How a Client Was Saved

The reader, by now, will be quite familiar with Parsi Rustomji’s name. He was one who became at once my client and co-worker, or perhaps it would be truer to say that he first became co-worker and then client. I won his confidence to such an extent that he sought and followed my advice also in private domestic matters. Even when he was ill, he would seek my aid, and though there was much difference between our ways of living, he did not hesitate to accept my quack treatment.

By now, the reader will be quite familiar with Parsi Rustomji’s name. He became both my client and my co-worker. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he became my co-worker first and then my client. I won his trust so completely that he sought and followed my advice even on private family matters. Even when he was ill, he sought my help. Though our ways of living were very different, he did not hesitate to accept my amateur medical treatment.

This friend once got into a very bad scrape. Though he kept me informed of most of his affairs, he had studiously kept back one thing. He was a large importer of goods from Bombay and Calcutta and it turned out that not infrequently he resorted to smuggling. But as he was on the best terms with customs officials no one was inclined to suspect him. In charging duty, they used to take his invoices on trust. Some may even have connived at the smuggling.

This friend once got into serious trouble. Though he told me about most of his affairs, he had carefully hidden one thing. He imported large quantities of goods from Bombay and Calcutta, and it turned out that he often smuggled goods. But he was on such good terms with customs officials that no one was inclined to suspect him. When charging duty, the officials accepted his invoices without checking them. Some may even have knowingly allowed the smuggling.

But to use the telling simile of the Gujarati poet Akho, theft like quicksilver won’t be suppressed, and Parsi Rustomji’s proved no exception. The good friend ran post haste to me, the tears rolling down his cheeks as he said: ‘Bhai, I have deceived you. My guilt has been discovered today. I have smuggled and I am doomed. I must go to jail and be ruined. You alone may be able to save me from this predicament. I have kept back nothing else from you, but I had thought I ought not to bother you with such tricks of the trade, and so I had never told you about this smuggling. But now, how much I repent it!’

But as the Gujarati poet Akho aptly put it, theft is like quicksilver. It cannot be kept hidden, and Parsi Rustomji’s theft was no exception. My good friend rushed to me, tears rolling down his cheeks. He said: ‘Bhai, I have deceived you. My guilt was discovered today. I have smuggled goods, and I am doomed. I must go to jail and be ruined. You alone may be able to save me from this trouble. I have kept nothing else from you. But I thought I should not bother you with such tricks of the trade. So I never told you about the smuggling. But now, how deeply I regret it!’

I calmed him and said: ‘To save or not to save you is in His hands. As to me you know my way; I can but try to save you by means of confession.’

I calmed him and said: ‘Whether you are saved is in his hands. You know my way. I can only try to save you through confession.’

The good Parsi felt deeply mortified.

The kind Parsi felt deeply embarrassed.

‘But is not my confession before you enough?’ he asked.

‘But isn't my confession to you enough?’ he asked.

‘You have wronged not me but Government. How will the confession made before me avail you?’ I replied gently.

‘You have wronged the government, not me. How will confessing to me help you?’ I replied gently.

‘Of course I will do just as you advise, but will you not consult with my old counsel Mr.———? He is a friend too,’ said Parsi Rustomji.

‘Of course I will do as you advise, but will you consult my former lawyer, Mr. ___? He is a friend too,’ said Parsi Rustomji.

Inquiry revealed that the smuggling had been going on for a long time, but the actual offence detected involved a trifling sum. We went to his counsel. He perused the papers, and said: ‘The case will be tried by jury, and a Natal jury will be the last to acquit an Indian. But I will not give up hope.’

The investigation revealed that the smuggling had been going on for a long time. But the offense discovered involved a small amount of money. We went to his lawyer. He reviewed the papers and said: ‘The case will be tried by a jury, and a Natal jury is very unlikely to acquit an Indian. But I will not give up hope.’

I did not know this counsel intimately. Parsi Rustomji intercepted: ‘I thank you, but I should like to be guided by Mr. Gandhi’s advice in this case. He knows me intimately. Of course you will advise him whenever necessary.’

I did not know this lawyer well. Parsi Rustomji interrupted: ‘Thank you, but I would like to follow Mr. Gandhi’s advice in this case. He knows me well. Of course, you will advise him whenever necessary.’

