River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [231]
Compton nodded. ‘Deui-me-jyuh Neel, but he is responsible for do bad things; a lot of information has come out. And dou, he is allied with Dent.’
Neel looked into his cup and tried to think of Seth Bahram being led off to prison with a cangue around his neck, like Punhyqua. He remembered how, at one time, he had been amused by the devotion of the Seth’s entourage. It was with a start of surprise that he realized that he too had now come to regard him with a loyalty that bordered on love. It was almost as if the tie of blood between Ah Fatt and his father had become his own, making it impossible for him to sit in judgement upon the Seth. He knew then that if he were to play a part in bringing harm upon Bahram, he would be haunted by it ever afterwards.
‘Look,’ said Neel, ‘it is not surprising that you should think of taking this step. But you should know that even if Seth Bahramji and every other Achha trader were to stop trading opium it would make no difference. The drug may come from India, but the trade is almost entirely in British hands. In the Bengal Presidency, the cultivation of opium is their monopoly: few Achhas play any part in it, apart from the peasants who are made to grow it – and they suffer just as much as the Chinese who buy the drug. In Bombay, the British were not able to set up a monopoly because they were not in control of the entire region. That is why local merchants like Seth Bahramji were able to enter the trade. Their earnings are the only part of this immense commerce that trickles back to Hindusthan – all the rest goes to England and Europe and America. If Bahramji and all the other Bombay Seths stopped trading opium tomorrow, all that would happen is that the drug trade would become another British monopoly. It was not the Achhas who started sending opium to China: it was the British. Even if every Achha washed his hands of opium, nothing would change in China; the British and Americans would make sure that opium continued to pour in.’
Neel waited for Compton to translate this and then he laid out the argument that he had saved for the last: ‘And you know what will happen if you include Seth Bahramji’s name with Dent’s?’
‘What?’
‘The Chamber will save Dent by giving up Bahramji instead. Dent will slip out of your grasp.’
‘Haih me! Would they do that?’
‘I am sure of it. After all, they owe much more to the Co-Hong than to Bahramji. If they are willing to risk the lives of their Hongist friends, why would they not give up the Seth?’
He left the words hanging in the air and sat back to sip his tea. In a while, Compton said: ‘Chang Lou-si asks if you and Mr Moddie are from same province? Dihng-hai same clan?’
‘No,’ said Neel. ‘His province and mine are far away – like Manchuria and Kwangtung. We are not even born into the same religion.’
‘Cheng-mahn, Neel, can I ask why you are so loyal to him? Gam, what is difference between him and Dent and Burnham?’
‘Seth Bahram is not like Dent and Burnham,’ said Neel. ‘In other circumstances he would have been a pioneer, a genius even. It is his misfortune that he comes from a land where it is impossible even for the very best men to be true to themselves.’
‘You mean Hindusthan, Ah Neel?’
‘Yes. Hindusthan.’
A look of pity came into Chang Lou-si’s eyes when Compton translated this for him. He said something which seemed to be addressed mostly to himself.
‘Chang Lou-si says: it is so China does not become another Hindusthan that the Yum-chae must do what he has to do.’
‘That is right,’ said Neel with a nod. ‘That is why I am sitting here with you.’
*
The meeting at the Chamber had ended so late, amidst so much ill-feeling, that Bahram would have had no sleep that night if not for a generous dose of laudanum. Having once drifted off, he slept deeply and awoke just as the chapel clock was striking eleven.
The windows of the bedroom were shuttered and except for the lamp on the altar it was completely dark. Still fuzzy from the laudanum, Bahram wondered whether he had slept right through the day and