Prof. Dennis Pereira, M.A., LL.B., lived in the Civil Lines with his young wife, Sylvia. He was a rich man with properties in Goa and Bombay, which meant that he took life easy, though he sometimes dabbled in legal cases and off and on took English Literature classes as a part-time lecturer in Delhi College, to which he went in his Ford car. While at home in No. 8 bungalow he liked to entertain friends in the evening, many of whom came partly because of his entertaining company and partly because of the beautiful Mrs.Pereira who didn’t mind a bit of flirting. Among the regulars was the Thakur of Jat-ka-Nagla, near the Tundla-Agra Road, but the Thakur preferred to stay in Delhi in a house rented to him by a Nawab friend from where he came in a phaeton, along with his wife Nalini sometimes, otherwise alone. They were a young couple with plenty of leisure, except for a nagging property dispute with the Thakur’s sister Rajni.
Prof. Pereira took a deep interest in the case which was being heard in the Dewani Kacheri at Agra by an Anglo-Indian Munsif magistrate, William Paterson. Before the final hearing he spent practically the whole night with the Thakur (himself a legal eagle) in helping to prepare the defence statement as the regular vakil had fallen ill. The next day they were at the court where the case was listed in the afternoon. Paterson was known as the “Ghantewala Munsif” because proceedings in his court began and ended with the ringing of a bell. So after the bell had been rung the magistrate said, “Has the defence anything more to say before the court delivers its judgement?” “Yes, Your Honour, replied Prof. Pereira (acting for the absent vakil), Thakur Rajendra Singh desires to make a statement.
“Statements are as a rule not welcomed but considering the special circumstances of the case in which two reputed families are involved, the ends of justice would be met if the statement is made,” said the magistrate. The Thakur bowed and began to read the note he and Pereira had drafted: “Your Honour, the House of Jat is an ancient one. The first Thakur, Kunwarpal Singh traced his ancestry to the great Chhanghaji, who had killed a tiger with his bare hands. His son Jitendrapal fought at the Battle of Sikri. His sons and grandsons achieved fame and some were made Mansabdars by the Mughals. We fought the Punjab rebels during the reign of Bahadur Shah I. In Farrukhsiyar’s reign we thwarted the Sayyids of Bara and harassed Nadir Shah on his way back from Delhi. We fought against Hafiz Rehmat Khan at the Battle of Mirankatra (April 23, 1774) and helped in the capture of his grandson, Ghulam Qadir Rohilla after he had blinded Shah Alam. During the ‘Mutiny’ we fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the troops of Bahadur Shah Zafar. My father left the British forces in World War II and joined the INA and as a result we lost most of our jagir and what was left to us was consolidated by my foster father, Thakur Surendrapal Singh. I am his heir but now my sister Rajni Singh and her husband want to gain possession of all the property on the plea that I am an adopted son and she the sole heiress”.
“Anything more?” asked the court. The defence rests said Pereira. The magistrate thought for some time and then said: “Though a lot of what you said is irrelevant to the case yet the court salutes your eloquence. As far as the properties are concerned, Rajni Singh has a point (Rajni smiled) but taking into consideration the circumstances of the case we cannot deprive you either. Therefore, the court rules that whatever is in possession of Rajni Singh is hers. You can retain the ancestral house and land attached to it if you give her the plot on which the farm is situated”.
Pereira and the Thakur held a whispered conversation before giving acceptance. The bell rang and the court rose. Prof. Pereira and the Thakur returned to Delhi late in the evening but by that time Mrs. Pereira’s admirers had dispersed. The Professor’s driver, Ram Singh had brought the car to the station and they drove to the Civil Lines where they had a quick drink after which the Thakur went home in his phaeton to find that the Thakurani had delivered a bonny boy in his absence, heir to the estate he had managed to save after a legal odyssey. But not long after Prof. Pereira died suddenly. Some said he had been poisoned. His wife returned to Goa where she remarried, much to the annoyance of the Thakur who thought his old friend had been stabbed in the back. Pereira’s pocket-watch (according to father’s notes) is in Australia with one of his descendants while a great-grandson of “Ghantewala Munsif”, Fergius Paterson is a surgeon in a London hospital. As for the Thakur, his only grandson died of TB in Wazirpura, adjacent to Dewani Kacheri (Civil Courts), while Jat-ka-Nagla came into international limelight in the 1960s when a wolf-boy, Parasuram was rescued from a nearby jungle, like Atlanta of the Golden Apples and Romulus and Remus, legendary founders of the city of Rome.
(The author is a veteran chronicler of Delhi)
