When Mangal Pandey went home a couple of years before the uprising D. Day he sensed the anti-British atmosphere building up in the country side and the towns. It made him feel uneasy. No one had a good word for the British except a few educated elite who appreciated the reform measures and the opening up of the schools and the colleges.
Most of the people and his own village folk looked mildly hostile to him although no one openly criticized his serving in the Angrez fauz. But the disapproval of the doings of the colonial rulers was explicit and open. The broken down dwellings of the migrated or starved to death village artisans were living proofs of the havoc wreaked on the rural India by the company.
Then, a nautanki party arrived in Ballia. Mangal Pandey also went to see it because that was the only real means of entertainment in the rural UP and Bihar. No mela was complete without a visit to nautanki show in which girl performed provocative dances which evoked wolf whistles from the crowds.
But this time, to the chagrin of Mangal the nautanki people sang songs castigating the white rule and their tyranny as the girls danced mocking at a man dressed in the English suit to represent the British. During the show he was kicked around to the wild cheers of the crowd. Mangal felt uncomfortable. Some charged up people were giving him glaring looks. He got up and left the scene.
That night Mangal could not sleep properly. The anti-British atmosphere of the countryside unsettled him. He realised that the people were not entirely wrong. The economic disaster caused by the policies of the colonial rulers was everywhere for him to see. He had himself seen the discriminatory attitude of the white officers against the native sepoys in the army. Earlier he used to ignore it considering it a small sacrifice of self respect for the sake of being employed. But he was now having second thoughts about it.
The next morning the family priest arrived. The parents of Mangal could have asked him to look for a bride for their son. He talked to the old couple before turning his attention to Mangal. After talking about the health and the weather, the priest asked, “Mangal my son! How are things in your Firangi Fauz (The white man’s army)? We hear that the firangis are forcing all the Hindu sepoys to convert to Christianity as a price for employment. Will you also be becoming a Christian?”
Mangal protested, “No. That is not true entirely. No one is forcing Christianity on us. At least I can say about it in my case with certainty. And I must tell you that I intend to remain Hindu at all costs. You need not scare my parents about my conversion taking the wild rumours seriously.”
The priest was looking hard at Mangal unconvinced. He spoke, “There are other ways to push one. These firangis are very tricky people. Then they could be using some coercion.”
“No coercion. Only some rumours are heard that conversion could help one in advancement in the army. But no one takes it seriously. The only thing we see is Anglo-Indians getting preferential treatment.”
The priest smiled before speaking, “I know that firangis were playing dirty game. Aren’t they desecrating your dharma? You a Pandey Brahmin forced to stand close next to an untouchable. That destroys your dharma. The wisest one of the world, Manu Maharaj created caste systems and rules at the direct wish of Power Supreme. There is no dispute about this eternal truth.”
Mangal protested, “That is a biased theory. Our religion teaches brotherhood of the entire mankind as Brahma created us all. So, all these untouchables you talk about are our brothers basically. Isn’t that true?”
The priest shook his head vehemently and hissed, “The untouchables are not creation of Brahmaji. They only are by-products of sins and anti-dharma minds. Look, how firangis have put unreligious ideas into your mind! They send Hindustani sepoys across seas to fight their wars. But the real purposes is to destroy the dharma of Hindu sepoys. Our holy scriptures clearly say that the crossing of the seas is an anti-religious act for a Hindu.’’
“I don’t know. I never gave it a thought. But didn’t Hanumanji and Vanar Sena cross the sea to battle with Ravana? Why wasn’t their dharma destroyed?”
“They were on a holy mission in the service of Bhagwan Ram to fight for dharma. But you firangi’s sepoys cross the seas to battle for their firangi dharma. That makes it doubly sinful. The association with firangis can do no good. I can see that it is casting its evil shadow on your mind.”
