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diff --git a/2518.txt b/2518.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a955cd8 --- /dev/null +++ b/2518.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5662 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hungry Stones And Other Stories, by +Rabindranath Tagore + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Hungry Stones And Other Stories + +Author: Rabindranath Tagore + +Translator: The author and Mr. C. F. Andrews + +Posting Date: December 22, 2008 [EBook #2518] +Release Date: February, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNGRY STONES *** + + + + +Produced by Alev Akman + + + + + +THE HUNGRY STONES AND OTHER STORIES + +By Rabindranath Tagore + + + + +Contents: + + The Hungry Stones + The Victory + Once There Was A King + The Home-coming + My Lord, The Baby + The Kingdom Of Cards + The Devotee + Vision + The Babus Of Nayanjore + Living Or Dead? + "We Crown Thee King" + The Renunciation + The Cabuliwallah [The Fruitseller from Cabul] + + + + +Preface: + +The stories contained in this volume were translated by several hands. +The version of The Victory is the author's own work. The seven stories +which follow were translated by Mr. C. F. Andrews, with the help of +the author's help. Assistance has also been given by the Rev. E. +J. Thompson, Panna Lal Basu, Prabhat Kumar Mukerjii, and the Sister +Nivedita. + + + + +THE HUNGRY STONES + + +My kinsman and myself were returning to Calcutta from our Puja trip when +we met the man in a train. From his dress and bearing we took him at +first for an up-country Mahomedan, but we were puzzled as we heard him +talk. He discoursed upon all subjects so confidently that you might +think the Disposer of All Things consulted him at all times in all that +He did. Hitherto we had been perfectly happy, as we did not know +that secret and unheard-of forces were at work, that the Russians had +advanced close to us, that the English had deep and secret policies, +that confusion among the native chiefs had come to a head. But our +newly-acquired friend said with a sly smile: "There happen more things +in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are reported in your newspapers." As +we had never stirred out of our homes before, the demeanour of the man +struck us dumb with wonder. Be the topic ever so trivial, he would quote +science, or comment on the Vedas, or repeat quatrains from some Persian +poet; and as we had no pretence to a knowledge of science or the Vedas +or Persian, our admiration for him went on increasing, and my kinsman, +a theosophist, was firmly convinced that our fellow-passenger must +have been supernaturally inspired by some strange "magnetism" or "occult +power," by an "astral body" or something of that kind. He listened +to the tritest saying that fell from the lips of our extraordinary +companion with devotional rapture, and secretly took down notes of his +conversation. I fancy that the extraordinary man saw this, and was a +little pleased with it. + +When the train reached the junction, we assembled in the waiting room +for the connection. It was then 10 P.M., and as the train, we heard, was +likely to be very late, owing to something wrong in the lines, I spread +my bed on the table and was about to lie down for a comfortable doze, +when the extraordinary person deliberately set about spinning the +following yarn. Of course, I could get no sleep that night. + +When, owing to a disagreement about some questions of administrative +policy, I threw up my post at Junagarh, and entered the service of +the Nizam of Hydria, they appointed me at once, as a strong young man, +collector of cotton duties at Barich. + +Barich is a lovely place. The Susta "chatters over stony ways and +babbles on the pebbles," tripping, like a skilful dancing girl, in +through the woods below the lonely hills. A flight of 150 steps rises +from the river, and above that flight, on the river's brim and at the +foot of the hills, there stands a solitary marble palace. Around it +there is no habitation of man--the village and the cotton mart of Barich +being far off. + +About 250 years ago the Emperor Mahmud Shah II. had built this lonely +palace for his pleasure and luxury. In his days jets of rose-water +spurted from its fountains, and on the cold marble floors of its +spray-cooled rooms young Persian damsels would sit, their hair +dishevelled before bathing, and, splashing their soft naked feet in the +clear water of the reservoirs, would sing, to the tune of the guitar, +the ghazals of their vineyards. + +The fountains play no longer; the songs have ceased; no longer do +snow-white feet step gracefully on the snowy marble. It is but the vast +and solitary quarters of cess-collectors like us, men oppressed with +solitude and deprived of the society of women. Now, Karim Khan, the old +clerk of my office, warned me repeatedly not to take up my abode there. +"Pass the day there, if you like," said he, "but never stay the night." +I passed it off with a light laugh. The servants said that they would +work till dark and go away at night. I gave my ready assent. The house +had such a bad name that even thieves would not venture near it after +dark. + +At first the solitude of the deserted palace weighed upon me like a +nightmare. I would stay out, and work hard as long as possible, then +return home at night jaded and tired, go to bed and fall asleep. + +Before a week had passed, the place began to exert a weird fascination +upon me. It is difficult to describe or to induce people to believe; +but I felt as if the whole house was like a living organism slowly and +imperceptibly digesting me by the action of some stupefying gastric +juice. + +Perhaps the process had begun as soon as I set my foot in the house, but +I distinctly remember the day on which I first was conscious of it. + +It was the beginning of summer, and the market being dull I had no work +to do. A little before sunset I was sitting in an arm-chair near the +water's edge below the steps. The Susta had shrunk and sunk low; a broad +patch of sand on the other side glowed with the hues of evening; on +this side the pebbles at the bottom of the clear shallow waters were +glistening. There was not a breath of wind anywhere, and the still air +was laden with an oppressive scent from the spicy shrubs growing on the +hills close by. + +As the sun sank behind the hill-tops a long dark curtain fell upon the +stage of day, and the intervening hills cut short the time in which +light and shade mingle at sunset. I thought of going out for a ride, +and was about to get up when I heard a footfall on the steps behind. I +looked back, but there was no one. + +As I sat down again, thinking it to be an illusion, I heard many +footfalls, as if a large number of persons were rushing down the steps. +A strange thrill of delight, slightly tinged with fear, passed through +my frame, and though there was not a figure before my eyes, methought I +saw a bevy of joyous maidens coming down the steps to bathe in the Susta +in that summer evening. Not a sound was in the valley, in the river, or +in the palace, to break the silence, but I distinctly heard the maidens' +gay and mirthful laugh, like the gurgle of a spring gushing forth in a +hundred cascades, as they ran past me, in quick playful pursuit of +each other, towards the river, without noticing me at all. As they were +invisible to me, so I was, as it were, invisible to them. The river was +perfectly calm, but I felt that its still, shallow, and clear waters +were stirred suddenly by the splash of many an arm jingling with +bracelets, that the girls laughed and dashed and spattered water at one +another, that the feet of the fair swimmers tossed the tiny waves up in +showers of pearl. + +I felt a thrill at my heart--I cannot say whether the excitement was due +to fear or delight or curiosity. I had a strong desire to see them more +clearly, but naught was visible before me; I thought I could catch all +that they said if I only strained my ears; but however hard I strained +them, I heard nothing but the chirping of the cicadas in the woods. It +seemed as if a dark curtain of 250 years was hanging before me, and I +would fain lift a corner of it tremblingly and peer through, though the +assembly on the other side was completely enveloped in darkness. + +The oppressive closeness of the evening was broken by a sudden gust of +wind, and the still surface of the Suista rippled and curled like the +hair of a nymph, and from the woods wrapt in the evening gloom there +came forth a simultaneous murmur, as though they were awakening from +a black dream. Call it reality or dream, the momentary glimpse of that +invisible mirage reflected from a far-off world, 250 years old, vanished +in a flash. The mystic forms that brushed past me with their quick +unbodied steps, and loud, voiceless laughter, and threw themselves into +the river, did not go back wringing their dripping robes as they went. +Like fragrance wafted away by the wind they were dispersed by a single +breath of the spring. + +Then I was filled with a lively fear that it was the Muse that had taken +advantage of my solitude and possessed me--the witch had evidently come +to ruin a poor devil like myself making a living by collecting cotton +duties. I decided to have a good dinner--it is the empty stomach that +all sorts of incurable diseases find an easy prey. I sent for my cook +and gave orders for a rich, sumptuous moghlai dinner, redolent of spices +and ghi. + +Next morning the whole affair appeared a queer fantasy. With a light +heart I put on a sola hat like the sahebs, and drove out to my work. I +was to have written my quarterly report that day, and expected to return +late; but before it was dark I was strangely drawn to my house--by what +I could not say--I felt they were all waiting, and that I should delay +no longer. Leaving my report unfinished I rose, put on my sola hat, and +startling the dark, shady, desolate path with the rattle of my carriage, +I reached the vast silent palace standing on the gloomy skirts of the +hills. + +On the first floor the stairs led to a very spacious hall, its roof +stretching wide over ornamental arches resting on three rows of massive +pillars, and groaning day and night under the weight of its own intense +solitude. The day had just closed, and the lamps had not yet been +lighted. As I pushed the door open a great bustle seemed to follow +within, as if a throng of people had broken up in confusion, and rushed +out through the doors and windows and corridors and verandas and rooms, +to make its hurried escape. + +As I saw no one I stood bewildered, my hair on end in a kind of ecstatic +delight, and a faint scent of attar and unguents almost effected by age +lingered in my nostrils. Standing in the darkness of that vast desolate +hall between the rows of those ancient pillars, I could hear the gurgle +of fountains plashing on the marble floor, a strange tune on the guitar, +the jingle of ornaments and the tinkle of anklets, the clang of bells +tolling the hours, the distant note of nahabat, the din of the crystal +pendants of chandeliers shaken by the breeze, the song of bulbuls from +the cages in the corridors, the cackle of storks in the gardens, all +creating round me a strange unearthly music. + +Then I came under such a spell that this intangible, inaccessible, +unearthly vision appeared to be the only reality in the world--and all +else a mere dream. That I, that is to say, Srijut So-and-so, the eldest +son of So-and-so of blessed memory, should be drawing a monthly salary +of Rs. 450 by the discharge of my duties as collector of cotton duties, +and driving in my dog-cart to my office every day in a short coat and +soia hat, appeared to me to be such an astonishingly ludicrous illusion +that I burst into a horse-laugh, as I stood in the gloom of that vast +silent hall. + +At that moment my servant entered with a lighted kerosene lamp in his +hand. I do not know whether he thought me mad, but it came back to me +at once that I was in very deed Srijut So-and-so, son of So-and-so of +blessed memory, and that, while our poets, great and small, alone could +say whether inside of or outside the earth there was a region where +unseen fountains perpetually played and fairy guitars, struck by +invisible fingers, sent forth an eternal harmony, this at any rate was +certain, that I collected duties at the cotton market at Banch, and +earned thereby Rs. 450 per mensem as my salary. I laughed in great glee +at my curious illusion, as I sat over the newspaper at my camp-table, +lighted by the kerosene lamp. + +After I had finished my paper and eaten my moghlai dinner, I put out +the lamp, and lay down on my bed in a small side-room. Through the +open window a radiant star, high above the Avalli hills skirted by the +darkness of their woods, was gazing intently from millions and +millions of miles away in the sky at Mr. Collector lying on a humble +camp-bedstead. I wondered and felt amused at the idea, and do not knew +when I fell asleep or how long I slept; but I suddenly awoke with a +start, though I heard no sound and saw no intruder--only the steady +bright star on the hilltop had set, and the dim light of the new moon +was stealthily entering the room through the open window, as if ashamed +of its intrusion. + +I saw nobody, but felt as if some one was gently pushing me. As I awoke +she said not a word, but beckoned me with her five fingers bedecked with +rings to follow her cautiously. I got up noiselessly, and, though not a +soul save myself was there in the countless apartments of that deserted +palace with its slumbering sounds and waiting echoes, I feared at every +step lest any one should wake up. Most of the rooms of the palace were +always kept closed, and I had never entered them. + +I followed breathless and with silent steps my invisible guide--I +cannot now say where. What endless dark and narrow passages, what long +corridors, what silent and solemn audience-chambers and close secret +cells I crossed! + +Though I could not see my fair guide, her form was not invisible to my +mind's eye,--an Arab girl, her arms, hard and smooth as marble, visible +through her loose sleeves, a thin veil falling on her face from the +fringe of her cap, and a curved dagger at her waist! Methought that one +of the thousand and one Arabian Nights had been wafted to me from the +world of romance, and that at the dead of night I was wending my way +through the dark narrow alleys of slumbering Bagdad to a trysting-place +fraught with peril. + +At last my fair guide stopped abruptly before a deep blue screen, and +seemed to point to something below. There was nothing there, but a +sudden dread froze the blood in my heart-methought I saw there on the +floor at the foot of the screen a terrible negro eunuch dressed in rich +brocade, sitting and dozing with outstretched legs, with a naked sword +on his lap. My fair guide lightly tripped over his legs and held up +a fringe of the screen. I could catch a glimpse of a part of the room +spread with a Persian carpet--some one was sitting inside on a bed--I +could not see her, but only caught a glimpse of two exquisite feet +in gold-embroidered slippers, hanging out from loose saffron-coloured +paijamas and placed idly on the orange-coloured velvet carpet. On one +side there was a bluish crystal tray on which a few apples, pears, +oranges, and bunches of grapes in plenty, two small cups and a +gold-tinted decanter were evidently waiting the guest. A fragrant +intoxicating vapour, issuing from a strange sort of incense that burned +within, almost overpowered my senses. + +As with trembling heart I made an attempt to step across the +outstretched legs of the eunuch, he woke up suddenly with a start, and +the sword fell from his lap with a sharp clang on the marble floor. +A terrific scream made me jump, and I saw I was sitting on that +camp-bedstead of mine sweating heavily; and the crescent moon looked +pale in the morning light like a weary sleepless patient at dawn; and +our crazy Meher Ali was crying out, as is his daily custom, "Stand back! +Stand back!!" while he went along the lonely road. + +Such was the abrupt close of one of my Arabian Nights; but there were +yet a thousand nights left. + +Then followed a great discord between my days and nights. During the day +I would go to my work worn and tired, cursing the bewitching night and +her empty dreams, but as night came my daily life with its bonds and +shackles of work would appear a petty, false, ludicrous vanity. + +After nightfall I was caught and overwhelmed in the snare of a strange +intoxication, I would then be transformed into some unknown personage of +a bygone age, playing my part in unwritten history; and my short English +coat and tight breeches did not suit me in the least. With a red velvet +cap on my head, loose paijamas, an embroidered vest, a long flowing silk +gown, and coloured handkerchiefs scented with attar, I would complete +my elaborate toilet, sit on a high-cushioned chair, and replace my +cigarette with a many-coiled narghileh filled with rose-water, as if in +eager expectation of a strange meeting with the beloved one. + +I have no power to describe the marvellous incidents that unfolded +themselves, as the gloom of the night deepened. I felt as if in the +curious apartments of that vast edifice the fragments of a beautiful +story, which I could follow for some distance, but of which I could +never see the end, flew about in a sudden gust of the vernal breeze. +And all the same I would wander from room to room in pursuit of them the +whole night long. + +Amid the eddy of these dream-fragments, amid the smell of henna and +the twanging of the guitar, amid the waves of air charged with fragrant +spray, I would catch like a flash of lightning the momentary glimpse of +a fair damsel. She it was who had saffron-coloured paijamas, white ruddy +soft feet in gold-embroidered slippers with curved toes, a close-fitting +bodice wrought with gold, a red cap, from which a golden frill fell on +her snowy brow and cheeks. + +She had maddened me. In pursuit of her I wandered from room to room, +from path to path among the bewildering maze of alleys in the enchanted +dreamland of the nether world of sleep. + +Sometimes in the evening, while arraying myself carefully as a prince of +the blood-royal before a large mirror, with a candle burning on either +side, I would see a sudden reflection of the Persian beauty by the side +of my own. A swift turn of her neck, a quick eager glance of intense +passion and pain glowing in her large dark eyes, just a suspicion of +speech on her dainty red lips, her figure, fair and slim crowned with +youth like a blossoming creeper, quickly uplifted in her graceful +tilting gait, a dazzling flash of pain and craving and ecstasy, a smile +and a glance and a blaze of jewels and silk, and she melted away. A wild +glist of wind, laden with all the fragrance of hills and woods, would +put out my light, and I would fling aside my dress and lie down on my +bed, my eyes closed and my body thrilling with delight, and there around +me in the breeze, amid all the perfume of the woods and hills, floated +through the silent gloom many a caress and many a kiss and many a tender +touch of hands, and gentle murmurs in my ears, and fragrant breaths on +my brow; or a sweetly-perfumed kerchief was wafted again and again on +my cheeks. Then slowly a mysterious serpent would twist her stupefying +coils about me; and heaving a heavy sigh, I would lapse into +insensibility, and then into a profound slumber. + +One evening I decided to go out on my horse--I do not know who implored +me to stay-but I would listen to no entreaties that day. My English hat +and coat were resting on a rack, and I was about to take them down when +a sudden whirlwind, crested with the sands of the Susta and the dead +leaves of the Avalli hills, caught them up, and whirled them round +and round, while a loud peal of merry laughter rose higher and higher, +striking all the chords of mirth till it died away in the land of +sunset. + +I could not go out for my ride, and the next day I gave up my queer +English coat and hat for good. + +That day again at dead of night I heard the stifled heart-breaking +sobs of some one--as if below the bed, below the floor, below the stony +foundation of that gigantic palace, from the depths of a dark damp +grave, a voice piteously cried and implored me: "Oh, rescue me! Break +through these doors of hard illusion, deathlike slumber and fruitless +dreams, place by your side on the saddle, press me to your heart, and, +riding through hills and woods and across the river, take me to the warm +radiance of your sunny rooms above!" + +Who am I? Oh, how can I rescue thee? What drowning beauty, what +incarnate passion shall I drag to the shore from this wild eddy of +dreams? O lovely ethereal apparition! Where didst thou flourish and +when? By what cool spring, under the shade of what date-groves, wast +thou born--in the lap of what homeless wanderer in the desert? What +Bedouin snatched thee from thy mother's arms, an opening bud plucked +from a wild creeper, placed thee on a horse swift as lightning, crossed +the burning sands, and took thee to the slave-market of what royal city? +And there, what officer of the Badshah, seeing the glory of thy bashful +blossoming youth, paid for thee in gold, placed thee in a golden +palanquin, and offered thee as a present for the seraglio of his master? +And O, the history of that place! The music of the sareng, the jingle of +anklets, the occasional flash of daggers and the glowing wine of Shiraz +poison, and the piercing flashing glance! What infinite grandeur, what +endless servitude! + +The slave-girls to thy right and left waved the chamar as diamonds +flashed from their bracelets; the Badshah, the king of kings, fell +on his knees at thy snowy feet in bejewelled shoes, and outside the +terrible Abyssinian eunuch, looking like a messenger of death, but +clothed like an angel, stood with a naked sword in his hand! Then, O, +thou flower of the desert, swept away by the blood-stained dazzling +ocean of grandeur, with its foam of jealousy, its rocks and shoals of +intrigue, on what shore of cruel death wast thou cast, or in what other +land more splendid and more cruel? + +Suddenly at this moment that crazy Meher Ali screamed out: "Stand back! +Stand back!! All is false! All is false!!" I opened my eyes and saw that +it was already light. My chaprasi came and handed me my letters, and the +cook waited with a salam for my orders. + +I said; "No, I can stay here no longer." That very day I packed up, and +moved to my office. Old Karim Khan smiled a little as he saw me. I felt +nettled, but said nothing, and fell to my work. + +As evening approached I grew absent-minded; I felt as if I had an +appointment to keep; and the work of examining the cotton accounts +seemed wholly useless; even the Nizamat of the Nizam did not appear to +be of much worth. Whatever belonged to the present, whatever was moving +and acting and working for bread seemed trivial, meaningless, and +contemptible. + +I threw my pen down, closed my ledgers, got into my dog-cart, and drove +away. I noticed that it stopped of itself at the gate of the marble +palace just at the hour of twilight. With quick steps I climbed the +stairs, and entered the room. + +A heavy silence was reigning within. The dark rooms were looking sullen +as if they had taken offence. My heart was full of contrition, but +there was no one to whom I could lay it bare, or of whom I could ask +forgiveness. I wandered about the dark rooms with a vacant mind. I +wished I had a guitar to which I could sing to the unknown: "O fire, +the poor moth that made a vain effort to fly away has come back to thee! +Forgive it but this once, burn its wings and consume it in thy flame!" + +Suddenly two tear-drops fell from overhead on my brow. Dark masses of +clouds overcast the top of the Avalli hills that day. The gloomy woods +and the sooty waters of the Susta were waiting in terrible suspense and +in an ominous calm. Suddenly land, water, and sky shivered, and a wild +tempest-blast rushed howling through the distant pathless woods, showing +its lightning-teeth like a raving maniac who had broken his chains. +The desolate halls of the palace banged their doors, and moaned in the +bitterness of anguish. + +The servants were all in the office, and there was no one to light the +lamps. The night was cloudy and moonless. In the dense gloom within I +could distinctly feel that a woman was lying on her face on the carpet +below the bed--clasping and tearing her long dishevelled hair with +desperate fingers. Blood was tricking down her fair brow, and she was +now laughing a hard, harsh, mirthless laugh, now bursting into violent +wringing sobs, now rending her bodice and striking at her bare bosom, +as the wind roared in through the open window, and the rain poured in +torrents and soaked her through and through. + +All night there was no cessation of the storm or of the passionate cry. +I wandered from room to room in the dark, with unavailing sorrow. Whom +could I console when no one was by? Whose was this intense agony of +sorrow? Whence arose this inconsolable grief? + +And the mad man cried out: "Stand back! Stand back!! All is false! All +is false!!" + +I saw that the day had dawned, and Meher Ali was going round and round +the palace with his usual cry in that dreadful weather. Suddenly it +came to me that perhaps he also had once lived in that house, and that, +though he had gone mad, he came there every day, and went round and +round, fascinated by the weird spell cast by the marble demon. + +Despite the storm and rain I ran to him and asked: "Ho, Meher Ali, what +is false?" + +The man answered nothing, but pushing me aside went round and round +with his frantic cry, like a bird flying fascinated about the jaws of a +snake, and made a desperate effort to warn himself by repeating: "Stand +back! Stand back!! All is false! All is false!!" + +I ran like a mad man through the pelting rain to my office, and asked +Karim Khan: "Tell me the meaning of all this!" + +What I gathered from that old man was this: That at one time countless +unrequited passions and unsatisfied longings and lurid flames of wild +blazing pleasure raged within that palace, and that the curse of all +the heart-aches and blasted hopes had made its every stone thirsty and +hungry, eager to swallow up like a famished ogress any living man who +might chance to approach. Not one of those who lived there for three +consecutive nights could escape these cruel jaws, save Meher Ali, who +had escaped at the cost of his reason. + +I asked: "Is there no means whatever of my release?" The old man said: +"There is only one means, and that is very difficult. I will tell you +what it is, but first you must hear the history of a young Persian girl +who once lived in that pleasure-dome. A stranger or a more bitterly +heart-rending tragedy was never enacted on this earth." + +Just at this moment the coolies announced that the train was coming. +So soon? We hurriedly packed up our luggage, as the tram steamed in. An +English gentleman, apparently just aroused from slumber, was looking out +of a first-class carriage endeavouring to read the name of the station. +As soon as he caught sight of our fellow-passenger, he cried, "Hallo," +and took him into his own compartment. As we got into a second-class +carriage, we had no chance of finding out who the man was nor what was +the end of his story. + +I said; "The man evidently took us for fools and imposed upon us out of +fun. The story is pure fabrication from start to finish." The discussion +that followed ended in a lifelong rupture between my theosophist kinsman +and myself. + + + + +THE VICTORY + +She was the Princess Ajita. And the court poet of King Narayan had never +seen her. On the day he recited a new poem to the king he would raise +his voice just to that pitch which could be heard by unseen hearers in +the screened balcony high above the hall. He sent up his song towards +the star-land out of his reach, where, circled with light, the planet +who ruled his destiny shone unknown and out of ken. + +He would espy some shadow moving behind the veil. A tinkling sound would +come to his car from afar, and would set him dreaming of the ankles +whose tiny golden bells sang at each step. Ah, the rosy red tender feet +that walked the dust of the earth like God's mercy on the fallen! The +poet had placed them on the altar of his heart, where he wove his songs +to the tune of those golden bells. Doubt never arose in his mind as to +whose shadow it was that moved behind the screen, and whose anklets they +were that sang to the time of his beating heart. + +Manjari, the maid of the princess, passed by the poet's house on her way +to the river, and she never missed a day to have a few words with him on +the sly. When she found the road deserted, and the shadow of dusk on +the land, she would boldly enter his room, and sit at the corner of +his carpet. There was a suspicion of an added care in the choice of the +colour of her veil, in the setting of the flower in her hair. + +People smiled and whispered at this, and they were not to blame. For +Shekhar the poet never took the trouble to hide the fact that these +meetings were a pure joy to him. + +The meaning of her name was the spray of flowers. One must confess that +for an ordinary mortal it was sufficient in its sweetness. But Shekhar +made his own addition to this name, and called her the Spray of Spring +Flowers. And ordinary mortals shook their heads and said, Ah, me! + +In the spring songs that the poet sang the praise of the spray of spring +flowers was conspicuously reiterated; and the king winked and smiled at +him when he heard it, and the poet smiled in answer. + +The king would put him the question; "Is it the business of the bee +merely to hum in the court of the spring?" + +The poet would answer; "No, but also to sip the honey of the spray of +spring flowers." + +And they all laughed in the king's hall. And it was rumoured that the +Princess Akita also laughed at her maid's accepting the poet's name for +her, and Manjari felt glad in her heart. + +Thus truth and falsehood mingle in life--and to what God builds man adds +his own decoration. + +Only those were pure truths which were sung by the poet. The theme was +Krishna, the lover god, and Radha, the beloved, the Eternal Man and the +Eternal Woman, the sorrow that comes from the beginning of time, and the +joy without end. The truth of these songs was tested in his inmost heart +by everybody from the beggar to the king himself. The poet's songs were +on the lips of all. At the merest glimmer of the moon and the faintest +whisper of the summer breeze his songs would break forth in the land +from windows and courtyards, from sailing-boats, from shadows of the +wayside trees, in numberless voices. + +Thus passed the days happily. The poet recited, the king listened, the +hearers applauded, Manjari passed and repassed by the poet's room on her +way to the river--the shadow flitted behind the screened balcony, and +the tiny golden bells tinkled from afar. + +Just then set forth from his home in the south a poet on his path of +conquest. He came to King Narayan, in the kingdom of Amarapur. He stood +before the throne, and uttered a verse in praise of the king. He had +challenged all the court poets on his way, and his career of victory had +been unbroken. + +The king received him with honour, and said: "Poet, I offer you +welcome." + +Pundarik, the poet, proudly replied: "Sire, I ask for war." + +Shekhar, the court poet of the king did not know how the battle of the +muse was to be waged. He had no sleep at night. The mighty figure of the +famous Pundarik, his sharp nose curved like a scimitar, and his proud +head tilted on one side, haunted the poet's vision in the dark. + +With a trembling heart Shekhar entered the arena in the morning. The +theatre was filled with the crowd. + +The poet greeted his rival with a smile and a bow. Pundarik returned it +with a slight toss of his head, and turned his face towards his circle +of adoring followers with a meaning smile. Shekhar cast his glance +towards the screened balcony high above, and saluted his lady in his +mind, saying! "If I am the winner at the combat to-day, my lady, thy +victorious name shall be glorified." + +The trumpet sounded. The great crowd stood up, shouting victory to the +king. The king, dressed in an ample robe of white, slowly came into the +hall like a floating cloud of autumn, and sat on his throne. + +Pundarik stood up, and the vast hall became still. With his head raised +high and chest expanded, he began in his thundering voice to recite the +praise of King Narayan. His words burst upon the walls of the hall +like breakers of the sea, and seemed to rattle against the ribs of the +listening crowd. The skill with which he gave varied meanings to the +name Narayan, and wove each letter of it through the web of his verses +in all mariner of combinations, took away the breath of his amazed +hearers. + +For some minutes after he took his seat his voice continued to vibrate +among the numberless pillars of the king's court and in thousands of +speechless hearts. The learned professors who had come