GORA CHAP.
two, it was only because of their devotion for Gora that they did not do likewise, leaving their leader alone. And indeed Motilal and Rarnapati suffered in no small degree for their loyalty, because no amount of tramping seemed to tire Gora, nor was he ever bored, however long they might be held up on the wav. He would stay on day after day in the home of those who were eager to offer hospitality to these Brahmin wayfarers, no matter what conveniences the place might lack. The villagers would crowd round to listen to Gora and were loath to part with him.
This was the first time Gora had seen what the condition of his country was like, outside the well-to-do and cultured society of Calcutta. How divided, how narrow, how weak was this vast expanse of rural India, — how supinely un¬ conscious of its own power, how ignorant and indifferent as to its own welfare! What gulfs of social separation yawned between villages only a few miles apart. What a host of self- imposed imaginary obstacles prevented them from taking their place in the grand commerce of the world. The most trivial things looked so big to them; the least of their tradi¬ tions seemed so unbreakable. Without such an opportunity to see it for himself. Gora would never have been able even to imagine how inert were their minds, how petty their lives, how feeble their efforts.
One day a fire occurred in one of the villages in which Gora was staying, and he was astounded to see how utterly they failed to combine their resources even when faced by so grave a calamity. All was confusion, every one running hither and thither, weeping and wailing, without the least sign of method anywhere. There was no source of drinking-water near by, the women of the neighbourhood having to bring water from a great distance for their household work, even those who were comparatively well off never dreaming of digging a tank to mitigate this daily inconvenience in their own households. There had been fires before, but as every one had accepted them merely as visitations of Fate, it never occurred to them to try to make some arrangement for a nearer supply of water.
It began to appear ridiculous to Gora for him to be lectur¬ ing these people about the condition of their country, when their power of understanding even the most urgent needs of their own neighbourhood was so overcast by blind habit. Wbat, however, astonished him most was to find that neither Motilal nor Rarnapati seemed to be the least disturbed by all that they were seeing — rather they appeared to regard Gora’s XXVI GORA XXVI GORA perturbation as uncalled for. “ This is how the poor are accustomed to live,” they said to themselves; “ what to us would be hardship they do not feel at all.” They even thought it mere sentimentality to be so concerned about a better life for them. But to Gora it was a constant agony to be brought face to face with this terrible load of ignorance, apathy and suffering, which had overwhelmed rich and poor, learned and ignorant alike, and clogged their advance at every step.
Then Motilal received news of the illness of a relative and left for home, so that Ramapati alone remained with Gora.
As these, two proceeded they came to a Mohammedan village on the bank of a river. After a long search for some place where they could accept hospitality, they discovered at last a solitary Hindu house, — that of a barber. When this man had duly offered welcome to the Brahmin visitors, they saw on entering his house that one of the inmates was a Mohammedan boy whom, they learnt, the barber and his wife hod adopted. The orthodox Ramapati was thoroughly disgusted, and when Gora taxed the barber with his un-Hindu conduct, he said: “ What’s the difference, sir? We call on Him as Hari, they as Allah, that’s all.”
Meanwhile the sun had risen high and had be"un to shine fiercely. The river was far off, across a wide stretch of burning sand. Rumapati, tortured with thirst, wondered where ho could get any drinking-water, fit for a Hindu. There was a small well near the barber’s house, but the water polluted by this renegade’s touch could not serve for his need.
“ Has this boy no parents of his own? ” asked Gora.
“ He has both mother und father living, but he is as good as an orphan all the same,” answered the barber.
“ How do you mean? ” • The barber then related the boy’s history.
The estate on which they were living had been farmed out to Indigo Planters, who were always disputing with the agriculturist tenants the rights to till the fertile alluvial land on the river -banks. All the tenants had given in to the sahibs except those living in this village of Ghosepara, who refused to be ousted by the Planters. They were Mohammedans, and their leader Faru Sardar was afraid of no one. Dunne these disputes with the Planters he had twice been put in gaol for fighting the police, and he had at length been reduced to such straits that he was practically starving, yet he would not be tamed.
GORA CHAP.
GORA CHAP.
This year the cultivators had managed to reap an early crop off the fresh alluvial deposits by the river-side, but the Planter himself had come later on, only about a month ago, with a band of club-men and forcibly taken away the harvested grain. It was on this occasion that Faru Sardar. in defending his fellow-villagers, had hit the sahib such a blow on his right hand that it had to be amputated. Such daring had never been known in these parts before.
