Krishnakanta's Will

Front matter

KRISHNAKANTA'S WILL By Bankim Chander Chatterjee [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED]

Part I, Chapter I

Part the First

CHAPTER I

IN the village of Haridragram there was once a big zemindar whose name was Krishnakanta Roy. He was a very rich man, the annual income of his estate being nearly two lacs of rupees. This large property was acquired both by himself and his younger brother, Ramkanta Roy. They worked and earned money together, carrying on a joint household, and their affection for each other was such that the one could never dream he might be cheated by the other. The landed property was all bought in the name of Krishnakanta.

To the younger brother, Ramkanta, a son was born whose name was Govindalal. After the birth of this child he resolved, for its sake, to propose to his elder brother that the property, which was in his name alone, should henceforth stand in both names as both had equal shares in it. Though he was quite sure that his elder brother would never do wrong, there was, as he thought, no knowing but that after the death of their father, his nephews might try to trick their cousin out of his legitimate share of the property. He thought of this, and though his mind was made up to speak to his brother, he waited and waited for an opportunity till one day, being on a visit in one of his estates, he fell ill and died.

Now, Krishnakanta, who had the whole property in his name, could, if he had been so inclined, have deprived his late brother's son of his right; but he was not the man to do wrong. He brought up his nephew along with his own sons, taking good care of him and providing for his education. And in his mind he had resolved that he would leave him by will his brother's half share of the property.

Krishnakanta had two sons, Haralal and Benodelal, the latter being the younger of the two. Besides he had one daughter, who was called Soilabati. Now, the old man had recently made a will in which he had mentioned that after his death Govindalal should get his father's half share of the property, while each of his two sons should have three-sixteenths, and his wife and daughter one-sixteenth each, of his own half share. Haralal was a pert and rather refractory son of his father. When he heard how the property had been disposed of he was greatly exasperated. "What's this!" said he, hurrying to his father. "Our cousin has one-half of the property, and you give us only three-sixteenths each!"

"That's all right," said Krishnakanta. "I have given him, as his due, his father's half share."

"What right had my uncle to the property?" said Haralal. "Who is his son to have a share in it? You give me a pittance, and I am expected to support my mother and sister into the bargain. Why should they have any share at all? Would it not have been just and reasonable if you had mentioned them in the will as being only entitled to maintenance?"

His words offended his father. "My son," said he, "the property is mine, not yours, and I suppose I have a right to dispose of it as I like."

"You have lost your senses," cried Haralal. "I cannot allow you to do as you like."

"Haralal," cried his father in a passion, "am I to brook this impertinence from you? If you were a boy I would send for the good pedagogue and get him to give you a caning."

"At school I remember to have singed his moustache, and I will not spare the will, you may be sure."

Krishnakanta uttered not a word. He tore up the will with his own hands, and in its stead had a fresh one made. In it he mentioned one-half of the property as Govindalal's right, and the other half he disposed of by giving five-sixteenths to Benodelal, and dividing the remaining three sixteenths equally among his wife, daughter and Haralal.

When Haralal came to know what his share was in the fresh will made by his father he left the house in a huff and went off to Calcutta. From there he wrote a letter to his father, the purport of which was as follows:—

"I purpose to marry a widow. The pundits here say that widow marriage is not forbidden by the shastras. However, I know you will be dead set against my marrying a widow. But if you will let me have one-half of the property and get the will registered at once I will give up my intention, otherwise not."

His father wrote back to say that he was an unworthy son, and that he would surely cut him off with a shilling if he carried out the intention he had expressed in his letter.

A few weeks after, however, news reached Krishnakanta that he had married a widow.

The old man tore up the will again: he wanted to make a fresh one.

Within a stone's throw of Krishnakanta's house there lived a man whose name was Brahmananda Ghose. He was a harmless man, and was a sort of protege of Krishnakanta; for Krishnakanta liked him and helped him with money from time to time. Brahmananda was an excellent penman, and whenever there was a will or other document to be written he was, as a rule, asked to do it, for which he was paid something.

Krishnakanta tore up the will and sent for Brahmananda. "Come here," said he to Brahmananda, "after you have taken your meal. I want you to write a fresh will."

When Krishnakanta gave this injunction to Brahmananda Benodelal was there, and he said, "Why do you want to change the will again, father?"

"This time I want to disinherit your elder brother, and I am resolved to do it," said Krishnakanta in a serious tone of voice and looking very grave.

"Oh, that would be very cruel, father. You ought to think of his orphan child. You should not punish the innocent boy for the fault of his father."

