Cast of Characters
Nathi — owner of the hotel, the middle brother (45–50)
Lachhu — Nathi's brother, given to singing (35–40)
Nainti — Nathi's brother, devotee of sadhus and malangs (30–35)
Mangu — Nathi's brother (25–30)
Babu — a customer, a clerk (40)
Kadka — a police constable (35)
Phadka — a police constable (35)
Malang — a fraudulent sadhu (50)
Woman — a quarrelsome woman (40)
Vidyasagar — Nathi's son, a student (15–16)
Scene 1
The Set
A board is hung up, lettered in English: 'Nathi's Hotel.' The hotel is in fact a tea-stall. On one side, by the hearth, two or three pots can be seen, so that it seems food is cooked here. In truth, in these vessels the food of Nathi and his brothers is cooked; it is their home too. On the raised wooden platform of the stage Nathi sits or lies; the cash-seat is beside him. For passing customers there are, inside, five or seven benches and three or four tables and stools; and at the back, where Nathi lies on the platform drawing on his hookah, is the rear courtyard, with a stool or two and roped cots, where the regular customers come and sit. On Nathi's wall hang calendars — one of the Goddess riding her lion, one of cows, a third of Mahatma Gandhi together with other national leaders; garlands hang on the calendars opposite. A loose saffron turban tied, Nathi sits wrapped in a coarse blanket, drawing on his hookah. The cash-seat lies empty. Only Lachhu is seen coming and going. There is no customer just now.
[ Some while after the curtain rises, a babu in a soiled suit, bare-headed, comes in, and pulling up a chair, sits with his back to Nathi. ]
Nathi: (taking a pull, then clearing his throat) Babu ji.
Babu: (as if irritated) Yes? Speak, command me.
Nathi: Babu ji, this is a case of the thief scolding the watchman. Yesterday you didn't come, we waited — and now you've taken offence. Turn your face this way a little and sit. Yes, like that. Now tell me — didn't you come for tea yesterday?
Babu: No, friend, of my own choice — he comes to drink tea with you who has no other work and no one to ask after him. The day before yesterday, when I'd gone to drink tea, the S.D.O. laughed and jeered: "Gone for tea, eh, to touch the bard sahib's feet. You've taken 55 minutes. If you must go for tea like this, take 'short leave' and go."
Nathi: Oh, you innocent! It's the very work of officers, this snubbing and crushing. (pausing a little) If you don't keep a rein even on a moving horse, the horse forgets that there's someone behind holding the reins. You too will become an officer tomorrow and do the same here, Babu ji. The wheel of creation has always turned just so.
(From the back of the stall comes the sound of singing.)
"Burn away, this land of the hill-folk —
Mother dear, I'll not dwell here."
Babu: That's Lachhu, isn't it, Nathi? He seems very sorrowful. But, friend, he sings beautifully. "And Mother dear, I'll not dwell here." Ah! Did you not hear the words, Nathi? They draw out the very heart with a sob. So I say — auction off this hotel-shotel and form a troupe of strolling players. Leave off, in this city of Virata, this secret disguise like the Pandavas', and appear in your true forms.
Nathi: (with a guffaw) You've spoken truly, Babu ji. Yes, this is indeed the Pandavas' exile. But, friend, the Pandus were five, and we're only four.
Babu: What, isn't Pradeep the fifth? So what if he's a servant? Isn't he a young man?
Nathi: (taking a pull and laughing a little) And Draupadi, Babu ji?
Babu: Draupadi? This poor stall — if it isn't Draupadi, then what is it?
Nathi: (with a guffaw) Live a lakh of years, Babu ji. You've spoken truly. Just as the Pandavas themselves wandered twelve, thirteen years stumbling through forests and thickets, and dragged that royal darling Draupadi along too — that's the state we've made of this stall. They call any and every man's wife so, don't they, Babu? (in great distress) Whole nights, many times, sleep won't come; here, brooding, dawn breaks — what will become of this household? What will become of this stall?
Babu: No — in the household, what's wanting, friend? They're all strong, well-built. They do their oilings, their push-ups and squats, and throw their limbs about freely.