Mangal defended himself, “I know I am firm on my dharma. After all I am also a Brahmin who by habit is always conscious of his dharma. Then, our holy books also say that looking after old parents is the mother of all dharmas for a son. I joined the fauz to be able to support my parents as a faithful son. If some minor defaults are being committed by me in this mission they should be pardonable because I am doing whatever it is to serve my parents usefully, the greatest and the most fundamental dharma of a son. Bhagwan Ram went into banwas (exile) for the sake of his father. Being in fauz is my banwas for parents.”
The aggressive posture of Mangal sent the priest on the back foot. The emotional content of Mangal’s argument had unsettled the opponent. After a while, the priests gathered his wits and carried on the debate, “You are talking only of your own parents. What about your bigger mother, Bharat Mata. These firangis are enemies of Bharat Mata. They are trying to outrage her like Kauravas did to Draupadi. Have you forgotten about your real Mata—Bharat? Your first duty is to serve her cause. What about it?”
Mangal said, “But punditji our Rajas and Nawabs also are doing no service to Bharat Mata. They are as black as firangis. Firangis are not bad through and through. They are doing some good work also like opening schools for the education of the children. And colleges are coming up. Surely the education will be in the interest of Bharat Mata.”
The pundit priest shook his head with an expression of disgust on his face. “They are opening schools to teach Angrezi (English) to our children instead of our holy language. With Angrezi they want to destroy our ancient culture. Our children will forget our heritage and would strut around clad in coat-pantaloon, hat and boots gibbering Angrezi and eating food with Chhuri-Kanta (knife and fork). Bharat Mata will weep over her fate. They are destroying us in many ways. Haven’t they banned Sati-Pratha (Widow burning custom)?”
Mangal raised his eyebrows saying, “But people now admit that Sati was not a good custom.’’
The pundit spoke in angry voice, “Who has the right to decide whether Sati-Pratha was good or bad? Our holy books say that the only way of the salvation of a woman lies in becoming Sati. Nothing else can redeem womenfolk. Sati process makes her immortal and a deity figure. Why do they deny our women the only option of becoming immortal by becoming sati?”
“Punditji, that theory is debatable. Many of our own wise men and persons of high education like Raja Ram Mohan Roy say that widow burning was a very shameful custom and there is nothing wrong in the remarriage of the young widows. He is not alone.’’
The priest was now breathing heavily as the orthodox anger was sapping his energy. He hissed, “All those people are sold out to firangis. They have killed their souls. Remarriage of widows is sin. Our dharma says that widowhood is a punishment for a woman for some dreadful act done in the previous life. She must go through the ordeal to cleanse herself. It is for her own salvation. A widow has not right to any kind of happiness, leave alone the marital bliss. The firnagis won’t like our women to be purified. That is the real…”
“Punditji, stop quarreling with Mangal. How long will he stay with us?” Mangal’s mother arrived with tea to willingly disrupt the arguments.
Pundit droned on, “What I was trying to tell Mangal was that firangis are making trouble for all of us. I was not picking up quarrel with him. Look wherever I go with the proposal for him the parents of the girls say that if the boy was in British fauz he would be forced to become a Christian any time. Who would like to give his daughter to a Christian? Everyone hears rumours about that. That was why I was trying to find out the truth form Mangal himself. I must be honest to the parents of the bride.”
The old lady said, “We know our Mangal. Don’t pay heed to those silly conversion rumours. Mangal is a born Brahmin and so he will remain all his life. If you like he would take a vow to that effect with his hand on Geeta. Won’t you, my son?”
Mangal obediently nodded his head.
After the departure of the priest Mangal brooded. Most of the things said by the pundit were prejudiced and biased born out of an orthodox mind. But even such blown up talk was being sold around effectively because the people were so angry with the colonial rulers that anything that showed them in bad light was acceptable. It was some kind of a weird consolation or source of pleasure. Everyone appeared to be enjoying British baiting. It was very disturbing for Mangal.
In the remaining days of his leave Mangal saw more sings of public anger. He could notice some characters in disguise arriving and then mysteriously vanishing. The groups of the people could be seen whispering to one another. Sometimes people would stop talking when he drew nearer and then the talks would be resumed when he went out of the hearing range. Some conspiracy was in the air.
A utterly confused Mangal returned to his cantonment from leave.
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