VILLAGE INDIA : THE MONEYLENDER
By GIRIJA MOOKERJEE
THROUGHOUT Northern India the moneylender is generally called the " Mahajan," which literally means the " great one." One does not know when and how the word " Bania " as a synonym for the moneylender crept into the language, very probably when the " Mahajan ". ceased to 'be•the village financier he always was, and became more and more the extorter of interest that he is now. From time immemorial the " Mahajan " had the honoured place in the village hierarchy and the high-born Brahmin and the low-born Sudra both alike had paid him homage, as he was indis- pensable and inevitable for the well-being of the com- munity. But times are changed. And Nilkanth the village moneylender, sitting cross-legged in front of his little desk, which happens also to be his personal safe, scrutinising the figures in the yard-long folding account books, bound in thin red cloth, breathes a deep sigh of regret and listlessly watches the little procession of of men and women hurrying through the market square.
Yet there was a time when the Pundit and the peasant looked to him for succour whenever in distress. It is true that IsTilkanth had charged higher interest than the laws of the country had allowed, but who else, argues Nilkanth, would have lent that son of a pig, Ramnath, any money when his wife was dying of Malaria ? He had no property, had not a thing he could raise money on, and if Nilkanth had not given him fifty rupees, where would his pretty -wife be now ? Wasn't it Nilkanth's money that fetched the Kliviraj (doctor) and the medicines ? But Ramnath has forgotten all about it. He has all these new-fangled notions about money and the land in his head. He has joined the Congress Party and lectures the peasants in the fields about the evil of borrowing money from Nilkanth. He even said that Nilkanth was like those worms who feed them- selves on human blood. The cheek of it reflects Nilkanth, the blood rushing into his thin emaciated face— specially when Ramnath's father and his father's father had for generations owed money to the firm of the Nilkanths and had never dreamt of doing 'anything else.
But Nilkanth's indignation is feeble. Even his own son Hari, who should have taken charge of the firm, has no interest in the business. It is these educated Babus who have put strange ideas into his young head. He thinks that moneylending is beneath the dignity of a self-respecting man. Was not this same Hari told the other day in front of a client that he was a cheating old fool? Lord, what are things coming to.
And yet as he closes his ledger, and slowly rises to carry his desk into the shelf nearby, he scans at a distance the shadowy figure of a man haltingly making towards *the house, and Nilkanth's face glows with pleasure. Behold, there is a client. It is true that the Babus have set up in Rasulporc (a good ten miles' walk from here), as Nilkanth knows, a Co-Operative Bank, yet the peasants do not feel happy about it at all. It is all so complicated, one has to sign one's name on so many papers, and the simple villagers feel bored and uncomfortable. And behind the grille the cashier who hands over the money looks so ghostly and frightening. After all, Nilkanth was human, but these people behind the counter are like caged monkeys. They never talk, and the villager who has walked a good ten miles to hear the gossip of the countryside feels disappointed and cheated. Nilkanth is so different. He calls you by your proper name, asks about your wife and children and enquires if the bullock you bought at the fair is still well and strong. It is no doubt true, he has a way of his own with figures, which the simple villagers do not understand, and the more one, goes on paying the more one seems to owe him. That is of course annoying, but the younger ones of the village have been to school and the elderly peasants hope that they will find out the trick one day and expose Nilkanth.
But at the moment one must have some money to buy seeds. The Gods in heaven heard their prayers and at last the rains came last night. And such plentiful rains too. Ramcharan was unable to sleep. The storm and the wind and the fragrance of the rain-soaked earth had made him feel restless. He was up with the dawn, had pestered his wife, asking if she had any money hidden in the house and had kicked up a row. She hadn't any and poor Ramcharan, crestfallen, had in great reluctance made towards Nilkanth's little office in the market square.
" Pranam Maharaj, Gods are gracious : it was such a bountiful rain last night."
Nilkanth smiles at Ramcharan, and pretends not to understand what has brought him here so early in the morning, but nevertheless he 'brings back his desk and puts it on the raised platform. There is a gleam .of triumph in his shrewd eyes, though the drooping, heavy and bushy eyebrows hide it from Ramcharan.
But still there is the fear of doom in his heart and instinctively he divines the changes that are coming. There are one hundred thousand Co-operative Societies scattered over the country and they are increasing every day. Nilkanth knows about it. He has resented their popularity and yet he resigns himself to altered conditions in that spirit of strange fatalism characteristic of his race. Although the village worthies would never raise an epitaph to his memory, yet lie has fulfilled a function in Indian village economy, a function of utmost importance, and even the most advanced economists find it difficult to minimise its immeasurable usefulness in the past. He has greedily held in his hand hoarded gold and silver for numberless years, and hasn't he in that way saved a drain of India's wealth to foreign countries ? Thus he justifies himself and has argued for years. But the old ideas of the value of money are swiftly changing and so Nilkanth will fade out one day without regret and without lament ; the village police- man will not come knocking at his door in the middle of the night, and very soon Nilkanth will be relieved of the burden of his bunch of keys and no more have to bang them noisily, indicating that all was well and. that he kept. awake guarding his treasures..
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