from distant +lands raised their right hands, and cried, Bravo! + +The king threw a glance on Shekhar's face, and Shekhar in answer raised +for a moment his eyes full of pain towards his master, and then stood +up like a stricken deer at bay. His face was pale, his bashfulness was +almost that of a woman, his slight youthful figure, delicate in its +outline, seemed like a tensely strung vina ready to break out in music +at the least touch. + +His head was bent, his voice was low, when he began. The first few +verses were almost inaudible. Then he slowly raised his head, and his +clear sweet voice rose into the sky like a quivering flame of fire. He +began with the ancient legend of the kingly line lost in the haze of +the past, and brought it down through its long course of heroism and +matchless generosity to the present age. He fixed his gaze on the king's +face, and all the vast and unexpressed love of the people for the royal +house rose like incense in his song, and enwreathed the throne on all +sides. These were his last words when, trembling, he took his seat: "My +master, I may be beaten in play of words, but not in my love for thee." + +Tears filled the eyes of the hearers, and the stone walls shook with +cries of victory. + +Mocking this popular outburst of feeling, with an august shake of +his head and a contemptuous sneer, Pundarik stood up, and flung this +question to the assembly; "What is there superior to words?" In a moment +the hall lapsed into silence again. + +Then with a marvellous display of learning, he proved that the Word was +in the beginning, that the Word was God. He piled up quotations from +scriptures, and built a high altar for the Word to be seated above all +that there is in heaven and in earth. He repeated that question in his +mighty voice: "What is there superior to words?" + +Proudly he looked around him. None dared to accept his challenge, and +he slowly took his seat like a lion who had just made a full meal of +its victim. The pandits shouted, Bravo! The king remained silent with +wonder, and the poet Shekhar felt himself of no account by the side of +this stupendous learning. The assembly broke up for that day. + +Next day Shekhar began his song. It was of that day when the pipings of +love's flute startled for the first time the hushed air of the Vrinda +forest. The shepherd women did not know who was the player or whence +came the music. Sometimes it seemed to come from the heart of the south +wind, and sometimes from the straying clouds of the hilltops. It came +with a message of tryst from the land of the sunrise, and it floated +from the verge of sunset with its sigh of sorrow. The stars seemed to +be the stops of the instrument that flooded the dreams of the night +with melody. The music seemed to burst all at once from all sides, +from fields and groves, from the shady lanes and lonely roads, from the +melting blue of the sky, from the shimmering green of the grass. They +neither knew its meaning nor could they find words to give utterance +to the desire of their hearts. Tears filled their eyes, and their life +seemed to long for a death that would be its consummation. + +Shekhar forgot his audience, forgot the trial of his strength with a +rival. He stood alone amid his thoughts that rustled and quivered round +him like leaves in a summer breeze, and sang the Song of the Flute. He +had in his mind the vision of an image that had taken its shape from a +shadow, and the echo of a faint tinkling sound of a distant footstep. + +He took his seat. His hearers trembled with the sadness of an +indefinable delight, immense and vague, and they forgot to applaud +him. As this feeling died away Pundarik stood up before the throne +and challenged his rival to define who was this Lover and who was the +Beloved. He arrogantly looked around him, he smiled at his followers +and then put the question again: "Who is Krishna, the lover, and who is +Radha, the beloved?" + +Then he began to analyse the roots of those names,--and various +interpretations of their meanings. He brought before the bewildered +audience all the intricacies of the different schools of metaphysics +with consummate skill. Each letter of those names he divided from its +fellow, and then pursued them with a relentless logic till they fell to +the dust in confusion, to be caught up again and restored to a meaning +never before imagined by the subtlest of word-mongers. + +The pandits were in ecstasy; they applauded vociferously; and the crowd +followed them, deluded into the certainty that they had witnessed, that +day, the last shred of the curtains of Truth torn to pieces before their +eyes by a prodigy of intellect. The performance of his tremendous feat +so delighted them that they forgot to ask themselves if there was any +truth behind it after all. + +The king's mind was overwhelmed with wonder. The atmosphere was +completely cleared of all illusion of music, and the vision of the world +around seemed to be changed from its freshness of tender green to the +solidity of a high road levelled and made hard with crushed stones. + +To the people assembled their own poet appeared a mere boy in comparison +with this giant, who walked with such case, knocking down difficulties +at each step in the world of words and thoughts. It became evident +to them for the first time that the poems Shekhar wrote were absurdly +simple, and it must be a mere accident that they did not write them +themselves. They were neither new, nor difficult, nor instructive, nor +necessary. + +The king tried to goad his poet with keen glances, silently inciting him +to make a final effort. But Shekhar took no notice, and remained fixed +to his seat. + +The king in anger came down from his throne--took off his pearl chain +and put it on Pundarik's head. Everybody in the hall cheered. From the +upper balcony came a slight sound of the movements of rustling robes and +waist-chains hung with golden bells. Shekhar rose from his seat and left +the hall. + +It was a dark night of waning moon. The poet Shekhar took down his MSS. +from his shelves and heaped them on the floor. Some of them contained +his earliest writings, which he had almost forgotten. He turned over the +pages, reading passages here and there. They all seemed to him poor and +trivial--mere words and childish rhymes! + +One by one he tore his books to fragments, and threw them into a vessel +containing fire, and said: "To thee, to thee, O my beauty, my fire! Thou +hast been burning in my heart all these futile years. If my life were +a piece of gold it would come out of its trial brighter, but it is a +trodden turf of grass, and nothing remains of it but this handful of +ashes." + +The night wore on. Shekhar opened wide his windows. He spread upon +his bed the white flowers that he loved, the jasmines, tuberoses and +chrysanthemums, and brought into his bedroom all the lamps he had in +his house and lighted them. Then mixing with honey the juice of some +poisonous root he drank it and lay down on his bed. + +Golden anklets tinkled in the passage outside the door, and a subtle +perfume came into the room with the breeze. + +The poet, with his eyes shut, said; "My lady, have you taken pity upon +your servant at last and come to see him?" + +The answer came in a sweet voice "My poet, I have come." + +Shekhar opened his eyes--and saw before his bed the figure of a woman. + +His sight was dim and blurred. And it seemed to him that the image made +of a shadow that he had ever kept throned in the secret shrine of his +heart had come into the outer world in his last moment to gaze upon his +face. + +The woman said; "I am the Princess Ajita." + +The poet with a great effort sat up on his bed. + +The princess whispered into his car: "The king has not done you justice. +It was you who won at the combat, my poet, and I have come to crown you +with the crown of victory." + +She took the garland of flowers from her own neck, and put it on his +hair, and the poet fell down upon his bed stricken by death. + + + + +ONCE THERE WAS A KING + +"Once upon a time there was a king." + +When we were children there was no need to know who the king in the +fairy story was. It didn't matter whether he was called Shiladitya or +Shaliban, whether he lived at Kashi or Kanauj. The thing that made a +seven-year-old boy's heart go thump, thump with delight was this one +sovereign truth; this reality of all realities: "Once there was a king." + +But the readers of this modern age are far more exact and exacting. +When they hear such an opening to a story, they are at once critical and +suspicious. They apply the searchlight of science to its legendary haze +and ask: "Which king?" + +The story-tellers have become more precise in their turn. They are no +longer content with the old indefinite, "There was a king," but assume +instead a look of profound learning, and begin: "Once there was a king +named Ajatasatru," + +The modern reader's curiosity, however, is not so easily satisfied. He +blinks at the author through his scientific spectacles, and asks again: +"Which Ajatasatru?" + +"Every schoolboy knows," the author proceeds, "that there were three +Ajatasatrus. The first was born in the twentieth century B.C., and died +at the tender age of two years and eight months, I deeply regret that it +is impossible to find, from any trustworthy source, a detailed account +of his reign. The second Ajatasatru is better known to historians. If +you refer to the new Encyclopedia of History...." + +By this time the modern reader's suspicions are dissolved. He feels he +may safely trust his author. He says to himself: "Now we shall have a +story that is both improving and instructive." + +Ah! how we all love to be deluded! We have a secret dread of being +thought ignorant. And we end by being ignorant after all, only we have +done it in a long and roundabout way. + +There is an English proverb; "Ask me no questions, and I will tell you +no lies." The boy of seven who is listening to a fairy story understands +that perfectly well; he withholds his questions, while the story is +being told. So the pure and beautiful falsehood of it all remains naked +and innocent as a babe; transparent as truth itself; limpid as afresh +bubbling spring. But the ponderous and learned lie of our moderns has +to keep its true character draped and veiled. And if there is discovered +anywhere the least little peep-hole of deception, the reader turns away +with a prudish disgust, and the author is discredited. + +When we were young, we understood all sweet things; and we could detect +the sweets of a fairy story by an unerring science of our own. We never +cared for such useless things as knowledge. We only cared for truth. And +our unsophisticated little hearts knew well where the Crystal Palace of +Truth lay and how to reach it. But to-day we are expected to write pages +of facts, while the truth is simply this: + +"There was a king." + +I remember vividly that evening in Calcutta when the fairy story began. +The rain and the storm had been incessant. The whole of the city was +flooded. The water was knee-deep in our lane. I had a straining hope, +which was almost a certainty, that my tutor would be prevented from +coming that evening. I sat on the stool in the far corner of the veranda +looking down the lane, with a heart beating faster and faster. Every +minute I kept my eye on the rain, and when it began to grow less +I prayed with all my might; "Please, God, send some more rain till +half-past seven is over." For I was quite ready to believe that there +was no other need for rain except to protect one helpless boy one +evening in one corner of Calcutta from the deadly clutches of his tutor. + +If not in answer to my prayer, at any rate according to some grosser law +of physical nature, the rain did not give up. + +But, alas! nor did my teacher. + +Exactly to the minute, in the bend of the lane, I saw his approaching +umbrella. The great bubble of hope burst in my breast, and my heart +collapsed. Truly, if there is a punishment to fit the crime after death, +then my tutor will be born again as me, and I shall be born as my tutor. + +As soon as I saw his umbrella I ran as hard as I could to my mother's +room. My mother and my grandmother were sitting opposite one another +playing cards by the light of a lamp. I ran into the room, and flung +myself on the bed beside my mother, and said: + +"Mother dear, the tutor has come, and I have such a bad headache; +couldn't I have no lessons today?" + +I hope no child of immature age will be allowed to read this story, +and I sincerely trust it will not be used in text-books or primers for +schools. For what I did was dreadfully bad, and I received no punishment +whatever. On the contrary, my wickedness was crowned with success. + +My mother said to me: "All right," and turning to the servant added: +"Tell the tutor that he can go back home." + +It was perfectly plain that she didn't think my illness very serious, as +she went on with her game as before, and took no further notice. And I +also, burying my head in the pillow, laughed to my heart's content. We +perfectly understood one another, my mother and I. + +But every one must know how hard it is for a boy of seven years old to +keep up the illusion of illness for a long time. After about a minute I +got hold of Grandmother, and said: "Grannie, do tell me a story." + +I had to ask this many times. Grannie and Mother went on playing cards, +and took no notice. At last Mother said to me: "Child, don't bother. +Wait till we've finished our game." But I persisted: "Grannie, do tell +me a story." I told Mother she could finish her game to-morrow, but she +must let Grannie tell me a story there and then. + +At last Mother threw down the cards and said: "You had better do what +he wants. I can't manage him." Perhaps she had it in her mind that she +would have no tiresome tutor on the morrow, while I should be obliged to +be back to those stupid lessons. + +As soon as ever Mother had given way, I rushed at Grannie. I got hold +of her hand, and, dancing with delight, dragged her inside my mosquito +curtain on to the bed. I clutched hold of the bolster with both hands +in my excitement, and jumped up and down with joy, and when I had got a +little quieter, said: "Now, Grannie, let' s have the story!" + +Grannie went on: "And the king had a queen." That was good to begin +with. He had only one. + +It is usual for kings in fairy stories to be extravagant in queens. And +whenever we hear that there are two queens, our hearts begin to sink. +One is sure to be unhappy. But in Grannie's story that danger was past. +He had only one queen. + +We next hear that the king had not got any son. At the age of seven I +didn't think there was any need to bother if a man had had no son. He +might only have been in the way. Nor are we greatly excited when we hear +that the king has gone away into the forest to practise austerities in +order to get a son. There was only one thing that would have made me go +into the forest, and that was to get away from my tutor! + +But the king left behind with his queen a small girl, who grew up into a +beautiful princess. + +Twelve years pass away, and the king goes on practising austerities, and +never thinks all this while of his beautiful daughter. The princess has +reached the full bloom of her youth. The age of marriage has passed, but +the king does not return. And the queen pines away with grief and cries: +"Is my golden daughter destined to die unmarried? Ah me! What a fate is +mine." + +Then the queen sent men to the king to entreat him earnestly to come +back for a single night and take one meal in the palace. And the king +consented. + +The queen cooked with her own hand, and with the greatest care, +sixty-four dishes, and made a seat for him of sandal-wood, and arranged +the food in plates of gold and cups of silver. The princess stood behind +with the peacock-tail fan in her hand. The king, after twelve years' +absence, came into the house, and the princess waved the fan, lighting +up all the room with her beauty. The king looked in his daughter's face, +and forgot to take his food. + +At last he asked his queen: "Pray, who is this girl whose beauty shines +as the gold image of the goddess? Whose daughter is she?" + +The queen beat her forehead, and cried: "Ah, how evil is my fate! Do +you not know your own daughter?" + +The king was struck with amazement. He said at last; "My tiny daughter +has grown to be a woman." + +"What else?" the queen said with a sigh. "Do you not know that twelve +years have passed by?" + +"But why did you not give her in marriage?" asked the king. + +"You were away," the queen said. "And how could I find her a suitable +husband?" + +The king became vehement with excitement. "The first man I see +to-morrow," he said, "when I come out of the palace shall marry her." + +The princess went on waving her fan of peacock feathers, and the king +finished his meal. + +The next morning, as the king came out of his palace, he saw the son of +a Brahman gathering sticks in the forest outside the palace gates. His +age was about seven or eight. + +The king said: "I will marry my daughter to him." + +Who can interfere with a king's command? At once the boy was called, and +the marriage garlands were exchanged between him and the princess. + +At this point I came up close to my wise Grannie and asked her eagerly: +"What then?" + +In the bottom of my heart there was a devout wish to substitute myself +for that fortunate wood-gatherer of seven years old. The night was +resonant with the patter of rain. The earthen lamp by my bedside was +burning low. My grandmother's voice droned on as she told the story. And +all these things served to create in a corner of my credulous heart the +belief that I had been gathering sticks in the dawn of some indefinite +time in the kingdom of some unknown king, and in a moment garlands had +been exchanged between me and the princess, beautiful as the Goddess of +Grace. She had a gold band on her hair and gold earrings in her ears. +She bad a necklace and bracelets of gold, and a golden waist-chain round +her waist, and a pair of golden anklets tinkled above her feet. + +If my grandmother were an author how many explanations she would have to +offer for this little story! First of all, every one would ask why +the king remained twelve years in the forest? Secondly, why should the +king's daughter remain unmarried all that while? This would be regarded +as absurd. + +Even if she could have got so far without a quarrel, still there would +have been a great hue and cry about the marriage itself. First, it never +happened. Secondly, how could there be a marriage between a princess of +the Warrior Caste and a boy of the priestly Brahman Caste? Her readers +would have imagined at once that the writer was preaching against our +social customs in an underhand way. And they would write letters to the +papers. + +So I pray with all my heart that my grandmother may be born a +grandmother again, and not through some cursed fate take birth as her +luckless grandson. + +So with a throb of joy and delight, I asked Grannie: "What then?" + +Grannie went on: Then the princess took her little husband away in +great distress, and built a large palace with seven wings, and began to +cherish her husband with great care. + +I jumped up and down in my bed and clutched at the bolster more tightly +than ever and said: "What then?" + +Grannie continued: The little boy went to school and learnt many lessons +from his teachers, and as he grew up his class-fellows began to ask him: +"Who is that beautiful lady who lives with you in the palace with the +seven wings?" The Brahman's son was eager to know who she was. He could +only remember how one day he had been gathering sticks, and a great +disturbance arose. But all that was so long ago, that he had no clear +recollection. + +Four or five years passed in this way. His companions always asked him: +"Who is that beautiful lady in the palace with the seven wings?" And the +Brahman's son would come back from school and sadly tell the princess: +"My school companions always ask me who is that beautiful lady in the +palace with the seven wings, and I can give them no reply. Tell me, oh, +tell me, who you are!" + +The princess said: "Let it pass to-day. I will tell you some other +day." And every day the Brahman's son would ask; "Who are you?" and the +princess would reply: "Let it pass to-day. I will tell you some other +day." In this manner four or five more years passed away. + +At last the Brahman's son became very impatient, and said: "If you do +not tell me to-day who you are, O beautiful lady, I will leave this +palace with the seven wings." Then the princess said: "I will certainly +tell you to-morrow." + +Next day the Brahman's son, as soon as he came home from school, said: +"Now, tell me who you are." The princess said: "To-night I will tell you +after supper, when you are in bed." + +The Brahman's son said: "Very well "; and he began to count the hours +in expectation of the night. And the princess, on her side, spread white +flowers over the golden bed, and lighted a gold lamp with fragrant oil, +and adorned her hair, and dressed herself in a beautiful robe of blue, +and began to count the hours in expectation of the night. + +That evening when her husband, the Brahman's son, had finished his +meal, too excited almost to eat, and had gone to the golden bed in the +bed-chamber strewn with flowers, he said to himself: "To-night I shall +surely know who this beautiful lady is in the palace with the seven +wings." + +The princess took for her the food that was left over by her husband, +and slowly entered the bed-chamber. She had to answer that night the +question, which was the beautiful lady who lived in the palace with +the seven wings. And as she went up to the bed to tell him she found a +serpent had crept out of the flowers and had bitten the Brahman's son. +Her boy-husband was lying on the bed of flowers, with face pale in +death. + +My heart suddenly ceased to throb, and I asked with choking voice: "What +then?" + +Grannie said; "Then..." + +But what is the use of going on any further with the story? It would +only lead on to what was more and more impossible. The boy of seven +did not know that, if there were some "What then?" after death, no +grandmother of a grandmother could tell us all about it. + +But the child's faith never admits defeat, and it would snatch at the +mantle of death itself to turn him back. It would be outrageous for him +to think that such a story of one teacherless evening could so suddenly +come to a stop. Therefore the grandmother had to call back her story +from the ever-shut chamber of the great End, but she does it so simply: +it is merely by floating the dead body on a banana stem on the river, +and having some incantations read by a magician. But in that rainy night +and in the dim light of a lamp death loses all its horror in the mind of +the boy, and seems nothing more than a deep slumber of a single night. +When the story ends the tired eyelids are weighed down with sleep. Thus +it is that we send the little body of the child floating on the back of +sleep over the still water of time, and then in the morning read a few +verses of incantation to restore him to the world of life and light. + + + + +THE HOME-COMING + +Phatik Chakravorti was ringleader among the boys of the village. A new +mischief got into his head. There was a heavy log lying on the mud-flat +of the river waiting to be shaped into a mast for a boat. He decided +that they should all work together to shift the log by main force from +its place and roll it away. The owner of the log would be angry and +surprised, and they would all enjoy the fun. Every one seconded the +proposal, and it was carried unanimously. + +But just as the fun was about to begin, Makhan, Phatik's younger +brother, sauntered up, and sat down on the log in front of them all +without a word. The boys were puzzled for a moment. He was pushed, +rather timidly, by one of the boys and told to get up but he remained +quite unconcerned. He appeared like a young philosopher meditating on +the futility of games. Phatik was furious. "Makhan," he cried, "if you +don't get down this minute I'll thrash you!" + +Makhan only moved to a more comfortable position. + +Now, if Phatik was to keep his regal dignity before the public, it was +clear he ought to carry out his threat. But his courage failed him +at the crisis. His fertile brain, however, rapidly seized upon a new +manoeuvre which would discomfit his brother and afford his followers an +added amusement. He gave the word of command to roll the log and Makhan +over together. Makhan heard the order, and made it a point of honour +to stick on. But he overlooked the fact, like those who attempt earthly +fame in other matters, that there was peril in it. + +The boys began to heave at the log with all their might, calling out, +"One, two, three, go," At the word "go" the log went; and with it went +Makhan's philosophy, glory and all. + +All the other boys shouted themselves hoarse with delight. But Phatik +was a little frightened. He knew what was coming. And, sure enough, +Makhan rose from Mother Earth blind as Fate and screaming like the +Furies. He rushed at Phatik and scratched his face and beat him and +kicked him, and then went crying home. The first act of the drama was +over. + +Phatik wiped his face, and sat down on the edge of a sunken barge on the +river bank, and began to chew a piece of grass. A boat came up to the +landing, and a middle-aged man, with grey hair and dark moustache, +stepped on shore. He saw the boy sitting there doing nothing, and asked +him where the Chakravortis lived. Phatik went on chewing the grass, +and said: "Over there," but it was quite impossible to tell where he +pointed. The stranger asked him again. He swung his legs to and fro on +the side of the barge, and said; "Go and find out," and continued to +chew the grass as before. + +But now a servant came down from the house, and told Phatik his mother +wanted him. Phatik refused to move. But the servant was the master on +this occasion. He took Phatik up roughly, and carried him, kicking and +struggling in impotent rage. + +When Phatik came into the house, his mother saw him. She called out +angrily: "So you have been hitting Makhan again?" + +Phatik answered indignantly: "No, I haven't; who told you that?" + +His mother shouted: "Don't tell lies! You have." + +Phatik said suddenly: "I tell you, I haven't. You ask Makhan!" But +Makhan thought it best to stick to his previous statement. He said: +"Yes, mother. Phatik did hit me." + +Phatik's patience was already exhausted. He could not hear this +injustice. He rushed at Makban, and hammered him with blows: "Take that" +he cried, "and that, and that, for telling lies." + +His mother took Makhan's side in a moment, and pulled Phatik away, +beating him with her hands. When Phatik pushed her aside, she shouted +out: "What I you little villain! would you hit your own mother?" + +It was just at this critical juncture that the grey-haired stranger +arrived. He asked what was the matter. Phatik looked sheepish and +ashamed. + +But when his mother stepped back and looked at the stranger, her anger +was changed to surprise. For she recognised her brother, and cried: +"Why, Dada! Where have you come from?" As she said these words, she +bowed to the ground and touched his feet. Her brother had gone away soon +after she had married, and he had started business in Bombay. His sister +had lost her husband while he was In Bombay. Bishamber had now come back +to Calcutta, and had at once made enquiries about his sister. He had +then hastened to see her as soon as he found out where she was. + +The next few days were full of rejoicing. The brother asked after the +education of the two boys. He was told by his sister that Phatik was a +perpetual nuisance. He was lazy, disobedient, and wild. But Makhan was +as good as gold, as quiet as a lamb, and very fond of reading, Bishamber +kindly offered to take Phatik off his sister's hands, and educate him +with his own children in Calcutta. The widowed mother readily agreed. +When his uncle asked Phatik If he would like to go to Calcutta with him, +his joy knew no bounds, and he said; "Oh, yes, uncle!" In a way that +made it quite clear that he meant it. + +It was an immense relief to the mother to get rid of Phatik. She had +a prejudice against the boy, and no love was lost between the two +brothers. She was in daily fear that he would either drown Makhan some +day in the river, or break his head in a fight, or run him into some +danger or other. At the same time she was somewhat distressed to see +Phatik's extreme eagerness to get away. + +Phatik, as soon as all was settled, kept asking his uncle every minute +when they were to start. He was on pins and needles all day long with +excitement, and lay awake most of the night. He bequeathed to Makhan, +in perpetuity, his fishing-rod, his big kite and his marbles. Indeed, at +this time of departure his generosity towards Makhan was unbounded. + +When they reached Calcutta, Phatik made the acquaintance of his aunt +for the first time. She was by no means pleased with this unnecessary +addition to her family. She found her own three boys quite enough +to manage without taking any one else. And to bring a village lad of +fourteen into their midst was terribly upsetting. Bishamber should +really have thought twice before committing such an indiscretion. + +In this world of human affairs there is no worse nuisance than a boy +at the age of fourteen. He is neither ornamental, nor useful. It is +impossible to shower affection on him as on a little boy; and he is +always getting in the way. If he talks with a childish lisp he is called +a baby, and if he answers in a grown-up way he is called impertinent. +In fact any talk at all from him is resented. Then he is at the +unattractive, growing age. He grows out of his clothes with indecent +haste; his voice grows hoarse and breaks and quavers; his face grows +suddenly angular and unsightly. It is easy to excuse the shortcomings of +early childhood, but it is hard to tolerate even unavoidable lapses in a +boy of fourteen. The lad himself becomes painfully self-conscious. When +he talks with elderly people he is either unduly forward, or else so +unduly shy that he appears ashamed of his very existence. + +Yet it is at this very age when in his heart of hearts a young lad most +craves for recognition and love; and he becomes the devoted slave of any +one who shows him consideration. But none dare openly love him, for that +would be regarded as undue indulgence, and therefore bad for the boy. +So, what with scolding and chiding, he becomes very much like a stray +dog that has lost his master. + +For a boy of fourteen his own home is the only Paradise. To live in a +strange house with strange people is little short of torture, while the +height of bliss is to receive the kind looks of women, and never to be +slighted by them. + +It was anguish to Phatik to be the unwelcome guest in his aunt's house, +despised by this elderly woman, and slighted, on every occasion. If she +ever asked him to do anything for her, he would be so overjoyed that he +would overdo it; and then she would tell him not to be so stupid, but to +get on with his lessons. + +The cramped atmosphere of neglect in his aunt's house oppressed Phatik +so much that he felt that he could hardly breathe. He wanted to go out +into the open country and fill his lungs and breathe freely. But there +was no open country to go to. Surrounded on all sides by Calcutta houses +and walls, he would dream night after night of his village home, and +long to be back there. He remembered the glorious meadow where he used +to fly his kite all day long; the broad river-banks where he would wander +about the livelong day singing and shouting for joy; the narrow brook +where he could go and dive and swim at any time he liked. He thought of +his band of boy companions over whom he was despot; and, above all, the +memory of that tyrant mother of his, who had such a prejudice against +him, occupied him day and night. A kind of physical love like that of +animals; a longing to be in the presence of the one who is loved; an +inexpressible wistfulness during absence; a silent cry of the inmost +heart for the mother, like the lowing of a calf in the twilight;-this +love, which was almost an animal instinct, agitated the shy, nervous, +lean, uncouth and ugly boy. No one could understand it, but it preyed +upon his mind continually. + +There was no more backward boy in the whole school than Phatik. He gaped +and remained silent when the teacher asked him a question, and like an +overladen ass patiently suffered all the blows that came down on his +back. When other boys were out at play, he stood wistfully by the window +and gazed at the roofs of the distant houses. And if by chance he espied +children playing on the open terrace of any roof, his heart would ache +with longing. + +One day he summoned up all his courage, and asked his uncle: "Uncle, +when can I go home?" + +His uncle answered; "Wait till the holidays come." But the holidays would +not come till November, and there was a long time still to wait. + +One day Phatik lost his lesson-book. Even with the help of books he +had found it very difficult indeed to prepare his lesson. Now it was +impossible. Day after day the teacher would cane him unmercifully. +His condition became so abjectly miserable that even his cousins were +ashamed to own him. They began to jeer and insult him more than the +other boys. He went to his aunt at last, and told her that he had lost +his book. + +His aunt pursed her lips in contempt, and said: "You great clumsy, +country lout. How can I afford, with all my family, to buy you new books +five times a month?" + +That night, on his way back from school, Phatik had a bad headache with +a fit of shivering. He felt he was going to have an attack of malarial +fever. His one great fear was that he would be a nuisance to his aunt. + +The next morning Phatik was nowhere to be seen. All searches in the +neighbourhood proved futile. The rain had been pouring in torrents all +night, and those who went out in search of the boy got drenched through +to the skin. At last Bisbamber asked help from the police. + +At the end of the day a police van stopped at the door before the house. +It was still raining and the streets were all flooded. Two constables +brought out Phatik in their arms and placed him before Bishamber. He was +wet through from head to foot, muddy all over, his face and eyes flushed +red with fever, and his limbs all trembling. Bishamber carried him in +his arms, and took him into the inner apartments. When his wife saw him, +she exclaimed; "What a heap of trouble this boy has given us. Hadn't you +better send him home?" + +Phatik heard her words, and sobbed out loud: "Uncle, I was just going +home; but they dragged me back again." + +The fever rose very high, and all that night the boy was delirious. +Bishamber brought in a doctor. Phatik opened his eyes flushed with +fever, and looked up to the ceiling, and said vacantly: "Uncle, have the +holidays come yet? May I go home?" + +Bishamber wiped the tears from his own eyes, and took Phatik's lean +and burning hands in his own, and sat by him through the night. The boy +began again to mutter. At last his voice became excited: "Mother," he +cried, "don't beat me like that! Mother! I am telling the truth!" + +The next day Phatik became conscious for a short time. He turned his +eyes about the room, as if expecting some one to come. At last, with an +air of disappointment, his head sank back on the pillow. He turned his +face to the wall with a deep sigh. + +Bishamber knew his thoughts, and, bending down his head, whispered: +"Phatik, I have sent for your mother." The day went by. The doctor said +in a troubled voice that the boy's condition was very critical. + +Phatik began to cry out; "By the mark!