From then onwards the police had been engaged in de¬ vastating the whole neighbourhood, like a raging fire. No household was safe from their inquisitorial depredations, nor the honour of the women. Others besides Faru had been put away in gaol, and of those who were left, many had fled from the village. In the house of Faru there was no food, and his wife had only one piece of cloth to wear as a sari, the condition of which was such that she could not come out in public. Their only son, this boy Tamiz, used to call the barber’s wife “ Auntie,” and when she saw that he was practically starving, the kind-hearted woman took him away to her own home.
At a distance of about two or three miles wore the offices of the Indigo Factory and there the Inspector of Police and his force were quartered. When they would next descend upon the village, and what they would do in the name of . investigation, no one could say. Only the previous day they had suddenly appeared in the house of the barber’s old neigh¬ bour, Nazim. This Nazim had a young brother-in-law who had come from a different district to see his sister. At sight of him the Police Inspector, without rhyme or reason, had remarked: “ Ha, wc have a fighting cock here, I see! Throws out his chest, does he? ” With which he struck him over the face with his staff, knocking out his teeth and making his mouth bleed. When the man’s sister, at sight of this brutality, came running up to tend her brother, she was sent reeling to the ground with a savage blow. Formerly the police had not the courage to commit such atrocities in this quarter, but now that all the able-bodied men had either been arrested or had fled, they could wreak their wrath on the villagers with impunity, and there was no knowing how long their shadow would continue to darken the locality.
Gora could not tear himself away from the barber’s recital, but Kamapati had become desperate with thirst, so before the barber had finished his story he repeated his question: “ How far is the nearest Hindu quarter? ” “ The rent collector of the Indigo Factory is a Brahmin, f XXVI GORA 135 by name Madhav Chatterjee,” said the barber. “ He is the nearest Hindu. He lives in the office buildings, 2 or 3 miles away.”
“ What kind of a man is he? ” asked Gora.
"A regular limb of Satan,” replied the barber. “You couldn’t get another scoundrel so cruel, and yet so soft-spoken. He has been entertaining the Police Inspector all these days, but will collect the expenses from us, with a little profit for himself, too! ” “Come, Gora Babu, let’s be going,” interposed Ramapati impatiently. “ I can’t stand this any longer.” llis patience had been brought to breaking point by the sight of the barber's wife drawing water from the well in the courtyard and pouring eiers full over that wretch of a Mohammedan boy for his His nerves were so set on edge that ho felt he could not remain in that house for another moment.
Gora, as he was going, asked the barber: “ How is it that you are lingering on here in spite of these outrages? Have you no relatives to go to, elsewhere? ” “ I’ve been living here all my life,” explained the barber, 41 and have got attached to all the neighbours. I am the only Hindu barber near about, and, as I have nothing to do with land, the Factory people don’t molest me. Besides, there's hardly another man left in the whole village, and if I went away the women would die of fright.”
“Well, we’re oil,” said Gora, “ but I'll come and see you again after we’ve hud some food.”
The effect of this long story of oppression on the famished and thirsty Ramanati was to turn all his indignation against the recalcitrant viUaecrs, who had brought all this trouble on their own head. This upraising of the head in the presence of the strong seemed to him the very height of folly and pie- headedness on the part of these Mohammedan roughs. He felt they were served right thus to be taught a lesson, and to have their insolence broken. It is just this class of people, thought he, who always fall foul of the police, and for that they them¬ selves are mainly responsible. Why could not they give in to their lords and masters? What was the use of this parade of independence— where was their foolhardy boasting now? In fine, Ramapati’s sympathies were inwardly ranged on the side of the sahibs. m.
As they walked across the burning sand, in the full heat of the mid-day sun, Gora never spoke a single word. When at length the roof of the Indigo Factory’s office showed through GORA CHAP.
the trees, he stopped suddenly and said: “ Ramapati, you go and get something to eat, I’m going back to that barber’s.”
“ Whatever do you mean? ” exclaimed Ramapati. “ Aren’t you going to eat anything yourself? Why not go after we’ve had something at this Brahmin’s house? ” “ I’ll take care of myself, don’t you worry! ” replied Gora. “ You get some food and then go back to Calcutta. I expect I shall have to stay on at that Ghoscpara village for a few days, — you’ll not be able to do that.”
