The creditor came calling

Pfft-pffft!

His contorted face instantly took on an expression of excruciating relief, and beads of sweat poured down Aditya's face.

It was already the third day, and Aditya's chrysanthemum still burned fiercely. For three days, he had visited the toilet over and over, only to be routed in a thousand-mile torrent. Ganges water was simply too formidable.

For three whole days, that numb, uncontrollable feeling in his sphincter had left him unable to muster even the strength to wipe.

Aditya shuffled out of the pit latrine, hunched over. He looked at the open ledger before him. What stood out most was the deliberately highlighted debt of four hundred thousand rupees.

Aditya's mind was in turmoil. He had underestimated this predicament a little. Although he had memories of his previous life, he was still at a complete loss as to how to make money.

After some thought, he decided to go out for a walk and look over the Mishra Family's property.

Naturally, Raju was responsible for showing him the way.

Raju was a tenant farmer who had worked for the Mishra Family for seven full years. His grandfather, Patil, had assigned this twenty-three-year-old Shudra to Aditya's service.

Brahmins were not necessarily priests. In the villages of Uttar Pradesh, most Brahmins were landlords. They did not farm, but the land belonged to them.

The people who farmed were Shudras and Dalits. That was the rule: Brahmins did not till the land with their own hands.

Farming was the business of the lower castes. They rented Brahmin land, farmed Brahmin land, and paid rent to the Brahmins after the harvest. A third of the harvest belonged to the landlord. This was a rule handed down from their ancestors, more effective than any law.

It was an iron law that even Great Britain had had to respect when it arrived.

The village roads were dirt tracks. Dew had fallen the night before, and the ground clung a little to their shoes as they walked.

Aditya followed the village road toward his family's fields. Mud houses lined both sides, and some courtyard walls were plastered with cow-dung cakes. Once dried and stacked on top of the walls, they could be burned as fuel.

A man approached carrying a shoulder pole, with a tin bucket hanging from each end. The buckets probably held freshly milked goat's milk; a skin of cream still floated on top, swaying.

When the man saw the sacred thread around Aditya's neck, he hurried two steps to the roadside and lowered his head, waiting for Aditya to pass first.

The fields were lush green. Rice seedlings had poked out of the soil but had not yet grown tall, forming a low layer.

Raju followed two steps behind Aditya, his head lowered.

Aditya looked at the paddies and asked, "How's the rice doing?"

Raju raised his eyes, swept a quick glance over the paddies, and answered, "The rainy season hasn't come yet. The fields have just been irrigated once. The rice is doing all right."

Raju glanced at Aditya again and said haltingly:

"It's just the money for the seeds... it still hasn't been repaid. The cooperative pressed for it again the day before yesterday."

"Leave the credit account aside for now. I'll handle it."

"Yes, young master," Raju said, lowering his head.

Aditya headed back, asking as he walked, "How many years have you farmed this land?"

"Seven years, young master."

"Tell me about the harvests from these fields."

"Yes, young master."

Raju gave him a detailed account of the fields' output, costs, and losses, pouring it all out at once.

"From now on, you'll stay with me," Aditya said. "Whenever I have something to do, you'll run errands for me."

"Yes, young master," Raju said, falling to his knees in wild delight.

Back home, Aditya went through the ledger again.

This time, he examined it more closely, adding up the interest on every debt.

The money owed to Patel came to more than two hundred and fifty thousand rupees, including principal and interest.

The Mishra Family's current cash reserves-just over twenty thousand rupees.

He closed the ledger and sat on a low stool, staring blankly for a while.

"What a joke. I'm a financial elite, a bona fide transmigrator. Surely I can handle a little debt."

Aditya sat in the main room, considering ways to earn rupees.

His mother, Sushila, came in, took a look, and went out again. A while later, she brought him a cup of milk tea and set it before him. Before Aditya could speak, Sushila hurried away.

With a ledger of four hundred thousand rupees spread before him, a vague direction took shape in Aditya's mind.

Unfortunately, Patel came.

One evening in mid-June, Aditya had just returned from the fields. As soon as he entered the village, he saw a ring of people gathered outside his courtyard gate.

Raju stood outside the crowd and ran over when he saw him.

"Young master, the people from the Patel household are here."

Aditya pushed through the crowd and went in.

Patel wore a blue shirt, its buttons fastened with meticulous care, and a gold watch on his wrist. He stood outside the Mishra Family's threshold, with four tenant farmers behind him, each with his hands on his hips.

Patel and his men stood outside the courtyard gate. Although he was the creditor, as a Vaishya, he was still not entitled to enter a Brahmin home.

He held a sheet of paper in his hand. It was a court summons.

"Master Patil," Patel said, his voice quiet but audible to everyone outside the courtyard, "I've sent you word three times, and you haven't given me a single reply. Today is the last day. Isn't it time you repaid the two hundred thousand-odd rupees you owe me? I already have the court summons in my hand. If you don't pay today, I'll sue the Mishra Family in three days. When that happens, you'll have to pay not only the litigation costs, but also two hundred and eighty thousand rupees in outstanding debt and breach-of-contract penalties."

His grandfather, Patil, stood at the entrance with his walking stick planted before him. His expression was grim, but he struggled to straighten his back.

Someone nearby murmured, "It's over. With this skin-flayer on their backs, the Mishra Family is finished too."

Aditya stepped forward and stood beside his grandfather.

"Mr. Patel," he said, "I acknowledge this debt."

Patel looked him up and down. "Oh! Young Master Aditya, what gives you the right to acknowledge it?"

"I am now the heir to the Mishra Family. I swear on the Mishra Family's honor that I will repay your debt, principal and interest, in one year."

Aditya spoke earnestly.

Patel looked at Patil. Seeing that he said nothing, he considered for a while, then gave a cold laugh.

"Six months. By this time at the end of the year, two hundred and fifty-seven thousand in principal and interest, not a penny less. If you can't pay, I'll take half of the Mishra Family's two hundred and eighty mu of land."

The crowd fell silent.

Patel left with a debt-extension agreement and his followers. The crowd dispersed after them. His grandfather, Patil, shut the courtyard gate and slid the bolt into place.

Aditya also held a copy of the agreement. He put it into his shirt pocket.

"In six months, before the end of the year, we have to repay two hundred and fifty-seven thousand, principal and interest."

His grandfather leaned against the doorframe, his walking stick trembling. Aditya reached out to support his arm.

"It's all right, Grandfather. I have a way."

Patil seemed not to hear him. Aditya helped his grandfather back into the main room to sit down, then poured a bowl of hot water and placed it in his hands.

His grandfather, Patil, did not drink. Instead, he stood up and walked to the God Shiva statue in the corner.

A line of small lettering was engraved on the base of the spotless bronze statue of God Shiva.

"Mishra Family · Seventh generation."

Patil dipped his index finger in goat's milk and carefully smeared it over the statue's base. The milk left a white streak on the bronze surface.

With his back to Aditya, Patil said:

"Our Mishra Family has been on this land for three hundred years. Three hundred years as Brahmins. This house, this well, this land-all of it was handed down by our ancestors. Times have changed! Even Brahmins like us are going to be abandoned by the gods."