"Well, I will give him one-sixtyfourth for his share in the property."

"Oh, that's almost nothing."

"How do you say so?" said Krishnakanta. "The income from my estate is nearly two lacs of rupees, and one-sixtyfourth or three pies' share means an income of upwards of three thousand rupees, and that's enough. I can't—I won't give more."

Benodelal tried hard to persuade his father, but the old man was firm.

Part I, Chapter II

CHAPTER II.

After he had eaten his meal Brahmananda was preparing to take his accustomed nap when Haralal stood before him. When he saw Haralal he was rather surprised.

"Hallo! my dear sir, you are coming from Calcutta?" he asked.

"Yes," said Haralal, sitting down on the bed near him. "I arrived two days ago; I have been hiding somewhere. Father is going to make a fresh will, eh?"

"I am told so," said Brahmananda.

"This time he is going to exclude me altogether."

"Is he? But, I don't think he is in earnest."

"I know he is," said Haralal. "You write the will of course?"

"Why, I can't refuse, you know," said Brahmananda.

"Nobody wants you to refuse," said Haralal. "But come, I want to give you something."

"What? a drubbing?" said Brahmananda with a laugh.

"Damn you," said Haralal. "I am serious. A thousand rupees. Would you like to take it?"

"Where is the fool who will not like to take it if he can get it for nothing?"

"I don't mean, for nothing," said Haralal. "If you wish to get it you will have to earn it."

"How? By marrying a widow?"

"Why, what harm is there?"

"None at all. But the thing is I am too old to marry. Don't you think I am?"

"Well, apart from jokes," said Haralal, "I want you to do something—the thing I am here for, and which is of great importance to myself. A thousand rupees is a round sum, and I will give you a chance of earning it. I know you are the fit man, or I wouldn't come to you." And he put a bundle of fresh currency notes in Brahmananda's hand. "I pay you five hundred rupees in advance," he said, "and you must set about the business at once."

Brahmananda counted the notes in his hand. "What shall I do with this money?" he said, looking up to Haralal's face.

"You may hoard it, if you like."

"But what is it you wish me to do?" asked Brahmananda.

"To begin with, then," said Haralal, "make two pens so that both will write alike."

"That's easily done," said Brahmananda. And he made two pens, which he did so skilfully that when he wrote with them to test their reliability both writings were found to have exactly the same appearance.

"For the present," said Haralal, "put one of these two pens in your box. When you go to write the will take it with you, for you must write with this pen. The other should be used in writing what I shall dictate to you. You have good ink in your house of course?"

Brahmananda took out his ink-pot, and taking a dip of ink formed a few letters with his pen.

Haralal looked closely at the writing. "This ink will do," he said. "Take your inkstand with you when you are going to write the will."

"Why, what's the good? You have pen and inkstand in your house," said Brahmananda.

"You must do as I tell you, and not question me," said Haralal. "You can easily understand that since I pay you so much money I have some motive in wanting you to take this pen and inkstand with you."

"Oh, certainly. I didn't think of it."

Haralal then placed two sheets of blank paper in Brahmananda's hand.

"Oh, this is just the sort of paper your father uses in writing documents," said Brahmananda.

"I know that, and that is why I procured them," said Haralal. "Now write with this pen and ink what I am going to dictate."

Brahmananda wrote a will to Haralal's dictation. The purport of it was that Krishnakanta Roy willed three-fourths of his property to his son Haralal giving three-sixteenths to Benodelal, and dividing the remaining one-sixteenth equally among his wife, Gobindalal, Soilabati and Haralal's boy.

"Now who is to sign this?" said Brahmananda when he had finished writing.

Haralal took the will from his hand, and wrote Krishnakanta Roy's name and the names of four witnesses in it.

"Why, this is a forged will," said Brahmananda.

"Yes," said Haralal; "but I will tell you what to do."

"What is that?" asked Brahmananda.

"When you go to write the will, take this concealed in your shirt pocket. Write what father will dictate. When, after you have finished writing, and the will has been read out and signed, you take it up to put your signature to it, which you must do with your back turned to all, you will take this opportunity of changing the will, which you can easily do. There can be no suspicion, for both wills must be very like in appearance, the writer and paper, and the pen and ink being the same in both cases. Then you give my will to father, and bring father's to me."

Brahmananda reflected a little, and then said, "It is a very clever idea to be sure."

As he was, however, silent for a while Haralal asked, "What is it you are pondering in your mind?"

"I dare not have any concern in this business," said Brahmananda. "Take your money back."