Ramapati broke out into a cold sweat. He could not believe his ears. How could Gora, good Hindu as he was, even talk of staying in the home of those unclean people? Was he mad, or determined to starve himself to death? But this was not the time to do much thinking; every moment seemed to him an age; and it did not need much persuasion to make him take this opportunity of escape to Calcutta. Before lie went into the oiiice, however, he turned to cast one glance at Gora’s tall figure as he strode across tho burning, deserted sands.
How lonely he looked!
Gora was almost overcome with hunger and thirst, but the very idea of having to preserve his caste by eating in the house of that unscrupulous scoundrel, Madhav Chattcrjec, became more and more unbearable the longer he thought of it. His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot, his brain on fire with the revolt in his mind. “ What terrible wrong have wc been doing,” he said to himself, “ by making purity an external thing l Shall my caste remain pure by eating from the hands of this oppressor of the poor Mahomcdans. and be lost in the home of the man who has not only shared their miseries but given shelter to one of them at the risk of being outcasted himself? Let the final solution be what it may, I cannot accept such conclusion now.”
The barber was surprised to sec Gora return alone. The first thing Gora did was to take the barber’s drinking- vessel and after carefully cleaning it, fill it with water from the well. After drinking he said: “ If you have any rice and dal in tho house please let me have some to cook.” His host busied him¬ self in getting everything ready for the cooking, and when Gora had prepared and eaten his meal he said: “ I will stay on with you for a time.”
The barber was beside himself at the idea, and putting his hands together in entreaty, he said: “lam indeed fortunate that you should think of condescending so far, but this house is XXVI GORA being watched by the police, and if they find you here it may lead to trouble.”
“ The Police won't dare to harm you while I am here, — if they do, I’ll take care of you.”
“ No, no,” implored the barber. “ Pray don’t think of such a thing. If/you try to protect me I shall indeed be a lost man. These fellows will think I am trying to get them into trouble by calling in an outsider as witness of their misdeeds. So far, I’ve managed to steer clear of them, but once I am a marked man, I’ll have to leave, and after that the village will go to rack and ruin.”
It was hard for Gora, who had spent all his days in the city, to comprehend tho reason of the man’s apprehensions. He had always imagined that you only had to stand firmly enough on the side of right, for evil to be overcome. His sense of duty would not allow him to think of leaving these afflicted villagers to their fate. But the barber fell on his knees and clasped his feet saying: “ You a Brahmin, sir, have deigned to come as my guest, — to ask you to depart is nothing less than & crime for me. But because I see you really pity us, I make bold to tell you that if you try to prevent any of this police oppression while staying in my house, you will only get me into trouble.”
Gora, annoyed at what he considered the unreasonable cowardice of the barber, left him that very afternoon. He even had a revulsion of feeling for having taken food under the roof - of this good-for-nothing renegade! Tired and disgusted he arrived towards evening at the Factory office. Ramapati had lost no time in starting for Calcutta after his meal, and was no longer there.
Madhav Chattcrjee showed the greatest respect for Gora, and invited him to be his guest, but Gora, full of his angry reflections, broke out with: “ I won’t even touch your water! ’ On the astonished Madhav inquiring the reason, Gora began to tax him bitterly for his outrageous acts of oppression and refused to take a seat. _ The Police Inspector was reclining on a tukla fitted with a huge bolster, puffing away at his hookah, and at Gora’s out¬ burst he sat up and asked rudely: " mo the deuce are you, and where do you come from? ” “ Ah! The Inspector, I suppose? ” remarked Gora, with¬ out giving any answer to his question. “ Let me tell you that I’ve taken note of all your doings at Ghosepara. If you don’t mend your ways, even yet, then - ” GORA CHAP.
“ You’ll have us all hanged, will you? ” sneered the Inspector, turning towards his friend. “ We seem to have got hold of a bumptious sort of a bounder, I see. I thought it was a beggar, but just look at his eyes!— Sergeant, come forward! ” he shouted to one of his men.