--three fathoms. By the mark--four +fathoms. By the mark-." He had heard the sailor on the river-steamer +calling out the mark on the plumb-line. Now he was himself plumbing an +unfathomable sea. + +Later in the day Phatik's mother burst into the room like a whirlwind, +and began to toss from side to side and moan and cry in a loud voice. + +Bishamber tried to calm her agitation, but she flung herself on the bed, +and cried: "Phatik, my darling, my darling." + +Phatik stopped his restless movements for a moment. His hands ceased +beating up and down. He said: "Eh?" + +The mother cried again: "Phatik, my darling, my darling." + +Phatik very slowly turned his head and, without seeing anybody, said: +"Mother, the holidays have come." + + + + +MY LORD, THE BABY + +I + +Raicharan was twelve years old when he came as a servant to his master's +house. He belonged to the same caste as his master, and was given his +master's little son to nurse. As time went on the boy left Raicharan's +arms to go to school. From school he went on to college, and after +college he entered the judicial service. Always, until he married, +Raicharan was his sole attendant. + +But, when a mistress came into the house, Raicharan found two masters +instead of one. All his former influence passed to the new mistress. +This was compensated for by a fresh arrival. Anukul had a son born to +him, and Raicharan by his unsparing attentions soon got a complete +hold over the child. He used to toss him up in his arms, call to him in +absurd baby language, put his face close to the baby's and draw it away +again with a grin. + +Presently the child was able to crawl and cross the doorway. When +Raicharan went to catch him, he would scream with mischievous laughter +and make for safety. Raicharan was amazed at the profound skill and +exact judgment the baby showed when pursued. He would say to his +mistress with a look of awe and mystery: "Your son will be a judge some +day." + +New wonders came in their turn. When the baby began to toddle, that was +to Raicharan an epoch in human history. When he called his father Ba-ba +and his mother Ma-ma and Raicharan Chan-na, then Raicharan's ecstasy +knew no bounds. He went out to tell the news to all the world. + +After a while Raicharan was asked to show his ingenuity in other ways. +He had, for instance, to play the part of a horse, holding the reins +between his teeth and prancing with his feet. He had also to wrestle +with his little charge, and if he could not, by a wrestler's trick, fall +on his back defeated at the end, a great outcry was certain. + +About this time Anukul was transferred to a district on the banks of the +Padma. On his way through Calcutta he bought his son a little go-cart. +He bought him also a yellow satin waistcoat, a gold-laced cap, and some +gold bracelets and anklets. Raicharan was wont to take these out, and +put them on his little charge with ceremonial pride, whenever they went +for a walk. + +Then came the rainy season, and day after day the rain poured down in +torrents. The hungry river, like an enormous serpent, swallowed down +terraces, villages, cornfields, and covered with its flood the tall +grasses and wild casuarinas on the sand-banks. From time to time there +was a deep thud, as the river-banks crumbled. The unceasing roar of +the rain current could be beard from far away. Masses of foam, carried +swiftly past, proved to the eye the swiftness of the stream. + +One afternoon the rain cleared. It was cloudy, but cool and bright. +Raicharan's little despot did not want to stay in on such a fine +afternoon. His lordship climbed into the go-cart. Raicharan, between the +shafts, dragged him slowly along till he reached the rice-fields on the +banks of the river. There was no one in the fields, and no boat on the +stream. Across the water, on the farther side, the clouds were rifted in +the west. The silent ceremonial of the setting sun was revealed in all +its glowing splendour. In the midst of that stillness the child, all of +a sudden, pointed with his finger in front of him and cried: "Chan-nal +Pitty fow." + +Close by on a mud-flat stood a large Kadamba tree in full flower. My +lord, the baby, looked at it with greedy eyes, and Raicharan knew his +meaning. Only a short time before he had made, out of these very +flower balls, a small go-cart; and the child had been so entirely happy +dragging it about with a string, that for the whole day Raicharan was +not made to put on the reins at all. He was promoted from a horse into a +groom. + +But Raicharan had no wish that evening to go splashing knee-deep through +the mud to reach the flowers. So he quickly pointed his finger in the +opposite direction, calling out: "Oh, look, baby, look! Look at the +bird." And with all sorts of curious noises he pushed the go-cart +rapidly away from the tree. + +But a child, destined to be a judge, cannot be put off so easily. And +besides, there was at the time nothing to attract his eyes. And you +cannot keep up for ever the pretence of an imaginary bird. + +The little Master's mind was made up, and Raicharan was at his wits' +end. "Very well, baby," he said at last, "you sit still in the cart, and +I'll go and get you the pretty flower. Only mind you don't go near the +water." + +As he said this, he made his legs bare to the knee, and waded through +the oozing mud towards the tree. + +The moment Raicharan had gone, his little Master went off at racing +speed to the forbidden water. The baby saw the river rushing by, +splashing and gurgling as it went. It seemed as though the disobedient +wavelets themselves were running away from some greater Raicharan with +the laughter of a thousand children. At the sight of their mischief, +the heart of the human child grew excited and restless. He got down +stealthily from the go-cart and toddled off towards the river. On his +way he picked up a small stick, and leant over the bank of the stream +pretending to fish. The mischievous fairies of the river with their +mysterious voices seemed inviting him into their play-house. + +Raicharan had plucked a handful of flowers from the tree, and was +carrying them back in the end of his cloth, with his face wreathed in +smiles. But when he reached the go-cart, there was no one there. He +looked on all sides and there was no one there. He looked back at the +cart and there was no one there. + +In that first terrible moment his blood froze within him. Before his +eyes the whole universe swam round like a dark mist. From the depth +of his broken heart he gave one piercing cry; "Master, Master, little +Master." + +But no voice answered "Chan-na." No child laughed mischievously back; no +scream of baby delight welcomed his return. Only the river ran on, with +its splashing, gurgling noise as before,--as though it knew nothing at +all, and had no time to attend to such a tiny human event as the death +of a child. + +As the evening passed by Raicharan's mistress became very anxious. She +sent men out on all sides to search. They went with lanterns in their +hands, and reached at last the banks of the Padma. There they found +Raicharan rushing up and down the fields, like a stormy wind, shouting +the cry of despair: "Master, Master, little Master!" + +When they got Raicharan home at last, he fell prostrate at his +mistress's feet. They shook him, and questioned him, and asked him +repeatedly where he had left the child; but all he could say was, that +he knew nothing. + +Though every one held the opinion that the Padma had swallowed the +child, there was a lurking doubt left in the mind. For a band of gipsies +had been noticed outside the village that afternoon, and some suspicion +rested on them. The mother went so far in her wild grief as to think +it possible that Raicharan himself had stolen the child. She called him +aside with piteous entreaty and said: "Raicharan, give me back my baby. +Oh! give me back my child. Take from me any money you ask, but give me +back my child!" + +Raicharan only beat his forehead in reply. His mistress ordered him out +of the house. + +Artukul tried to reason his wife out of this wholly unjust suspicion: +"Why on earth," he said, "should he commit such a crime as that?" + +The mother only replied: "The baby had gold ornaments on his body. Who +knows?" + +It was impossible to reason with her after that. + +II + +Raicharan went back to his own village. Up to this time he had had no +son, and there was no hope that any child would now be born to him. But +it came about before the end of a year that his wife gave birth to a son +and died. + +All overwhelming resentment at first grew up in Raicharan's heart at the +sight of this new baby. At the back of his mind was resentful suspicion +that it had come as a usurper in place of the little Master. He also +thought it would be a grave offence to be happy with a son of his own +after what had happened to his master's little child. Indeed, if it had +not been for a widowed sister, who mothered the new baby, it would not +have lived long. + +But a change gradually came over Raicharan's mind. A wonderful thing +happened. This new baby in turn began to crawl about, and cross the +doorway with mischief in its face. It also showed an amusing cleverness +in making its escape to safety. Its voice, its sounds of laughter and +tears, its gestures, were those of the little Master. On some days, +when Raicharan listened to its crying, his heart suddenly began thumping +wildly against his ribs, and it seemed to him that his former little +Master was crying somewhere in the unknown land of death because he had +lost his Chan-na. + +Phailna (for that was the name Raicharan's sister gave to the new baby) +soon began to talk. It learnt to say Ba-ba and Ma-ma with a baby accent. +When Raicharan heard those familiar sounds the mystery suddenly became +clear. The little Master could not cast off the spell of his Chan-na, +and therefore he had been reborn in his own house. + +The arguments in favour of this were, to Raicharan, altogether beyond +dispute: + +(i.) The new baby was born soon after his little master's death. + +(ii.) His wife could never have accumulated such merit as to give birth +to a son in middle age. + +(iii.) The new baby walked with a toddle and called out Ba-ba and Ma-ma. +There was no sign lacking which marked out the future judge. + +Then suddenly Raicharan remembered that terrible accusation of the +mother. "Ah," he said to himself with amazement, "the mother's heart was +right. She knew I had stolen her child." When once he had come to this +conclusion, he was filled with remorse for his past neglect. He now gave +himself over, body and soul, to the new baby, and became its devoted +attendant. He began to bring it up, as if it were the son of a rich man. +He bought a go-cart, a yellow satin waistcoat, and a gold-embroidered +cap. He melted down the ornaments of his dead wife, and made gold +bangles and anklets. He refused to let the little child play with any +one of the neighbourhood, and became himself its sole companion day and +night. As the baby grew up to boyhood, he was so petted and spoilt +and clad in such finery that the village children would call him "Your +Lordship," and jeer at him; and older people regarded Raicharan as +unaccountably crazy about the child. + +At last the time came for the boy to go to school. Raicharan sold his +small piece of land, and went to Calcutta. There he got employment with +great difficulty as a servant, and sent Phailna to school. He spared no +pains to give him the best education, the best clothes, the best food. +Meanwhile he lived himself on a mere handful of rice, and would say in +secret: "Ah! my little Master, my dear little Master, you loved me so +much that you came back to my house. You shall never suffer from any +neglect of mine." + +Twelve years passed away in this manner. The boy was able to read and +write well. He was bright and healthy and good-looking. He paid a great +deal of attention to his personal appearance, and was specially careful +in parting his hair. He was inclined to extravagance and finery, and +spent money freely. He could never quite look on Raicharan as a father, +because, though fatherly in affection, he had the manner of a servant. +A further fault was this, that Raicharan kept secret from every one that +himself was the father of the child. + +The students of the hostel, where Phailna was a boarder, were greatly +amused by Raicharan's country manners, and I have to confess that behind +his father's back Phailna joined in their fun. But, in the bottom of +their hearts, all the students loved the innocent and tender-hearted old +man, and Phailna was very fond of him also. But, as I have said before, +he loved him with a kind of condescension. + +Raicharan grew older and older, and his employer was continually finding +fault with him for his incompetent work. He had been starving himself +for the boy's sake. So he had grown physically weak, and no longer up to +his work. He would forget things, and his mind became dull and stupid. +But his employer expected a full servant's work out of him, and would +not brook excuses. The money that Raicharan had brought with him from +the sale of his land was exhausted. The boy was continually grumbling +about his clothes, and asking for more money. + +Raicharan made up his mind. He gave up the situation where he was +working as a servant, and left some money with Phailna and said: "I have +some business to do at home in my village, and shall be back soon." + +He went off at once to Baraset where Anukul was magistrate. Anukul's +wife was still broken down with grief. She had had no other child. + +One day Anukul was resting after a long and weary day in court. His wife +was buying, at an exorbitant price, a herb from a mendicant quack, which +was said to ensure the birth of a child. A voice of greeting was +heard in the courtyard. Anukul went out to see who was there. It was +Raicharan. Anukul's heart was softened when he saw his old servant. He +asked him many questions, and offered to take him back into service. + +Raicharan smiled faintly, and said in reply; "I want to make obeisance +to my mistress." + +Anukul went with Raicharan into the house, where the mistress did not +receive him as warmly as his old master. Raicharan took no notice of +this, but folded his hands, and said: "It was not the Padma that stole +your baby. It was I." + +Anukul exclaimed: "Great God! Eh! What! Where is he?" Raicharan replied: +"He is with me, I will bring him the day after to-morrow." + +It was Sunday. There was no magistrate's court sitting. Both husband and +wife were looking expectantly along the road, waiting from early morning +for Raicharan's appearance. At ten o'clock he came, leading Phailna by +the hand. + +Anukul's wife, without a question, took the boy into her lap, and was +wild with excitement, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping, touching +him, kissing his hair and his forehead, and gazing into his face with +hungry, eager eyes. The boy was very good-looking and dressed like a +gentleman's son. The heart of Anukul brimmed over with a sudden rush of +affection. + +Nevertheless the magistrate in him asked: "Have you any proofs?" +Raicharan said: "How could there be any proof of such a deed? God alone +knows that I stole your boy, and no one else in the world." + +When Anukul saw how eagerly his wife was clinging to the boy, he +realised the futility of asking for proofs. It would be wiser to +believe. And then--where could an old man like Raicharan get such a boy +from? And why should his faithful servant deceive him for nothing? + +"But," he added severely, "Raicharan, you must not stay here." + +"Where shall I go, Master?" said Raicharan, in a choking voice, folding +his hands; "I am old. Who will take in an old man as a servant?" + +The mistress said: "Let him stay. My child will be pleased. I forgive +him." + +But Anukul's magisterial conscience would not allow him. "No," he said, +"he cannot be forgiven for what he has done." + +Raicharan bowed to the ground, and clasped Anukul's feet. "Master," he +cried, "let me stay. It was not I who did it. It was God." + +Anukul's conscience was worse stricken than ever, when Raicharan tried +to put the blame on God's shoulders. + +"No," he said, "I could not allow it. I cannot trust you any more. You +have done an act of treachery." + +Raicharan rose to his feet and said: "It was not I who did it." + +"Who was it then?" asked Anukul. + +Raicharan replied: "It was my fate." + +But no educated man could take this for an excuse. Anukul remained +obdurate. + +When Phailna saw that he was the wealthy magistrate's son, and not +Raicharan's, he was angry at first, thinking that he had been cheated +all this time of his birthright. But seeing Raicharan in distress, he +generously said to his father: "Father, forgive him. Even if you don't +let him live with us, let him have a small monthly pension." + +After hearing this, Raicharan did not utter another word. He looked +for the last time on the face of his son; he made obeisance to his +old master and mistress. Then he went out, and was mingled with the +numberless people of the world. + +At the end of the month Anukul sent him some money to his village. But +the money came back. There was no one there of the name of Raicharan. + + + + + +THE KINGDOM OF CARDS + +I + +Once upon a time there was a lonely island in a distant sea where lived +the Kings and Queens, the Aces and the Knaves, in the Kingdom of Cards. +The Tens and Nines, with the Twos and Threes, and all the other members, +had long ago settled there also. But these were not twice-born people, +like the famous Court Cards. + +The Ace, the King, and the Knave were the three highest castes. The +fourth Caste was made up of a mixture of the lower Cards. The Twos and +Threes were lowest of all. These inferior Cards were never allowed to +sit in the same row with the great Court Cards. + +Wonderful indeed were the regulations and rules of that island kingdom. +The particular rank of each individual had been settled from time +immemorial. Every one had his own appointed work, and never did anything +else. An unseen hand appeared to be directing them wherever they +went,--according to the Rules. + +No one in the Kingdom of Cards had any occasion to think: no one had any +need to come to any decision: no one was ever required to debate any +new subject. The citizens all moved along in a listless groove without +speech. When they fell, they made no noise. They lay down on their +backs, and gazed upward at the sky with each prim feature firmly fixed +for ever. + +There was a remarkable stillness in the Kingdom of Cards. Satisfaction +and contentment were complete in all their rounded wholeness. There +was never any uproar or violence. There was never any excitement or +enthusiasm. + +The great ocean, crooning its lullaby with one unceasing melody, lapped +the island to sleep with a thousand soft touches of its wave's white +hands. The vast sky, like the outspread azure wings of the brooding +mother-bird, nestled the island round with its downy plume. For on the +distant horizon a deep blue line betokened another shore. But no sound +of quarrel or strife could reach the Island of Cards, to break its calm +repose. + +II + +In that far-off foreign land across the sea, there lived a young Prince +whose mother was a sorrowing queen. This queen had fallen from favour, +and was living with her only son on the seashore. The Prince passed his +childhood alone and forlorn, sitting by his forlorn mother, weaving the +net of his big desires. He longed to go in search of the Flying Horse, +the Jewel in the Cobra's hood, the Rose of Heaven, the Magic Roads, or +to find where the Princess Beauty was sleeping in the Ogre's castle over +the thirteen rivers and across the seven seas. + +From the Son of the Merchant at school the young Prince learnt the +stories of foreign kingdoms. From the Son of the Kotwal he learnt the +adventures of the Two Genii of the Lamp. And when the rain came beating +down, and the clouds covered the sky, he would sit on the threshold +facing the sea, and say to his sorrowing mother: "Tell me, mother, a +story of some very far-off land." + +And his mother would tell him an endless tale she had heard in her +childhood of a wonderful country beyond the sea where dwelt the Princess +Beauty. And the heart of the young Prince would become sick with +longing, as he sat on the threshold, looking out on the ocean, listening +to his mother's wonderful story, while the rain outside came beating +down and the grey clouds covered the sky. + +One day the Son of the Merchant came to the Prince, and said boldly: +"Comrade, my studies are over. I am now setting out on my travels to +seek my fortunes on the sea. I have come to bid you good-bye." + +The Prince said; "I will go with you." + +And the Son of Kotwal said also: "Comrades, trusty and true, you will +not leave me behind. I also will be your companion." + +Then the young Prince said to his sorrowing mother; "Mother, I am now +setting out on my travels to seek my fortune. When I come back once +more, I shall surely have found some way to remove all your sorrow." + +So the Three Companions set out on their travels together. In the +harbour were anchored the twelve ships of the merchant, and the Three +Companions got on board. The south wind was blowing, and the twelve +ships sailed away, as fast as the desires which rose in the Prince's +breast. + +At the Conch Shell Island they filled one ship with conchs. At the +Sandal Wood Island they filled a second ship with sandal-wood, and at +the Coral Island they filled a third ship with coral. + +Four years passed away, and they filled four more ships, one with ivory, +one with musk, one with cloves, and one with nutmegs. + +But when these ships were all loaded a terrible tempest arose. The ships +were all of them sunk, with their cloves and nutmeg, and musk and +ivory, and coral and sandal-wood and conchs. But the ship with the Three +Companions struck on an island reef, buried them safe ashore, and itself +broke in pieces. + +This was the famous Island of Cards, where lived the Ace and King +and Queen and Knave, with the Nines and Tens and all the other +Members--according to the Rules. + +III + +Up till now there had been nothing to disturb that island stillness. No +new thing had ever happened. No discussion had ever been held. + +And then, of a sudden, the Three Companions appeared, thrown up by +the sea,--and the Great Debate began. There were three main points of +dispute. + +First, to what caste should these unclassed strangers belong? Should +they rank with the Court Cards? Or were they merely lower-caste people, +to be ranked with the Nines and Tens? No precedent could be quoted to +decide this weighty question. + +Secondly, what was their clan? Had they the fairer hue and bright +complexion of the Hearts, or was theirs the darker complexion of the +Clubs? Over this question there were interminable disputes. The whole +marriage system of the island, with its intricate regulations, would +depend on its nice adjustment. + +Thirdly, what food should they take? With whom should they live and +sleep? And should their heads be placed south-west, north-west, or only +north-east? In all the Kingdom of Cards a series of problems so vital +and critical had never been debated before. + +But the Three Companions grew desperately hungry. They had to get +food in some way or other. So while this debate went on, with its +interminable silence and pauses, and while the Aces called their own +meeting, and formed themselves into a Committee, to find some obsolete +dealing with the question, the Three Companions themselves were eating +all they could find, and drinking out of every vessel, and breaking all +regulations. + +Even the Twos and Threes were shocked at this outrageous behaviour. The +Threes said; "Brother Twos, these people are openly shameless!" And +the Twos said: "Brother Threes, they are evidently of lower caste than +ourselves!" After their meal was over, the Three Companions went for a +stroll in the city. + +When they saw the ponderous people moving in their dismal processions +with prim and solemn faces, then the Prince turned to the Son of the +Merchant and the Son of the Kotwal, and threw back his head, and gave +one stupendous laugh. + +Down Royal Street and across Ace Square and along the Knave Embankment +ran the quiver of this strange, unheard-of laughter, the laughter that, +amazed at itself, expired in the vast vacuum of silence. + +The Son of the Kotwal and the Son of the Merchant were chilled through +to the bone by the ghost-like stillness around them. They turned to the +Prince, and said: "Comrade, let us away. Let us not stop for a moment in +this awful land of ghosts." + +But the Prince said: "Comrades, these people resemble men, so I am going +to find out, by shaking them upside down and outside in, whether they +have a single drop of warm living blood left in their veins." + +IV + +The days passed one by one, and the placid existence of the Island went +on almost without a ripple. The Three Companions obeyed no rules nor +regulations. They never did anything correctly either in sitting or +standing or turning themselves round or lying on their back. On the +contrary, wherever they saw these things going on precisely and exactly +according to the Rules, they gave way to inordinate laughter. They +remained unimpressed altogether by the eternal gravity of those eternal +regulations. + +One day the great Court Cards came to the Son of the Kotwal and the Son +of the Merchant and the Prince. + +"Why," they asked slowly, "are you not moving according to the Rules?" + +The Three Companions answered: "Because that is our Ichcha (wish)." + +The great Court Cards with hollow, cavernous voices, as if slowly +awakening from an age-long dream, said together: "Ich-cha! And pray who +is Ich-cha?" + +They could not understand who Ichcha was then, but the whole island +was to understand it by-and-by. The first glimmer of light passed the +threshold of their minds when they found out, through watching the +actions of the Prince, that they might move in a straight line in an +opposite direction from the one in which they had always gone before. +Then they made another startling discovery, that there was another side +to the Cards which they had never yet noticed with attention. This was +the beginning of the change. + +Now that the change had begun, the Three Companions were able to +initiate them more and more deeply into the mysteries of Ichcha. The +Cards gradually became aware that life was not bound by regulations. +They began to feel a secret satisfaction in the kingly power of choosing +for themselves. + +But with this first impact of Ichcha the whole pack of cards began to +totter slowly, and then tumble down to the ground. The scene was like +that of some huge python awaking from a long sleep, as it slowly unfolds +its numberless coils with a quiver that runs through its whole frame. + +V + +Hitherto the Queens of Spades and Clubs and Diamonds and Hearts had +remained behind curtains with eyes that gazed vacantly into space, or +else remained fixed upon the ground. + +And now, all of a sudden, on an afternoon in spring the Queen of Hearts +from the balcony raised her dark eyebrows for a moment, and cast a +single glance upon the Prince from the corner of her eye. + +"Great God," cried the Prince, "I thought they were all painted images. +But I am wrong. They are women after all." + +Then the young Prince called to his side his two Companions, and said +in a meditative voice; "My comrades! There is a charm about these ladies +that I never noticed before. When I saw that glance of the Queen's dark, +luminous eyes, brightening with new emotion, it seemed to me like the +first faint streak of dawn in a newly created world." + +The two Companions smiled a knowing smile, and said: "Is that really so, +Prince?" + +And the poor Queen of Hearts from that day went from bad to worse. +She began to forget all rules in a truly scandalous manner. If, for +instance, her place in the row was beside the Knave, she suddenly found +herself quite accidentally standing beside the Prince instead. At this, +the Knave, with motionless face and solemn voice, would say: "Queen, you +have made a mistake." + +And the poor Queen of Hearts' red cheeks would get redder than ever. But +the Prince would come gallantly to her rescue and say: "No! There is no +mistake. From to-day I am going to be Knave!" + +Now it came to pass that, while every one was trying to correct the +improprieties of the guilty Queen of Hearts, they began to make mistakes +themselves. The Aces found themselves elbowed out by the Kings. The +Kings got muddled up with the Knaves. The Nines and Tens assumed airs as +though they belonged to the Great Court Cards. The Twos and Threes were +found secretly taking the places specially resented for the Fours and +Fives. Confusion had never been so confounded before. + +Many spring seasons had come and gone in that Island of Cards. The +Kokil, the bird of Spring, had sung its song year after year. But it had +never stirred the blood as it stirred it now. In days gone by the sea +had sung its tireless melody. But, then, it had proclaimed only the +inflexible monotony of the Rule. And suddenly its waves were telling, +through all their flashing light and luminous shade and myriad voices, +the deepest yearnings of the heart of love! + +VI + +Where are vanished now their prim, round, regular, complacent features? +Here is a face full of love-sick longing. Here is a heart heating wild +with regrets. Here is a mind racked sore with doubts. Music and sighing, +and smiles and tears, are filling the air. Life is throbbing; hearts are +breaking; passions are kindling. + +Every one is now thinking of his own appearance, and comparing himself +with others. The Ace of Clubs is musing to himself, that the King of +Spades may be just passably good-looking. "But," says he, "when I walk +down the street you have only to see how people's eyes turn towards me." +The King of Spades is saying; "Why on earth is that Ace of Clubs always +straining his neck and strutting about like a peacock? He imagines all +the Queens are dying of love for him, while the real fact is--" Here he +pauses, and examines his face in the glass. + +But the Queens were the worst of all. They began to spend all their time +in dressing themselves up to the Nines. And the Nines would become their +hopeless and abject slaves. But their cutting remarks about one another +were more shocking still. + +So the young men would sit listless on the leaves under the trees, +lolling with outstretched limbs in the forest