SACRED SYMBOL.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 206, 1 September 1936, Page 17

SACRED SYMBOL.

VERY early in the morning, with the first faint pallor of dawn, Kanwar Sain arose, and with the help of his wife, Vidya Vati, began to prepare for his journey.

He had far to go —nearly a day in tlie train before his destination on the banks of the Ganges was reached. He had a sacred duty to perform— the conveyance thither of his dead father's ashes, that they might be ceremonially deposited, under the supervision of the family priest and with the rites proper to the occasion, in the holv river. It was more than a month since old Uggar Sain's death; but this was a religious festival and Kan war Sain'.first opportunity of getting away. Uggar Sain, ghee merchant, had been very old when he died, and his mind had begun to grow feeble, and the business, once flourishing, had fallen aw<iy badly; it was taking Kan war Sain every moment of his time to pull it together again. "I shall come straight back, travelling all night, and be here first thins to-morrow morning," he said to Vidya Vati. "I dare spa.'o no more time away than that. Besides, Ido not like leaving you so long."

"I shall come to 110 harm," said Vidya Vati. "I shall not bo alone; therd is Brij Fandni."

Kanwar Sain thought uneasily, but did not say so, that one elderly maidservant was not much protection for a young and comely woman left alone in a house; especially a house outside the town, with few neighbours. Ho wisned he had not to go. But this was a chance that might not occur again for a long while; moreover. Vidya Vati, who was deeply religious, had urged him persistently to the task.

It was a duty not to be set lightly aside for their own convenience. "It may be that afterwards the gods will smile on us again and our luck will turn," she pointed out.

"Our luck is turning as it is; hard work and practical common sense are slowly getting the business back on it? feet," said Kanwar Sain. "But I wish we had more capital. I cannot think what my father did with all his money.

"The more I consider the more certain I am that his rambling talk was true about having concealed treasure of great value somewhere about the house."

"I do not think so for a moment. T think that with his enfeebled wits he must have frittered away more money than we realised during the last year or two," said his wife shrewdly.

"It may be so. All the same, you remember how he mistrusted banks and all thiiigs modern; it would be just like him to have put a hoard away somewhere, especaillv towards the last, when his mind was beginning to wander. I shall search again, just once more, when I return."

"There is no place left to search. Yor. have already scoured every inch of house and courtyard," said Vidya Vati.

"There is one place left," said Kanwar Sain.

The brightness loft Vidya's face. Her eyes were suddenly troubled. She said, pleadingly. "Ah, "110, Kanwar! Not there! Anywhere but there!"

Kanwar's glance had followed hers to the Pooja Asthan, or place of household worship, at the far end of the room—a square of earth in the brick floor, bearing a wooden stool on which were a copy of the sacred book "Bhagvat Ghi'ta" and a small image, flower-decked, of Maliavira, the principal deity of the Jain sect, to which Kanwar Sain and his wife belonged. On the wall immediately behind and above it was roughly traced, in dried mud, a swastika, the oldest symbol of blessing in the world, ancient as time, and especially holy in tlie eyes of the Jains. "I beg you, Kanwjir!" Vidya Vati said. Kanwar frowned. "We have threshed this out before." 110 said. "If there is any money there it is rightly mine. And we need it —" "Not so badly as all that. Kanwar! Do not desecrate the sacred place! It is an insult to the gods, and they do not lightly forgive." Vidya looked away unhappily. He went on, not noticing her distress, "I must go or I shall miss my train. I will be back as soon as I can manage it. Do not be afraid while lam away, Vidya." "I shall not be afraid," Vidya said. But when he was gone she was undeniably afraid. With nightfall her nervousness increased. She lit the lamps; she sewed, she spun, turning restlessly from one task to another; she read in the sacred book. Presently bedtime came. On an impulse she called for Brij Nandni, and. getting no response, went into the kitchen in search of her; she was minded to have the old woman to sleep in her own room for company s 3 But the kitchen was empty. Brij Nandni had seized the opportunity of slipping away to see her niece in the town; it would be morning before she returned. Vidya Vati went hack to the livinc room a<rain. She decided not to go to bed; she would feel safer downstairs, and a lit house was surely less encouraging to thieves than one in darkness. She read again in the "Bhagvat Ghita ; she sewed, resolutely refraining from watching the clock; and presently, inevitably, dozed.

