diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:02:15 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:02:15 -0700 |
| commit | d7fb9ddf9d276b396a6dffcb82b468d3dc7321f3 (patch) | |
| tree | 7598299e983d87f6930436e77c6eeabe7557e385 /34757-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '34757-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 34757-h/34757-h.htm | 6662 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34757-h/images/macmillan.png | bin | 0 -> 4584 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34757-h/images/title-page.jpg | bin | 0 -> 31967 bytes |
3 files changed, 6662 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/34757-h/34757-h.htm b/34757-h/34757-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a5cb0e --- /dev/null +++ b/34757-h/34757-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6662 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<title>Mashi and Other Stories, by Rabindranath Tagore—A Project Gutenberg eBook</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/title-page.jpg"/> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +#tnote +{ + width: 26em; + max-width: 90%; + border: 1px dashed #808080; + background-color: #fafafa; + text-align: justify; + padding: 0 0.75em; + margin: 120px auto 120px auto; +} + +p +{ + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.5em; +} + +p.center, +p.right, +#tnote p, +p.no-indent +{ + text-indent: 0; +} + +a[title].pagenum +{ + position: absolute; + right: 3%; +} + +a[title].pagenum:after +{ + content: attr(title); + border: 1px solid silver; + display: inline; + font-size: x-small; + text-align: right; + color: #808080; + font-style: normal; + padding: 1px 4px 1px 4px; + font-variant: normal; + font-weight: normal; + text-decoration: none; + text-indent: 0; + letter-spacing: 0; +} + +h1, +h2, +h3 +{ + text-align:center; + clear: both; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight:normal; +} + +h2 +{ + margin: 3em auto 1.5em auto; +} + +h3 +{ + margin: 2em auto 1em auto; + text-transform: lowercase; + font-variant: small-caps; + font-size: 1.3em; +} + +.story-title +{ + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + margin: 6em auto; +} + +ins +{ + text-decoration: none; + border-bottom: 1px dashed #add8e6; +} + +hr.thought-break +{ + width: 6em; + height: 1px; + color: black; + background-color: black; + border: none; + margin: 1.5em auto; +} + +hr.space-break +{ + visibility: hidden; + margin: 1.5em auto; +} + +.dot-break +{ + text-align: center; + letter-spacing: 2em; + margin: 1.5em -2em 1.5em auto; +} + +sub, +sup +{ + line-height: 0.7em; +} + +.center +{ + text-align: center; +} + +.right +{ + text-align: right; +} + +.figcenter +{ + margin: 2em auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.small-caps +{ + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.footnotes +{ + border: 1px dashed #808080; + margin-top: 6em; + margin-bottom: 120px; + padding: 20px; +} + +.footnote +{ + text-align: justify; +} + +.footnote .label, +.fnanchor +{ + vertical-align: super; + text-decoration: none; + font-size: x-small; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + line-height: 0.7em; +} + +.poetry +{ + max-width: 90%; + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza +{ + margin: 1em 0; +} + +.poetry .line +{ + margin: 0; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.italic +{ + font-style: italic; +} + +#toc +{ + margin: auto; +} + +#toc th +{ + font-weight: normal; + font-size: smaller; +} + +#toc td +{ + border-bottom: 1px dashed silver; +} + +#toc td.small-caps +{ + padding-right: 2em; + font-size: 1.1em; +} + +#toc a:link, +#toc a:visited +{ + text-decoration: none; +} + +#works +{ + max-width: 30em; + margin: auto; +} + +#works p +{ + padding-left: 1.5em; + text-indent: -1.5em; +} + +@page +{ + margin: 0.25em; +} + +@media screen +{ + body + { + width: 80%; + max-width: 45em; + margin: 120px auto; + } + + p + { + margin: 0.75em auto; + } +} + +@media screen, print +{ + .poetry + { + width: 18em; + } + + .width20 + { + width: 20em; + } + + .width34 + { + width: 34em; + } +} + +@media print, handheld +{ + p + { + margin: 0.1em auto; + } + + #tnote, + pre, + .pagenum + { + display: none; + } + + ins, + a + { + text-decoration: none; + border: none; + color: black; + } + + h1, + h2, + .page-break, + .story-title, + .footnotes + { + page-break-before: always; + } + + .footnotes + { + border: none; + padding: 0; + } +} + +@media handheld +{ + body + { + margin: 0; + padding: 0; + width: 95%; + } + + h2 + { + margin-top: 4em; + } + + .poetry + { + max-width: 80%; + margin: 0 10%; + } +} +--> +</style> +<!--[if lt IE 8]> +<style type="text/css"> +a[title].pagenum +{ + position: static; +} +</style> +<![endif]--> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Mashi 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: Mashi and Other Stories + +Author: Rabindranath Tagore + +Release Date: December 27, 2010 [EBook #34757] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASHI AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Sharon Joiner, Jana Srna and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: x-large; margin: 3em auto 1.5em auto; line-height: 1.4em;"><small>WORKS BY</small><br/> +SIR RABINDRANATH TAGORE</p> + +<div id="works"> + +<p><b>GITANJALI (Song Offerings).