The kid Mangal continued growing up in his dusty village of Ballia. What the old wise man had said on that day on the hillock became more and more meaningful as he gained greater understanding as, he went on maturing into his teens. Meanwhile East India Company (Company Bahadur) was implementing its policies with greater viciousness. Rural India was getting impoverished pushing the village folk into a hopeless state. India’s traditional economy was based on small scale village and cottage industries. It was the means of the livelihood of the rural India other than the agriculture. The policy of the company was to destroy India’s rural industry based economy to turn the colonised Hindustan into a market for British goods. They had succeeded in their evil mission. Rural India was in ruins. Now there was little work in villages. Starvation stalked every family. The people were migrating to towns and cities in large numbers in search of employment where they hoped to find work as porters, coolies, factory workers and other menial jobbers. Those who knew to read and write could join the army of the company if they happened to be of young age and right physique.
Back in villages farmers were in no better condition. Small farming lands produced just enough food grains to last for a few months only. Most of the farmers were share croppers or plain farm labourers who always remained half fed. Big land owners or zamindars had become stooges of the company’s officials. So were Rajas or Nawabs. All such forces had ganged up against the poor masses.
Thus, Mangal Pandey faced very bleak future.
Young Mangal Pandey had learnt some Hindi from a Brahmin and Urdu from the local Maulvi. He could read and write both scripts. He also had got interested in going to akhara to do push-ups. It had given Mangal a reasonably stout body. It could not become robust or muscular like that of a wrestler because his family could not afford the required diet. And he had no job.
There was no scope of any job opportunity coming up in the village. The family had little property. Hand to mouth living was the fate of the members of family. Mangal’s mind was puzzled at how to get out of the poverty trap? There was never enough to eat and no money to do or buy something.
Mangal often used to go to the maternal home of his mother as his maternal grandpa and his wife liked him very much. There he used to see a youngman a couple of years senior to him in age. He did not find him there for a couple of years. He learnt that the youngman had joined the army of the company fed up with idling and financial hardships. Mangal wanted to meet him. On his latest visit to the maternal grand parents he spotted him. The man had come home on leave. He looked in good health and his house had some signs of financial well being.
The man too spotted Mangal.
“Oye Mangal, how are you?” he asked.
“Ram Ram Dadu. I am so-so alright. They tell me that you joined the Company fauz. Is that correct?”
“Yes bhai Mangal. What can you do? I got tired of swatting flies sitting at home. I had to do something instead of wasting myself here. So, I joined the fauz. Now I have nothing much to complain about. And what are you doing?” the sepoy asked.
“Nothing dadu. There is no work here. I don’t know what to do. My parents brought me up doing odd job and some labour. They are old now. Can’t do labour work anymore. I am supposed to support them. But how? Only Ramji can help me.”
The sepoy was in his uniform.
“You look impressive in that uniform,” Mangal paid compliment.
The sepoy smiled and bragged, “I am being inundated with offers of marriage, do you know? Who would not want an earning son-in-law?” Then, someone called the sepoy inside house.
“Come to meet me some time, Mangal.” And he rushed inside. Of course, Mangal wanted to talk to him.
That very evening Mangal managed to get hold of the Sepoy Lalchand. They sat under a tree. Mangal asked, “Dadu! Can I also join the fauz?”
“Why not? They are always on the look out for healthy youngman like you. Then I am there to help you. I have the ear of gora sergeant who recruits the youngmen. I hope you can read and write.”
Mangal nodded his head and confirmed, “I know reading and writing both Hindi and Urdu.”
“That is fine then,” the sepoy said and added, “Bhai, one must do something to stand on one’s legs. Who you work for does not matter. The biggest shame is being unemployed. It gets you no respect.”
“But dadu, tell me honestly, does serving in the fauz of alien goras not make you uneasy or feel bad about it? After all they are not our people and many say that they are plundering our lands,” Mangal spoke.
The sepoy pooh-poohed him. He spoke, “Mangal! Who is not plundering us? Zamindars work us to bones, Rajas and Nawabs suck our blood, the money lenders feed on our flesh and patwaris fleece us every time they get a chance. We are common men whom everyone considers just sheep fit for sacrificing. A job is our only security. If you don’t have a job or steady income you are alien to everyone. But if you have then everyone is your brother. That is the real truth. All these big shots Rajas and Nawabs had a lot to lose but they don’t care. They are falling at the feet of Company Bahadur.”
It made great impression on hardpressed Mangal. He could see some commonsense in what Lalchand was saying. The thought of joining the fauz no more made Mangal feel guilty. Infact he saw in it his only way for salvation from starving to death.
Lalchand and Mangal Pandey met a few times more and it was decided that Mangal would accompany him when the former went to join his duty at Barrackpore cantonment situated on the bank of Hugli, 25 Kilometers off Calcutta (Kolkata).