Having thus shelved the counsel’s question, we went to Parsi Rustomji’s shop.

Having set aside the lawyer’s question, we went to Parsi Rustomji’s shop.

And now explaining my view I said to him: ‘I don’t think this case should be taken to court at all. It rests with the Customs Officer to prosecute you or to let you go, and he in turn will have to be guided by the Attorney General. I am prepared to meet both. I propose that you should offer to pay the penalty they fix, and the odds are that they will be agreeable. But if they are not, you must be prepared to go to jail. I am of opinion that the shame lies not so much in going to jail as in committing the offence. The deed of shame has already been done. Imprisonment you should regard as a penance. The real penance lies in resolving never to smuggle again.’

And now I explained my view to him: ‘I don’t think this case should go to court at all. It is up to the Customs Officer to prosecute you or let you go. The Customs Officer, in turn, will have to follow the Attorney General’s guidance. I am prepared to meet both of them. I suggest that you offer to pay whatever penalty they set. They will probably agree. But if they do not, you must be prepared to go to jail. I believe the shame lies less in going to jail than in committing the offence. The shameful act has already been done. You should regard imprisonment as a form of penance. The real penance is resolving never to smuggle again.’

I cannot say that Parsi Rustomji took all this quite well. He was a brave man, but his courage had failed him for the moment. His name and fame were at stake, and where would he be if the edifice he had reared with such care and labour should go to pieces?

I cannot say that Parsi Rustomji took all this very well. He was a brave man, but for the moment, his courage had failed him. His name and reputation were at stake. And where would he be if everything he had built with such care and effort fell apart?

‘Well, I have told you,’ he said, ‘that I am entirely in your hands. You may do just as you like.’

‘Well, I have told you,’ he said, ‘that I am entirely in your hands. You can do whatever you like.’

I brought to bear on this case all my powers of persuasion. I met the Customs Officer and fearlessly apprised him of the whole affair. I also promised to place all the books at his disposal and told him how penitent Parsi Rustomji was feeling.

I used all my powers of persuasion in this case. I met the Customs Officer and fearlessly told him the whole story. I also promised to make all the books available to him. I told him how sorry Parsi Rustomji felt.

The Customs Officer said: ‘I like the old Parsi. I am sorry he has made a fool of himself. You know where my duty lies. I must be guided by the Attorney General and so I would advise you to use all your persuasion with him.’

The Customs Officer said: ‘I like the old Parsi. I’m sorry he has made a fool of himself. You know what my duty is. I must follow the Attorney General’s guidance, so I advise you to do all you can to persuade him.’

‘I should be thankful,’ said I, ‘if you do not insist on dragging him into court.’

‘I would be grateful,’ I said, ‘if you did not insist on taking him to court.’

Having got him to promise this, I entered into correspondence with the Attorney General whom I also met. I am glad to say that he appreciated my complete frankness and was convinced that I had kept back nothing.

After getting him to promise this, I wrote to the Attorney General and met with him. I am glad to say he appreciated my complete honesty. He was convinced that I had hidden nothing.

I now forget whether it was in connection with this or with some other case, that my persistence and frankness extorted from him the remark: ‘I see you will never take a no for an answer.’

I no longer remember whether it was in this case or another. But my persistence and frankness prompted him to say, ‘I see you will never take a no for an answer.’

The case against Parsi Rustomji was compromised. He was to pay a penalty equal to twice the amount he had confessed to having smuggled. Rustomji reduced to writing the facts of the whole case, got the paper framed and hung it up in his office to serve as a perpetual reminder to his heirs and fellow merchants.

The case against Parsi Rustomji was settled. He had to pay a penalty equal to twice the amount he admitted smuggling. Rustomji wrote down all the facts of the case. He had the account framed and hung it in his office as a lasting reminder to his heirs and fellow merchants.

These friends of Rustomji warned me not to be taken in by this transitory contrition. When I told Rustomji about this warning he said: ‘What would be my fate if I deceived you?’

These friends of Rustomji warned me not to be fooled by this passing remorse. When I told Rustomji about their warning, he said: ‘What would happen to me if I deceived you?’