shade. And the young +maidens, dressed in pale-blue robes, would come walking accidentally to +the same shade of the same forest by the same trees, and turn their eyes +as though they saw no one there, and look as though they came out to see +nothing at all. And then one young man more forward than the rest in +a fit of madness would dare to go near to a maiden in blue. But, as he +drew near, speech would forsake him. He would stand there tongue-tied +and foolish, and the favourable moment would pass. + +The Kokil birds were singing in the boughs overhead. The mischievous +South wind was blowing; it disarrayed the hair, it whispered in the +ear, and stirred the music in the blood. The leaves of the trees were +murmuring with rustling delight. And the ceaseless sound of the ocean +made all the mute longings of the heart of man and maid surge backwards +and forwards on the full springtide of love. + +The Three Companions had brought into the dried-up channels of the +Kingdom of Cards the full flood-tide of a new life. + +VII + +And, though the tide was full, there-was a pause as though the rising +waters would not break into foam but remain suspended for ever. There +were no outspoken words, only a cautious going forward one step and +receding two. All seemed busy heaping up their unfulfilled desires +like castles in the air, or fortresses of sand. They were pale and +speechless, their eyes were burning, their lips trembling with unspoken +secrets. + +The Prince saw what was wrong. He summoned every one on the Island and +said: "Bring hither the flutes and the cymbals, the pipes and drums. +Let all be played together, and raise loud shouts of rejoicing. For the +Queen of Hearts this very night is going to choose her Mate!" + +So the Tens and Nines began to blow on their flutes and pipes; the +Eights and Sevens played on their sackbuts and viols; and even the Twos +and Threes began to beat madly on their drums. + +When this tumultous gust of music came, it swept away at one blast all +those sighings and mopings. And then what a torrent of laughter and +words poured forth! There were daring proposals and locking refusals, +and gossip and chatter, and jests and merriment. It was like the swaying +and shaking, and rustling and soughing, in a summer gale, of a million +leaves and branches in the depth of the primeval forest. + +But the Queen of Hearts, in a rose-red robe, sat silent in the shadow +of her secret bower, and listened to the great uproarious sound of music +and mirth, that came floating towards her. She shut her eyes, and dreamt +her dream of lore. And when she opened them she found the Prince seated +on the ground before her gazing up at her face. And she covered her eyes +with both hands, and shrank back quivering with an inward tumult of joy. + +And the Prince passed the whole day alone, walking by the side of the +surging sea. He carried in his mind that startled look, that shrinking +gesture of the Queen, and his heart beat high with hope. + +That night the serried, gaily-dressed ranks of young men and maidens +waited with smiling faces at the Palace Gates. The Palace Hall was +lighted with fairy lamps and festooned with the flowers of spring. +Slowly the Queen of Hearts entered, and the whole assembly rose to greet +her. With a jasmine garland in her hand, she stood before the Prince +with downcast eyes. In her lowly bashfulness she could hardly raise the +garland to the neck of the Mate she had chosen. But the Prince bowed his +head, and the garland slipped to its place. The assembly of youths and +maidens had waited her choice with eager, expectant hush. And when +the choice was made, the whole vast concourse rocked and swayed with a +tumult of wild delight. And the sound of their shouts was heard in every +part of the island, and by ships far out at sea. Never had such a shout +been raised in the Kingdom of Cards before. + +And they carried the Prince and his Bride, and seated them on the +throne, and crowned them then and there in the Ancient Island of Cards. + +And the sorrowing Mother Queen, on the 'far-off island shore on the +other side of the sea, came sailing to her son's new kingdom in a ship +adorned with gold. + +And the citizens are no longer regulated according to the Rules, but are +good or bad, or both, according to their Ichcha. + + + + +THE DEVOTEE + +At a time, when my unpopularity with a part of my readers had reached +the nadir of its glory, and my name had become the central orb of the +journals, to be attended through space with a perpetual rotation of +revilement, I felt the necessity to retire to some quiet place and +endeavour to forget my own existence. + +I have a house in the country some miles away from Calcutta, where I +can remain unknown and unmolested. The villagers there have not, as yet, +come to any conclusion about me. They know I am no mere holiday-maker or +pleasure-seeker; for I never outrage the silence of the village nights +with the riotous noises of the city. Nor do they regard me as ascetic, +because the little acquaintance they have of me carries the savour of +comfort about it. I am not, to them, a traveller; for, though I am a +vagabond by nature, my wandering through the village fields is aimless. +They are hardly even quite certain whether I am married or single; for +they have never seen me with my children. So, not being able to classify +me in any animal or vegetable kingdom that they know, they have long +since given me up and left me stolidly alone. + +But quite lately I have come to know that there is one person in the +village who is deeply interested in me. Our acquaintance began on a +sultry afternoon in July. There had been rain all the morning, and the +air was still wet and heavy with mist, like eyelids when weeping is +over. + +I sat lazily watching a dappled cow grazing on the high bank of the +river. The afternoon sun was playing on her glossy hide. The simple +beauty of this dress of light made me wonder idly at man's deliberate +waste of money in setting up tailors' shops to deprive his own skin of +its natural clothing. + +While I was thus watching and lazily musing, a woman of middle age came +and prostrated herself before me, touching the ground with her forehead. +She carried in her robe some bunches of flowers, one of which she +offered to me with folded hands. She said to me, as she offered it: +"This is an offering to my God." + +She went away. I was so taken aback as she uttered these words, that +I could hardly catch a glimpse of her before she was gone. The whole +incident was entirely simple, but it left a deep impression on my mind; +and as I turned back once more to look at the cattle in the field, +the zest of life in the cow, who was munching the lush grass with deep +breaths, while she whisked off the flies, appeared to me fraught with +mystery. My readers may laugh at my foolishness, but my heart was full +of adoration. I offered my worship to the pure joy of living, which is +God's own life. Then, plucking a tender shoot from the mango tree, I +fed the cow with it from my own hand, and as I did this I had the +satisfaction of having pleased my God. + +The next year when I returned to the village it was February. The cold +season still lingered on. The morning sun came into my room, and I was +grateful for its warmth. I was writing, when the servant came to tell me +that a devotee, of the Vishnu cult, wanted to see me. I told him, in +an absent way, to bring her upstairs, and went on with my writing. The +Devotee came in, and bowed to me, touching my feet. I found that she was +the same woman whom I had met, for a brief moment, a year ago. + +I was able now to examine her more closely. She was past that age when +one asks the question whether a woman is beautiful or not. Her stature +was above the ordinary height, and she was strongly built; but her body +was slightly bent owing to her constant attitude of veneration. Her +manner had nothing shrinking about it. The most remarkable of her +features were her two eyes. They seemed to have a penetrating power +which could make distance near. + +With those two large eyes of hers, she seemed to push me as she entered. + +"What is this?" she asked. "Why have you brought me here before your +throne, my God? I used to see you among the trees; and that was much +better. That was the true place to meet you." + +She must have seen me walking in the garden without my seeing her. For +the last few clays, however, I had suffered from a cold, and had been +prevented from going out. I had, perforce, to stay indoors and pay my +homage to the evening sky from my terrace. After a silent pause the +Devotee said to me: "O my God, give me some words of good." + +I was quite unprepared for this abrupt request, and answered her on the +spur of the moment: "Good words I neither give nor receive. I simply +open my eyes and keep silence, and then I can at once both hear and see, +even when no sound is uttered. Now, while I am looking at you, it is as +good as listening to your voice." + +The Devotee became quite excited as I spoke, and exclaimed: "God speaks +to me, not only with His mouth, but with His whole body." + +I said to her: "When I am silent I can listen with my whole body. I have +come away from Calcutta here to listen to that sound." + +The Devotee said: "Yes, I know that, and therefore I have come here to +sit by you." + +Before taking her leave, she again bowed to me, and touched my feet. +I could see that she was distressed, because my feet were covered. She +wished them to be bare. + +Early next morning I came out, and sat on my terrace on the roof. Beyond +the line of trees southward I could see the open country chill and +desolate. I could watch the sun rising over the sugar-cane in the East, +beyond the clump of trees at the side of the village. Out of the deep +shadow of those dark trees the village road suddenly appeared. It +stretched forward, winding its way to some distant villages on the +horizon, till it was lost in the grey of the mist. + +That morning it was difficult to say whether the sun had risen or not. A +white fog was still clinging to the tops of the trees. I saw the Devotee +walking through the blurred dawn, like a mist-wraith of the morning +twilight. She was singing her chant to God, and sounding her cymbals. + +The thick haze lifted at last; and the sun, like the kindly grandsire of +the village, took his seat amid all the work that was going on in home +and field. + +When I had just settled down at my writing-table, to appease the hungry +appetite of my editor in Calcutta, there came a sound of footsteps on +the stair, and the Devotee, humming a tune to herself, entered, and +bowed before me. I lifted my head from my papers. + +She said to me: "My God, yesterday I took as sacred food what was left +over from your meal." + +I was startled, and asked her how she could do that. + +"Oh," she said, "I waited at your door in the evening, while you were at +dinner, and took some food from your plate when it was carried out." + +This was a surprise to me, for every one in the village knew that I had +been to Europe, and had eaten with Europeans. I was a vegetarian, no +doubt, but the sanctity of my cook would not bear investigation, and the +orthodox regarded my food as polluted. + +The Devotee, noticing my sign of surprise, said: "My God, why should I +come to you at all, if I could not take your food?" + +I asked her what her own caste people would say. She told me she had +already spread the news far and wide all over the village. The caste +people had shaken their heads, but agreed that she must go her own way. + +I found out that the Devotee came from a good family in the country, and +that her mother was well to-do, and desired to keep her daughter. But +she preferred to be a mendicant. I asked her how she made her living. +She told me that her followers had given her a piece of land, and that +she begged her food from door to door. She said to me: "The food which I +get by begging is divine." + +After I had thought over what she said, I understood her meaning. When +we get our food precariously as alms, we remember God the giver. But +when we receive our food regularly at home, as a matter of course, we +are apt to regard it as ours by right. + + +I had a great desire to ask her about her husband. But as she never +mentioned him even indirectly, I did not question her. + +I found out very soon that the Devotee had no respect at all for that +part of the village where the people of the higher castes lived. + +"They never give," she said, "a single farthing to God's service; and +yet they have the largest share of God's glebe. But the poor worship and +starve." + +I asked her why she did not go and live among these godless people, +and help them towards a better life. "That," I said with some unction, +"would be the highest form of divine worship." + +I had heard sermons of this kind from time to time, and I am rather fond +of copying them myself for the public benefit, when the chance comes. + +But the Devotee was not at all impressed. She raised her big round eyes, +and looked straight into mine, and said: + +"You mean to say that because God is with the sinners, therefore when +you do them any service you do it to God? Is that so?" + +"Yes," I replied, "that is my meaning." + +"Of course," she answered almost impatiently, "of course, God is with +them: otherwise, how could they go on living at all? But what is that to +me? My God is not there. My God cannot be worshipped among them; because +I do not find Him there. I seek Him where I can find Him." + +As she spoke, she made obeisance to me. What she meant to say was really +this. A mere doctrine of God's omnipresence does not help us. That God +is all-pervading,--this truth may be a mere intangible abstraction, and +therefore unreal to ourselves. Where I can see Him, there is His reality +in my soul. + +I need not explain that all the while she showered her devotion on me +she did it to me not as an individual. I was simply a vehicle of her +divine worship. It was not for me either to receive it or to refuse it: +for it was not mine, but God's. + +When the Devotee came again, she found me once more engaged with my +books and papers. + +"What have you been doing," she said, with evident vexation, "that my +God should make you undertake such drudgery? Whenever I come, I find you +reading and writing." + +"God keeps his useless people busy," I answered; "otherwise they would +be bound to get into mischief. They have to do all the least necessary +things in life. It keeps them out of trouble." + +The Devotee told me that she could not bear the encumbrances, with +which, day by day, I was surrounded. If she wanted to see me, she was +not allowed by the servants to come straight upstairs. If she wanted +to touch my feet in worship, there were my socks always in the way. And +when she wanted to have a simple talk with me, she found my mind lost in +a wilderness of letters. + +This time, before she left me, she folded her hands, and said: "My God! +I felt your feet in my breast this morning. Oh, how cool! And they were +bare, not covered. I held them upon my head for a long time in worship. +That filled my very being. Then, after that, pray what was the use of my +coming to you yourself? Why did I come? My Lord, tell me truly,--wasn't +it a mere infatuation?" + +There were some flowers in my vase on the table. While she was there, +the gardener brought some new flowers to put in their place. The Devotee +saw him changing them. + +"Is that all?" she exclaimed. "Have you done with the flowers? Then give +them to me." + +She held the flowers tenderly in the cup of her hands, and began to gaze +at them with bent head. After a few moments' silence she raised her head +again, and said to me: "You never look at these flowers; therefore they +become stale to you. If you would only look into them, then your reading +and writing would go to the winds." + +She tied the flowers together in the end of her robe, and placed them, +in an attitude of worship, on the top of her head, saying reverently: +"Let me carry my God with me." + +While she did this, I felt that flowers in our rooms do not receive +their due meed of loving care at our hands. When we stick them in vases, +they are more like a row of naughty schoolboys standing on a form to be +punished. + +The Devotee came again the same evening, and sat by my feet on the +terrace of the roof. + +"I gave away those flowers," she said, "as I went from house to house +this morning, singing God's name. Beni, the head man of our village, +laughed at me for my devotion, and said: 'Why do you waste all +this devotion on Him? Don't you know He is reviled up and down the +countryside?' Is that true, my God? Is it true that they are hard upon +you?" + +For a moment I shrank into myself. It was a shock to find that the +stains of printers' ink could reach so far. + +The Devotee went on: "Beni imagined that he could blow out the flame +of my devotion at one breath! But this is no mere tiny flame: it is a +burning fire. Why do they abuse you, my God?" + +I said: "Because I deserved it. I suppose in my greed I was loitering +about to steal people's hearts in secret." + +The Devotee said: "Now you see for yourself how little their hearts are +worth. They are full of poison, and this will cure you of your greed." + +"When a man," I answered, "has greed in his heart, he is always on +the verge of being beaten. The greed itself supplies his enemies with +poison." + +"Our merciful God," she replied, "beats us with His own hand, and drives +away all the poison. He who endures God's beating to the end is saved." + +II. + +That evening the Devotee told me the story of her life. The stars of +evening rose and set behind the trees, as she went on to the end of her +tale. + +"My husband is very simple. Some people think that he is a simpleton; +but I know that those who understand simply, understand truly. In +business and household management he was able to hold his own. Because +his needs were small, and his wants few, he could manage carefully +on what we had. He would never meddle in other matters, nor try to +understand them. + +"Both my husband's parents died before we had been married long, and we +were left alone. But my husband always needed some one to be over him. I +am ashamed to confess that he had a sort of reverence for me, and looked +upon me as his superior. But I am sure that he could understand things +better than I, though I had greater powers of talking. + +"Of all the people in the world he held his Guru Thakur (spiritual +master) in the highest veneration. Indeed it was not veneration merely +but love; and such love as his is rare. + +"Guru Thakur was younger than my husband. Oh! how beautiful he was! + +"My husband had played games with him when he was a boy; and from that +time forward he had dedicated his heart and soul to this friend of his +early days. Thakur knew how simple my husband was, and used to tease him +mercilessly. + +"He and his comrades would play jokes upon him for their own amusement; +but he would bear them all with longsuffering. + +"When I married into this family, Guru Thakur was studying at Benares. +My husband used to pay all his expenses. I was eighteen years old when +he returned home to our village. + +"At the age of fifteen I had my child. I was so young I did not know +how to take care of him. I was fond of gossip, and liked to be with my +village friends for hours together. I used to get quite cross with +my boy when I was compelled to stay at home and nurse him. Alas! my +child-God came into my life, but His playthings were not ready for Him. +He came to the mother's heart, but the mother's heart lagged behind. He +left me in anger; and ever since I have been searching for Him up and +down the world. + +"The boy was the joy of his father's life. My careless neglect used to +pain my husband. But his was a mute soul. He has never been able to give +expression to his pain. + +"The wonderful thing was this, that in spite of my neglect the child +used to love me more than any one else. He seemed to have the dread that +I would one day go away and leave him. So even when I was with him, he +would watch me with a restless look in his eyes. He had me very little +to himself, and therefore his desire to be with me was always painfully +eager. When I went each day to the river, he used to fret and stretch +out his little arms to be taken with me. But the bathing ghal was my +place for meeting my friends, and I did not care to burden myself with +the child. + +"It was an early morning in August. Fold after fold of grey clouds had +wrapped the mid-day round with a wet clinging robe. I asked the maid to +take care of the boy, while I went down to the river. The child cried +after me as I went away. + +"There was no one there at the bathing ghat when I arrived. As a +swimmer, I was the best among all the village women. The river was +quite full with the rains. I swam out into the middle of the stream some +distance from the shore. + +"Then I heard a cry from the bank, 'Mother!' I turned my head and saw +my boy coming down the steps, calling me as he came. I shouted to him +to stop, but he went on, laughing and calling. My feet and hands became +cramped with fear. I shut my eyes, afraid to see. When I opened +them, there, at the slippery stairs, my boy's ripple of laughter had +disappeared for ever. + +"I got back to the shore. I raised him from the water. I took him in my +arms, my boy, my darling, who had begged so often in vain for me to +take him. I took him now, but he no more looked in my eyes and called +'Mother.' + +"My child-God had come. I had ever neglected Him. I had ever made Him +cry. And now all that neglect began to beat against my own heart, blow +upon blow, blow upon blow. When my boy was with me, I had left him +alone. I had refused to take him with me. And now, when he is dead, his +memory clings to me and never leaves me. + +"God alone knows all that my husband suffered. If he had only punished +me for my sin, it would have been better for us both. But he knew only +how to endure in silence, not how to speak. + +"When I was almost mad with grief, Guru Thakur came back. In earlier +days, the relation between him and my husband had been that of boyish +friendship. Now, my husband's reverence for his sanctity and learning +was unbounded. He could hardly speak in his presence, his awe of him was +so great. + +"My husband asked his Guru to try to give me some consolation. Guru +Thakur began to read and explain to me the scriptures. But I do not +think they had much effect on my mind. All their value for me lay in the +voice that uttered them. God makes the draught of divine life deepest +in the heart for man to drink, through the human voice. He has no better +vessel in His hand than that; and He Himself drinks His divine draught +out of the same vessel. + +"My husband's love and veneration for his Guru filled our house, as +incense fills a temple shrine. I showed that veneration, and had peace. +I saw my God in the form of that Guru. He used to come to take his meal +at our house every morning. The first thought that would come to my mind +on waking from sleep was that of his food as a sacred gift from God. +When I prepared the things for his meal, my fingers would sing for joy. + +"When my husband saw my devotion to his Guru, his respect for me greatly +increased. He noticed his Guru's eager desire to explain the scriptures +to me. He used to think that he could never expect to earn any regard +from his Guru himself, on account of his stupidity; but his wife had +made up for it. + +"Thus another five years went by happily, and my whole life would have +passed like that; but beneath the surface some stealing was going on +somewhere in secret. I could not detect it; but it was detected by the +God of my heart. Then came a day when, in a moment our whole life was +turned upside down. + +"It was a morning in midsummer. I was returning home from bathing, my +clothes all wet, down a shady lane. At the bend of the road, under the +mango tree, I met my Guru Thakur. He had his towel on his shoulder and +was repeating some Sanskrit verses as he was going to take his bath. +With my wet clothes clinging all about me I was ashamed to meet him. I +tried to pass by quickly, and avoid being seen. He called me by my name. + +"I stopped, lowering my eyes, shrinking into myself. He fixed his gaze +upon me, and said: 'How beautiful is your body!' + +"All the universe of birds seemed to break into song in the branches +overhead. All the bushes in the lane seemed ablaze with flowers. It +was as though the earth and sky and everything had become a riot of +intoxicating joy. + +"I cannot tell how I got home. I only remember that I rushed into the +room where we worship God. But the room seemed empty. Only before my +eyes those same gold spangles of light were dancing which had quivered +in front of me in that shady lane on my way back from the river. + +"Guru Thakur came to take his food that day, and asked my husband where +I had gone. He searched for me, but could not find me anywhere. + +"Ah! I have not the same earth now any longer. The same sunlight is not +mine. I called on my God in my dismay, and He kept His face turned away +from me. + +"The day passed, I know not how. That night I had to meet my husband. +But the night is dark and silent. It is the time when my husband's mind +comes out shining, like stars at twilight. I had heard him speak things +in the dark, and I had been surprised to find how deeply he understood. + +"Sometimes I am late in the evening in going to rest on account of +household work. My husband waits for me, seated on the floor, without +going to bed. Our talk at such times had often begun with something +about our Guru. + +"That night, when it was past midnight, I came to my room, and found my +husband sleeping on the floor. Without disturbing him I lay down on the +ground at his feet, my head towards him. Once he stretched his feet, +while sleeping, and struck me on the breast. That was his last bequest. + +"Next morning, when my husband woke up from his sleep, I was already +sitting by him. Outside the window, over the thick foliage of the +jack-fruit tree, appeared the first pale red of the dawn at the fringe +of the night. It was so early that the crows had not yet begun to call. + +"I bowed, and touched my husband's feet with my forehead. He sat up, +starting as if waking from a dream, and looked at my face in amazement. +I said: + +"'I have made up my mind. I must leave the world. I cannot belong to +you any longer. I must leave your home.' + +"Perhaps my husband thought that he was still dreaming. He said not a +word. + +"'Ah! do hear me!' I pleaded with infinite pain. 'Do hear me and +understand! You must marry another wife. I must take my leave.' + +"My husband said: 'What is all this wild, mad talk? Who advises you to +leave the world?' + +"I said: 'My Guru Thakur.' + +"My husband looked bewildered. 'Guru Thakur!' he cried. 'When did he +give you this advice?' + +"'In the morning,' I answered, 'yesterday, when I met him on my way back +from the river.' + +"His voice trembled a little. He turned, and looked in my face, and +asked me: 'Why did he give you such a behest?' + +"'I do not know,' I answered. 'Ask him! He will tell you himself, if he +can.' + +"My husband said: 'It is possible to leave the world, even when +continuing to live in it. You need not leave my home. I will speak to my +Guru about it.' + +"'Your Guru,' I said, 'may accept your petition; but my heart will +never give its consent. I must leave your home. From henceforth, the +world is no more to me.' + +"My husband remained silent, and we sat there on the floor in the dark. +When it was light, he said to me: 'Let us both come to him.' + +"I folded my hands and said: 'I shall never meet him again.' + +"He looked into my face. I lowered my eyes. He said no more. I knew +that, somehow, he had seen into my mind, and understood what was there. +In this world of mine, there were only two who loved me best--my boy +and my husband. That love was my God, and therefore it could brook no +falsehood. One of these two left me, and I left the other. Now I must +have truth, and truth alone." + +She touched the ground at my feet, rose and bowed to me, and departed. + + + + + +VISION + +I + +When I was a very young wife, I gave birth to a dead child, and came +near to death myself. I recovered strength very slowly, and my eyesight +became weaker and weaker. + +My husband at this time was studying medicine. He was not altogether +sorry to have a chance of testing his medical knowledge on me. So he +began to treat my eyes himself. + +My elder brother was reading for his law examination. One day he came to +see me, and was alarmed at my condition. + +"What are you doing?" he said to my husband. "You are ruining Kumo's +eyes. You ought to consult a good doctor at once." + +My husband said irritably: "Why! what can a good doctor do more than I +am doing? The case is quite a simple one, and the remedies are all well +known." + +Dada answered with scorn: "I suppose you think there is no difference +between you and a Professor in your own Medical College." + +My husband replied angrily: "If you ever get married, and there is a +dispute about your wife's property, you won't take my advice about Law. +Why, then, do you now come advising me about Medicine?" + +While they were quarrelling, I was saying to myself that it was always +the poor grass that suffered most when two kings went to war. Here was a +dispute going on between these two, and I had to bear the brunt of it. + +It also seemed to me very unfair that, when my family had given me in +marriage, they should interfere afterwards. After all, my pleasure and +pain are my husband's concern, not theirs. + +From that day forward, merely over this trifling matter of my eyes, the +bond between my husband and Dada was strained. + +To my surprise one afternoon, while my husband was away, Dada brought +a doctor in to see me. He examined my eyes very carefully, and looked +grave. He said that further neglect would be dangerous. He wrote out a +prescription, and Dada for the medicine at once. When the strange doctor +had gone, I implored my Dada not to interfere. I was sure that only evil +would come from the stealthy visits of a doctor. + +I was surprised at myself for plucking up courage speak to my brother +like that. I had always hitherto been afraid of him. I am sure also that +Dada was surprised at my boldness. He kept silence for a while, and then +said to me: "Very well, Kumo. I won't call in the doctor any more. But +when the medicine comes you must take it." + +Dada then went away. The medicine came from chemist. I took it--bottles, +powders, prescriptions and all--and threw it down the well! + +My husband had been irritated by Dada's interference, and he began to +treat my eyes with greater diligence than ever. He tried all sorts of +remedies. I bandaged my eyes as he told me, I wore his coloured glasses, +I put in his drops, I took all his powders. I even drank the cod-liver +oil he gave me, though my gorge rose against it. + +Each time he came back from the hospital, he would ask me anxiously how +I felt; and I would answer: "Oh! much better." Indeed I became an expert +in self-delusion. When I found that the water in my eyes was still +increasing, I would console myself with the thought that it was a good +thing to get rid of so much bad fluid; and, when the flow of water in my +eyes decreased, I was elated at my husband's skill. + +But after a while the agony became unbearable. My eyesight faded away, +and I had continual headaches day and night. I saw how much alarmed +my husband was getting. I gathered from his manner that he was casting +about for a pretext to call in a doctor. So I hinted that it might be as +well to call one in. + +That he was greatly relieved, I could see. He called in an English +doctor that very day. I do not know what talk they had together, but I +gathered that the Sahib had spoken very sharply to my husband. + +He remained silent for some time after the doctor had gone. I took +his hands in mine, and said: "What an ill-mannered brute that was! Why +didn't you call in an Indian doctor? That would have been much better. +Do you think that man knows better than you do about my eyes?" + +My husband was very silent for a moment, and then said with a broken +voice: "Kumo, your eyes must be operated on." + +I pretended to be vexed with him for concealing the fact from me so +long. + +"Here you have known this all the time," said I, "and yet you have said +nothing about it! Do you think I am such a baby as to be afraid of an +operation?" + +At that he regained his good spirits: "There are very few men," said +he, "who are heroic enough to look forward to an operation without +shrinking." + +I laughed at him: "Yes, that is so. Men are heroic only before their +wives!" + +He looked at me gravely, and said: "You are perfectly right. We men are +dreadfully vain." + +I laughed away his seriousness: "Are you sure you can beat us women even +in vanity?" + +When Dada came, I took him aside: "Dada, that treatment your doctor +recommended would have done me a world of good; only unfortunately. +I mistook the mixture for the lotion. And since the day I made the +mistake, my eyes have grown steadily worse; and now an operation is +needed." + +Dada said to me: "You were under your husband's treatment, and that is +why I gave up coming to visit you." + +"No," I answered. "In reality, I was secretly treating myself in +accordance with your doctor's directions." + +Oh! what lies we women have to tell! When we are mothers, we tell lies +to pacify our children; and when we are wives, we tell lies to pacify +the fathers of our children. We are never free from this necessity. + +My deception had the effect of bringing about a better feeling between +my husband and Dada. Dada blamed himself for asking me to keep a secret +from my husband: and my husband regretted that he had not taken my +brother's advice at the first. + +At last, with the consent of both, an English doctor came, and operated +on my left eye. That eye, however, was too weak to bear the strain; +and the last flickering glimmer of light went out. Then the other eye +gradually lost itself in darkness. + +One day my husband came to my bedside. "I cannot brazen it out before +you any longer," said he, "Kumo, it is I who have ruined your eyes." + +I felt that his voice was choking with tears, and so I took up his right +hand in both of mine and said: "Why! you did exactly what was right. You +have dealt only with that which was your very own. Just imagine, if some +strange doctor had come and taken away my eyesight. What consolation +should I have had then? But now I can feel that all has happened for the +best; and my great comfort is to know that it is at your hands I have +lost my eyes. When Ramchandra found one lotus too few with which to +worship God, he offered both his eyes in place of the lotus. And I hate +dedicated my eyes to my God. From now, whenever you see something that +is a joy to you, then you must describe it to me; and I will feed upon +your words as a sacred gift left over from your vision." + +I do not mean, of course, that I said all this there and then, for it is +impossible to speak these things an the spur of the moment. But I used +to think over words like these for days and days together. And when I +was very depressed, or if at any time the light of my devotion became +dim, and I pitied my evil fate, then I made my mind utter these +sentences, one by one, as a child repeats a story that is told. And so I +could breathe once more the serener air of peace and love. + +At the very time of our talk together, I said enough to show my husband +what was in my heart. + +"Kumo," he said to me, "the mischief I have done by my folly can never +be made good. But I can do one thing. I can ever remain by your side, +and try to make up for your want of vision as much as is in my power." + +"No," said I. "That will never do. I shall not ask you to turn your +house into an hospital for the blind. There is only one thing to be +done, you must marry again." + +As I tried to explain to him that this was necessary, my voice broke +a little. I coughed, and tried to hide my emotion, but he burst out +saying: + +"Kumo, I know I am a fool, and a braggart, and all that, but I am not a +villain! If ever I marry again, I swear to you--I swear to you the most +solemn oath by my family god, Gopinath--may that most hated of all sins, +the sin of parricide, fall on my head!" + +Ah! I should never, never have allowed him to swear that dreadful +oath. But tears were choking my voice, and I could not say a word for +insufferable joy. I hid my blind face in my pillows, and sobbed, and +sobbed again. At last, when the first flood of my tears was over, I drew +his head down to my breast. + +"Ah!" said I, "why did you take such a terrible oath? Do you think +I asked you to marry again for your own sordid pleasure? No! I was +thinking of myself, for she could perform those services which were mine +to give you when I had my sight." + +"Services!" said he, "services! Those can be done by servants. Do you +think I am mad enough to bring a slave into my house, and bid her share +the throne with this my Goddess?" + +As he said the word "Goddess," he held up my face in his hands, and +placed a kiss between my brows. At that moment the third eye of divine +wisdom was opened, where he kissed me, and verily I had a consecration. + +I said in my own mind: "It is well. I am no longer able to serve him in +the lower world of household cares. But I shall rise to a higher +region. I shall bring down blessings from above. No more lies! No more +deceptions for me! All the littlenesses and hypocrisies of my former +life shall be banished for ever!" + +That day, the whole day through, I felt a conflict going on within me. +The joy of the thought, that after this solemn oath it was impossible +for my husband to marry again, fixed its roots deep in my heart, and +I could not tear them out. But the new Goddess, who had taken her new +throne in me, said: "The time might come when it would be good for +your husband to break his oath and marry again." But the woman, who was +within me, said: "That may be; but all the same an oath is an oath, and +there is no way out." The Goddess, who was within me, answered: "That is +no reason why you should exult over it." But the woman, who was within +me, replied: "What you say is quite true, no doubt; all the same he has +taken his oath." And the same story went on again and again. At last +the Goddess frowned in silence, and the darkness of a horrible fear came +down upon me. + +My repentant husband would not let the servants do my work; he must do +it all himself. At first it gave me unbounded delight to be dependent +on him thus for every little thing. It was a means of keeping him by +my side, and my desire to have him with me had become intense since my +blindness. That share of his presence, which my eyes had lost, my other +senses craved. When he was absent from my side, I would feel as if I +were hanging in mid-air, and had lost my hold of all things tangible. + +Formerly, when my husband came back late from the hospital, I used +to open my window and gaze at the road. That road was the link which +connected his world with mine. Now when I had lost that link through my +blindness, all my body would go out to seek him. The bridge that united +us had given way, and there was now this unsurpassable chasm. When he +left my side the gulf seemed to yawn wide open. I could only wait for +the time when he should cross back again from his own shore to mine. + +But such intense longing and such utter dependence can never be good. +A wife is a burden enough to a man, in all conscience, and to add to it +the burden of this blindness was to make his life unbearable. I vowed +that I would suffer alone, and never wrap my husband round in the folds +of my all-pervading darkness. + +Within an incredibly short space of time I managed to train myself to +do all my household duties by the help of touch and sound and smell. In +fact I soon found that I could get on with greater skill than before. +For sight often distracts rather than helps us. And so it came to pass +that, when these roving eyes of mine could do their work no longer, +all the other senses took up their several duties with quietude and +completeness. + +When I had gained experience by constant practice, I would not let my +husband do any more household duties for me. He complained bitterly at +first that I was depriving him of his penance. + +This did not convince me. Whatever he might say, I could feel that he +had a real sense of relief when these household duties were over. To +serve daily a wife who is blind can never make up the life of a man. + +II + +My husband at last had finished his medical course. He went away from +Calcutta to a small town to practise as a doctor. There in the country I +felt with joy, through all my blindness, that I was restored to the arms +of my mother. I had left my village birthplace for Calcutta when I was +eight years old. Since then ten years had passed away, and in the great +city the memory of my village home had grown dim. As long as I had +eyesight, Calcutta with its busy life screened from view the memory of +my early days. But when I lost my eyesight I knew for the first time +that Calcutta allured only the eyes: it could not fill the mind. And +now, in my blindness, the scenes of my childhood shone out once more, +like stars that appear one by one in the evening sky at the end of the +day. + +It was the beginning of November when we left Calcutta for Harsingpur. +The place was new to me, but the scents and sounds of the countryside +pressed round and embraced me. The morning breeze coming fresh from +the newly ploughed land, the sweet and tender smell of the flowering +mustard, the shepherd-boy's flute sounding in the distance, even the +creaking noise of the bullock-cart, as it groaned over the broken +village road, filled my world with delight. The memory of my past life, +with all its ineffable fragrance and sound, became a living present to +me, and my blind eyes could not tell me I was wrong. I went back, and +lived over again my childhood. Only one thing was absent: my mother was +not with me. + +I could see my home with the large peepul trees growing along the edge +of the village pool. I could picture in my mind's eye my old grandmother +seated on the ground with her thin wisps of hair untied, warming her +back in the sun as she made the little round lentil balls to be dried +and used for cooking. But somehow I could not recall the songs she used +to croon to herself in her weak and quavering voice. In the evening, +whenever I heard the lowing of cattle, I could almost watch the figure +of my mother going round the sheds with lighted lamp in her hand. The +smell of the wet fodder and the pungent smoke of the straw fire would +enter into my very heart. And in the distance I seemed to hear the +clanging of the temple bell wafted up by the breeze from the river bank. + +Calcutta, with all its turmoil and gossip, curdles the heart. There, +all the beautiful duties of life lose their freshness and innocence. I +remember one day, when a friend of mine came in, and said to me: "Kumo, +why don't you feel angry? If I had been treated like you by my husband, +I would never look upon his face again." + +She tried to make me indignant, because he had been so long calling in a +doctor. + +"My blindness," said I, "was itself a sufficient evil. Why should I make +it worse by allowing hatred to grow up against my husband?" + +My friend shook her head in great contempt, when she heard such +old-fashioned talk from the lips of a mere chit of a girl. She went away +in disdain. But whatever might be my answer at the time, such words as +these left their poison; and the venom was never wholly got out of the +soul, when once they had been uttered. + +So you see Calcutta, with its never-ending gossip, does harden the +heart. But when I came back to the country all my earlier hopes and +faiths, all that I held true in life during childhood, became fresh and +bright once more. God came to me, and filled my heart and my world. I +bowed to Him, and said: + +"It is well that Thou has taken away my eyes. Thou art with me." + +Ah! But I said more than was right. It was a presumption to say: "Thou +art with me." All we can say is this: "I must be true to Thee." Even +when nothing is left for us, still we have to go on living. + +III + +We passed a few happy months together. My husband gained some reputation +in his profession as a doctor. And money came with it. + +But there is a mischief in money. I cannot point to any one event; but, +because the blind have keener perceptions than other people, I could +discern the change which came over my husband along with the increase of +wealth. + +He had a keen sense of justice when he was younger, and had often told +me of his great desire to help the poor when once he obtained a practice +of his own. He had a noble contempt far those in his profession who +would not feel the pulse of a poor patient before collecting his fee. +But now I noticed a difference. He had become strangely hard. Once when +a poor woman came, and begged him, out of charity, to save the life of +her only child, he bluntly refused. And when I implored him myself to +help her, he did his work perfunctorily. + +While we were less rich my husband disliked sharp practice in money +matters. He was scrupulously honourable in such things. But since he +had got a large account at the bank he was often closeted for hours with +some scamp of a landlord's agent, for purposes which clearly boded no +good. + +Where has he drifted? What has become of this husband of mine,--the +husband I knew before I was blind; the husband who kissed me that day +between my brows, and enshrined me on the throne of a Goddess? Those +whom a sudden gust of passion brings down to the dust can rise up again +with a new strong impulse of goodness. But those who, day by day, become +dried up in the very fibre of their moral being; those who by some outer +parasitic growth choke the inner life by slow degrees,--such wench one +day a deadness which knows no healing. + +The separation caused by blindness is the merest physical trifle. But, +ah! it suffocates me to find that he is no longer with me, where he +stood with me in that hour when we both knew that I was blind. That is a +separation indeed! + +I, with my love fresh and my faith unbroken, have kept to the shelter of +my heart's inner shrine. But my husband has left the cool shade of those +things that are ageless and unfading. He is fast disappearing into the +barren, waterless waste in his mad thirst for gold. + +Sometimes the suspicion comes to me that things not so bad as they seem: +that perhaps I exaggerate because I am blind. It may be that, if my +eyesight were unimpaired, I should have accepted world as I found it. +This, at any rate, was the light in which my husband looked at all my +moods and fancies. + +One day an old Musalman came to the house. He asked my husband to visit +his little grand-daughter. I could hear the old man say: "Baba, I am +a poor man; but come with me, and Allah will do you good." My husband +answered coldly: "What Allah will do won't help matters; I want to know +what you can do for me." + +When I heard it, I wondered in my mind why God had not made me deaf as +well as blind. The old man heaved a deep sigh, and departed. I sent +my maid to fetch him to my room. I met him at the door of the inner +apartment, and put some money into his hand. + +"Please take this from me," said I, "for your little grand-daughter, and +get a trustworthy doctor to look after her. And-pray for my husband." + +But the whole of that day I could take no food at all. In the afternoon, +when my husband got up from sleep, he asked me: "Why do you look so +pale?" + +I was about to say, as I used to do in the past: "Oh! It's nothing "; +but those days of deception were over, and I spoke to him plainly. + +"I have been hesitating," I said, "for days together to tell you +something. It has been hard to think out what exactly it was I wanted to +say. Even now I may not be able to explain what I had in my mind. But I +am sure you know what has happened. Our lives have drifted apart." + +My husband laughed in a forced manner, and said: "Change is the law of +nature." + +I said to him: "I know that. But there are some things that are +eternal." + +Then he became serious. + +"There are many women," said he, "who have a real cause for sorrow. +There are some whose husbands do not earn money. There are others whose +husbands do not love them. But you are making yourself wretched about +nothing at all." + +Then it became clear to me that my very blindness had conferred on me +the power of seeing a world which is beyond all change. Yes! It is true. +I am not like other women. And my husband will never understand me. + +IV + +Our two lives went on with their dull routine for some time. Then there +was a break in the monotony. An aunt of my husband came to pay us a +visit. + +The first thing she blurted out after our first greeting was this: +"Well, Krum, it's a great pity you have become blind; but why do you +impose your own affliction on your husband? You must get him to another +wife." + +There was an awkward pause. If my husband had only said something in +jest, or laughed in her face, all would have been over. But he stammered +and hesitated, and said at last in a nervous, stupid way: "Do you really +think so? Really, Aunt, you shouldn't talk like that." + +His aunt appealed to me. "Was I wrong, Kumo?" + +I laughed a hollow laugh. + +"Had not you better," said I, "consult some one more competent to +decide? The pickpocket never asks permission from the man whose pocket +he is going to pick." + +"You are quite right," she replied blandly. "Abinash, my dear, let us +have our little conference in private. What do you say to that?" + +After a few days my husband asked her, in my presence, if she knew of +any girl of a decent family who could come and help me in my household +work. He knew quite well that I needed no help. I kept silence. + +"Oh! there are heaps of them," replied his aunt. "My cousin has a +daughter who is just of the marriageable age, and as nice a girl as +you could wish. Her people would be only too glad to secure you as a +husband." + +Again there came from him that forced, hesitating laugh, and he said: +"But I never mentioned marriage." + +"How could you expect," asked his aunt, "a girl of decent family to come +and live in your house without marriage?" + +He had to admit that this was reasonable, and remained nervously silent. + +I stood alone within the closed doors of my blindness after he had gone, +and called upon my God and prayed: "O God, save my husband." + +When I was coming out of the household shrine from my morning worship a +few days later, his aunt took hold of both my hands warmly. + +"Kumo, here is the girl," said she, "we were speaking about the other +day. Her name is Hemangini. She will be delighted to meet you. Hemo, +come here and be introduced to your sister." + +My husband entered the room at the same moment. He feigned surprise when +he saw the strange girl, and was about to retire. But his aunt said: +"Abinash, my dear, what are you running away for? There is no need to +do that. Here is my cousin's daughter, Hemangini, come to see you. Hemo, +make your bow to him." + +As if taken quite by surprise, he began to ply his aunt with questions +about the when and why and how of the new arrival. + +I saw the hollowness of the whole thing, and took Hemangini by the hand +and led her to my own room. I gently stroked her face and arms and hair, +and found that she was about fifteen years old, and very beautiful. + +As I felt her face, she suddenly burst out laughing and said: "Why! what +are you doing? Are you hypnotising me?" + +That sweet ringing laughter of hers swept away in a moment all the dark +clouds that stood between us. I threw my right arm about her neck. + +"Dear one," said I, "I am trying to see you." And again I stroked her +soft face with my left hand. + +"Trying to see me?" she said, with a new burst of laughter. "Am I like +a vegetable marrow, grown in your garden, that you want to feel me all +round to see how soft I am?" + +I suddenly bethought me that she did not know I had lost my sight. + +"Sister, I am blind," said I. + +She was silent. I could feel her big young eyes, full of curiosity, +peering into my face. I knew they were full of pity. Then she grew +thoughtful and puzzled, and said, after a short pause: + +"Oh! I see now. That was the reason your husband invited his aunt to +come and stay here." + +"No!" I replied, "you are quite mistaken. He did not ask her to come. +She came of her own accord." + +Hemangini went off into a peal of laughter. "That's just like my aunt," +said she. "Oh I wasn't it nice of her to come without any invitation? +But now she's come, you won't get her to move for some time, I can +assure you!" + +Then she paused, and looked puzzled. + +"But why did father send me?" she asked. "Can you tell me that?" + +The aunt had come into the room while we were talking. Hemangini said to +her: "When are you thinking of going back, Aunt?" + +The aunt looked very much upset. + +"What a question to ask!" said she, "I've never seen such a restless +body as you. We've only just come, and you ask when we're going back!" + +"It is all very well for you," Hemangini said, "for this house belongs +to your near relations. But what about me? I tell you plainly I can't +stop here." And then she held my hand and said: "What do you think, +dear?" + +I drew her to my heart, but said nothing. The aunt was in a great +difficulty. She felt the situation was getting beyond her control; so +she proposed that she and her niece should go out together to bathe. + +"No! we two will go together," said Hemangini, clinging to me. The aunt +gave in, fearing opposition if she tried to drag her away. + +Going down to the river Hemangini asked me: "Why don't you have +children?" + +I was startled by her question, and answered: "How can I tell? My God +has not given me any. That is the reason." + +"No! That's not the reason," said Hemangini quickly. "You must have +committed some sin. Look at my aunt. She is childless. It must be +because her heart has some wickedness. But what wickedness is in your +heart?" + +The words hurt me. I have no solution to offer for the problem of evil. +I sighed deeply, and said in the silence of my soul: "My God! Thou +knowest the reason." + +"Gracious goodness," cried Hemangini, "what are you sighing for? No one +ever takes me seriously." + +And her laughter pealed across the river. + +V + +I found out after this that there were constant interruptions in my +husband's professional duties. He refused all calls from a distance, and +would hurry away from his patients, even when they were close at hand. + +Formerly it was only during the mid-day meals and at night-time that he +could come into the inner apartment. But now, with unnecessary anxiety +for his aunt's comfort, he began to visit her at all hours of the day. I +knew at once that he had come to her room, when I heard her shouting for +Hemangini to bring in a glass of water. At first the girl would do what +she was told; but later on she refused altogether. + +Then the aunt would call, in an endearing voice: "Hemo! Hemo! +Hemangini." But the girl would cling to me with an impulse of pity. A +sense of dread and sadness would keep her silent. Sometimes she would +shrink towards me like a hunted thing, who scarcely knew what was +coming. + +About this time my brother came down from Calcutta to visit me. I knew +how keen his powers of observation were, and what a hard judge he was. +I feared my husband would be put on his defence, and have to stand his +trial before him. So I endeavoured to hide the true situation behind a +mask of noisy cheerfulness. But I am afraid I overdid the part: it was +unnatural for me. + +My husband began to fidget openly, and asked how long my brother was +going to stay. At last his impatience became little short of insulting, +and my brother had no help for it but to leave. Before going he placed +his hand on my head, and kept it there for some time. I noticed that his +hand shook, and a tear fell from his eyes, as he silently gave me his +blessing. + +I well remember that it was an evening in April, and a market-day. +People who had come into the town were going back home from market. +There was the feeling of an impending storm in the air; the smell of the +wet earth and the moisture in the wind were all-pervading. I never keep +a lighted lamp in my bedroom, when I am alone, lest my clothes should +catch fire, or some accident happen. I sat on the floor in my dark room, +and called upon the God of my blind world. + +"O my Lord," I cried, "Thy face is hidden. I cannot see. I am blind. I +hold tight this broken rudder of a heart till my hands bleed. The waves +have become too strong for me. How long wilt thou try me, my God, how +long?" + +I kept my head prone upon the bedstead and began to sob. As I did so, +I felt the bedstead move a little. The next moment Hemangini was by my +side. She clung to my neck, and wiped my tears away silently. I do not +know why she had been waiting that evening in the inner room, or why she +had been lying alone there in the dusk. She asked me no question. She +said no word. She simply placed her cool hand on my forehead, and kissed +me, and departed. + +The next morning Hemangini said to her aunt in my presence: "If you want +to stay on, you can. But I don't. I'm going away home with our family +servant." + +The aunt said there was no need for her to go alone, for she was going +away also. Then smilingly and mincingly she brought out, from a plush +case, a ring set with pearls. + +"Look, Hemo," said she, "what a beautiful ring my Abinash brought for +you." + +Hemangini snatched the ring from her hand. + +"Look, Aunt," she answered quickly, "just see how splendidly I aim." And +she flung the ring into the tank outside the window. + +The aunt, overwhelmed with alarm, vexation, and surprise, bristled like +a hedgehog. She turned to me, and held me by the hand. + +"Kumo," she repeated again and again, "don't say a word about this +childish freak to Abinash. He would be fearfully vexed." + +I assured her that she need not fear. Not a word would reach him about +it from my lips. + +The next day before starting for home Hemangini embraced me, and said: +"Dearest, keep me in mind; do not forget me." + +I stroked her face over and over with my fingers, and said: "Sister, the +blind have long memories." + +I drew her head towards me, and kissed her hair and her forehead. My +world suddenly became grey. All the beauty and laughter and tender +youth, which had nestled so close to me, vanished when Hemangini +departed. I went groping about with arms outstretched, seeking to find +out what was left in my deserted world. + +My husband came in later. He affected a great relief now that they were +gone, but it was exaggerated and empty. He pretended that his aunt's +visit had kept him away from work. + +Hitherto there had been only the one barrier of blindness between me +and my husband. Now another barrier was added,--this deliberate silence +about Hemangini. He feigned utter indifference, but I knew he was having +letters about her. + +It was early in May. My maid entered my room one morning, and asked +me: "What is all this preparation going on at the landing on the river? +Where is Master going?" + +I knew there was something impending, but I said to the maid: "I can't +say." + +The maid did not dare to ask me any more questions. She sighed, and went +away. + +Late that night my husband came to me. + +"I have to visit a patient in the country," said he. "I shall have to +start very early to-morrow morning, and I may have to be away for two or +three days." + +I got up from my bed. I stood before him, and cried aloud: "Why are you +telling me lies?" + +My husband stammered out: "What--what lies have I told you?" + +I said: "You are going to get married." + +He remained silent. For some moments there was no sound in the room. +Then I broke the silence: + +"Answer me," I cried. "Say, yes." + +He answered, "Yes," like a feeble echo. + +I shouted out with a loud voice: "No! I shall never allow you. I shall +save you from this great disaster, this dreadful sin. If I fail in this, +then why am I your wife, and why did I ever worship my God?" + +The room remained still as a stone. I dropped on the floor, and clung to +my husband's knees. + +"What have I done?" I asked. "Where have I been lacking? Tell me truly. +Why do you want another wife?" + +My husband said slowly: "I will tell you the truth. I am afraid of +you. Your blindness has enclosed you in its fortress, and I have now no +entrance. To me you are no longer a woman. You are awful as my God. I +cannot live my every day life with you. I want a woman--just an ordinary +woman--whom I can be free to chide and coax and pet and scold." + +Oh, tear open my heart and see! What am I else but that,--just an +ordinary woman? I am the same girl that I was when I was newly wed, a +girl with all her need to believe, to confide, to worship. + +I do not recollect exactly the words that I uttered. I only remember +that I said: "If I be a true wife, then, may God be my witness, you +shall never do this wicked deed, you shall never break your oath. Before +you commit such sacrilege, either I shall become a widow, or Hemangini +shall die." + +Then I fell down on the floor in a swoon. When I came to myself, it was +still dark. The birds were silent. My husband had gone. + +All that day I sat at my worship in the sanctuary at the household +shrine. In the evening a fierce storm, with thunder and lightning and +rain, swept down upon the house and shook it. As I crouched before the +shrine, I did not ask my God to save my husband from the storm, though +he must have been at that time in peril on the river. I prayed that +whatever might happen to me, my husband might be saved from this great +sin. + +Night passed. The whole of the next day I kept my seat at worship. When +it was evening there was the noise of shaking and beating at the door. +When the door was broken open, they found me lying unconscious on the +ground, and carried me to my room. + +When I came to myself at last, I heard some one whispering in my ear: +"Sister." + +I found that I was lying in my room with my head on Hemangini's lap. +When my head moved, I heard her dress rustle. It was the sound of bridal +silk. + +O my God, my God! My prayer has gone unheeded! My husband has fallen! + +Hemangini bent her head low, and said in a sweet whisper: "Sister, +dearest, I have come to ask your blessing on our marriage." + +At first my whole body stiffened like the trunk of a tree that has been +struck by lightning. Then I sat up, and said, painfully, forcing myself +to speak the words: "Why should I not bless you? You have done no +wrong." + +Hemangini laughed her merry laugh. + +"Wrong!" said she. "When you married it was right; and when I marry, you +call it wrong!" + +I tried to smile in answer to her laughter. I said in my mind: "My +prayer is not the final thing in this world. His will is all. Let the +blows descend upon my head; but may they leave my faith and hope in God +untouched." + +Hemangini bowed to me, and touched my feet. "May you be happy," said I, +blessing her, "and enjoy unbroken prosperity." + +Hemangini was still unsatisfied. + +"Dearest sister," she said, "a blessing for me is not enough. You must +make our happiness complete. You must, with those saintly hands of +yours, accept into your home my husband also. Let me bring him to you." + +I said: "Yes, bring him to me." + +A few moments later I heard a familiar footstep, and the question, +"Kumo, how are you?" + +I started up, and bowed to the ground, and cried: "Dada!" + +Hemangini burst out laughing. + +"You still call him elder brother?" she asked. "What nonsense! Call him +younger brother now, and pull his ears and cease him, for he has married +me, your younger sister." + +Then I understood. My husband had been saved from that great sin. He had +not fallen. + +I knew my Dada had determined never to marry. And, since my mother had +died, there was no sacred wish of hers to implore him to wedlock. But I, +his sister, by my sore need bad brought it to pass. He had married for +my sake. + +Tears of joy gushed from my eyes, and poured down my cheeks. I tried, +but I could not stop them. Dada slowly passed his fingers through my +hair. Hemangini clung to me, and went on laughing. + +I was lying awake in my bed for the best part of the night, waiting with +straining anxiety for my husband's return. I could not imagine how he +would bear the shock of shame and disappointment. + +When it was long past the hour of midnight, slowly my door opened. I sat +up on my bed, and listened. They were the footsteps of my husband. My +heart began to beat wildly. He came up to my bed, held my band in his. + +"Your Dada," said he, "has saved me from destruction. I was being +dragged down and down by a moments madness. An infatuation had seized +me, from which I seemed unable to escape. God alone knows what a load I +was carrying on that day when I entered the boat. The storm came down +on river, and covered the sky. In the midst of all fears I had a secret +wish in my heart to be drowned, and so disentangle my life from the knot +which I had tied it. I reached Mathurganj. There I heard the news which +set me free. Your brother had married Hemangini. I cannot tell you with +what joy and shame I heard it. I hastened on board the boat again. In +that moment of self-revelation I knew that I could have no happiness +except with you. You are a Goddess." + +I laughed and cried at the same time, and said: "No, no, no! I am not +going to be a Goddess any longer I am simply your own little wife. I am +an ordinary woman." + +"Dearest," he replied, "I have also something I want to say to you. +Never again put me to shame by calling me your God." + +On the next day the little town became joyous with sound of conch +shells. But nobody made any reference to that night of madness, when all +was so nearly lost. + + + + +THE BABUS OF NAYANJORE + +I + +Once upon a time the Babus of Nayanjore were famous landholders. They +were noted for their princely extravagance. They would tear off the +rough border of their Dacca muslin, because it rubbed against their +skin. They could spend many thousands of