A Fine Family: A Novel by Gurcharan Das Page B

nephew, Megh Nath, who was sitting diagonally across to his left, and who happened to belch at that moment. Bauji scowled. But the thick-skinned Megh Nath did not take notice and continued eating. Belching was traditionally a mark of appreciation of the food, and no one thought anything of it, except the younger children who glanced at each other and tittered. When they saw Bauji’s disapproving look, their smiles quickly faded. Bauji intensely disliked his greedy nephew.
    ‘I hear you are becoming a rich man, Megh Nath,’ said Bauji. There was a rumour that his nephew had recently multiplied his land holdings by driving out peasant proprietors, and replacing them with tenants. The rumour had gained credence because he had invested his ill-gotten gains in a grain shop in the Lyallpur wholesale market.
    ‘It is God’s will, heh. . . heh. . . heh. I merely fulfil my dharma. I give all I earn back to God.’ Megh Nath was also famous for his donations to temples.
    ‘Was it God’s wish that you should bribe the Sessions Judge last week?’ asked Bauji.
    ‘What bribe?’ asked Megh Nath looking sweetly innocent.
    ‘I was told that the Sessions Judge received a hundred oranges last Thursday.’
    ‘Oh, it was merely a small goodwill gesture from my orchards in Rampur,’ said Megh Nath unctuously.
    ‘Ah. . . I see. It was merely coincidental that your case was to be heard the next day.’
    Megh Nath smiled sanctimoniously.
    ‘But your orchard does not grow oranges, Megh Nath. Those oranges were bought in the wholesale market.’
    ‘Heh. . . heh. . . heh. How can a judge tell where an orange comes from? It is all God’s creation.’
    ‘This judge apparently can tell the difference. And it seems he does not approve of bribes either. So you do have a problem, nephew,’ said Bauji, smiling sardonically at his nephew. He was trying hard to control his temper. He saw a hint of worry on his crooked nephew’s imperturbable brow, and he was pleased.
    ‘By the way, what is your case all about?’
    ‘Oh the usual tenancy troubles, Bauji. As a matter of fact I wanted to take your advice.’ Megh Nath was relieved that the subject had changed from oranges. Everyone knew that he only visited Bauji’s house when he was looking for free legal advice.
    ‘Does it by any chance concern a certain widow named Bibi Pritam Kaur, dear nephew?’
    For the first time Megh Nath’s face changed colour. After a short pause, he asked, ‘How did you know, Bauji?’
    ‘She happens to be my client, nephew.’ Bauji smiled.
    ‘Disgraceful!’ interrupted Bhabo. ‘Bauji, how can you side-against your own flesh and blood? And against such a god-fearing, religious man like Megh Nath, who does puja daily, who visits all the temples, who bathes in the Ganges every year. It’s not right.’
    ‘It so happens that our pious nephew has fabricated evidence and collected false witnesses for the purpose of depriving this widow of her sole means of livelihood.’
    ‘I still think it is wrong to go against your own in public, whatever the case,’ said Bhabo. ‘Now enough of these matters. Enjoy your food, and let the others do the same.’ From Bauji her eyes turned to Megh Nath. ‘You are not eating properly, nephew. What can I pass you? We seem to be forgetting how to treat a guest in this house. And tell us about your last pilgrimage.’
    As his nephew launched on a pious and long-winded account of his latest religious pilgrimage, Bauji realized that neither his sarcasm nor the exposure of his evil ways was likely to have any effect on his two-faced relative. Megh Nath had a powerful following among the conservative members of the family, and especially those who still lived in the village. In their eyes, Megh Nath was like a god who could do no wrong. They talked incessantly about him: how he woke up before dawn, bathed with cold water both in the summer and the winter, and sat down to puja for two hours; how he was a strict