Our butler knows an Englishman’s friend, Jan Sahib…”

Recently returned from England, it is he who must be put forward and made the manager. But that fellow is riddled with rot when it comes to business.

Thakchacha: I’ll be right there with him, side by side. There’s no job in the court, goods, criminal cases, or business that I haven’t handled. My Shena understands all this well. Babu, my only regret is that my credentials have yet to be recognized—my references haven’t been made public. I’m not the sort to stay quiet—if I find an enemy, I grab him, bite him, and thrash him to the ground. Give me a business deal, and I’ll handle it like Rustam the Great.

Motilal: Thakchacha—who is Shena?

Thakchacha: Shena is your Thakchachi—what else would she be? Her face is like a jailer’s, but her mind is sharp as an angel’s. She understands everything.

Banchharam: Let’s leave that for now. We’ll have to supply