Madhav, with a perturbed air, took the Inspector by the hand as he pleaded: “ Oh, I say, Inspector, go. slow.— Don’t be insulting a gentleman! ” “ Nice sort of gentleman, indeed! ” flung out the Inspector. “ Who is he to abuse you like that — wasn’t that an insult? ’’ “ What he said wasn’t exactly untrue, was it, so why let's St angry about it? ” replied 5ladhav unctuously. “I am e agent of the Indigo Planters for my sins, — what worse can be said of me? And don’t take it amiss, old fellow, but does it really amount to any further abuse to call a Police Inspector an emissary of Satan? It's the business of tigers to kill ami cat their prey, so what’s the sense in calling them types of meekness? — Well, well, there we arc, we’ve got to make a living somehow I ” No ouc had ever seen Madhav get into a fit of temper unless he had anything to gain by it. Who could tell beforehand what kind of person could be of help and which could do an injury? So be always went into the pros and cons before he decided to injure or insult any one. He did not believe in unnecessary waste of energy.
“ Look here, Babu,” then said the Inspector to Gora. “ We have come here to carry out Government orders. If you try to meddle in this business you’ll get into hot water, I promise you! ” Gora went off without answering, but Madhav followed after him and said: “ What you say is quite true, sir, ours is butcher’s work; and as for that rogue of an Inspector over there, it is a sin to sit on the same seat with liim! I can’t speak of all the wrong I have had to get done through that fellow. But it won’t be for much longer. After a few years I shall have earned enough to pay the expenses of my daughter’s marriage and then I and my wife can retire to a religious life in Benares. I’m getting tired of this sort of thing — sometimes I feel inclined to hang myself and end it all! Anyhow, where are you proposing to stay the night? Why not dine with me and sleep here. I’ll make separate arrangements for you, so that you need not even cross that blackguard’s shadow.”
Gora was blessed with an appetite of more than the usual dimensions, — he had moreover eaten very little through all that dismal day, but his whole body was afire with indignation.
xxvn GORA and he simply could not stay on there for anything, so he excused himself, saying that he had business elsewhere.
“ Let me at least send a lantern with you,” said Madhav.
But Gora went off quickly, without waiting to reply, while Madhav, returning to the house, said to the Inspector: “ That fellow’s sure to go and report us. old fellow. If I were you I would send some one on to the Magistrate, beforehand.”
“ What for? ” asked the Inspector.
“ Just to warn him,” suggested Madhav, “ that there’s^ a young Babu from somewhere, going about trying to get at the witnesses in your case.”
CHAPTER XXVn The Magistrate, Mr. Brownlow, was taking an evening walk by the river and with him was Haran. Some way oil, his wife was having her drive with Parcsh Babu’s daughters.
Mr. Brownlow was in the habit of inviting to an occasional garden-party at his house a few of his respectable Bengali acquaintances, and would preside at the prize distribution of the local High School. If he was requested to honour a wedding celebration in some wealthy home he would graciously yield to the importunate invitation. He would even, when asked to grace a Jatra party, sit for some time in a big arm¬ chair and try patiently to stay through some of the songs. The K before, at a Jatra performance given in a pleader’s house, as so pleased with the acting of two of the boy performers that, at his special request, they repeated their dialogue before him.
His wife was a missionary’s daughter, and she often had the missionary ladies of the station to tea-parties at her home. She had founded a Girls’ School for the District and tried hard to keep up the number of its pupils. Seeing how studious Paresh Babu’s daughters were at their lessons, she was always encouraging them, and even now, when they lived at a distance, she used to write letters to them, and every Christmas she sent them presents of religious books.
The Fair had started, and Mistress Baroda had arrived on the sceno with all the girls, as well as Haran, Sudhir and Binoy. Accommodation had been provided for them in the Government Bungalow. Paresh Babu, being unable to stand all this excite¬ ment and bustle, had been left behind in Calcutta all alone.
GORA CHAP.
Sucharita had tried her best to remain with him fox company, but Parcsh Babu, regarding the acceptance of the Magistrate’s invitation as a duty, insisted on sending her along too.
It had been settled that the play and recitations should be given at an evening party to be held two days later at the Magistrate’s house. The Commissioner of the District, as well as the Lieutenant-Governor and his wife, were to be present, and the Magistrate had invited many English friends, not only from the neighbouring districts, but also from Calcutta. Arrangements had also been made for a few select Bengalis, for whom, it was rumoured, a separate tent would be provided m the garden, with orthodox refreshments.