Nathi: You've said a fine thing — are these the marks of a prospering household, Babu ji? Is this some Hanuman's wrestling-pit? O Lord! The cost too is beyond measure, and yet always a shortfall. There's a fine blight on it, Babu, and they cluster round me as a target — just as four cheats lifted the old woman on a cot, didn't they? The old woman cries out, and they snatch a smoke, do bhangra, and sing along — "Whatever the old woman says is true."
Babu: Nathi, the truth is, without a woman neither does a household look right nor does it run. Find a place somewhere for Nainti, for Mangu — otherwise these birds will fly off one day.
Nathi: I keep searching, Babu! You arrange something somewhere. The lads are right before you. I've raised them like sons. It's another matter that they've now sprouted little horns. They twist their noses at me too, but I have just this much joy, Babu ji — they were my parents' trust, the sprouts of a tender seedling. Today they've grown into fine, sturdy young men. What harm have I done them, Babu ji? I've never abused them, never raised my hand. After all, they're men's children, Babu — if they keep moving their hands and feet, they won't drown in this ocean of the world.
Babu: You're right, Nathi, but you ought to ask the lads sometime too. What do they say?
Nathi: Behind my back they may say anything, Babu ji, but all of them understand well that it's the brother who raised them. For their sake I've started a 'line,' Babu ji — that if they grow wise and walk straight, their human birth too will be redeemed, and they'll get to enjoy some comforts as well.
(Lachhu again takes up the strain)
"There's no thriving to be had — let them carry off my basket,
let the hair of my head go grey;
Mother dear, I'll not dwell here.
Burn away, this land of the hill-folk."
Nathi: Hear it, Babu ji! On what gallows has Nathi hung them! No — are these the notes of a tune, or the shot of a country gun? They aim straight at Nathi's chest and fire, the wretches. From every side, only taunts and gibes at me, only jeers. When I get up to sit on the cash-seat, they say, "Brother, don't trouble yourself — what will the world say of us?"
Babu: They're still lads, Nathi. They don't yet tell their own from strangers. But, friend, Mangu's the sturdiest of all of them. Isn't he? Well-knit, a wrestler's body. He seems fond of the wrestling-pit.
Nathi: (with pride) Babu ji, is there any lack of anything? On my side it's all open — drink milk, eat butter, eat eggs. I only say: keep your health. But youth is a wild thing, Babu ji; now he watches a film every day and keeps humming those lovey-dovey songs. Once this itch sets in, there goes the wrestler, Babu ji.
Babu: And Nainti? He does the work of four men single-handed.
Nathi: He does, but only when the mood takes him. He has just one whim, Babu — he's mad for the gatherings of sadhus and malangs. He must have his chillum. Taking money from the stall, he feeds those idle layabouts their pulls and pellets of charas. I tell him — 'Nainti, you at least are a man, and these are vagabond beggars; deserters fled from this battle of the world, cowardly men. What fellowship have you with them?' But Babu ji, when a vice mounts a man's head, it bridles him just so. I'm afraid for Lachhu's boy, Babu ji, the one who passed his tenth this very year. He's a four-faced lamp at the crossroads of these four brothers' lives.
Babu: But Lachhu was saying — the brother spoils the boy for nothing. Eh, we say: either set him on this very cash-seat, or set him with some craftsman to learn at least the tailor's trade.
Nathi: What does Lachhu know of what learning is? Knowledge is a third eye, Babu ji. I tell these illiterate ones: look at the babus who come to drink tea at this hotel. After all, it's a human birth — we've passed ours groping in the dark. Let at least one of us walk in the lamplight. Let one tender thread, at least, be joined to the rest of the world.
Babu: (looking at his watch) Nathi, I've not got tea today either. How long is it since I came? Customers seem to you like the target-board at a firing range. Until the poor thing is riddled with holes, the firing of your talk doesn't end. Well — I'm off... and if I don't come, then good day.
Nathi: (becoming grave) Babu ji, I didn't expect this from you. What is this slighting thing you've said? We take you for our bosom well-wisher and open our heart a little — otherwise, just think, who, child of man, pours out the filth of his innards to others? (calling out) O Lachho! Hasn't the cup of tea for Babu been made yet? Come down from the cash-seat, friend — what pranayama are you doing up there?
