The original Bengali of this Drama—the Nil Darpan, or Indigo Planting Mirror—having excited considerable interest, a wish was expressed by various Europeans to see a translation of it. This has been made by a Native; both the original and translation are bonâ fide Native productions and depict the Indigo Planting System as viewed by Natives at large.
The Drama is the favourite mode with the Hindus for describing certain states of society, manners, customs. Since the days of Sir W. Jones, by scholars at Paris, St. Petersburgh, and London, the Sanskrit Drama has, in this point of view, been highly appreciated. The Bengali Drama imitates in this respect its Sanskrit parent. The evils of Kulin Brahminism, widow marriage prohibition, quackery, fanaticism, have been depicted by it with great effect.
Nor has the system of Indigo planting escaped notice: hence the origin of this work, the Nil Darpan, which, though exhibiting no marvellous or very tragic scenes, yet, in simple homely language, gives the “annals of the poor;” pleads the cause of those who are the feeble; it describes a respectable ryot, a peasant proprietor, happy with his family in the enjoyment of his land till the Indigo System compelled him to take advances, to neglect his own land, to cultivate crops which beggared him, reducing him to the condition of a serf and a vagabond; the effect of this on his home, children, and relatives are pointed out in language, plain but true; it shows how arbitrary power debases the lord as well as the peasant; reference is also made to the partiality of various Magistrates in favor of Planters and to the Act of last year penally enforcing Indigo contracts.
Attention has of late years been directed by Christian Philanthropists to the condition of the ryots of Bengal, their teachers, and the oppression which they suffer, and the conclusion arrived at is, that there is little prospect or possibility of ameliorating the mental, moral, or spiritual condition of the ryot without giving him security of landed-tenure. If the Bengal ryot is to be treated as a serf, or a mere squatter or day-labourer, the missionary, the school-master, even the Developer of the resources of India, will find their work like that of Sisyphus—vain and useless.
Statistics have proved that in France, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium, Sweden, Denmark, Saxony, the education of the peasant, along with the security of tenure he enjoys on his small farms, has encouraged industrious, temperate, virtuous, and cleanly habits, fostered a respect for property, increased social comforts, cherished a spirit of healthy and active independence, improved the cultivation of the land, lessened pauperism, and has rendered the people averse to revolution, and friends of order. Even Russia is carrying out a grand scheme of serf-emancipation in this spirit.
It is the earnest wish of the writer of these lines that harmony may be speedily established between the Planter and the Ryot, that mutual interests may bind the two classes together, and that the European may be in the Mofussil the protecting Ægis of the peasants, who may be able “to sit each man under his mango and tamarind tree, none daring to make him afraid.”
I present “The Indigo Planting Mirror” to the Indigo Planters’ hands; now, let every one of them, having observed his face, erase the freckle of the stain of selfishness from his forehead, and, in its stead, place on it the sandal powder of beneficence, then shall I think my labour successful, good fortune for the helpless class of ryots, and preservation of England’s honor. Oh, ye Indigo Planters! Your malevolent conduct has brought a stain upon the English Nation, which was so graced by the ever-memorable names of Sydney, Howard, Hall, and other great men. Is your desire for money so very powerful, that through the instigation of that vain wealth, you are engaged in making holes like rust in the long acquired and pure fame of the British people? Abstain now from that unjust conduct through which you are raising immense sums as your profits; and then the poor people, with their families, will be able to spend their days in ease. You are now-a-days purchasing things worth a hundred rupees by expending only ten;—and you well know what great trouble the ryots are suffering from that. Still you are not willing to make that known, being entirely given up to the acquisition of money. You say, that some amongst you give donations to schools, and also medicine in time of need—but the Planters’ donations to schools are more odious than the application of the shoe for the destruction of a milch cow, and their grants of medicine are like unto mixing the inspissated milk in the cup of poison. If the application of a little turpentine after being beat by Shamchand,[1] be forming a dispensary, then it may be said that in every factory there is a dispensary. The Editors of two daily newspapers are filling their columns with your praises; and whatever other people may think, you never enjoy pleasure from it, since you know fully the reason of their so doing. What a surprising power of attraction silver has? The detestable Judas gave the great Preacher of the Christian religion, Jesus, into the hands of odious Pilate for the sake of thirty rupees; what wonder then, if the proprietors of two newspapers, becoming enslaved by the hope of gaining one thousand rupees, throw the poor helpless people of this land into the terrible grasp of your mouths. But misery and happiness revolve like a wheel, and that the sun of happiness is about to shed his light on the people of this country, is becoming very probable. The most kind-hearted Queen Victoria, the mother of the people, thinking it unadvisable to suckle her children through maid-servants, has now taken them on her own lap to nourish them. The most learned, intelligent, brave, and open-hearted Lord Canning is now the Governor-General of India; Mr. Grant, who always suffers in the sufferings of his people, and is happy when they are happy, who punishes the wicked and supports the good, has taken charge of the Lieutenant-Governorship, and other persons, as Messrs. Eden, Herschel, etc., who are, all well-known for their love of truth, for their great experience and strict impartiality, are continually expanding themselves lotus-like on the surface of the lake of the Civil Service. Therefore, it is becoming fully evident that these great men will very soon take hold of the rod of justice in order to stop the sufferings which the ryots are enduring from the great giant Rahu, the Indigo Planter.