Haran had managed to please the Magistrate in a very short time by the high standard of his conversation, and had astonished the sahib by his unusual knowledge of the Christian scriptures, so much so that Mr. Brownlow had asked him why, wheu he had got so far, he stopped short of becoming a Christian himself!, This evening they were engaged, as they walked along the river-bank, in a grave discussion about the methods of the Brahmo Samaj and the best means for the reform of the Hindu Social System. In the middle of their talk Gora suddenly came up and accosted the sahib with a Good evening, sir.”.
He had tried to obtain an interview with the Magistrate the day before, but be had soon made the discovery that in order to obtain an audience of the sahib he would have to pay tell to his servants. Being unwilling to countenance such a dis¬ graceful practice, he had taken this opportunity of waylaying the sahib during his evening walk. At this interview neither Haran nor Gora showed any sign of their previous acquaint- The Magistrate was rather surprised at this sudden appari¬ tion. This kind of six-foot tall, big-boned, stalwart figure he could not remember to have come across before in this pro¬ vince. Neither was his complexion like that of the ordinary Bengali. He was wearing a khaki shirt and a coarse and some¬ what soiled dhuli. He had a bamboo stick in his hand, and his shawl was twisted into a kind of turban on his head.
“ I have just come from Ghosepara,” began Gora.
Whereupon the Magistrate gave a half-subdued whistle. Only the day before he had received intimation that a stranger was trying to interfere in the Ghosepara investigations. So this was the fellow! He looked Gora up and down with a XXVII GORA keen inquiring stare and asked: “ To what part of the country <lo you belong i ” I am a Bengali Brahmin,” said Gora.
Oh! Connected with some newspaper, I suppose? ” “ Then what were you doing at Ghoscpara? ” “ I happened to be staying there in the course of a walking •tour, and seeing signs of police oppression, with apprehension •of more to come, I have come to you in the hope of remedy.” „ “ Are you aware that the Ghoscpara people arc a set of .rogues? ” said the Magistrate.
“ They’re not rogues, but they are fearless and independent, •and cannot endure injustice without protest,” answered Gora.
This enraged the Magistrate. Here was one of those .modern youths whose brains had been turned by education. 4‘ Insufferable,” lie muttered under his breath, adding aloud: ■** You know nothing about local conditions round here,” in a •stern voice which was expected to clinch the matter.
But Gora answered in his big voice: “ You know much less •of those conditions than I do! ” “ Look here,” said the Magistrate. “ Let me warn you that if you meddle with this Ghosepara affair you will not ,get off cheaply.”
“ Since you have a prejudice against the villagers, and have made up your mind not to remedy their wrongs,” said Gora, ■“ I’ve no other course but to go back to Ghoscpara, and encourage tbe people, so far as I can, to stand up for them¬ selves against this police oppression.”
The Magistrate stopped short in his walk to turn on Gora like a flash of lightning with the shout: “ What confounded insolence! ” Gora -left slowly, without answering back further.
“ What is all this a symptom of in your countrymen, now¬ adays? ” scornfully asked the Magistrate of Haran.
It simply shows that their education is not going deep enough,” replied Haran in a superior tone. “ There is no .spiritual and moral teaching at all. These fellows have not been able to assimilate the best in English culture. It is because they have only learnt their lessons by rote, and not had any moral training, that these ingrates will not acknow •ledge British rule in India to be a dispensation of Providence.”
Such moral culture they will never get until they accept Christ,” remarked the Magistrate sententiously.
“ In a way that is true,” admitted Haran, and proceeded G011A ClIAi-- to plunge into a subtle analysis of where he agreed and where- he disagreed with the Christian point of view.
The Magistrate was held so engrossed by this discourse that it was not till his wife had returned in the carriage, after- leaving Paresh Babu’s daughters at the Bungalow, and called, out: Aren’t you coming home, Harry? ” that he suddenly- realised how late it was.
“ By Jove,” he exclaimed as lie looked at his watch, it & .twenty past eight! ” and as he got into the carriage lie warmly pressed Haran’s hand saying: 41 The evening has passed most pleasantly in this interesting talk with you.”
Haran, on his return to their Bungalow, retailed at length, the conversation he had been having with the Magistrate, but- ho failed to touch upon the incident of G ora’s sudden, appearance.
CHAPTER XXVIII Forty-seven of the unfortunate villagers had been put into* the lock-up, without a regular trial, simply as an example to- the rest.