[ Lachhu comes. ]
Lachhu: Brother! Pradeep's been down with fever since yesterday. He's bundled up there in the corner. Nainti went to the bazaar this morning to buy provisions — now look, where's any sign of him? He only needs an excuse to slip off. He must have gone and sat at some baba's smouldering fire. Once the chillum starts going round, he forgets the whole world. And Mangu is your darling — he must have gone and settled into some cinema. That left Lachhu, and you've put the whole load on him, Babu ji. Eh — there, Babu's got up and gone without even drinking his tea.
Nathi: Lachho! Doesn't poor Babu have a job to keep too? He too has people waiting to question him. You haven't yet learned the ways of a stall, my boy. If one customer gets up and goes like this, he goes and warns ten others. If credit doesn't last, how is the stall to run? [thinking] Lachho! A man is one who sets the stumbling on their road, who lends his arm to the falling. Oh look — there they've arrived, the government oxen, the pair of free-loaders.
Nathi: [looking that way] Kadka, Phadka? [laughing] Indeed, brother, Babu's naming of them is a wonder. They themselves are pleased to hear these names, as though they were some government title. I'll go and tell the doctor about Pradeep. Seeing the cash-seat empty, they'll go off themselves. Don't you get up and trouble yourself. What officious bundles they carry about, and how they bark at any and every one. All right — I'm off.
[ Kadka and Phadka — two police constables, khaki bags on their shoulders, both short and stout, with curling moustaches. ]
Kadka: At your feet, brother Nathi.
Phadka: Greetings, Nathi Shah.
Nathi: Come. (taking a pull) What's the good of coming, anyway? When the lads have gone off somewhere, they don't even mention serving guests. The customer, seeing the cash-seat empty, just turns back. I've been crying out about it since morning — how is this hotel to run?
Kadka: Brother, why do you fret? We won't drink tea, but as we pass this way we must mark your attendance, mustn't we?
Phadka: Tell the brother that matter of the challan too, Kadka.
Kadka: Yes! Brother, there's a complaint against you, lodged by someone — that you keep heaps of ash piled near the stall. And it's been heard that in your hotel these babu people come and hold political talks. Put up a written notice here: "Do not hold political conversation in Nathi's hotel."
Phadka: Brother, this new judge who's come — he respects no one, not even his own father. No sooner is the challan filed than he won't talk of anything below a fine of fifty or a hundred.
Nathi: What kind of darkness has come over the times, Phadka? Are the heaps of ash only outside my hotel? Don't the other shopkeepers too consign the ash of their own hearths to the Ganges? That poor sweeper has fallen ill. He hasn't come for two days, and they say heaps of ash have piled up. Now am I to go and lodge a complaint against that poor man? And what political talk has anyone held? The babu people are much resented by my neighbours, but even they tie a knot and keep these customers of mine from leaving. Let them drop their gossip, let them spin their webs. [a pull on the hookah]
Kadka: But one thing they say is true, isn't it, Nathi Shah? In all the shops, price-lists of goods are hung up, but in your hotel alone there's none.
Nathi: [a little angrily] Are we running a cloth or grocery shop, that we should write up and hang the prices of goods? Phadka, hear his talk. Look — there are only three or four things that count: tea, baqar-khani and biscuits and eggs. What list is there to make of these? You tell me, Kadka, who is my father's brother-in-law that goes and lodges complaints? No — and why are you getting up to go, friends? I won't let you go without drinking a cup of tea. I swear by you, Phadka. There — I'll make it myself, friends; what's there to making tea?
Phadka: No, no, brother, don't trouble yourself. We've come straight from the tonga-stand — there may be a rooster to be had. People call us Kadka-Phadka, but, friend, even with the tonga-men our gleaning doesn't go missing. It's three days now we've been hunting Mattu's Ghafur. Come, brother Kadka.
Nathi: And those lists and notes? Who's to write them? You bring the paper and you write them yourselves. What else. Bear it in mind.
[ Kadka and Phadka go off. ]
[ It's barely an instant since they left, and Nathi has just shaken the fire in the bowl of his hookah, when a woman comes leading an eight- or ten-year-old boy by the wrist. The boy has on a tight coat, on account of which both his arms are pulled back a little. The boy is tearful. ]
Woman: May this Nathi's ship be sunk. Let me just see what his face is like. What dishonesty has gripped the age, O mother — they look at neither child nor grown man, neither old nor young. May their hearth catch fire and their fame fall into a collapsed well. They've no fear of God left either. They take the wages of their own choosing, and look at their work. "I won't card it now, and I'll mangle the spinning-wheel." A curse on them. May nothing remain to these dishonest people.