rupees over the wedding of a +kitten. On a certain grand occasion it is alleged that in order to turn +night into day they lighted numberless lamps and showered silver threads +from the sky to imitate sunlight. Those were the days before the flood. +The flood came. The line of succession among these old-world Babus, with +their lordly habits, could not continue for long. Like a lamp with too +many wicks burning, the oil flared away quickly, and the light went out. + +Kailas Babu, our neighbour, is the last relic of this extinct +magnificence. Before he grew up, his family had very nearly reached its +lowest ebb. When his father died, there was one dazzling outburst of +funeral extravagance, and then insolvency. The property was sold to +liquidate the debt. What little ready money was left over was altogether +insufficient to keep up the past ancestral splendours. + +Kailas Babu left Nayanjore, and came to Calcutta. His son did not remain +long in this world of faded glory. He died, leaving behind him an only +daughter. + +In Calcutta we are Kailas Baba's neighbours. Curiously enough our own +family history is just the opposite to his. My father got his money by +his own exertions, and prided himself on never spending a penny more +than was needed. His clothes were those of a working man, and his +hands also. He never had any inclination to earn the title of Baba by +extravagant display, and I myself his only son, owe him gratitude for +that. He gave me the very best education, and I was able to make my way +in the world. I am not ashamed of the fact that I am a self-made man. +Crisp bank-notes in my safe are dearer to me than a long pedigree in an +empty family chest. + +I believe this was why I disliked seeing Kailas Baba drawing his heavy +cheques on the public credit from the bankrupt bank of his ancient Babu +reputation I used to fancy that he looked down on me, because my father +had earned money with his own hands. + +I ought to have noticed that no one showed any vexation towards Kailas +Babu except myself. Indeed it would have been difficult to find an +old man who did less harm than he. He was always ready with his kindly +little acts of courtesy in times of sorrow and joy. He would join in all +the ceremonies and religious observances of his neighbours. His familiar +smile would greet young and old alike. His politeness in asking details +about domestic affairs was untiring. The friends who met him in the +street were perforce ready to be button-holed, while a long string of +questions of this kind followed one another from his lips: + +"My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Are quite well? How is +Shashi? and Dada--is he all right? Do you know, I've only just heard that +Madhu's son has got fever. How is he? Have you heard? And Hari Charan +Babu--I've not seen him for a long time--I hope he is not ill. What's the +matter with Rakkhal? And, er--er, how are the ladies of your family?" + +Kailas Balm was spotlessly neat in his dress on all occasions, though +his supply of clothes was sorely limited. Every day he used to air his +shirts and vests and coats and trousers carefully, and put them out in +the sun, along with his bed-quilt, his pillowcase, and the small carpet +on which he always sat. After airing them he would shake them, and brush +them, and put them on the rock. His little bits of furniture made his +small room decent, and hinted that there was more in reserve if needed. +Very often, for want of a servant, he would shut up his house for a +while. Then he would iron out his shirts and linen with his own hands, +and do other little menial tasks. After this he would open his door and +receive his friends again. + +Though Kailas Balm, as I have said, had lost all his landed property, +he had still same family heirlooms left. There was a silver cruet for +sprinkling scented water, a filigree box for otto-of-roses, a small gold +salver, a costly ancient shawl, and the old-fashioned ceremonial dress +and ancestral turban. These he had rescued with the greatest difficulty +from the money-lenders' clutches. On every suitable occasion he would +bring them out in state, and thus try to save the world-famed dignity +of the Babus of Nayanjore. At heart the most modest of men, in his daily +speech he regarded it as a sacred duty, owed to his rank, to give free +play to his family pride. His friends would encourage this trait in his +character with kindly good-humour, and it gave them great amusement. + +The neighbourhood soon learnt to call him their Thakur Dada +(Grandfather). They would flock to his house, and sit with him for hours +together. To prevent his incurring any expense, one or other of his +friends would bring him tobacco, and say: "Thakur Dada, this morning +some tobacco was sent to me from Gaya. Do take it, and see how you like +it." + +Thakur Dada would take it, and say it was excellent. He would then go on +to tell of a certain exquisite tobacco which they once smoked in the old +days at Nayanjore at the cost of a guinea an ounce. + +"I wonder," he used to say, "I wonder if any one would like to try it +now. I have some left, and can get it at once." + +Every one knew, that, if they asked for it, then somehow or other the +key of the cupboard would be missing; or else Ganesh, his old family +servant, had put it away somewhere. + +"You never can be sure," he would add, "where things go to when servants +are about. Now, this Ganesh of mine,--I can't tell you what a fool he +is, but I haven't the heart to dismiss him." + +Ganesh, for the credit of the family, was quite ready to bear all the +blame without a word. + +One of the company usually said at this point: "Never mind, Thakur Dada. +Please don't trouble to look for it. This tobacco we're smoking will do +quite well. The other would be too strong." + +Then Thakur Dada would be relieved, and settle down again, and the talk +would go on. + +When his guests got up to go away, Thakur Dada would accompany them to +the door, and say to them on the door-step: "Oh, by the way, when are +you all coming to dine with me?" + +One or other of us would answer: "Not just yet, Thakur Dada, not just +yet. We'll fix a day later." + +"Quite right," he would answer. "Quite right. We had much better wait +till the rains come. It's too hot now. And a grand rich dinner such as I +should want to give you would upset us in weather like this." + +But when the rains did come, every one careful not to remind him of his +promise. If the subject was brought up, some friend would suggest +gently that it was very inconvenient to get about when the rains were so +severe, that it would be much better to wait till they were over. And so +the game went on. + +His poor lodging was much too small for his position, and we used to +condole with him about it. His friends would assure him they quite +understood his difficulties: it was next to impossible to get a decent +house in Calcutta. Indeed, they had all been looking out for years for +a house to suit him, but, I need hardly add, no friend had been foolish +enough to find one. Thakur Dada used to say, after a long sigh of +resignation: "Well, well, I suppose I shall have to put up with this +house after all." Then he would add with a genial smile: "But, you know, +I could never bear to be away from my friends. I must be near you. That +really compensates for everything." + +Somehow I felt all this very deeply indeed. I suppose the real reason +was, that when a man is young stupidity appears to him the worst of +crimes. Kailas Babu was not really stupid. In ordinary business matters +every one was ready to consult him. + +But with regard to Nayanjore his utterances were certainly void +of common sense. Because, out of amused affection for him, no one +contradicted his impossible statements, he refused to keep them in +bounds. When people recounted in his hearing the glorious history of +Nayanjore with absurd exaggerations he would accept all they said with +the utmost gravity, and never doubted, even in his dreams, that any one +could disbelieve it. + +II + +When I sit down and try to analyse the thoughts and feelings that I had +towards Kailas Babu I see that there was a still deeper reason for my +dislike. I will now explain. + +Though I am the son of a rich man, and might have wasted time at +college, my industry was such that I took my M.A. degree in Calcutta +University when quite young. My moral character was flawless. In +addition, my outward appearance was so handsome, that if I were to call +myself beautiful, it might be thought a mark of self-estimation, but +could not be considered an untruth. + +There could be no question that among the young men of Bengal I was +regarded by parents generally as a very eligible match. I was myself +quite clear on the point, and had determined to obtain my full value in +the marriage market. When I pictured my choice, I had before my mind's +eye a wealthy father's only daughter, extremely beautiful and highly +educated. Proposals came pouring in to me from far and near; large sums +in cash were offered. I weighed these offers with rigid impartiality, in +the delicate scales of my own estimation. But there was no one fit to be +my partner. I became convinced, with the poet Bhabavuti, that + + In this worlds endless time and boundless space + One may be born at last to match my sovereign grace. + +But in this puny modern age, and this contracted space of modern Bengal, +it was doubtful if the peerless creature existed as yet. + +Meanwhile my praises were sung in many tunes, and in different metres, +by designing parents. + +Whether I was pleased with their daughters or not, this worship which +they offered was never unpleasing. I used to regard it as my proper due, +because I was so good. We are told that when the gods withhold their +boons from mortals they still expect their worshippers to pay them +fervent honour, and are angry if it is withheld. I had that divine +expectance strongly developed in myself. + +I have already mentioned that Thakur Dada had an only grand-daughter. +I had seen her many times, but had never mistaken her for beautiful. No +thought had ever entered my mind that she would be a possible partner +for myself. All the same, it seemed quite certain to me that some day ox +other Kailas Babu would offer her, with all due worship, as an oblation +at my shrine. Indeed-this was the secret of my dislike-I was thoroughly +annoyed that he had not done it already. + +I heard he had told his friends that the Babus of Nayanjore never craved +a boon. Even if the girl remained unmarried, he would not break the +family tradition. It was this arrogance of his that made me angry. My +indignation smouldered for some time. But I remained perfectly silent, +and bore it with the utmost patience, because I was so good. + +As lightning accompanies thunder, so in my character a flash of +humour was mingled with the mutterings of my wrath. It was, of course, +impossible for me to punish the old man merely to give vent to my rage; +and for a long time I did nothing at all. But suddenly one day such an +amusing plan came into my head, that I could not resist the temptation +of carrying it into effect. + +I have already said that many of Kailas Babu's friends used to flatter +the old man's vanity to the full. One, who was a retired Government +servant, had told him that whenever he saw the Chota Lord Sahib he +always asked for the latest news about the Babus of Nayanjore, and the +Chota Lard had been heard to say that in all Bengal the only really +respectable families were those of the Maharaja of Burdwan and the Babus +of Nayanjore. When this monstrous falsehood was told to Kailas Balm +he was extremely gratified, and often repeated the story. And wherever +after that he met this Government servant in company he would ask, along +with other questions: + +"Oh! er--by the way, how is the Chota Lord Sahib? Quite well, did you +say? Ah, yes, I am so delighted to hear it I And the dear Mem Sahib, is +she quite well too? Ah, yes! and the little children-are they quite +well also? Ah, yes I that's very goad news! Be sure and give them my +compliments when you see them." + +Kailas Balm would constantly express his intention of going some day and +paying a visit to the Sahib. + +But it may be taken for granted that many Chota Lords and Burro Lords +also would come and go, and much water would pass down the Hoogly, +before the family coach of Nayanjore would be furnished up to pay a +visit to Government House. + +One day I took Kailas Babu aside, and told him in a whisper: "Thakur +Dada, I was at the Levee yesterday, and the Chota Lord happened to +mention the Babes of Nayanjore. I told him that Kailas Balm had come to +town. Do you know, he was terribly hurt because you hadn't called. He +told me he was going to put etiquette on one side, and pay you a private +visit himself this very afternoon." + +Anybody else could have seen through this plot of mine in a moment. And, +if it had been directed against another person, Kailas Balm would have +understood the joke. But after all he had heard from his friend the +Government servant, and after all his own exaggerations, a visit from +the Lieutenant-Governor seemed the most natural thing in the world. He +became highly nervous and excited at my news. Each detail of the coming +visit exercised him greatly--most of all his own ignorance of English. +How on earth was that difficulty to be met? I told him there was +no difficulty at all: it was aristocratic not to know English: and, +besides, the Lieutenant-Governor always brought an interpreter with him, +and he had expressly mentioned that this visit was to be private. + +About mid-day, when most of our neighbours are at work, and the rest are +asleep, a carriage and pair stopped before the lodging of Kailas Babu. +Two flunkeys in livery came up the stairs, and announced in a loud +voice, "The Chota Lord Sahib hoe arrived." Kailas Babu was ready, +waiting for him, in his old-fashioned ceremonial robes and ancestral +turban, and Ganesh was by his side, dressed in his master's best suit +of clothes for the occasion. When the Chota Lord Sahib was announced, +Kailas Balm ran panting and puffing and trembling to the door, and led +in a friend of mine, in disguise, with repeated salaams, bowing low at +each step, and walking backward as best he could. He had his old family +shawl spread over a hard wooden chair, and he asked the Lord Sahib to +be seated. He then made a high flown speech in Urdu, the ancient Court +language of the Sahibs, and presented on the golden salver a string +of gold mohurs, the last relics of his broken fortune. The old family +servant Ganesh, with an expression of awe bordering on terror, stood +behind with the scent-sprinkler, drenching the Lord Sahib, touching him +gingerly from time to time with the otto-of-roses from the filigree box. + +Kailas Babu repeatedly expressed his regret at not being able to receive +His Honour Bahadur with all the ancestral magnificence of his own family +estate at Nayanjore. There he could have welcomed him properly with due +ceremonial. But in Calcutta he was a mere stranger and sojourner-in fact +a fish out of water. + +My friend, with his tall silk hat on, very gravely nodded. I need hardly +say that according to English custom the hat ought to have been removed +inside the room. But my friend did not dare to take it off for fear of +detection; and Kailas Balm and his old servant Ganesh were sublimely +unconscious of the breach of etiquette. + +After a ten minutes' interview, which consisted chiefly of nodding the +head, my friend rose to his feet to depart. The two flunkeys in livery, +as had been planned beforehand, carried off in state the string of +gold mohurs, the gold salver, the old ancestral shawl, the silver +scent-sprinkler, and the otto-of-roses filigree box; they placed them +ceremoniously in the carriage. Kailas Babu regarded this as the usual +habit of Chota Lard Sahibs. + +I was watching all the while from the next room. My sides were aching +with suppressed laughter. When I could hold myself in no longer, I +rushed into a further room, suddenly to discover, in a corner, a young +girl sobbing as if her heart would break. When she saw my uproarious +laughter she stood upright in passion, flashing the lightning of her big +dark eyes in mine, and said with a tear-choked voice: + +"Tell me! What harm has my grandfather done to you? Why have you come to +deceive him? Why have you come here? Why--" + +She could say no more. She covered her face with her hands, and broke +into sobs. + +My laughter vanished in a moment. It had never occurred to me that there +was anything but a supremely funny joke in this act of mine, and here I +discovered that I had given the cruelest pain to this tenderest little +heart. All the ugliness of my cruelty rose up to condemn me. I slunk out +of the room in silence, like a kicked dog. + +Hitherto I had only looked upon Kusum, the grand-daughter of Kailas +Babu, as a somewhat worthless commodity in the marriage market, waiting +in vain to attract a husband. But now I found, with a shock of surprise, +that in the corner of that room a human heart was beating. + +The whole night through I had very little sleep. My mind was in a +tumult. On the next day, very early in the morning, I took all those +stolen goods back to Kailas Babe's lodgings, wishing to hand them over +in secret to the servant Ganesh. I waited outside the door, and, not +finding any one, went upstairs to Kailas Babu's room. I heard from the +passage Kusum asking her grandfather in the most winning voice: "Dada, +dearest, do tell me all that the Chota Lord Sahib said to you yesterday. +Don't leave out a single word. I am dying to hear it all over again." + +And Dada needed no encouragement. His face beamed over with pride as he +related all manner of praises, which the Lard Sahib had been good enough +to utter concerning the ancient families of Nayanjore. The girl was +seated before him, looking up into his face, and listening with rapt +attention. She was determined, out of love for the old man, to play her +part to the full. + +My heart was deeply touched, and tears came to my eyes. I stood there +in silence in the passage, while Thakur Dada finished all his +embellishments of the Chota Lord Sahib's wonderful visit. When he left +the room at last, I took the stolen goods and laid them at the feet of +the girl and came away without a word. + +Later in the day I called again to see Kailas Balm himself. According to +our ugly modern custom, I had been in the habit of making no greeting at +all to this old man when I came into the room. But on this day I made a +low bow, and touched his feet. I am convinced the old man thought that +the coming of the Chota Lord Sahib to his house was the cause of my new +politeness. He was highly gratified by it, and an air of benign severity +shone from his eyes. His friends had flocked in, and he had +already begun to tell again at full length the story of the +Lieutenant-Governor's visit with still further adornments of a most +fantastic kind. The interview was already becoming an epic, both in +quality and in length. + +When the other visitors had taken their leave, I made my proposal to the +old man in a humble manner. I told him that, "though I could never for a +moment hope to be worthy of marriage connection with such an illustrious +family, yet... etc. etc." + +When I made clear my proposal of marriage, the old man embraced me, and +broke out in a tumult of joy: "I am a poor man, and could never have +expected such great good fortune." + +That was the first and last time in his life that Kailas Babu confessed +to being poor. It was also the first and last time in his life that he +forgot, if only for a single moment, the ancestral dignity that belongs +to the Babus of Nayanjore. + + + + +LIVING OR DEAD? + +I + +The widow in the house of Saradasankar, the Ranihat zemindar, had no +kinsmen of her father's family. One after another all had died. Nor +had she in her husband's family any one she could call her own, neither +husband nor son. The child of her brother-in-law Saradasankar was her +darling. Far a long time after his birth, his mother had been very ill, +and the widow, his aunt Kadambini, had fostered him. If a woman fosters +another's child, her love for him is all the stronger because she has +no claim upon him-no claim of kinship, that is, but simply the claim of +love. Love cannot prove its claim by any document which society accepts, +and does not wish to prove it; it merely worships with double passion +its life's uncertain treasure. Thus all the widow's thwarted love went +out to wards this little child. One night in Sraban Kadambini died +suddenly. For some reason her heart stopped beating. Everywhere else the +world held on its course; only in this gentle little breast, suffering +with love, the watch of time stood still for ever. + +Lest they should be harassed by the poike, four of the zemindar's +Brahmin servants took away the body, without ceremony, to be burned. The +burning-ground of Ranihat was very far from the village. There was a +hut beside a tank, a huge banian near it, and nothing more. Formerly a +river, now completely dried up, ran through the ground, and part of +the watercourse had been dug out to make a tank for the performance of +funeral rites. The people considered the tank as part of the river and +reverenced it as such. + +Taking the body into the hut, the four men sat down to wait for the +wood. The time seemed so long that two of the four grew restless, and +went to see why it did not come. Nitai and Gurucharan being gone, Bidhu +and Banamali remained to watch over the body. + +It was a dark night of Sraban. Heavy clouds hung In a starless sky. +The two men sat silent in the dark room. Their matches and lamp were +useless. The matches were damp, and would not light, for all their +efforts, and the lantern went out. + +After a long silence, one said: "Brother, it would be good if we had a +bowl of tobacco. In our hurry we brought none." + +The other answered: "I can run and bring all we want." + +Understanding why Banarnali wanted to go (From fear of ghosts, the +burning-ground being considered haunted.), Bidhu said: "I daresay! +Meanwhile, I suppose I am to sit here alone!" + +Conversation ceased again. Five minutes seemed like an hour. In their +minds they cursed the two, who had gone to fetch the wood, and they +began to suspect that they sat gossiping in some pleasant nook. There +was no sound anywhere, except the incessant noise of frogs and crickets +from the tank. Then suddenly they fancied that the bed shook slightly, +as if the dead body had turned on its side. Bidhu and Banamali trembled, +and began muttering: "Ram, Ram." A deep sigh was heard in the room. In a +moment the watchers leapt out of the hut, and raced for the village. + +After running about three miles, they met their colleagues coming back +with a lantern. As a matter of fact, they had gone to smoke, and knew +nothing about the wood. But they declared that a tree had been cut down, +and that, when it was split up, it would be brought along at once. Then +Bidhu and Banamali told them what had happened in the hut. Nitai and +Gurucharan scoffed at the story, and abused Bidhu and Banamali angrily +for leaving their duty. + +Without delay all four returned to the hut. As they entered, they saw +at once that the body was gone; nothing but an empty bed remained. They +stared at one another. Could a jackal have taken it? But there was no +scrap of clothing anywhere. Going outside, they saw that on the mud +that had collected at the door of the but there were a woman's tiny +footprints, newly made. Saradasankar was no fool, and they could hardly +persuade him to believe in this ghost story. So after much discussion +the four decided that it would be best to say that the body had been +burnt. + +Towards dawn, when the men with the wood arrived they were told that, +owing to their delay, the work had been done without them; there had +been some wood in the but after all. No one was likely to question this, +since a dead body is not such a valuable property that any one would +steal it. + + +II + +Every one knows that, even when there is no sign, life is often secretly +present, and may begin again in an apparently dead body. Kadambini was +not dead; only the machine of her life had for some reason suddenly +stopped. + +When consciousness returned, she saw dense darkness on all sides. It +occurred to her that she was not lying in her usual place. She called +out "Sister," but no answer came from the darkness. As she sat up, +terror-stricken, she remembered her death-bed, the sudden pain at her +breast, the beginning of a choking sensation. Her elder sister-in-law +was warming some milk for the child, when Kadambini became faint, and +fell on the bed, saying with a choking voice: "Sister, bring the child +here. I am worried." After that everything was black, as when an inkpot +is upset over an exercise-book. Kadambini's memory and consciousness, +all the letters of the world's book, in a moment became formless. The +widow could not remember whether the child, in the sweet voice of love, +called her "Auntie," as if for the last time, or not; she could not +remember whether, as she left the world she knew for death's endless +unknown journey, she had received a parting gift of affection, love's +passage-money for the silent land. At first, I fancy, she thought the +lonely dark place was the House of Yama, where there is nothing to see, +nothing to hear, nothing to do, only an eternal watch. But when a cold +damp wind drove through the open door, and she heard the croaking of +frogs, she remembered vividly and in a moment all the rains of her short +life, and could feel her kinship with the earth. Then came a flash +of lightning, and she saw the tank, the banian, the great plain, the +far-off trees. She remembered how at full moon she had sometimes come +to bathe in this tank, and how dreadful death had seemed when she saw a +corpse on the burning-ground. + +Her first thought was to return home. But then she reflected: "I am +dead. How can I return home? That would bring disaster on them. I have +left the kingdom of the living; I am my own ghost!" If this were not so, +she reasoned, how could she have got out of Saradasankar's well-guarded +zenana, and come to this distant burningground at midnight? Also, if her +funeral rites had not been finished, where had the men gone who should +burn her? Recalling her death-moment in Saradasankar's brightly-lit +house, she now found herself alone in a distant, deserted, dark burning. +ground. Surely she was no member of earthly society! Surely she was a +creature of horror, of ill-omen, her own ghost! + +At this thought, all the bonds were snapped which bound her to the +world. She felt that she had marvellous strength, endless freedom. She +could do what she liked, go where she pleased. Mad with the inspiration +of this new idea, she rushed from the but like a gust of wind, and stood +upon the burning ground. All trace of shame or fear had left her. + +But as she walked on and on, her feet grew tired, her body weak. +The plain stretched on endlessly; here and there were paddy-fields; +sometimes she found herself standing knee-deep in water. + +At the first glimmer of dawn she heard one or two birds cry from the +bamboo-clumps by the distant houses. Then terror seized her. She could +not tell in what new relation she stood to the earth and to living folk. +So long as she had been on the plain, on the burning-ground, covered by +the dark night of Sraban, so long she had been fearless, a denizen of +her own kingdom. By daylight the homes of men filled her with fear. Men +and ghosts dread each other, for their tribes inhabit different banks of +the river of death. + +III + +Her clothes were clotted in the mud; strange thoughts and walking by +night had given her the aspect of a madwoman; truly, her apparition was +such that folk might have been afraid of her, and children might have +stoned her or run away. Luckily, the first to catch sight of her was a +traveller. He came up, and said: "Mother, you look a respectable woman. +Wherever are you going, alone and in this guise?" + +Kadambini, unable to collect her thoughts, stared at him in silence. +She could not think that she was still in touch with the world, that +she looked like a respectable woman, that a traveller was asking her +questions. + +Again the min said: "Come, mother, I will see you home. Tell me where +you live." + +Kadambini thought. To return to her father-in-law's house would be +absurd, and she had no father's house. Then she remembered the friend of +her childhood. She had not seen Jogmaya since the days of her youth, +but from time to time they had exchanged letters. Occasionally there had +been quarrels between them, as was only right, since Kadambini wished to +make it dear that her love for Jogmaya was unbounded, while her friend +complained that Kadambini did not return a love equal to her own. They +were both sure that, if they once met, they would be inseparable. + +Kadambini said to the traveller: "I will go to Sripati's house at +Nisindapur." + +As he was going to Calcutta, Nisindapur, though not near, was on his +way. So he took Kadambini to Sripati s house, and the friends met +again. At first they did not recognise one another, but gradually each +recognised the features of the other's childhood. + +"What luck!" said Jogmaya. "I never dreamt that I should see you again. +But how hate you come here, sister? Your father-in-law's folk surely +didn't let you go!" + +Kadambini remained silent, and at last said: "Sister, do not ask about +my father-in-law. Give me a corner, and treat me as a servant: I will do +your work." + +"What?" cried Jogmaya. "Keep you like a servant! Why, you are my closest +friend, you are my--" and so on and so on. + +Just then Sripati came in. Kadambini stared at him for some time, and +then went out very slowly. She kept her head uncovered, and showed not +the slightest modesty or respect. Jogmaya, fearing that Sripati would +be prejudiced against her friend, began an elaborate explanation. But +Sripati, who readily agreed to anything Jogmaya said, cut short her +story, and left his wife uneasy in her mind. + +Kadambini had come, but she was not at one with her friend: death was +between them. She could feel no intimacy for others so long as her +existence perplexed her and consciousness remained. Kadambini would look +at Jogmaya, and brood. She would think: "She has her husband and her +work, she lives in a world far away from mine. She shares affection and +duty with the people of the world; I am an empty shadow. She is among +the living; I am in eternity." + +Jogmaya also was uneasy, but could not explain why. Women do not love +mystery, because, though uncertainty may be transmuted into poetry, into +heroism, into scholarship, it cannot be turned to account in household +work. So, when a woman cannot understand a thing, she either destroys +and forgets it, or she shapes it anew for her own use; if she fails to +deal with it in one of these ways, she loses her temper with it. The +greater Kadambini's abstraction became, the more impatient was Jogmaya +with her, wondering what trouble weighed upon her mind. + +Then a new danger arose. Kadambini was afraid of herself; yet she could +not flee from herself. Those who fear ghosts fear those who are behind +them; wherever they cannot see there is fear. But Kadambini's chief +terror lay in herself, for she dreaded nothing external. At the dead of +night, when alone in her room, she screamed; in the evening, when she +saw her shadow in the lamp-light, her whole body shook. Watching her +fearfulness, the rest of the house fell into a sort of terror. The +servants and Jogmaya herself began to see ghosts. + +One midnight, Kadambini came out from her bedroom weeping, and wailed at +Jogmaya's door: "Sister, sister, let me lie at your feet! Do not put me +by myself!" + +Jogmaya's anger was no less than her fear. She would have liked to drive +Kadambini from the house that very second. The good-natured Sripati, +after much effort, succeeded in quieting their guest, and put her in the +next room. + +Next day Sripati was unexpectedly summoned to his wife's apartments. +She began to upbraid him: "You, do you call yourself a man? A woman runs +away from her father-in-law, and enters your house; a month passes, +and you haven't hinted that she should go away, nor have I heard the +slightest protest from you. I should cake it as a favour if you would +explain yourself. You men are all alike." + +Men, as a race, have a natural partiality for womankind in general, +foe which women themselves hold them accountable. Although Sripati +was prepared to touch Jogmaya's body, and swear that his kind feeling +towards the helpless but beautiful Kadambini was no whit greater than it +should be, he could not prove it by his behaviour. He thought that her +father-in-law's people must have treated this forlorn widow abominably, +if she could bear it no longer, and was driven to take refuge with +him. As she had neither father nor mother, how could he desert her? So +saying, he let the matter drop, far he had no mind to distress Kadambini +by asking her unpleasant questions. + +His wife, then, tried other means of her sluggish lord, until at last +he