Haralal held out his hand to receive the notes; and he was just about to leave the room when Brahmananda called him back. "When do you pay the rest?" he asked, finding it very difficult to overlook such a tempting offer.

"When the thing has been done, and you have brought my father's will to me," said Haralal.

"The temptation, I must confess, is much too great to resist."

"You accept the offer then?"

"I cannot help accepting it," said Brahmananda. "But I think it is very difficult to change the will. I very much fear I shall be caught in the act."

"Well," said Haralal, "I will do it before your eyes, and let me see if you can detect it."

Haralal certainly possessed some skill in sleight of hand as in imitating another's handwriting. He put the will in his pocket, and taking a piece of paper made as if he would write something on it, when in a trice the will in his pocket and the paper in his hand had changed places without Brahmananda's perceiving anything at all.

Brahmananda praised his dexterity of hand. "I will teach you how to do it," said Haralal to him. And he made Brahmananda practise the trick under his guidance for nearly a couple of hours until he had quite mastered it.

Haralal then took his leave, saying that he would call again in the evening.

When he had gone a great fear seized on Brahmananda. If he carried out what he had taken in hand, and was caught, he was sure to be dragged to court; and who knew but he might, for the gravity of his offence, be imprisoned for life. There could be nothing more foolish than to engage in such a risky affair as this. Though he thus debated in his mind he still wavered; but at last he resolved to have nothing to do with the business.

Part I, Chapter III

CHAPTER III

Brahmananda returned home after dark, having finished the business of writing the will. Almost as soon as he set foot in the house he met Haralal, who had been eagerly awaiting his return.

"All right?" asked Haralal.

"I wish I could get the moon to give to you, but to wish is not to have," said Brahmananda with a sardonic laugh.

"You have failed to carry it out then?" again asked Haralal.

"Oh, I felt too nervous. I am very sorry I couldn't do it."

With this Brahmananda returned the forged will and the bundle of notes to Haralal.

Haralal was in a great passion. He almost shook with rage. "Fool!" he exclaimed, "I least thought you would disappoint me. But you are worse than useless. To have failed to do what could be done by a woman! Shame on you! I am off; but should any one get the scent of what passed between you and me, I will not spare you."

"Oh, never fear," said Brahmananda. "I will not breathe a word of it to any one."

Leaving him Haralal went round and looked into the kitchen where Brahmananda's niece, Rohini, was busied in preparing the evening meal. At Brahmananda's house he was quite free to look in where he liked.

Rohini was young and handsome. She was a widow, but she never much cared to live as a high caste Hindu widow ought. She loved to pay attention to her person and dress; and she wore the few ornaments which she had got at her marriage. However, she certainly abstained from eating fish. In matters of food, like all other widows in gentle families, she was strictly a vegetarian. Besides her personal attractions, which were by no means inconsiderable, she possessed certain accomplishments; for example, she excelled in cookery, could use the needle with skill, and was known to have a knack in certain other things requiring ingenuity. She was liked by her neighbours, for she was useful to them. Her late husband's parents and hers had been long dead; so she lived under the care of her uncle, who being a single man, loved her as his own child for her obedience and for attending to every household work besides her regularly attending to the duties of the kitchen.

While she was engaged in cooking, a tabby cat, that lay near the door with her head resting between her fore paws, was looking wistfully at some fried fish held in a plate. Rohini's attention happening to be attracted towards her, she cast a menacing look at the animal. But the cat, instead of taking it as a hint for her to be off, took it as an invitation to come and have a taste of the fish. So she rose to her feet, and was just about to approach the plate when Haralal entered the kitchen. His sudden appearance and the creaking of his shoes put the cat to flight.

Seeing Haralal Rohini drew her veil a little over her face, and rising and standing with her eyes looking on the ground, asked, "When did you come home, uncle?" Rohini called Haralal uncle although she had no relation with him.

"I came yesterday. A word with you, Rohini," said Haralal.

She was rather amazed. "Will you take your meal here, uncle?" she asked.

"I can't say now; I may," said Haralal.

"Rohini," he said again, fixing his eyes on her, "do you remember when you took a journey to the Ganges to bathe? It was on a memorable occasion; and it happened that on your way back you were separated from the people with whom you went."

"Yes," said Rohini with her eyes still fixed on the ground.

"You lost your way," he went on; "and you got into a field where you came in the way of some bad characters. You remember it well of course?"

"Oh yes, I do."

"Why were they after you? They had a bad motive. It was I who delivered you from their hands."

"You happened at that time to be riding across," said Rohini. "Oh, I can never forget it. How I wish I could do something to show my gratitude to you."