Sons of Goluk Chunder.Indigo Planters.Magistrate, Amla, Attorney, Deputy Inspector, Pundit, Keeper of the Gaol, Doctor, a Cow-keeper, a Native Doctor, Four Boys, a Latyal or Club-man, and a Herdsman.
Sadhu. Master I told you then we cannot live any more in this country. You did not hear me however. A poor man’s word bears fruit after the lapse of years.
Goluk. O my child! Is it easy to leave one’s country? My family has been here for seven generations. The lands which our fore-fathers rented have enabled us never to acknowledge ourselves servants of others. The rice which grows, provides food for the whole year, means of hospitality to guests, and also the expense of religious services; the mustard seed we get, supplies oil for the whole year, and, besides, we can sell it for about sixty or seventy rupees. Svaropur is not a place where people are in want.—It has rice, peas, oil, molasses from its fields, vegetables in the garden, and fish from the tanks;—whose heart is not torn when obliged to leave such a place? And who can do that easily?
Sadhu. Now it is no more a place of happiness: your garden is already gone, and your relatives are on the point of forsaking you. Ah! it is not yet three years since the Saheb took a lease of this place, and he has already ruined the whole village. We cannot bear to turn our eyes in the southern direction towards the house of the heads of the villages (Mandal). Oh! what was it once, and what is it now! Three years ago, about sixty men used to make a daily feast in the house; there were ten ploughs, and about forty or fifty oxen; as to the court-yard, it was crowded like as at the horse races; when they used to arrange the ricks of corn, it appeared, as it were, that the lotus had expanded itself on the surface of a lake bordered by sandal groves; the granary was as large as a hill; but last year the granary not being repaired, was on the point of falling into the yard. Because he was not allowed to plant Indigo in the rice-field, the wicked Saheb beat the Majo and Sajo Babus most severely; and how very difficult was it to get them out of his clutches; the ploughs and kine were sold, and at that crisis the two Mandals left the village.
Goluk. Did not the eldest Mandal go to bring his brethren back?
Sadhu. They said, we would rather beg from door to door than go to live there again. The eldest Mandal is now left alone, and he has kept two ploughs, which are nearly always engaged in the Indigo-fields. And even this person is making preparations for flying off. Oh, Sir! I tell you also to throw aside this infatuated attachment (maya) for your native place. Last time your rice went, and this time, your honour will go.
Goluk. What honor remains to us now? The Planter has prepared his places of cultivation round about the tank, and will plant Indigo there this year. In that case, our women will be entirely excluded from the tank. And also the Saheb has said that if we do not cultivate our rice-fields with Indigo, he will make Nobin Madhab to drink the water of seven Factories (i. e. to be confined in them).
Sadhu. Has not the eldest Babu gone to the Factory?
Goluk. Has he gone of his own will? The pyeadah (a servant) has carried him off there.