saw that for the sake of peace he must send word to Kadambini's +father-in-law. The result of a letter, he thought, might not be +satisfactory; so he resolved to go to Ranihat, and act on what he +learnt. + +So Sripati went, and Jogmaya on her part said to Kadambini "Friend, it +hardly seems proper for you to stop here any longer. What will people +say?" + +Kadambini stared solemnly at Jogmaya, and said: "What have I to do with +people?" + +Jogmaya was astounded. Then she said sharply: "If you have nothing to +do with people, we have. How can we explain the detention of a woman +belonging to another house?" + +Kadambini said: "Where is my father-in-law's house?" + +"Confound it!" thought Jogmaya. "What will the wretched woman say next?" + +Very slowly Kadambini said: "What have I to do with you? Am I of the +earth? You laugh, weep, love; each grips and holds his own; I merely +look. You are human, I a shadow. I cannot understand why God has kept me +in this world of yours." + +So strange were her look and speech that Jogmaya understood something of +her drift, though not all. Unable either to dismiss her, or to ask her +any more questions, she went away, oppressed with thought. + +IV + +It was nearly ten o'clock at night when Sripati returned from Ranihat. +The earth was drowned in torrents of rain. It seemed that the downpour +would never stop, that the night would never end. + +Jogmaya asked: "Well?" + +"I've lots to say, presently." + +So saying, Sripati changed his clothes, and sat down to supper; then he +lay dawn for a smoke. His mind was perplexed. + +His wife stilled her curiosity for a long time; then she came to his +couch and demanded: "What did you hear?" + +"That you have certainly made a mistake." + +Jogmaya was nettled. Women never make mistakes, or, if they do, a +sensible man never mentions them; it is better to take them on his own +shoulders. Jogmaya snapped: "May I be permitted to hear how?" + +Sripati replied: "The woman you have taken into your house is not your +Kadambini." + +Hearing this, she was greatly annoyed, especially since it was her +husband who said it. "What! I don't know my own friend? I must come to +you to recognise her! You are clever, indeed!" + +Sripati explained that there was no need to quarrel about his +cleverness. He could prove what he said. There was no doubt that +Jogmaya's Kadambini was dead. + +Jogmaya replied: "Listen! You've certainly made some huge mistake. +You've been to the wrong house, or are confused as to what you have +heard. Who told you to go yourself? Write a letter, and everything will +be cleared up." + +Sripati was hurt by his wife's lack of faith in his executive ability; +he produced all sorts of proof, without result. Midnight found them +still asserting and contradicting. Although they were both agreed now +that Kadambini should be got out of the house, although Sripati believed +that their guest had deceived his wife all the time by a pretended +acquaintance, and Jogmaya that she was a prostitute, yet in the present +discussion neither would acknowledge defeat. By degrees their voices +became so loud that they forgot that Kadambini was sleeping in the next +room. + +The one said: "We're in a nice fix! I tell you, I heard it with my own +ears!" And the other answered angrily: "What do I care about that? I can +see with my own eyes, surely." + +At length Jogmaya said: "Very well. Tell me when Kadambini died." She +thought that if she could find a discrepancy between the day of death +and the date of some letter from Kadambini, she could prove that Sripati +erred. + +He told her the date of Kadambini's death, and they both saw that it +fell on the very day before she came to their house. Jogmaya's heart +trembled, even Sripati was not unmoved. + +Just then the door flew open; a damp wind swept in and blew the lamp +out. The darkness rushed after it, and filled the whole house. Kadambini +stood in the room. It was nearly one o'clock, the rain was pelting +outside. + +Kadambini spoke: "Friend, I am your Kadambini, but I am no longer +living. I am dead." + +Jogmaya screamed with terror; Sripati could speak. + +"But, save in being dead, I have done you no wrong. If I have no place +among the living, I have none among the dead. Oh! whither shall I go?" + +Crying as if to wake the sleeping Creator in the dense night of rain, +she asked again: "Oh! whither shall I go?" + +So saying Kadambini left her friend fainting in the dark house, and went +out into the world, seeking her own place. + +V + +It is hard to say how Kadambini reached Ranihat. At first she showed +herself to no one, but spent the whole day in a ruined temple, starving. +When the untimely afternoon of the rains was pitch-black, and people +huddled into their houses for fear of the impending storm, then +Kadambini came forth. Her heart trembled as she reached her +father-in-law's house; and when, drawing a thick veil over her face, +she entered, none of the doorkeepers objected, since they took her for a +servant. And the rain was pouring down, and the wind howled. + +The mistress, Saradasankar's wife, was playing cards with her widowed +sister. A servant was in the kitchen, the sick child was sleeping in the +bedroom. Kadambini, escaping every one's notice, entered this room. I do +not know why she had come to her father-in-law's house; she herself did +not know; she felt only that she wanted to see her child again. She had +no thought where to go next, or what to do. + +In the lighted room she saw the child sleeping, his fists clenched, his +body wasted with fever. At sight of him, her heart became parched and +thirsty. If only she could press that tortured body to her breast! +Immediately the thought followed: "I do not exist. Who would see it? His +mother loves company, loves gossip and cards. All the time that she left +me in charge, she was herself free from anxiety, nor was she troubled +about him in the least. Who will look after him now as I did?" + +The child turned on his side, and cried, half-asleep: "Auntie, give +me water." Her darling had not yet forgotten his auntie! In a fever of +excitement, she poured out some water, and, taking him to her breast, +she gave it him. + +As long as he was asleep, the child felt no strangeness in taking water +from the accustomed hand. But when Kadambini satisfied her long-starved +longing, and kissed him and began rocking him asleep again, he awoke and +embraced her. "Did you die, Auntie?" he asked. + +"Yes, darling." + +"And you have come back? Do not die again." + +Before she could answer disaster overtook her. One of the maidservants +coming in with a cup of sago dropped it, and fell down. At the crash the +mistress left her cards, and entered the room. She stood like a pillar +of wood, unable to flee or speak. Seeing all this, the child, too, +became terrified, and burst out weeping: "Go away, Auntie," he said, "go +away!" + +Now at last Kadambini understood that she had not died. The old room, +the old things, the same child, the same love, all returned to their +living state, without change or difference between her and them. In her +friend's house she had felt that her childhood's companion was dead. In +her child's room she knew that the boy's "Auntie" was not dead at all. +In anguished tones she said: "Sister, why do you dread me? See, I am as +you knew me." + +Her sister-in-law could endure no longer, and fell into a faint. +Saradasankar himself entered the zenana. With folded hands, he said +piteously: "Is this right? Satis is my only son. Why do you show +yourself to him? Are we not your own kin? Since you went, he has wasted +away daily; his fever has been incessant; day and night he cries: +'Auntie, Auntie.' You have left the world; break these bonds of maya +(Illusory affection binding a soul to the world). We will perform all +funeral honours." + +Kadambini could bear no more. She said: "Oh, I am not dead, I am not +dead. Oh, how can I persuade you that I am not dead? I am living, +living!" She lifted a brass pot from the ground and dashed it against +her forehead. The blood ran from her brow. "Look!" she cried, "I am +living!" Saradasankar stood like an image; the child screamed with fear, +the two fainting women lay still. + +Then Kadambini, shouting "I am not dead, I am not dead," went down +the steps to the zenana well, and plunged in. From the upper storey +Saradasankar heard the splash. + +All night the rain poured; it poured next day at dawn, was pouring still +at noon. By dying, Kadambini had given proof that she was not dead. + + + + +"WE CROWN THEE KING" + +When Nabendu Sekhar was wedded to Arunlekha, the God of marriage smiled +from behind the sacrificial fire. Alas! what is sport for the gods is +not always a joke to us poor mortals. + +Purnendu Sekhar, the father of Nabendu, was a man well known amongst +the English officials of the Government. In the voyage of life he had +arrived at the desert shores of Rai Bahadurship by diligently plying his +oats of salaams. He held in reserve enough for further advancement, but +at the age of fifty-five, his tender gaze still fixed on the misty peals +of Raja-hood, he suddenly found himself transported to a region where +earthly honours and decorations are naught, and his salaam-wearied neck +found everlasting repose on the funeral pyre. + +According to modern science, force is not destroyed, but is merely +converted to another form, and applied to another point. So Purnendu's +salaam-force, constant handmaid of the fickle Goddess of Fortune, +descended from the shoulder of the father to that of his worthy son; and +the youthful head of Nabendu Sekhar began to move up and down, at the +doors of high-placed Englishmen, like a pumpkin swayed by the wind. + +The traditions of the family into which he had married were entirely +different. Its eldest son, Pramathanath, had won for himself the love +of his kinsfolk and the regard of all who knew him. His kinsmen and his +neighbours looked up to him as their ideal in all things. + +Pramathanath was a Bachelor of Arts, and in addition was gifted with +common sense. But he held no high official position; he had no handsome +salary; nor did he exert any influence with his pen. There was no one in +power to lend him a helping hand, because he desired to keep away +from Englishmen, as much as they desired to keep away from him. So it +happened that he shone only within the sphere of his family and his +friends, and excited no admiration beyond it. + +Yet this Pramathanath had once sojourned in England for some three +years. The kindly treatment he received during his stay there +overpowered him so much that he forgot the sorrow and the humiliation of +his own country, and came back dressed in European clothes. This rather +grieved his brothers and his sisters at first, but after a few days they +began to think that European clothes suited nobody better, and gradually +they came to share his pride and dignity. + +On his return from England, Pramathanath resolved that he would show the +world how to associate with Anglo-Indians on terms of equality. Those of +our countrymen who think that no such association is possible, unless +we bend our knees to them, showed their utter lack of self-respect, and +were also unjust to the English-so thought Pramathanath. + +He brought with him letters of introduction from many distinguished +Englishmen at home, and these gave him some recognition in Anglo-Indian +society. He and his wife occasionally enjoyed English hospitality at +tea, dinner, sports and other entertainments. Such good luck intoxicated +him, and began to produce a tingling sensation in every vein of his +body. + +About this time, at the opening of a new railway line, many of the +town, proud recipients of official favour, were invited by the +Lieutenant-Governor to take the first trip. Pramathanath was among them. +On the return journey, a European Sergeant of the Police expelled +some Indian gentlemen from a railway-carriage with great insolence. +Pramathanath, dressed in his European clothes, was there. He, too, was +getting out, when the Sergeant said: "You needn't move, sir. Keep your +seat, please." + +At first Pramathanath felt flattered at the special respect thus shown +to him. When, however, the train went on, the dull rays of the setting +sun, at the west of the fields, now ploughed up and stripped of green, +seemed in his eyes to spread a glow of shame over the whole country. +Sitting near the window of his lonely compartment, he seemed to catch +a glimpse of the down-cast eyes of his Motherland, hidden behind the +trees. As Pramathanath sat there, lost in reverie, burning tears flowed +down his cheeks, and his heart burst with indignation. + +He now remembered the story of a donkey who was drawing the chariot +of an idol along the street. The wayfarers bowed down to the idol, +and touched the dusty ground with their foreheads. The foolish donkey +imagined that all this reverence was being shown to him. "The only +difference," said Pramathanath to himself, "between the donkey and +myself is this: I understand to-day that the respect I receive is not +given to me but to the burden on my back." + +Arriving home, Pramathanath called together all the children of the +household, and lighting a big bonfire, threw all his European clothes +into it one by one. The children danced round and round it, and the +higher the flames shot up, the greater was their merriment. After that, +Pramathanath gave up his sip of tea and bits of toast in Anglo-Indian +houses, and once again sat inaccessible within the castle of his house, +while his insulted friends went about from the door of one Englishman to +that of another, bending their turbaned heads as before. + +By an irony of fate, poor Nabendu Sekhar married the second daughter of +this house. His sisters-in-law were well educated and handsome. Nabendu +considered he had made a lucky bargain. But he lost no time in trying to +impress on the family that it was a rare bargain on their side also. As +if by mistake, he would often hand to his sisters-in-law sundry letters +that his late father had received from Europeans. And when the cherry +lips of those young ladies smiled sarcastically, and the point of a +shining dagger peeped out of its sheath of red velvet, the unfortunate +man saw his folly, and regretted it. + +Labanyalekha, the eldest sister, surpassed the rest in beauty and +cleverness. Finding an auspicious day, she put on the mantel-shelf of +Nabendu's bedroom two pairs of English boots, daubed with vermilion, and +arranged flowers, sandal-paste, incense and a couple of burning candles +before them in true ceremonial fashion. When Nabendu came in, the +two sisters-in-law stood on either side of him, and said with mock +solemnity: "Bow down to your gods, and may you prosper through their +blessings." + +The third sister Kiranlekha spent many days in embroidering with red +silk one hundred common English names such as Jones, Smith, Brown, +Thomson, etc., on a chadar. When it was ready, she presented this +namavoli (A namavoli is a sheet of cloth printed all over with the names +of Hindu gods and goddesses and worn by pious Hindus when engaged in +devotional exercises.) to Nabendu Sekhar with great ceremony. + +The fourth, Sasankalekha, of tender age and therefore of no account, +said: "I will make you a string of beads, brother, with which to tell +the names of your gods-the sahibs." Her sisters reproved her, saying: +"Run away, you saucy girl." + +Feelings of shame and irritation assailed by turns the mind of Nabendu +Sekhar. Still he could not forego the company of his sisters-in-law, +especially as the eldest one was beautiful. Her honey was no less than +her gall, and Nabendu's mind tasted at once the sweetness of the one +and the bitterness of the other. The butterfly, with its bruised wings, +buzzes round the flower in blind fury, unable to depart. + +The society of his sisters-in-Law so much infatuated him that at last +Nabendu began to disavow his craving for European favours. When he +went to salaam the Burra Sahib, he used to pretend that he was going +to listen to a speech by Mr. Surendranath Banerjea. When he went to +the railway station to pay respects to the Chota Sahib, returning +from Darjeeling, he would tell his sisters-in-law that he expected his +youngest uncle. + +It was a sore trial to the unhappy man placed between the cross-fires of +his Sahibs and his sisters-in-law. The sisters-in-law, however, secretly +vowed that they would not rest till the Sahibs had been put to rout. + +About this time it was rumoured that Nabendu's name would be included +in the forthcoming list of Birthday honours, and that he would mount the +first step of the ladder to Paradise by becoming a Rai Bahadur. The +poor fellow had not the courage to break the joyful news to his +sisters-in-law. One evening, however, when the autumn moon was flooding +the earth with its mischievous beams, Nabendu's heart was so full that +he could not contain himself any longer, and he told his wife. The +next day, Mrs. Nabendu betook herself to her eldest sister's house in a +palanquin, and in a voice choked with tears bewailed her lot. + +"He isn't going to grow a tail," said Labanya, "by becoming a Rai +Bahadur, is he? Why should you feel so very humiliated?" + +"Oh, no, sister dear," replied Arunlekha, "I am prepared to be +anything--but not a Rai-Baha-durni." The fact was that in her circle +of acquaintances there was one Bhutnath Babu, who was a Rai Bahadur, and +that explained her intense aversion to that title. + +Labanya said to her sister in soothing tones: "Don't be upset about it, +dear; I will see what I can do to prevent it." + +Babu Nilratan, the husband of Labanya, was a pleader at Buxar. When the +autumn was over, Nabendu received an invitation from Labanya to pay them +a visit, and he started for Buxar greatly pleased. + +The early winter of the western province endowed Labanyalekha with new +health and beauty, and brought a glowing colour to her pale cheeks, She +looked like the flower-laden kasa reeds on a clear autumn day, growing +by the lonely bank of a rivulet. To Nabendu's enchanted eyes she +appeared like a malati plant in full blossom, showering dew-drops +brilliant with the morning light. + +Nabendu had never felt better in his life. The exhilaration of his own +health and the genial company of his pretty sister-in-law made him think +himself light enough to tread on air. The Ganges in front of the garden +seemed to him to be flowing ceaselessly to regions unknown, as though it +gave shape to his own wild fantasies. + +As he returned in the early morning from his walk on the bank of the +river, the mellow rays of the winter sun gave his whole frame that +pleasing sensation of warmth which lovers feel in each other's arms. +Coming home, he would now and then find his sister-in-Law amusing +herself by cooking some dishes. He would offer his help, and display his +want of skill and ignorance at every step. But Nabendu did not appear to +be at all anxious to improve himself by practice and attention. On +the contrary he thoroughly enjoyed the rebukes he received from his +sister-in-law. He was at great pains to prove every day that he was +inefficient and helpless as a new-born babe in mixing spices, handling +the saucepan, and regulating the heat so as to prevent things getting +burnt-and he was duly rewarded with pitiful smiles and scoldings. + +In the middle of the day he ate a great deal of the good food set before +him, incited by his keen appetite and the coaxing of his sister-in-law. +Later on, he would sit down to a game of cards--at which he betrayed +the same lack of ability. He would cheat, pry into his adversary's hand, +quarrel--but never did he win a single rubber, and worse still, he would +not acknowledge defeat. This brought him abuse every day, and still he +remained incorrigible. + +There was, however, one matter in which his reform was complete. For the +time at least, he had forgotten that to win the smiles of Sahibs was the +final goal of life. He was beginning to understand how happy and worthy +we might feel by winning the affection and esteem of those near and dear +to us. + +Besides, Nabendu was now moving in a new atmosphere. Labanya's husband, +Babu Nilratan, a leader of the bar, was reproached by many because +he refused to pay his respects to European officials. To all such +reproaches Nilratan would reply: "No, thank you,--if they are not polite +enough to return my call, then the politeness I offer them is a loss +that can never be made up for. The sands of the desert may be very white +and shiny, but I would much rather sow my seeds in black soil, where I +can expect a return." + +And Nabendu began to adopt similar ideas, all regardless of the future. +His chance of Rai Bahadurship throve on the soil carefully prepared by +his late father and also by himself in days gone by, nor was any fresh +watering required. Had he not at great expense laid out a splendid +race-course in a town, which was a fashionable resort of Europeans? + +When the time of Congress drew near, Nilratan received a request from +head-quarters to collect subscriptions. Nabendu, free from anxiety, +was merrily engaged in a game of cards with his sister-in-law, when +Nilratan Babu came upon him with a subscription-book in his hand, and +said: "Your signature, please." + +From old habit Nabendu looked horrified. Labanya, assuming an air of +great concern and anxiety, said: "Never do that. It would ruin your +racecourse beyond repair." + +Nabendu blurted out: "Do you suppose I pass sleepless nights through +fear of that?" + +"We won't publish your name in the papers," said Nilratan reassuringly. + +Labanya, looking grave and anxious, said: "Still, it wouldn't be safe. +Things spread so, from mouth to mouth--" + +Nabendu replied with vehemence: "My name wouldn't suffer by appearing +in the newspapers." So saying, he snatched the subscription list from +Nilratan's hand, and signed away a thousand rupees. Secretly he hoped +that the papers would not publish the news. + +Labanya struck her forehead with her palm and gasped out: "What--have +you--done?" + +"Nothing wrong," said Nabendu boastfully. + +"But--but--," drawled Labanya, "the Guard sahib of Sealdah Station, +the shop-assistant at Whiteaway's, the syce-sahib of Hart Bros.--these +gentlemen might be angry with you, and decline to come to your Poojah +dinner to drink your champagne, you know. Just think, they mightn't pat +you on the back, when you meet them again!" + +"It wouldn't break my heart," Nabendu snapped out. + +A few days passed. One morning Nabendu was sipping his tea, and glancing +at a newspaper. Suddenly a letter signed "X" caught his eye. The writer +thanked him profusely for his donation, and declared that the increase +of strength the Congress had acquired by having such a man within its +fold, was inestimable. + +Alas, father Purnendu Sekhar! Was it to increase the strength of the +Congress, that you brought this wretch into the world? + +Put the cloud of misfortune had its silver lining. That he was not a +mere cypher was clear from the fact that the Anglo-Indian community on +the one side and the Congress on the other were each waiting patiently, +eager to hook him, and land him on their own side. So Nabendu, beaming +with pleasure took the paper to his sister-in-law, and showed her the +letter. Looking as though she knew nothing about it, Labanya exclaimed +in surprise: "Oh, what a pity! Everything has come out! Who bore you +such ill-will? Oh, how cruel of him, how wicked of him!" + +Nabendu laughed out, saying: "Now--now--don't call him names, Labanya. I +forgive him with all my heart, and bless him too." + +A couple of days after this, an anti-Congress Anglo-Indian paper reached +Nabendu through the post. There was a letter in it, signed "One who +knows," and contradicting the above report. "Those who have the pleasure +of Babu Nabendu Sekhar's personal acquaintance," the writer went on, +"cannot for a moment believe this absurd libel to be true. For him to +turn a Congresswalla is as impossible as it is for the leopard to change +his spots. He is a man of genuine worth, and neither a disappointed +candidate for Government employ nor a briefless barrister. He is not one +of those who, after a brief sojourn in England, return aping our dress +and manners, audaciously try to thrust themselves on Anglo-Indian +society, and finally go back in dejection. So there is absolutely no +reason why Balm Nabendu Sekhar," etc., etc. + +Ah, father Purnendu Sekhar! What a reputation you had made with the +Europeans before you died! + +This letter also was paraded before his sister-in-law, for did it not +assert that he was no mean, contemptible scallywag, but a man of real +worth? + +Labanya exclaimed again in feigned surprise: "Which of your friends +wrote it now? Oh, come--is it the Ticket Collector, or the hide +merchant, or is it the drum-major of the Fort?" + +"You ought to send in a contradiction, I think," said Nilratan. + +"Is it necessary?" said Nabendu loftily. "Must I contradict every little +thing they choose to say against me?" + +Labanya filled the room with a deluge of laughter. Nabendu felt a little +disconcerted at this, and said: "Why? What's the matter?" She went on +laughing, unable to check herself, and her youthful slender form waved +to and fro. This torrent of merriment had the effect of overthrowing +Nabendu completely, and he said in pitiable accents: "Do you imagine +that I am afraid to contradict it?" + +"Oh, dear, no," said Labanya; "I was thinking that you haven't yet +ceased trying to save that race-course of yours, so full of promise. +While there is life, there is hope, you know." + +"That's what I am afraid of, you think, do you? Very well, you shall +see," said Nabendu desperately, and forthwith sat down to write his +contradiction. When he had finished, Labanya and Nilratan read it +through, and said: "It isn't strong enough. We must give it them pretty +hot, mustn't we?" And they kindly undertook to revise the composition. +Thus it ran: "When one connected to us by ties of blood turns our enemy +he becomes far more dangerous than any outsider. To the Government of +India, the haughty Anglo-Indians are worse enemies than the Russians +or the frontier Pathans themselves--they are the impenetrable barrier, +forever hindering the growth of any bond of friendship between the +Government and people of the country. It is the Congress which has +opened up the royal road to a better understanding between the rulers +and the ruled, and the Anglo-Indian papers have planted themselves like +thorns across the whole breadth of that road," etc., etc. + +Nabendu had an inward fear as to the mischief this letter might do, but +at the same time he felt elated at the excellence of its composition, +which he fondly imagined to be his own. It was duly published, and +for some days comments, replies, and rejoinders went on in various +newspapers, and the air was full of trumpet-notes, proclaiming the +fact that Nabendu had joined the Congress, and the amount of his +subscription. + +Nabendu, now grown desperate, talked as though he was a patriot of +the fiercest type. Labanya laughed inwardly, and said to herself: +"Well---well--you have to pass through the ordeal of fire yet." + +One morning when Nabendu, before his bath, had finished rubbing oil +over his chest, and was trying various devices to reach the inaccessible +portions of his back, the bearer brought in a card inscribed with the +name of the District Magistrate himself! Good heavens!--What would he +do? He could not possibly go, and receive the Magistrate Sahib, thus +oil-besmeared. He shook and twitched like a koi-fish, ready dressed for +the frying pan. He finished his bath in a great hurry, tugged on his +clothes somehow, and ran breathlessly to the outer apartments. The +bearer said that the Sahib had just left after waiting for a long time. +How much of the blame for concocting this drama of invented incidents +may be set down to Labanya, and how much to the bearer is a nice problem +for ethical mathematics to solve. + +Nabendu's heart was convulsed with pain within his breast, like the tail +of a lizard just cut off. He moped like an owl all day long. + +Labanya banished all traces of inward merriment from her face, and kept +on enquiring in anxious tones: "What has happened to you? You are not +ill, I hope?" + +Nabendu made great efforts to smile, and find a humorous reply. "How +can there be," he managed to say, "any illness within your jurisdiction, +since you yourself are the Goddess of Health?" + +But the smile soon flickered out. His thoughts were: "I subscribed +to the Congress fund to begin with, published a nasty letter in a +newspaper, and on the top of that, when the Magistrate Sahib himself +did me the honour to call on me, I kept him waiting. I wonder what he is +thinking of me." + +Alas, father Purnendu Sekhar, by an irony of Fate I am made to appear +what I am not. + +The next morning, Nabendu decked himself in his best clothes, wore his +watch and chain, and put a big turban on his head. + +"Where are you off to?" enquired his sister-in-law. + +"Urgent business," Nabendu replied. Labanya kept quiet. + +Arriving at the Magistrate's gate, he took out his card-case. + +"You cannot see him now," said the orderly peon icily. + +Nabendu took out a couple of rupees from his pocket. The peon at once +salaamed him and said: "There are five of us, sir." Immediately Nabendu +pulled out a ten-rupee note, and handed it to him. + +He was sent for by the Magistrate, who was writing in his dressing-gown +and bedroom slippers. Nabendu salaamed him. The Magistrate pointed to +a chair with his finger, and without raising his eyes from the paper +before him said: "What can I do for you, Babu?" + +Fingering his watch-chain nervously, Nabendu said is shaky tones: +"Yesterday you were good enough to call at my place, sir--" + +The Sahib knitted his brows, and, lifting just one eye from his paper, +said: "I called at your place! Babu, what nonsense are you talking?" + +"Beg your pardon, sir," faltered out Nabendu. "There has been a +mistake--some confusion," and wet with perspiration, he tumbled out +of the room somehow. And that night, as he lay tossing on his bed, a +distant dream-like voice came into his ear with a recurring persistency: +"Babu, you are a howling idiot." + +On his way home, Nabendu came to the conclusion that the Magistrate +denied having called, simply because he was highly offended. + +So he explained to Labanya that he had been out purchasing rose-water. +No sooner had he uttered the words than half-a-dozen chuprassis wearing +the Collectorate badge made their appearance, and after salaaming +Nabendu, stood there grinning. + +"Have they come to arrest you because you subscribed to the Congress +fund?" whispered Labanya with a smile. + +The six peons displayed a dozen rows of teeth and said: +"Bakshish--Babu-Sahib." + +From a side room Nilratan came out, and said in an irritated manner: +"Bakshish? What for?" + +The peons, grinning as before, answered: "The Babu-Sahib went to see the +Magistrate--so we have come for bakshish." + +"I didn't know," laughed out Labanya, "that the Magistrate was selling +rose-water nowadays. Coolness wasn't the special feature of his trade +before." + +Nabendu in trying to reconcile the story of his purchase with his visit +to the Magistrate, uttered some incoherent words, which nobody could +make sense of. + +Nilratan spoke to the peons: "There has been no occasion for bakshish; +you shan't have it." + +Nabendu said, feeling very small: "Oh, they are poor men--what's +the harm of giving them something?" And he took out a currency note. +Nilratan snatched it way from Nabendu's hand, remarking: "There are +poorer men in the world--I will give it to them for you." + +Nabendu felt greatly distressed that he was not able to appease these +ghostly retainers of the angry Siva. When the peons were leaving, with +thunder in their eyes, he looked at them languishingly, as much as to +say: "You know everything, gentlemen, it is not my fault." + +The Congress was to be held at Calcutta this year. Nilratan went down +thither with his wife to attend the sittings. Nabendu accompanied them. + +As soon as they arrived at Calcutta, the Congress party surrounded +Nabendu, and their delight and enthusiasm knew no bounds. They cheered +him, honoured him, and extolled him up to the skies. Everybody said +that, unless leading men like Nabendu devoted themselves to the Cause, +there was no hope for the country. Nabendu was disposed to agree with +them, and emerged out of the chaos of mistake and confusion as a leader +of the country. When he entered the Congress Pavilion on the first day, +everybody stood up, and shouted "Hip, hip, hurrah," in a loud outlandish +voice, hearing which our Motherland reddened with shame to the root of +her ears. + +In due time the Queen's birthday came, and Nabendu's name was not found +in the list of Rai Bahadurs. + +He received an invitation from Labanya for that evening. When he arrived +there, Labanya with great pomp and ceremony presented him with a robe +of honour, and with her own hand put a mark of red sandal paste on the +middle of his forehead. Each of the other sisters threw round his neck a +garland of flowers woven by herself. Decked in a pink Sari and dazzling +jewels, his wife Arunlekha