He gives us our shares in a field of ripe corn; lovely Panduranga, our chaudhari. There were seventy rupees outstanding, he asks for them too; there were ten passed between us up till now. He points out our vessels, cows and property; he sits on a cot in the house. If I make any retort he puts me to silence; he cries “Will you take your share of the crop?” Tuka says, O wife, what shall we do? If we don’t pay him where can we hide ourselves?
I have thought the matter over and I find he rules the world; who else will set me behind him and protect me? How can we run away from this ruler? Before and behind us is one open plain. What will the space in the cowshed avail us? How long shall we have to go wandering about it? His messengers are now on our heels. Why did I take a holding under him? Now he will not leave me alive. I must pay off my debt and stay where I am; I must eat what he gives me, says Tuka.
I have thought the matter over and I find he rules the world; who else will set me behind him and protect me? How can we run away from this ruler? Before and behind us is one open plain. What will the space in the cowshed avail us? How long shall we have to go wandering about it? His messengers are now on our heels. Why did I take a holding under him? Now he will not leave me alive. I must pay off my debt and stay where I am; I must eat what he gives me, says Tuka.