They slip away at the slightest hint of trouble. If we act like them, we’ll be in the grave before long—how delightful!

Banchharam: You’ve spent so long getting ready, the festival is over. Benibabu is as steady as a rock—he’s the Jagannath Tarkapanchanan of moral philosophy. You can go to Bali with him one day and have a debate. For now, get up and be on your way.

Becharam: Beni brother! Your opinion is my opinion—I’ve lived through three ages, now I’m in the fourth. Even if it costs me my life, I won’t do wrong—why should I do wrong for anyone else? Those rascals have already wrung my bones—should I spend more money on them? Should I give false testimony for their sake? If they go to jail, in a way, I’m saved. Why should I feel sorry for them? Just the sight of their faces makes my blood boil—get lost!

6. Motilal’s Mother’s Worries, A Conversation Between the Sisters, A Discussion on Principles Between Beni and Becharam Babu, and the Introduction of Bardaprasad Babu.

At the Baidyabati house, the peace of the evening lulled everyone to sleep. Before sunrise, Sridhar Bhattacharya, Ramgopal Churamani, and others sat down to their prayers. Some offered tulsi leaves, some picked bilva leaves, some made a humming drone as they recited their mantras, some declared, “If this doesn’t bring good fortune, I’m no Brahmin,” while others threatened, “If things go badly, I’ll throw away my sacred thread!” The whole house was in a flurry—no one felt the least bit of happiness.

The mistress of the house sat by the window, anxiously calling upon her chosen deity. The little boy in her lap sucked on his pacifier, kicking his arms and legs as he played. Glancing at the child now and then, the lady thought to herself, “Oh fate! Who can say what will become of you? The pain of not having a child is one thing, but having one brings a hundred more troubles. If the child falls even a little ill, the mother’s heart flies out of her chest. She pours her whole being into making the child well—eating, sleeping, everything is forgotten. Days and nights blur together, she loses all sense of time. If, after all this suffering, the child grows up to be a good person, then it’s all worth it. But if not, it’s like dying while still alive—nothing in the world brings joy, and it’s shameful to even show your face to the neighbors.”

I have no desire—my proud face shrinks, and I wish the earth would split in two so I could slip inside. Only Guru knows how much effort I put into raising Moti—now the boy has learned to fly and is dressing me down. Hearing of Moti’s misdeeds, I am fried—living in sorrow and disgust. I don’t tell Master everything; if he heard it all, he might go mad. Away with it! I can’t bear to think anymore! I am but a woman—what can I