After leaving the Magistrate, Gora went in search of a. lawyer, and was told that Satkori Haidar was one of the best in the locality. On calling at his house it turned out that this lawyer was an old fellow-student of Gora’s.
“ Well I declare, it’s Gora! ” he exclaimed. “ Whatever are you doing here? ” Gora explained that he wanted an application to be made- to the Court for bailing out the Ghoscpara prisoners.
“ Who will stand surety? ” asked Satkori.
“ Are you able to go bail for 47 people? ” “ If the mukhlears will stand surety I am ready to pay tho- usual fees.”
" It will cost quite a lot.”
In the Magistrate’s Court, the next day, the application for¬ bad was duly made. No sooner did the Magistrate catch sight of yesterday’s tall figure, with dusty clothes and turban, than, he curtly refused the application. So amongst the others, boys of fourteen and old men of eighty were left to wear out. their hearts in confinement.
Gora requested Satkori to fight their case, but said the- XXVIII GORA latter: ‘ Where are you going to get witnesses? All those who were on the spot are now in gaol! Besides that the whole neighbourhood has been terrorised by the investigations which followed upon the injury to the sahib. The Magistrate has begun to suspect a conspiracy of educated seditionists. If l push myself forward too much he may even suspect mo! The Anglo-Indian newspapers are continually complaining that Englishmen’s lives in the moflusil will become unsafe if the natives are allowed to become too uppish. Meanwhile it is becoming well-nigh impossible for the natives to livo in their own country! I know that the oppression is terrible, but there’s no means of resisting it.”
“ No means! ” cried out Gora. " Why can’t wc -? ” “ I sec you’ve not changed one bit since your school days! ” laughed Satkori. “ Wc can’t do anything simply because wo have wife and children to support— they’ll starve unless we can make something for them every day. How mauy people are there ready to risk death for their families by taking other people’s perils on their own shoulders, especially in our country, where the families are by no means small? Those who are responsible for the welfare of more than a dozen people already cannot afford to look after another dozen or so, in addition! ” “ Then will you do nothing for these poor people? ” pressed Gora. “Could you not make an application to the High Court, or - ” “ You don’t seem to realise the situation! ” interrupted Satkori impatiently. “ It is an Englishman who has been hurt! Every Englishman is of the King’s race, — an injury to the least of White-men amounts to a petty rebellion against the British Raj! I’m not going to fall foul of the Magistrate by tilting against this system, without the least chance of any result.”
Next day Gora decided to start for Calcutta by the 10.30 traiu to see whether he could get any help from some Calcutta lawyer. He was on his way to the station when he met with a check.
A cricket match had been arranged between a Calcutta team of students and the local team for the last day of the Fair, and the visiting team was practising, when one of the players got badly hit by the ball on his leg. There was a large tank by the side of the field and two students had just taken the injured player to the bank, and were binding the boy’s leg with a piece of cloth dipped in the water, when suddenly a GORA CHAP.
police constable turned up from somewhere and began hitting tbo students right and left, using unspeakably abusive language.
The Calcutta students did not know that this was a reserved tank and that it was forbidden to use it, and even if they had known, they were not used to being insulted without cause by the police. They were muscular youths, so they set about avenging the insult as it deserved. Hearing the row, more constables came running up and at the same moment Gora also appeared on the scene.
Gora knew the students well, for he had often taken them to play cricket matches, and when he saw the boys being bullied, he could not help coming to their rescue. “ Have a care,” he shouted to the police. “ Keep your hands ol! the boys! ” Whereupon the constables turned upon him with their filthy abuse, and soon there was a regular fight on. A crowd began to gather, and in less than no time scores of students had flocked to the place. Encouraged by Gora’s support and leadership they soon made a successful attack on the police and scattered their forces. To the spectators the affair was gteat fun, but it is needless to say that for Gora it proved to be no joke.
At about three or four o’clock Binoy, Haran and the girls were rehearsing the play in tho Bungalow when two students, who were known to Binoy, came and informed him that Gora and some of the boys had been arrested and were now in the police cell awaiting their trial, which was to take place before the Magistrate next day.
Gora in the lock-up! The news startled them all, except Haran. Binoy rushed off immediately to his old school-fellow, Satkori Haidar, and took him along to the Police Station.