Penalty

artwork by th lisa

Whenever she got tired that she'd sit down a moment to catch her breath, precisely then the Inspector would arrive riding in his ekka. No matter how much she'd say, 'Please, Excellency, I'll go back to work again,' he would jot her name down in his book without listening. A few days later the very same thing would happen again. If she bought a few pennies worth of candy from the sweets-vendor and started to eat it, just at that moment the Inspector would drop on her from the devil knew where and once more write her name down n his book. Where could he have been hiding? The minute she began to rest the least bit he was upon her like an evil spirit. If he wrote her name down on only two days how much would the penalty be then? God only knew! More than eight annas? If only it weren't a whole rupee! With her head bowed she'd go to collect her pay and find even more deducted than she'd estimated. Taking her money with trembling hands she'd go home, her eyes full of tears. There was no one to turn to, no one who'd listen, where the Inspector was concerned.

Today was pay-day again. The past month her un-weaned daughter had been suffering from coughing and fever. The weather had been exceptionally cold. Partly because of the cold, partly because of the little girl's crying she was kept awake the whole night.

Several times she'd come to work late. Khan Sahib had noted down her name, and this time she would be fined half her pay. But if it were only half it would be a blessing. It was impossible to say how much might be deducted. Early in the morning she picked up the baby, took her broom and went out to the street. But the naughty creature wouldn't let her be put down. Time after time Alarakkhi would threaten her with the arrival of the Inspector. 'He's on his way and he'll beat me and as for you, he'll cut off your nose and ears!' The child was willing to sacrifice her nose and ears but not to be put down. At last, when Alarakkhi had failed to make her quiet with threats and coaxing alike, she set her down and left her crying and wailing while she started to sweep. But the little wretch wouldn't sit in one place to cry her heart out; she crawled after her mother time and time again, caught her sari, clung to her legs, then wallowed around on the ground and a moment later sat up to start crying again.

'Shut up!' Alarakkhi said, brandishing the broom. 'If you don't, I'll hit you with the broom and that'll be the end of you. That bastard of an Inspector's going to show up at any moment.'

She had hardly got the words out of her mouth when Inspector Khairat Ali Khan dismounted from his bicycle directly in front of her. she turned pale, her heart began to thump. 'Oh God, may

my head fall off if he heard me! Right in front of me and I didn't see him. Who could tell he'd come on his bicycle today? He's always come in his ekka.' The blood froze in her veins, she stood holding the broom as though paralyzed.

Angrily the Inspector said, 'Why do you drag the kid after you to work? Why didn't you leave it at home?'

'She's sick, Excellency,' Alarakkhi said timidly. 'Who's at home to leave her with?'

'What's the matter with her?'

'She has a fever, huzoor.'

'And you make her cry by leaving her? don't you care if she lives or dies?'

'How can I do my work if I carry her?'

'Why don't you ask for leave?'

'If my pay is cut, huzoor, what will we have to live on?'

'Pick her up and take her home. When Huseni comes back send him here to finish the sweeping.'

She picked up the baby and was about to go when he asked, 'Why were you abusing me?'

Alarakkhi felt all her breath knocked out of her. if you'd cut her there wouldn't have been any blood. trembling she said, 'No, huzoor, may my head fall off if I was abusing you.'

And she burst into tears.

*****

In the evening Huseni and Alarakkhi went to collect her pay. She was very downcast.

'Why so sad?' Huseni tried to console her. 'The pay's going to be cut, so let them cut it. I swear on your life from now on I won't touch another drop of booze or toddy.'

'I'm afraid I'm fired. Damn my tongue! How could I...'

'If you're fired, then you're fired, but let Allah be merciful to him. Why go on crying about it?'

'You've made me come for nothing. Everyone of those women will laugh at me.'

'If he's fired you, won't we ask on what grounds? And who heard you abuse him? Can there be so much injustice that he can fire anyone he pleases? If I'm not heard I'll complain to the panchayat, I'll beat my head on the headman's gate--'

'If our people stuck together like that would Khan Sahib ever dare fine us so much?'

'No matter how serious the sickness there's a medicine for it, silly.'

But Alarakkhi was not set at rest. Dejection covered her face like a cloud. When the Inspector heard her abuse him why didn't he even scold her? Why didn't he fire her on the spot? she wasn't able to work it out, he actually seemed kind. She couldn't manage to understand this mystery and not understanding it she was afraid. If he meant only to fine her he would have written her name in his book. He had decided to fire her--that must have been why he was so nice. She'd heard that a man about to be hanged is given a fine last meal, they have to give him anything he wants--so surely the Inspector was going to dismiss her.

They reached the municipal office building. Thousands of sweeper women were gathered there, all made up and wearing their brightest clothes and jewelry. The paan and cigarette vendors had also come, along with the sweets peddlers. A swarm of Pathan money-lenders were on hand to collect money from those who owed them. Huseni and Alarakkhi went and stood with the others.

They began to distribute the pay. The sweeper women were first. Whoever's name was called would go running and taking her money call down undeserved blessings on the Inspector and go away. Alarakkhi's name was always called after Champa's. today she was passed over. After Champa, Jahuran's name was called, and she always followed Alarakkhi.

In despair she looked at Huseni. The women were watching her and beginning to whisper. She longed just to be able to go home, she couldn't bear this derision. She wished the earth would open and swallow her up.

One after another the names were called and Alarakkhi went on looking at the trees across the way. Now she no longer cared whose name was called, who went, and who stared at her and who was laughing at her.

Suddenly startled, she heard her name. slowly she stood up and walked ahead with the slow tread of a new bride. The paymaster put the full amount of six rupees in her hand.

She was stupefied. Surely the paymaster was mistaken! In these three years she had never once gotten her full pay. And now to get even half would have been a windfall. She stood there for a second in case the paymaster should ask for money back. when he asked her, 'Why are you standing here now, why don't you move along?' she answered softly, 'But it's the full amount.'

Puzzled the paymaster looked at her and said, 'What else do you want--do you want to get less?'

'There's no penalty deducted?'

'No, today there aren't any deductions.'

Alarakkhi came away, but in her heart she was not content. She was full of remorse for having abused the Inspector.

Premchand, the pseudonym of Dhanpat Rai (1880-1936), was arguably the greatest Hindi writer ever. A passionate advocate of both Indian independence and Hindu-Muslim amity, his output was astonishing: fourteen published novels, about three hundred short stories, countless letters, editorials and essays, several plays and screenplays and a number of translations and adaptations.

D. Rubin is an academic/translator.