[ Five or seven men gather. Lachhu comes and sits silently on the cash-seat. Nathi has put the stem of the hookah to his mouth, but somehow he's no longer in the state to draw the tobacco. ]
A Man: Sister, take a breath at least. Why hurl such abuse? Tell us what the matter is.
Woman: What's the matter, brother — fire has caught the times. Neither do the goats' bellies fill, nor is there any end to the greed of these people of today. Look at the boy's state. They're nothing but shroud-thieves.
A Man: But over the boys, sister! Wise people don't quarrel so. The boys will make it up the next moment, and the wise ones' faces will be blackened.
Woman: Just hear their talk. It's a Lord's-own darkness. Thief and clever both. If you speak up, your face is blackened. But what's it to the onlookers? Let a fire catch far off — it's their festival of lamps. Uninvited, I became the boy's aunt. Have I come irritated by a children's quarrel? Hear this man's words. I say: look at the boy's coat. Friend — you asked the wage you wanted, and got it, in advance too. After making me run a whole month, you gave the boy's coat — and that too like a vice for clamping the arms. A fire on your craftsmanship. Whomever you ask says, for clothes there's none cleverer than Nathi. Here he is — a fine craftsman. Look at his handiwork.
Nathi: [with a guffaw] Come, my sister, come and sit a while. As it happens, my name too is Nathi — it's no fault of yours, my sister; it's just that I have some such star here. That's why my family hadn't named me Bholanath. That Shankar Bholanath drank the kalakuta poison, sister, and these bitter, acrid curses, these poisoned taunts and gibes, are all in my fate. But sister, you ought to have seen at least whether this is a tailor's shop or not. The Nathi who sewed your boy's coat, sister, is at the next turning.
[ The people guffaw. The woman, abashed, goes on ahead. ]
Voice 1: (going off) Friend, this stallman is some Bholanath indeed! How calmly he bore her cannonade.
Voice 2: This is Nathi, friend — he's seen so much of the world. He must have understood at a glance that this poor woman had come to thrash that tailor Nathi. No, but did that tailor really sew the boy's coat? The mother wails truly. These tailors too cause sheer havoc.
( The people leave. Nathi takes two or three good calm pulls. Just then a hulking malang of a sadhu turns up — a rag of a robe, the hair of his head dishevelled and matted. )
Nathi: Lachho! Today it feels as if the boy was born with a caul. All the buffoons and jesters of the world come running here today. Here — one more specimen has arrived.
Malang: "I ask for no blanket, no shawl. I ask for no gold, nor silver either." (looking at Nathi) Nathi ji, shall I sit, or go on my way?
Nathi: Since you've come, sit and rest. But don't put on this play-acting, and don't recite these deceiver's incantations. My ears have grown calloused hearing them. They do say, don't they, that the lightning is in the sky but it strikes the date-palm. That's your state. Come, sit.
Malang: (sitting on the chair, looking up at the sky and guffawing) This snare of maya is very strong, Nath ji. What does the caged bird know of the taste of flying in the sky? Without a guru there's no path, no devotion.
Nathi: Lachho, make the baba some tea. Malang, will you eat anything with it?
Malang: As the Giver wills, devotee. Without His command not even a leaf stirs. Give me the tea in a glass, devotee — keep it sweet and the milk a bit strong. What He does, the Creator does.
Nathi: (as if to himself) A fine wrong that scoundrel did, who trapped men in these mazes and labyrinths. He didn't leave a single thicket uncut from its roots. "Strike, wretches, your boasts." But even there a danger looms from the leopards and tigers. Tell me — is a solitary life any life at all?
Malang: (catching the hint and laughing) It's the snare of coming and going, Nath ji. Once caught, struggle and writhe a lakh of times, but how is man to get free? Until His grace comes, how is one to get out of these mazes?
Nathi: But get out for what? There's a battle on here, and the soldier-hero flees from it? Why? Only a coward would flee. A hero never shows his back. After all, you call freedom and dependence what belongs to those whom you take for fools and prisoners. The carefree one speaks truly — "Ruined himself, he ruined his patrons too."