"Yes you can do something for me, Rohini, if you wish to. There cannot be a more opportune time for it than the present. I am sure you can do it, for it is not a difficult thing to do. Now, will you do it for me? Say, will you?"

"Yes, I will," said Rohini. "I can even lay down my life, if necessary, to do you service."

"Bravely spoken. I am right glad to hear that you are ready to serve me. Well, you may have heard that father has made a fresh will in which he has excluded me altogether from any share in his property. Here is a false will I have prepared just as if it were made by my father. All you have to do is to bring me his will, putting this in its place. You can do it, I know, for you are very intelligent. Besides you are quite free in our house, and my father likes you very much."

Rohini shuddered. "Oh, I cannot do that," said she; "no, not even for all the property of your father. Anything but that, and I will most willingly do it."

"Don't decide so hastily," said Haralal. "It is not too much I ask of you, and you know you are in debt to me."

"Oh, I can't do it. It is against my conscience," said Rohini.

"You women are worthless," he said a little vexed. "It is all talk with you."

"I cannot steal the will," said Rohini. "Have we not eaten your father's salt? Would you have me be faithless to him?"

When Haralal saw that it was useless to try to induce her by argument, he said, "Here, Rohini— here is a thousand rupees for you. You must do it for me. You must—there's a good girl."

Rohini declined the offer with thanks. "What you propose," said she, "is highly objectionable, and therefore I must refuse to do it."

"Rohini," sighed Haralal, "you are nothing to me; so I should not be surprised at your refusing to do what I ask of you. Had my wife been living now I should have had no need to ask you. She would have done it for me, I know she would."

Rohini smiled.

"What makes you smile?" asked Haralal.

"The mention of your wife," said Rohini, "puts me in mind of the report that you wish to marry a widow. Do you really mean to do so?"

"Why, yes; but it is difficult to find one to my liking."

"I may tell you what we think," said Rohini. "We can never like to see you remain a widower all your life. You ought to marry again, if not for your own sake, for the sake of your child at any rate. We should be happy indeed to see you take a wife. And we don't care whether it be an unmarried girl or a widow you choose for your partner in life."

"Widow marriage," said Haralal, "is not forbidden by the shastras."

"I am told so," said Rohini.

"Why don't you marry again, Rohini? I have no objection to you, not at all, for you are young, handsome and useful."

Rohini blushed, drew her veil so as to completely hide her face, and sat down again to mind what she was about.

"Well, it is useless to wait any longer, so I must be off," said Haralal, fetching a deep sigh. And he had walked up to the door, and was just about to leave the kitchen when Rohini called to him, saying, "I cannot bear to see you go disappointed. You may leave the will. I shall see what I can do."

Haralal's face grew bright. He returned and put the will and the bundle of notes in her hand.

"Take your money." said Rohini. "If I do it, I will do it for your sake, not for the sake of your money."

Haralal gave her many thanks; and he took his leave, saying that he was very pleased with her.

Part I, Chapter IV

CHAPTER IV.

At about eight o'clock that night Krishnakanta Roy was reclining on a luxurious couch in his bedroom, smoking a curly pipe with a golden mouthpiece, and dozing under the influence of his favourite intoxicating drug, opium, of which he usually took a large quantity. He was in a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking, and dreaming of odd and strange things. He dreamed that Haralal had bought the whole of his property at a nominal price of Rs. 50. Again it seemed to him that he had lost all his goods and money and landed property, and was worse off than a man in the street. At another time he thought that somebody had stealthily entered the room with the intention of filching his opium, which he always kept safely locked up in his chest of drawers. While he was in the midst of one of such dreams, Rohini entered the chamber very softly. "You are sleeping, grandpa?" she said, approaching the bed with a cautious tread. Rohini called him grandpa and loved to cut jokes with him.

"Who are you? Nundy?" said Krishnakanta. "When did you leave the hills? Where is your master?"

"Who do you mean, grandpa?" asked Rohini.

"Who do I mean? I mean your master—your master, the chief of the gods, whose abode is among the snow-capped mountains. What a noodle you are, Nundy!"

"Why do you want him?" again asked Rohini.

"Tell your master I cannot lend him the money he wants except on good security. Do you understand?"

"Oh, are you dreaming, grandpa?"

This roused Krishnakanta from his dream. "Who are you? Rohini?" he asked, watching her narrowly from under his half-closed eyelids. "You look charming to-night, lassie. I am not so old as you think. Have you any objection to me?"

"None at all," said Rohini with a laugh.

