They turned to me. "Will you then be the only one, Maharaja, to
put obstacles in the way of what the country would achieve?"
"Who am I, that I should dare do such a thing? Would I not
rather lay down my life to help it?"
The M.A. student smiled a crooked smile, as he asked: "May we
enquire what you are actually doing to help?"
"I have imported Indian mill-made yarn and kept it for sale in my
Suksar market, and also sent bales of it to markets belonging to
neighbouring __zamindars__."
"But we have been to your market, Maharaja," the same student
exclaimed, "and found nobody buying this yarn."
"That is neither my fault nor the fault of my market. It only
shows the whole country has not taken your vow."
"That is not all," my master went on. "It shows that what you
have pledged yourselves to do is only to pester others. You want
dealers, who have not taken your vow, to buy that yarn; weavers,
who have not taken your vow, to make it up; then their wares
eventually to be foisted on to consumers who, also, have not
taken your vow. The method? Your clamour, and the
__zamindars'__ oppression.
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