was waiting in a side room, her face lit up +with smiles and blushes. Her sisters rushed to her, and, placing another +garland in her hand, insisted that she also should come, and do her +part in the ceremony, but she would not listen to it; and that principal +garland, cherishing a desire for Nabendu's neck, waited patiently for +the still secrecy of midnight. + +The sisters said to Nabendu: "To-day we crown thee King. Such honour +will not be done to any body else in Hindoostan." + +Whether Nabendu derived any consolation from this, he alone can tell; +but we greatly doubt it. We believe, in fact, that he will become a +Rai Bahadur before he has done, and the Englishman and the Pioneer will +write heart-rending articles lamenting his demise at the proper time. +So, in the meanwhile, Three Cheers for Babu Purnendu Sekhar! Hip, hip, +hurrah--Hip, hip, hurrah--Hip, hip, hurrah. + + + + +THE RENUNCIATION + +I + +It was a night of full moon early in the month of Phalgun. The youthful +spring was everywhere sending forth its breeze laden with the fragrance +of mango-blossoms. The melodious notes of an untiring papiya (One of the +sweetest songsters in Bengal. Anglo-Indian writers have nicknamed it the +"brain-fever bird," which is a sheer libel.), concealed within the +thick foliage of an old lichi tree by the side of a tank, penetrated a +sleepless bedroom of the Mukerji family. There Hemanta now restlessly +twisted a lock of his wife's hair round his finger, now beat her churl +against her wristlet until it tinkled, now pulled at the chaplet of +flowers about her head, and left it hanging over hex face. His mood +was that of as evening breeze which played about a favourite flowering +shrub, gently shaking her now this side, now that, in the hope of +rousing her to animation. + +But Kusum sat motionless, looking out of the open window, with eyes +immersed in the moonlit depth of never-ending space beyond. Her +husband's caresses were lost on her. + +At last Hemanta clasped both the hands of his wife, and, shaking them +gently, said: "Kusum, where are you? A patient search through a big +telescope would reveal you only as a small speck-you seem to have +receded so far away. O, do come closer to me, dear. See how beautiful +the night is." + +Kusum turned her eyes from the void of space towards her husband, and +said slowly: "I know a mantra (A set of magic words.), which could in +one moment shatter this spring night and the moon into pieces." + +"If you do," laughed Hemanta, "pray don't utter it. If any mantra of +yours could bring three or four Saturdays during the week, and prolong +the nights till 5 P.M. the next day, say it by all means." + +Saying this, he tried to draw his wife a little closer to him. Kusum, +freeing herself from the embrace, said: "Do you know, to-night I feel +a longing to tell you what I promised to reveal only on my death-bed. +To-night I feel that I could endure whatever punishment you might +inflict on me." + +Hemanta was on the point of making a jest about punishments by reciting +a verse from Jayadeva, when the sound of an angry pair of slippers +was heard approaching rapidly. They were the familiar footsteps of his +father, Haribar Mukerji, and Hemanta, not knowing what it meant, was in +a flutter of excitement. + +Standing outside the door Harihar roared out: "Hemanta, turn your wife +out of the house immediately." + +Hemanta looked at his wife, and detected no trace of surprise in her +features. She merely buried her face within the palms of her hands, and, +with all the strength and intensity of her soul, wished that she could +then and there melt into nothingness. It was the same papiya whose +song floated into the room with the south breeze, and no one heard it. +Endless are the beauties of the earth-but alas, how easily everything is +twisted out of shape. + +II + +Returning from without, Hemanta asked his wife: "Is it true?" + +"It is," replied Kusum. + +"Why didn't you tell me long ago?" + +"I did try many a time, and I always failed. I am a wretched woman." + +"Then tell me everything now." + +Kusum gravely told her story in a firm unshaken voice. She waded +barefooted through fire, as it were, with slow unflinching steps, and +nobody knew how much she was scorched. Having heard her to the end, +Hemanta rose and walked out. + +Kusum thought that her husband had gone, never to return to her again. +It did not strike her as strange. She took it as naturally as any other +incident of everyday life-so dry and apathetic had her mind become +during the last few moments. Only the world and love seemed to her as +a void and make-believe from beginning to end. Even the memory of the +protestations of love, which her husband had made to her in days past, +brought to her lips a dry, hard, joyless smile, like a sharp cruel knife +which had cut through her heart. She was thinking, perhaps, that the +love which seemed to fill so much of one's life, which brought in its +train such fondness and depth of feeling, which made even the briefest +separation so exquisitely painful and a moment's union so intensely +sweet, which seemed boundless in its extent and eternal in its +duration, the cessation of which could not be imagined even in births to +come--that this was that love! So feeble was its support! No sooner does +the priesthood touch it than your "eternal" love crumbles into a handful +of dust! Only a short while ago Hemanta had whispered to her: "What a +beautiful night!" The same night was not yet at an end, the same yapiya +was still warbling, the same south breeze still blew into the roam, +making the bed-curtain shiver; the same moonlight lay on the bed next +the open window, sleeping like a beautiful heroine exhausted with +gaiety. All this was unreal! Love was more falsely dissembling than she +herself! + +III + +The next morning Hemanta, fagged after a sleepless night, and looking +like one distracted, called at the house of Peari Sankar Ghosal. "What +news, my son?" Peari Sankar greeted him. + +Hemanta, flaring up like a big fire, said in a trembling voice: "You +have defiled our caste. You have brought destruction upon us. And you +will have to pay for it." He could say no more; he felt choked. + +"And you have preserved my caste, presented my ostracism from the +community, and patted me on the back affectionately!" said Peari Sankar +with a slight sarcastic smile. + +Hemanta wished that his Brahmin-fury could reduce Peari Sankar to ashes +in a moment, but his rage burnt only himself. Peari Sankar sat before +him unscathed, and in the best of health. + +"Did I ever do you any harm?" demanded Hemanta in a broken voice. + +"Let me ask you one question," said Peari Sankar. "My daughter--my only +child-what harm had she done your father? You were very young then, +and probably never heard. Listen, then. Now, don't you excite yourself. +There is much humour in what I am going to relate. + +"You were quite small when my son-in-law Nabakanta ran away to England +after stealing my daughter's jewels. You might truly remember the +commotion in the village when he returned as a barrister five years +later. Or, perhaps, you were unaware of it, as you were at school in +Calcutta at the time. Your father, arrogating to himself the headship +of the community, declared that if I sent my daughter to her husband's +home, I must renounce her for good, and never again allow her to cross +my threshold. I fell at your father's feet, and implored him, saying: +'Brother, save me this once. I will make the boy swallow cow-dung, and +go through the prayaschittam ceremony. Do take him back into caste.' But +your father remained obdurate. For my part, I could not disown my only +child, and, bidding good-bye to my village and my kinsmen, I betook +myself to Calcutta. There, too, my troubles followed me. When I had made +every arrangement for my nephew's marriage, your father stirred up the +girl's people, and they broke the match off. Then I took a solemn vow +that, if there was a drop of Brahmin blood flowing in my veins, I would +avenge myself. You understand the business to some extent now, don't +you? But wait a little longer. You will enjoy it, when I tell you the +whole story; it is interesting. + +"When you were attending college, one Bipradas Chatterji used to live +next door to your lodgings. The poor fellow is dead now. In his house +lived a child-widow called Kusum, the destitute orphan of a Kayestha +gentleman. The girl was very pretty, and the old Brahmin desired to +shield her from the hungry gaze of college students. But for a young +girl to throw dust in the eyes of her old guardian was not at all a +difficult task. She often went to the top of the roof, to hang her +washing out to dry, and, I believe, you found your own roof best suited +for your studies. Whether you two spoke to each other, when on your +respective roofs, I cannot tell, but the girl's behaviour excited +suspicion in the old man's mind. She made frequent mistakes in her +household duties, and, like Parbati (The wife of Shiva the Destroyer), +engaged in her devotions, began gradually to renounce food and sleep. +Some evenings she would burst into tears in the presence of the old +gentleman, without any apparent reason. + +"At last he discovered that you two saw each other from the roofs pretty +frequently, and that you even went the length of absenting yourself from +college to sit on the roof at mid-day with a book in your hand, so +fond had you grown suddenly of solitary study. Bipradas came to me for +advice, and told me everything. 'Uncle,' said I to him, 'for a long +while you have cherished a desire to go on a pilgrimage to Benares. You +had better do it now, and leave the girl in my charge. I will take care +of her.' + +"So he went. I lodged the girl in the house of Sripati Chatterji, +passing him off as her father. What happened next is known to you. +I feel a great relief to-day, having told you everything from the +beginning. It sounds like a romance, doesn't it? I think of turning it +into a book, and getting it printed. But I am not a writing-man myself. +They say my nephew has some aptitude that way--I will get him to write +it for me. But the best thing would be, if you would collaborate with +him, because the conclusion of the story is not known to me so well." + +Without paying much attention to the concluding remarks of Peari Sankar, +Hemanta asked: "Did not Kusum object to this marriage?" + +"Well," said Peari Sankar, "it is very difficult to guess. You know, my +boy, how women's minds are constituted. When they say 'no,' they mean +'yes.' During the first few days after her removal to the new home, she +went almost crazy at not seeing you. You, too, seemed to have discovered +her new address somehow, as you used to lose your way after starting for +college, and loiter about in front of Sripati's house. Your eyes did not +appear to be exactly in search of the Presidency College, as they were +directed towards the barred windows of a private house, through which +nothing but insects and the hearts of moon-struck young men could obtain +access. I felt very sorry for you both. I could see that your studies +were being seriously interrupted, and that the plight of the girl was +pitiable also. + +"One day I called Kusum to me, and said: 'Listen to me, my daughter. I +am an old man, and you need feel no delicacy in my presence. I know whom +you desire at heart. The young man's condition is hopeless too. I wish I +could bring about your union.' At this Kusum suddenly melted into tears, +and ran away. On several evenings after that, I visited Sripati's house, +and, calling Kusum to me, discussed with her matters relating to you, +and so I succeeded in gradually overcoming her shyness. At last, when I +said that I would try to bring about a marriage, she asked me: 'How +can it be?' 'Never mind,' I said, 'I would pass you off as a Brahmin +maiden.' After a good deal of argument, she begged me to find out +whether you would approve of it. 'What nonsense,' replied I, 'the boy +is well-nigh mad as it were, what's the use of disclosing all these +complications to him? Let the ceremony be over smoothly and then--all's +well that ends well. Especially, as there is not the slightest risk of +its ever leaking out, why go out of the way to make a fellow miserable +for life?' + +"I do not know whether the plan had Kusum's assent or not. At times she +wept, and at other times she remained silent. If I said, 'Let us drop it +then,' she would become very restless. When things were in this state, I +sent Sripati to you with the proposal of marriage; you consented without +a moment's hesitation. Everything was settled. + +"Shortly before the day fixed, Kusum became so obstinate that I had +the greatest difficulty in bringing her round again. 'Do let it drop, +uncle,' she said to me constantly. 'What do you mean, you silly child,' +I rebuked her,' how can we back out now, when everything has been +settled?' + +"'Spread a rumour that I am dead,' she implored. 'Send me away +somewhere.' + +"'What would happen to the young man then?' said I.' He is now in the +seventh heaven of delight, expecting that his long cherished desire +would be fulfilled to-morrow; and to-day you want me to send him the +news of your death. The result would be that to-morrow I should have to +bear the news of his death to you, and the same evening your death +would be reported to me. Do you imagine, child, that I am capable of +committing a girl-murder and a Brahmin-murder at my age?' + +"Eventually the happy marriage was celebrated at the auspicious moment, +and I felt relieved of a burdensome duty which I owed to myself. What +happened afterwards you know best." + +"Couldn't you stop after having done us an irreparable injury?" burst +out Hemanta after a short silence. "Why have you told the secret now?" + +With the utmost composure, Peari Sankar replied: "When I saw that all +arrangements had been made for the wedding of your sister, I said to +myself: 'Well, I have fouled the caste of one Brahmin, but that was only +from a sense of duty. Here, another Brahmin's caste is imperilled, and +this time it is my plain duty to prevent it.' So I wrote to them saying +that I was in a position to prove that you had taken the daughter of a +sudra to wife." + +Controlling himself with a gigantic effort, Hemanta said: "What will +become of this girl whom I shall abandon now? Would you give her food +and shelter?" + +"I have done what was mine to do," replied Peari Sankar calmly. "It is +no part of my duty to look after the discarded wives of other people. +Anybody there? Get a glass of cocoanut milk for Hemanta Babu with ice in +it. And some pan too." + +Hemanta rose, and took his departure without waiting for this luxurious +hospitality. + +IV + +It was the fifth night of the waning of the moon--and the night was +dark. No birds were singing. The lichi tree by the tank looked like +a smudge of ink on a background a shade less deep. The south wind was +blindly roaming about in the darkness like a sleep-walker. The stars +in the sky with vigilant unblinking eyes were trying to penetrate the +darkness, in their effort to fathom some profound mystery. + +No light shone in the bedroom. Hemanta was sitting on the side of the +bed next the open window, gazing at the darkness in front of him. Kusum +lay on the floor, clasping her husband's feet with both her arms, +and her face resting on them. Time stood like an ocean hushed into +stillness. On the background of eternal night, Fate seemed to have +painted this one single picture for all time--annihilation on every +side, the judge in the centre of it, and the guilty one at his feet. + +The sound of slippers was heard again. Approaching the door, Harihar +Mukerji said: "You have had enough time,--I can't allow you more. Turn +the girl out of the house." + +Kusum, as she heard this, embraced her husband's feet with all the +ardour of a lifetime, covered them with kisses, and touching her +forehead to them reverentially, withdrew herself. + +Hemanta rose, and walking to the door, said: "Father, I won't forsake my +wife." + +"What!" roared out Harihar, "would you lose your caste, sir?" + +"I don't care for caste," was Hemanta's calm reply. + +"Then you too I renounce." + + + + +THE CABULIWALLAH + +(THE FRUITSELLER FROM CABUL) + + +My five years' old daughter Mini cannot live without chattering. I +really believe that in all her life she has not wasted a minute in +silence. Her mother is often vexed at this, and would stop her prattle, +but I would not. To see Mini quiet is unnatural, and I cannot bear it +long. And so my own talk with her is always lively. + +One morning, for instance, when I was in the midst of the seventeenth +chapter of my new novel, my little Mini stole into the room, and putting +her hand into mine, said: "Father! Ramdayal the door-keeper calls a crow +a krow! He doesn't know anything, does he?" + +Before I could explain to her the differences of language in this world, +she was embarked on the full tide of another subject. "What do you +think, Father? Bhola says there is an elephant in the clouds, blowing +water out of his trunk, and that is why it rains!" + +And then, darting off anew, while I sat still making ready some reply to +this last saying, "Father! what relation is Mother to you?" + +"My dear little sister in the law!" I murmured involuntarily to myself, +but with a grave face contrived to answer: "Go and play with Bhola, +Mini! I am busy!" + +The window of my room overlooks the road. The child had seated herself +at my feet near my table, and was playing softly, drumming on her knees. +I was hard at work on my seventeenth chapter, where Protrap Singh, the +hero, had just caught Kanchanlata, the heroine, in his arms, and was +about to escape with her by the third story window of the castle, when +all of a sudden Mini left her play, and ran to the window, crying, "A +Cabuliwallah! a Cabuliwallah!" Sure enough in the street below was a +Cabuliwallah, passing slowly along. He wore the loose soiled clothing +of his people, with a tall turban; there was a bag on his back, and he +carried boxes of grapes in his hand. + +I cannot tell what were my daughter's feelings at the sight of this man, +but she began to call him loudly. "Ah!" I thought, "he will come in, and +my seventeenth chapter will never be finished!" At which exact moment +the Cabuliwallah turned, and looked up at the child. When she saw +this, overcome by terror, she fled to her mother's protection, and +disappeared. She had a blind belief that inside the bag, which the +big man carried, there were perhaps two or three other children like +herself. The pedlar meanwhile entered my doorway, and greeted me with a +smiling face. + +So precarious was the position of my hero and my heroine, that my first +impulse was to stop and buy something, since the man had been called. I +made some small purchases, and a conversation began about Abdurrahman, +the Russians, she English, and the Frontier Policy. + +As he was about to leave, he asked: "And where is the little girl, sir?" + +And I, thinking that Mini must get rid of her false fear, had her +brought out. + +She stood by my chair, and looked at the Cabuliwallah and his bag. He +offered her nuts and raisins, but she would not be tempted, and only +clung the closer to me, with all her doubts increased. + +This was their first meeting. + +One morning, however, not many days later, as I was leaving the house, I +was startled to find Mini, seated on a bench near the door, laughing and +talking, with the great Cabuliwallah at her feet. In all her life, it +appeared; my small daughter had never found so patient a listener, save +her father. And already the corner of her little sari was stuffed with +almonds and raisins, the gift of her visitor, "Why did you give her +those?" I said, and taking out an eight-anna bit, I handed it to him. +The man accepted the money without demur, and slipped it into his +pocket. + +Alas, on my return an hour later, I found the unfortunate coin had made +twice its own worth of trouble! For the Cabuliwallah had given it to +Mini, and her mother catching sight of the bright round object, had +pounced on the child with: "Where did you get that eight-anna bit?" + +"The Cabuliwallah gave it me," said Mini cheerfully. + +"The Cabuliwallah gave it you!" cried her mother much shocked. "Oh, +Mini! how could you take it from him?" + +I, entering at the moment, saved her from impending disaster, and +proceeded to make my own inquiries. + +It was not the first or second time, I found, that the two had met. +The Cabuliwallah had overcome the child's first terror by a judicious +bribery of nuts and almonds, and the two were now great friends. + +They had many quaint jokes, which afforded them much amusement. Seated +in front of him, looking down on his gigantic frame in all her tiny +dignity, Mini would ripple her face with laughter, and begin: "O +Cabuliwallah, Cabuliwallah, what have you got in your bag?" + +And he would reply, in the nasal accents of the mountaineer: "An +elephant!" Not much cause for merriment, perhaps; but how they both +enjoyed the witticism! And for me, this child's talk with a grown-up man +had always in it something strangely fascinating. + +Then the Cabuliwallah, not to be behindhand, would take his turn: "Well, +little one, and when are you going to the father-in-law's house?" + +Now most small Bengali maidens have heard long ago about the +father-in-law's house; but we, being a little new-fangled, had kept +these things from our child, and Mini at this question must have been +a trifle bewildered. But she would not show it, and with ready tact +replied: "Are you going there?" + +Amongst men of the Cabuliwallah's class, however, it is well known that +the words father-in-law's house have a double meaning. It is a euphemism +for jail, the place where we are well cared for, at no expense to +ourselves. In this sense would the sturdy pedlar take my daughter's +question. "Ah," he would say, shaking his fist at an invisible +policeman, "I will thrash my father-in-law!" Hearing this, and picturing +the poor discomfited relative, Mini would go off into peals of laughter, +in which her formidable friend would join. + +These were autumn mornings, the very time of year when kings of old +went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in +Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. At the very +name of another country, my heart would go out to it, and at the sight +of a foreigner in the streets, I would fall to weaving a network of +dreams,--the mountains, the glens, and the forests of his distant home, +with his cottage in its setting, and the free and independent life +of far-away wilds. Perhaps the scenes of travel conjure themselves up +before me, and pass and repass in my imagination all the more vividly, +because I lead such a vegetable existence, that a call to travel would +fall upon me like a thunderbolt. In the presence of this Cabuliwallah, +I was immediately transported to the foot of arid mountain peaks, +with narrow little defiles twisting in and out amongst their towering +heights. I could see the string of camels bearing the merchandise, and +the company of turbaned merchants, carrying some of their queer old +firearms, and some of their spears, journeying downward towards +the plains. I could see--but at some such point Mini's mother would +intervene, imploring me to "beware of that man." + +Mini's mother is unfortunately a very timid lady. Whenever she hears a +noise in the street, or sees people coming towards the house, she always +jumps to the conclusion that they are either thieves, or drunkards, or +snakes, or tigers, or malaria or cockroaches, or caterpillars, or an +English sailor. Even after all these years of experience, she is +not able to overcome her terror. So she was full of doubts about the +Cabuliwallah, and used to beg me to keep a watchful eye on him. + +I tried to laugh her fear gently away, but then she would turn round on +me seriously, and ask me solemn questions. + +Were children never kidnapped? + +Was it, then, not true that there was slavery in Cabul? + +Was it so very absurd that this big man should be able to carry off a +tiny child? + +I urged that, though not impossible, it was highly improbable. But this +was not enough, and her dread persisted. As it was indefinite, however, +it did not seem right to forbid the man the house, and the intimacy went +on unchecked. + +Once a year in the middle of January Rahmun, the Cabuliwallah, was in +the habit of returning to his country, and as the time approached he +would be very busy, going from house to house collecting his debts. This +year, however, he could always find time to come and see Mini. It would +have seemed to an outsider that there was some conspiracy between the +two, for when he could not come in the morning, he would appear in the +evening. + +Even to me it was a little startling now and then, in the corner of +a dark room, suddenly to surprise this tall, loose-garmented, much +bebagged man; but when Mini would run in smiling, with her, "O! +Cabuliwallah! Cabuliwallah!" and the two friends, so far apart in +age, would subside into their old laughter and their old jokes, I felt +reassured. + +One morning, a few days before he had made up his mind to go, I was +correcting my proof sheets in my study. It was chilly weather. Through +the window the rays of the sun touched my feet, and the slight warmth +was very welcome. It was almost eight o'clock, and the early pedestrians +were returning home, with their heads covered. All at once, I heard an +uproar in the street, and, looking out, saw Rahmun being led away bound +between two policemen, and behind them a crowd of curious boys. There +were blood-stains on the clothes of the Cabuliwallah, and one of the +policemen carried a knife. Hurrying out, I stopped them, and enquired +what it all meant. Partly from one, partly from another, I gathered that +a certain neighbour had owed the pedlar something for a Rampuri shawl, +but had falsely denied having bought it, and that in the course of the +quarrel, Rahmun had struck him. Now in the heat of his excitement, the +prisoner began calling his enemy all sorts of names, when suddenly in +a verandah of my house appeared my little Mini, with her usual +exclamation: "O Cabuliwallah! Cabuliwallah!" Rahmun's face lighted up +as he turned to her. He had no bag under his arm today, so she could not +discuss the elephant with him. She at once therefore proceeded to the +next question: "Are you going to the father-in-law's house?" Rahmun +laughed and said: "Just where I am going, little one!" Then seeing that +the reply did not amuse the child, he held up his fettered hands. "Ali," +he said, "I would have thrashed that old father-in-law, but my hands are +bound!" + +On a charge of murderous assault, Rahmun was sentenced to some years' +imprisonment. + +Time passed away, and he was not remembered. The accustomed work in the +accustomed place was ours, and the thought of the once-free mountaineer +spending his years in prison seldom or never occurred to us. Even my +light-hearted Mini, I am ashamed to say, forgot her old friend. New +companions filled her life. As she grew older, she spent more of her +time with girls. So much time indeed did she spend with them that she +came no more, as she used to do, to her father's room. I was scarcely on +speaking terms with her. + +Years had passed away. It was once more autumn and we had made +arrangements for our Mini's marriage. It was to take place during the +Puja Holidays. With Durga returning to Kailas, the light of our home +also was to depart to her husband's house, and leave her father's in the +shadow. + +The morning was bright. After the rains, there was a sense of ablution +in the air, and the sun-rays looked like pure gold. So bright were they +that they gave a beautiful radiance even to the sordid brick walls of +our Calcutta lanes. Since early dawn to-day the wedding-pipes had been +sounding, and at each beat my own heart throbbed. The wail of the tune, +Bhairavi, seemed to intensify my pain at the approaching separation. My +Mini was to be married to-night. + +From early morning noise and bustle had pervaded the house. In +the courtyard the canopy had to be slung on its bamboo poles; the +chandeliers with their tinkling sound must be hung in each room and +verandah. There was no end of hurry and excitement. I was sitting in +my study, looking through the accounts, when some one entered, saluting +respectfully, and stood before me. It was Rahmun the Cabuliwallah. At +first I did not recognise him. He had no bag, nor the long hair, nor the +same vigour that he used to have. But he smiled, and I knew him again. + +"When did you come, Rahmun?" I asked him. + +"Last evening," he said, "I was released from jail." + +The words struck harsh upon my ears. I had never before talked with one +who had wounded his fellow, and my heart shrank within itself, when I +realised this, for I felt that the day would have been better-omened had +he not turned up. + +"There are ceremonies going on," I said, "and I am busy. Could you +perhaps come another day?" + +At once he turned to go; but as he reached the door he hesitated, and +said: "May I not see the little one, sir, for a moment?" It was his +belief that Mini was still the same. He had pictured her running to him +as she used, calling "O Cabuliwallah! Cabuliwallah!" He had imagined +too that they would laugh and talk together, just as of old. In fact, in +memory of former days he had brought, carefully wrapped up in paper, a +few almonds and raisins and grapes, obtained somehow from a countryman, +for his own little fund was dispersed. + +I said again: "There is a ceremony in the house, and you will not be +able to see any one to-day." + +The man's face fell. He looked wistfully at me for a moment, said "Good +morning," and went out. I felt a little sorry, and would have called him +back, but I found he was returning of his own accord. He came close up +to me holding out his offerings and said: "I brought these few things, +sir, for the little one. Will you give them to her?" + +I took them and was going to pay him, but he caught my hand and said: +"You are very kind, sir! Keep me in your recollection. Do not offer me +money!--You have a little girl, I too have one like her in my own home. +I think of her, and bring fruits to your child, not to make a profit for +myself." + +Saying this, he put his hand inside his big loose robe, and brought out +a small and dirty piece of paper. With great care he unfolded this, and +smoothed it out with both hands on my table. It bore the impression of +a little band. Not a photograph. Not a drawing. The impression of an +ink-smeared hand laid flat on the paper. This touch of his own little +daughter had been always on his heart, as he had come year after year to +Calcutta, to sell his wares in the streets. + +Tears came to my eyes. I forgot that he was a poor Cabuli fruit-seller, +while I was--but no, what was I more than he? He also was a father. That +impression of the hand of his little Parbati in her distant mountain +home reminded me of my own little Mini. + +I sent for Mini immediately from the inner apartment. Many difficulties +were raised, but I would not listen. Clad in the red silk of her +wedding-day, with the sandal paste on her forehead, and adorned as a +young bride, Mini came, and stood bashfully before me. + +The Cabuliwallah looked a little staggered at the apparition. He could +not revive their old friendship. At last he smiled and said: "Little +one, are you going to your father-in-law's house?" + +But Mini now understood the meaning of the word "father-in-law," and she +could not reply to him as of old. She flushed up at the question, and +stood before him with her bride-like face turned down. + +I remembered the day when the Cabuliwallah and my Mini had first met, +and I felt sad. When she had gone, Rahmun heaved a deep sigh, and sat +down on the floor. The idea had suddenly come to him that his daughter +too must have grown in this long time, and that he would have to make +friends with her anew. Assuredly he would not find her, as he used to +know her. And besides, what might not have happened to her in these +eight years? + +The marriage-pipes sounded, and the mild autumn sun streamed round +us. But Rahmun sat in the little Calcutta lane, and saw before him the +barren mountains of Afghanistan. + +I took out a bank-note, and gave it to him, saying: "Go back to your +own daughter, Rahmun, in your own country, and may the happiness of your +meeting bring good fortune to my child!" + +Having made this present, I had to curtail some of the festivities. +I could not have the electric lights I had intended, nor the military +band, and the ladies of the house were despondent at it. But to me the +wedding feast was all the brighter for the thought that in a distant +land a long-lost father met again with his only child. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hungry Stones And Other Stories, by +Rabindranath Tagore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNGRY STONES *** + +***** This file should be named 2518.txt or 2518.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/1/2518/ + +Produced by Alev Akman + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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