"Oh, so glad. What do you want? Come for opium, I suppose?"

"What have I to do with opium?" she laughed. "But I know you can't spare any of your opium. It is more precious to you than gold and silver."

"Then what are you here for?" said Krishnakanta.

"Uncle says that he thinks you forgot to put your signature to the will."

"How is that? I am sure I didn't."

"How am I to know? He says it was an oversight, and that is why he has sent me to you."

"It is very strange. I well remember I put my signature, and I think there can be no mistake about it."

"What's the good of talking?" said Rohini. "Had you not better look at the will to make sure?"

"Well, then take that light there," said Krishnakanta to her. And he rose and took a key from underneath the pillow on which he had been resting his head, and opened a little fancy box with it. Out of it he took a curious key and opened a drawer while Rohini was holding the light; and having groped for a while drew out the will with a rather shaky hand. Then from another box he took out his spectacles, and having fixed them on his nose with some difficulty, for he felt a little drowsy at the time, looked for his signature in the will.

"Here you are," he exclaimed. "Here is my signature, Rohini. I think I am not too old to remember anything."

"Certainly you are not," said Rohini with a smile. "But I will go now and tell it to my uncle." With this she left him and was quickly gone.

It was midnight, and Krishnakanta was fast asleep in his bed. Suddenly he awoke and thought he found the room was dark. Usually a lamp burnt all night in his room; and he seemed to wonder why there was no light. Presently he thought he heard a sound of the turning of a key. It even seemed to him that somebody was moving in the room, and that he came and gently handled the pillow on which he was resting his head. But he was so deeply under the influence of opium that he could apprehend nothing clearly. He was not quite sure there was no light in the room, for he was so drowsy that he could hardly open his eyes. When he opened them for a moment he thought the room was dark; but he imagined that he was in jail. Presently it seemed to him that he heard a creaking sound, and he thought it was the warder locking up the cell. After a little time he woke up again. He felt for his pipe, but could not find it. "Here, Hari," he called for the servant who slept near his master's bedroom at night.

Krishnakanta slept in a room half way between the inner and the outer part of his house. He called and dropped off into sleep again. Within this short space of time his will was removed, and a false will was substituted in its place. (To be continued) Translated by

Part I, Chapter V

CHAPTER V.

NEXT morning Haralal walked straight to Brahmananda's house. When he got there, without stopping he went and peeped into the kitchen. Rohini was there busy in cooking. She pretended not to see him even when he stepped up and stood near her. "Look at me, Rohini, the pot won't crack," said Haralal.

Rohini looked up with a smile.

"Have you got it?" he asked.

She made no answer, but went and brought him what he wanted. Haralal knew at a glance that it was his father's will. A sinister smile was on his face. "How did you get it?" he asked.

Rohini began her story. She invented one; and she took the will from his hand to show how it lay between two boxes, which stood upon the chest of drawers. When she had finished speaking she left him abruptly. Haralal, not seeing the will in her hand when she returned, asked, "Where is the will?"

"I have kept it," said Rohini.

"I want to be going now. I must have it," said Haralal.

"Why, I think there is no haste."

"I cannot afford to wait. I must be off."

"Well, if you must, I will not detain you," said Rohini.

"The will? Let me have the will. Don't keep me waiting for it."

"You may leave it with me," said Rohini.

"Nonsense, I must have it."

"Whether it is with you or me, it is all the same."

"How? Why did you steal it if you will not give it to me?"

"When you have married a widow I will give it to your wife."

Haralal pretended not to see what she was driving at, and only said, "Don't detain me any longer, You want money, I can see. Let me know what sum will satisfy you."

"I don't want money; you know what I want," she said quietly, and evidently fighting against shyness.

"I am sorry I cannot comply with your wish," said Haralal. "If I have forged, I have done it for my own good. You stole; can you say why you did it?"

Rohini was astounded.

"Whatever I am" continued Haralal, "still I am Krishnakanta Roy's son. I cannot take to wife one who stole."

His words cut her like a whip. She rose to her feet abruptly; and pushing back her veil, and flinging an angry and scornful look at him, said, "Who told me to steal? Who put the temptation before me? Who was so silky and smooth in order to deceive a poor woman by taking advantage of her simplicity? Can there be anything more wicked and dishonourable than this? And you plume yourself on being the son of Krishnakanta Roy! Shame on you. Had you been a woman I wouldn't have spared the broom. But a wretch as you are, I allow you to depart in peace."

Haralal was cowed by her sudden and very bold attack. A malicious smile was on his face, and he withdrew without uttering a word.