Malang: Who is this carefree one, devotee? Who ruins whom? All is the maya of each one's own deeds, devotee.
Nathi: Baba! We're very unlettered and rustic, but this is the essence that wise people have drawn out: that goodness is that in which is the good of all. The scoundrel who looks only to his own care — is he too a fit person to be called a good man? Hey, Lachhu! Give the baba one more baqar-khani.
Malang: The tea of your hotel is very tasty, devotee. We too have drunk the water of every ghat. What He does, the Creator does. Well, Nath ji — the wanderer fares best. (rising, he goes off slowly.)
(Nainti comes carrying the provisions. Setting down the load, he straightens his back.)
Nainti: This Manso the disguise-artist — didn't he sponge some tea here too?
Nathi: Which Manso? This baba? Was he a disguise-artist? He's your friend, then, friend. When he comes, how am I not to show him courtesy? He was talking great talk of the snares of maya.
Nainti: He's a very skilful creature, brother. Very full of tricks. He rakes in five or ten rupees a day. He's grown old at this, making up forms and disguises. He was of a settled house, but gambled away house and home, sold them off and ate them up. Then, when he began learning the tailor's trade, he carried off his master's machine itself and sold it somewhere. Then he ran a handcart at the lorry-stand. When that work didn't suit him either, he brought a little drum and went about selling tooth-powder. Then it was heard he did some contracting work. And now he's taken up this fraud of shrouds.
Lachhu: Now that he's reached the city of pulls and pellets, take it he belongs there. This intoxication is no small thing — it's a double-edged dagger. One poison, the other fire. When the flame goes inside, it seeks out and burns the soft spots one by one. Only the empty body is left standing.
Nainti: (mockingly) Brother, do you hear Lachho's verses? I take it you aim these word-arrows at whose chest? Don't I work? Don't I wear myself out?
Nathi: Lachho. You have a very bad habit. Do you count Nainti too among those malangs and layabouts? Is Nathi's earning some unlawful, ill-gotten gain, that gamblers and dope-fiends should be born in his house? Why would the young men of my house be bad? No, child Nainti. Why do you go among those idlers? Friend, what fellowship have hard-working labourers with those malangs? The age has moved on from where to where, and their wisdom still runs on the old Satyuga ways. If these hulking fellows ever resolved to serve the country, in a few months they'd build a Bhakra dam and show you. But these lepers have learned just one incantation — "The python does no labour."
Lachhu: These are far more dangerous than pythons, brother. Real pythons live in thickets and forests, but these have set up camp at the crossroads of towns and villages.
Nathi: The age has now begun to come after them too, Lachho — just as these Kadka-Phadka stay stuck to the coachmen and drivers. (laughs)
(Lachho and Nainti guffaw too.)
(There the woman comes back leading the boy. The boy is without the coat.)
Woman: (coming close) Brother, I've come to ask pardon. I made a blunder. My wits had gone. I never looked or thought against whom I'd come to quarrel. I'd met two constables on the cursed road. I asked them where Nathi the tailor lives — and one of them pointed with his hand and said, there he is, one sitting on the platform.
Lachhu: (laughing a little) Brother, see — Kadka-Phadka? They didn't get a cup of tea to drink, so the wretches lit this fuse.
Nathi: What's the fault of Kadka-Phadka in this, Lachho? And what of this sister's? The fault is of this luckless land, where even now, lacking the light of learning, man stumbles and falls. Learning is a great thing, Lachho.
Lachhu: You go, sister. We bear you no anger. When you yourself repent of the thing, what more can we say about it?
Nathi: I'll say only this much, sister: have this boy taught and lettered. Even if a coat isn't to be had, don't let him lack for books and notebooks.
(The woman and boy go off.)
Nainti: Brother, these Kadka-Phadka are climbing right onto our heads; we'll have to lodge a complaint against them. Have these free-loaders now taken upon themselves the work of Narada the sage too?
( Kadka and Phadka pass by, leading Manso bound. )
Lachho: Look, brother. They've seized that 'snare of maya' and led him off.
Nathi: Friends, where are you taking this poor man? What has he done to you?
Kadka: Greetings, brother! This is a sadhu of great doings. Before our very eyes he swallowed his master's machine. The machine we dug out and recovered, but this disciple-maharaj was not to be found.