Sadhu. But your eldest Babu has very great courage. On the day the Saheb said, “If you don’t hear the Amin, and don’t plant the Indigo within the ground marked off, then shall we throw your houses into the river Betraboti, and shall make you eat your rice in the factory godown;“ the eldest Babu replied, “As long as we shall not get the price for the fifty bigahs of land sown with Indigo last year, we will not give one bigah this year for Indigo. What do we care for our house? We shall even risk (pawn) our lives.”
Goluk. What could he have done, without he said that? Just see, no anxiety would have remained in our family if the fifty bigahs of rice produce had been left with us. And if they give us the money for the Indigo, the greater part of our troubles will go away.
Nobin Madhab enters.
O my son, What has been done?
Nobin. Sir, does the cobra shrink from biting the little child on the lap of its mother on account of the sorrow of the mother? I flattered him much, but: he understood nothing by that. He kept to his word, and said, give us sixty bigahs of land, secured by written documents, and take 50 Rupees, then we shall close the two years’ account at once.
Goluk. Then, if we are to give sixty bigahs for the cultivation of the Indigo, we cannot engage in any other cultivation whatever. Then we shall die without rice crops.
Nobin. I said, “Saheb, as you engage all your men, our ploughs, and our kine, every thing, in the Indigo field, only give us every year through our food. We don’t want hire.” On which, he with a laugh said, “You surely don’t eat Yaban’s[2] rice.”
Sadhu. Those whose only pay is a belly full of food are, I think, happier than we are.
Goluk. We have nearly abandoned all the ploughs; still we have to cultivate Indigo. We have no chance in a dispute with the Sahebs. They bind and beat us, it is for us to suffer. We are consequently obliged to work.
Nobin. I shall do as you order, Sir; but my design is for once to bring action into Court.
Aduri enters.
Aduri. Our Mistress is making noise within; the day is far advanced; will you not go to bathe, and take your food. The boiled rice is very near become dry.
Sadhu. (Standing up.) Sir, decide something about this, or I shall die. If we give the labour of one-and-a-half of our ploughs for the cultivation of nine bigahs of Indigo-fields, our boiling pots of rice will go empty. Now, I am going away, Sir, farewell, our oldest Babu.
Goluk. We don’t think that God will any more allow us to bathe and to take food in this land. Now, my son, go and bathe.
Ray. (Holding his plough.) The stupid Amin is a tiger. The violence with which he came upon me! Oh my God! I thought that he was coming to devour me. That villain did not hear a single word and with force he marked off the ground. If they take five bigahs of land, what will my family eat. First, we will shed tears before them; if they don’t let us alone, as a matter of course, we shall leave the country.
Khetromani enters.
Is my brother come home?
Khetra. Father is gone to the house of the Babu’s and is coming very soon. Will you not go to call my aunt? What were you talking about?
Ray. I am talking of nothing. Now, bring me a little water, my stomach is on the point of bursting from thirst. I told my brother-in-law[3] so much, but he did not hear me.
Sadhu. Ray, why did you come so early?
Ray. O my brother, the vile Amin has marked off the piece of ground in Sanpoltola. What shall we eat; and how shall I pass the year? Ah, our land was bright as the golden champah.[4] By the produce of only one corner of the field, we satisfied the mahajans. What shall we eat now, and what shall our children take? This large family may die without food. Every morning two recas (nearly 5 lbs) of rice are necessary. What shall we eat then? Oh, my Ill-fortune! Ill-fortune (burnt forehead)! what has the Indigo of this white man done?
Sadhu. We were living in the hope of cultivating those bigahs of land; and now, if these are gone, than what use is there of remaining here any more. And the one or two bigahs which are become saltish, they yield no produce. Again, the ploughs are to remain in the Indigo-field; and what can we do. Don’t weep now; to-morrow we shall sell off the ploughs and cows, leave this village, and go and live in the Zemindary of Babu Basanta.
Now, drink the water, drink the water; what do you fear? He who has given life, will provide also food. Now, what did you say to the Amin?
Ray. What can I say? He began to mark off the ground, on which it seemed as if he began to thrust burnt sticks into my breast, I entreated, holding him by his feet, and wanted to give him money; but he heard nothing. He said, go to your eldest Babu; go to your father. When I returned, I only punished him with saying, “I shall bring this before the Court.”
Just see, that villain (Shálá