She awakened with a violent start, and the feeling of something untoward happening she listened, and heard the sound o* stealthy footsteps on the verandah outside. Horror clutched her heart like an icy hand. To save her life she could not have moved or spoken in that moment. Her terrified eyes sought the window. A dark figure moved dimly iimong the shadows outside; a dark face peered m through one of the panes. Vidva Vati screamed, but the words failed" in her throat. The figure outside drew back for ail instant. She saw the lamplight flaslt on something bright, held high; then the pane was suddenly shattered with a crash ancl the showering tinkle of broken glass. A hand came through the gap, telt for the catch, and deftly unfastened it. The window flew wide. Vidya \ uti faced a tall, burly man, ragged, unkempt, and lowering of countenance She tried to call wildly, Chor! Chor. ("Thief thief!") but he strode forward threateningly. He raised a chhura. or heavy, knife and she quailed before h '"Keep silence and I will not harm vou" he said. "Where is this money that your old fool a servant has been chattering about?" Vidva Vati shook her head. "There is no money," Jie said.

(SHORT STORY.)

(By DEW AN SHARAR.)

Her eyes implored him, but he paid 110 heed. His practised glances went all round the room, and suddenly halted at the symbol 011 the wall.

"Is that the spot?" he said. "Your woman hinted as much to her gossips; she said that the old man babbled on his death-bed of hidden treasure and the symbol's protection." He strode over to the Pooja Asthan as he spoke.

"No! No!" Vidya cried. She was terrified, but the thought of tlie threatened desecration appalled her even more than her own peril, and she made to bar his way. He gripped her arm and sent her spinning across the room. "So it is there, is it?" he said. He raised the chhura with a menacing gesture. She shrank away in an agony of fear. As in a hideous nightmare she saw liis rude hands grasp the stool with its sacred contents; she could not repress a cry of sheer horror as he tossed it roughly aside. He said. "Silence. I say!" and dug with the blade of the chhura in the earth where it had stood.

He dug fast and deeply, every now and then casting a watchful glance a' her. He need not have troubled. She was too frozen with fear to move; and even had she found strength to scream there was none to hear.

Presently,' with an oath, he ceased to dig. He looked up angrily. His eyes encountered the clay symbol daubed on the thin plaster wash that coated the brick of the wall. He grunted and plunged the chhura into tlie loose mortar, squatting on the remains of the Pooja Asthan as he prised the bricks out.

The bricks marked with the sections of the swastika fell forward, the chhura rooted behind the place where they had been bringing out the mortar in a rattling. dusty shower. With a sudden exclamation of triumph the thief plunged his hand into the hollow and pulled something out —an earthenwara pitcher. The next instant he had dropped it with a scream.

It smashed 011 the fallen bricks, disclosing its contents —letters and documents", closely packed, that fell apart and lay scattered at his feet. But neither he nor Vidya had eyes for them just then. The chhura clattercd to the floor as the thief, ghastly of face, clutched his right wrist and staggered back; and a long black snake went writhing back into its nook behind the bricks. He strove to speak, but no words came. He rolled wild, agonised eyes at Vidya, and fell his length upon th" ruins of swastika and slirine and did not speak again.

Thus Kanwar Sain found them when he returned with the dawn —Vidya crouched in her corner still, 60 stricken with horror that it was a long time before he could make her realise that all was well; and the thief, now rather dreadful to look on, sprawling dead beside that which had cost him his life —the broken pitcher and the litter of utterly worthless papers that had seemed like treasure to the wandering wits of poor, crazed old Uggar Sain.