Butler Sahib has arrived at the office. He’s flipping through the records to see how much work has been done this month. Nearby, a dog is lying down; every now and then, the sahib hisses at it. Occasionally, he stuffs snuff up his nose and snaps his fingers. Sometimes, his eyes wander over the account books; sometimes, he stands with his legs apart; sometimes, he worries about the expenses in several court offices—so much money will have to be paid. Not a paisa has been arranged yet, and if the money isn’t deposited before the term opens, all work will come to a halt. Just then, Howard the lawyer’s clerk arrives and hands him two papers. The moment he gets the papers, the sahib’s face lights up with delight. Immediately, he calls out, “Bensharam! Come here quickly!”

Banchharam Babu throws his shawl over the chair, tucks a pen behind his ear, and rushes in.

Butler: “Bensharam! I am very pleased! Two cases have been filed against Baburam—one for ejectment and another for something else. Howard Sahib has sent me both the notice and the subpoena.”

The moment Banchharam hears this, he claps his armpits in glee and says, “Sahib, just watch what a clever manager I am! If I can bring Baburam here, there’ll be enough sweets and cream for everyone. Hand me those two papers at once; I’ll go to Vaidyabati myself—this isn’t a job for just anyone. Now’s the time for some real bluster and bravado. If I can just climb this tree, money will rain down; but for now, our oven is hot and empty—very greedy—have to strike quick and bring something home for Alal.”

At the house in Vaidyabati, the ceremonial bodhon has begun—the drums are beating, “dhadha gur gur dhadha gur gur.” Mushundadi is sitting on a decorated stool, singing the morning raga. In the hall, the svastyayana has started for Motilal. On one side, the Chandi is being recited; on another, Ganges clay is being prepared for Shiva worship. In the center, the shalgram stone is placed and offered tulsi leaves. The Brahmins, hands on their heads, are deep in thought, muttering among themselves, “Our divine Brahminhood has been revealed for cash alone—never mind Motilal’s release, now even the master—”

He went with him. If he had boarded the boat yesterday, there is no doubt that the boat must have perished in the storm—whatever happens, the household is utterly ruined—now there will be nothing but the wailing of beggars—who knows what will become of the Young Master—perhaps our share of the spoils is lost forever. Among those Brahmins, one began to speak softly, “Oh, why are you all so worried? No one can deprive us of our dues—we are like the saw on the greens—cutting both ways, coming and going. If the master has indeed passed away, then there will be a grand funeral feast—the master was old—if the mistress starts squabbling over money, people will smear her face with soot and lime. Another