Lachho: Hey, Phadka! What did that woman tell you — that Nathi the tailor's shop was here?
Nathi: Come, leave off this wrangle now. They must have said it in jest, but that simple woman ought to have thought too. What else.
Kadka: We saw her — she came hurling abuse, in the very form of Chandi. She kept asking where the shop of Nathi-may-he-be-ruined was. I thought brother Bholanath alone would pacify this Chandi, otherwise she'd gather a crowd somewhere on the road and block the very traffic.
Kadka: Forgive us, brother! When we're out on the hunt, we can't tell our own from a stranger at all. Just look — what a prize game we've caught today.
Nathi: A prize game you two are no less yourselves, my boys — but you've not yet come into some hunter's sights. You too have the raw itch to break the ranks and force your way inside. Shall I make you some tea? Drink a cup each.
Kadka: (with a guffaw) There's no matching you, Nathi Shah. At once you offer a feast, and at once you needle us. We'll see about it tomorrow now. Don't let this one give us the slip before sundown. (to the baba) Come, maharaj. Let's do some kirtan somewhere. (they get up to go.)
(In this while a boy of fourteen or fifteen, in fine clean clothes, comes and touches Nathi's feet.)
Nathi: (rising from the platform and clasping the boy to his chest) Oh, my darling has come. (calling to Lachhu) Lachhu, look, Vidyasagar's come back from his maternal grandparents' too. Tell me, Vidya — is your grandfather well? Grandmother well?
Vidyasagar: Yes, all are well and content.
(Lachhu comes. The boy touches his feet too.)
Vidyasagar: Tato ji. I've come to you to have a decision made. Grandfather's wish is that I take up army service; Uncle says any work is better than service. Father's wish you know already — he wants me to work at this very stall, or learn the tailor's trade. Tell me, what is your wish?
Nathi: (sitting on the platform and seating Vidya beside him) Here, Nainti, go and put in some tobacco.
Vidyasagar: I'll go and put it in.
Nathi: No — you neither put this intoxicating thing to your mouth, nor touch it. You are to drive all these vices out of this house, my boy. All right, now tell me — what is your own wish?
Vidyasagar: Shall I tell the truth, Tato ji? Then my wish is to study further. My teachers were saying...
Nathi: What were your teachers saying?
Vidyasagar: Just this — that you're a studious boy, your family ought certainly to have you study further.
Nathi: When are we refusing, son? It's our great good fortune that Goddess Saraswati should set foot in our house too. Your teachers say rightly, Vidyasagar ji — from our side there's no bar, no check. Study as much as you wish. Just let this stain on our family be wiped out, that learning was not in our fate.
Lachho: But brother, you don't watch the lads of today. Let it not be — going to have your namaz pardoned, the fast falls on your neck. The whole investment may go to ruin.
Vidyasagar: Is there so much helplessness toward me, Tato ji? Has any complaint about me come yet? Has any reproof? And then? The whole world is not all of one kind, Father.
Nathi: It is not, my darling, it is not. I know. This eye of mine recognises everything. Lachho! If a lamp has lit to burn even in Nathi's house, should everyone fall to blowing it out? Nainti read no further than the fifth class. Mangu barely passed the seventh. Neither Lachhi studied nor his brother. If this stigma is being washed away, friend, then praise your fortune. If a lotus has risen even from this little pond, it's the pond's own glory.
Vidyasagar: I'd hoped that Tato ji at least would be on my side. If my schooling's expense seems hard for these people to bear, then I'll not lay any further burden on them.
Nathi: This is Nathi's Hotel, my darling! This is the earning of my nails' labour. Won't I auction it off? These are hard-working men; they'll provide their own keep. Today I'll stand by my darling even against the whole world. But, son, give me one promise.
Vidyasagar: Shall I give a promise? Tato, your command is God's command to me. What greater promise can I give than this?
Nathi: Son! Study so that you can serve others, can help others. So that you can repay the debt of the country and the land. So that people may say — if there's a child of man, this is what he should be. [wiping his eyes] For greed, for stuffing your belly in corners, do not study. My darling, who knows whether Nathi will live to that day or not — but my soul will always be restless to see that form of yours.
[ Vidya joins his head to Tato's chest. ]
The curtain falls.