</b> Translated by the Author. +With an Introduction by <span class="small-caps">W. B. Yeats</span> and a Portrait by +<span class="small-caps">W. Rothenstein</span>. Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>FRUIT-GATHERING. A Sequel to “Gitanjali.”</b> 4s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>STRAY BIRDS. Poems.</b> Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>THE GARDENER. Lyrics of Love and Life.</b> Translated +by the Author. With Portrait. Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>THE CRESCENT MOON. Child-Poems.</b> Translated by the +Author. With 8 Illustrations in Colour. Pott 4to. 4s. 6d. +net.</p> + +<p><b>LOVER'S GIFT AND CROSSING.</b> Cr. 8vo.</p> + +<p><b>CHITRA. A Play.</b> Translated by the Author. Cr. 8vo. +2s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>THE KING OF THE DARK CHAMBER. A Play.</b> Translated +by <span class="small-caps">Kshitish Chandra Sen.</span> Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>THE POST OFFICE. A Play.</b> Translated by <span class="small-caps">Devabrata Mukerjea</span>. +Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>THE CYCLE OF SPRING. A Play.</b> Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>SACRIFICE AND OTHER PLAYS.</b> Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</p> + +<p><b>HUNGRY STONES AND OTHER STORIES.</b> 5s. net.</p> + +<p><b>MASHI AND OTHER STORIES.</b> Cr. 8vo.</p> + +<p><b>PERSONALITY: Lectures delivered in America.</b> With +Illustrations. Ex. cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</p> + +<p><b>MY REMINISCENCES.</b> By Sir <span class="small-caps">Rabindranath Tagore</span>. +Illustrated. Ex. cr. 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>NATIONALISM.</b> Ex. cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</p> + +<p><b>SĀDHANĀ: The Realisation of Life. Lectures.</b> Ex. cr. +8vo. 5s. net.</p> + +<hr class="thought-break"/> + +<p><b>ONE HUNDRED POEMS OF KABIR.</b> Translated by Sir +<span class="small-caps">Rabindranath Tagore</span>. Assisted by <span class="small-caps">Evelyn Underhill</span>. +Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</p> +</div> + +<p class="center small-caps">LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.</p> + +<p class="center page-break" style="margin: 6em auto; font-size: x-large; line-height: 1.8em;">MASHI<br/> +<small>AND OTHER STORIES</small></p> + +<div class="figcenter page-break" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/macmillan.png" width="200" height="58" alt=""/> +</div> + +<p class="center small-caps">MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: smaller;">LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS<br/> +MELBOURNE</p> + +<p class="center">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: smaller;">NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO<br/> +DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO</p> + +<p class="center small-caps">THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: smaller;">TORONTO</p> + +<h1 style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 5em;">MASHI<br/> +<small>AND OTHER STORIES</small></h1> + +<p class="center" style="margin: 3em auto;">BY<br/> +<big class="small-caps">Sir RABINDRANATH TAGORE</big></p> + +<p class="center" style="line-height: 1.5em;">TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL BENGALI<br/> +BY VARIOUS WRITERS</p> + +<p class="center" style="line-height: 1.5em; margin: 4em auto;">MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br/> +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON<br/> +1918</p> + +<p class="center page-break" style="margin: 10em auto;">COPYRIGHT</p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table id="toc" summary="Contents"> +<tr> + <th class="right" colspan="2">PAGE</th> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">Mashi</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Skeleton</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Auspicious Vision</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Supreme Night</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">Raja and Rani</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Trust Property</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Riddle solved</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Elder Sister</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">Subha</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Postmaster</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The River Stairs</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">The Castaway</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">Saved</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="small-caps">My Fair Neighbour</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_1" title="1–2"> </a>MASHI</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_3" title="3"> </a>MASHI</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>‘<span class="small-caps">Mashi!</span>’<a name="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>‘Try to sleep, Jotin, it is getting late.’</p> + +<p>‘Never mind if it is. I have not many days +left. I was thinking that Mani should go to her +father's house.—I forget where he is now.’</p> + +<p>‘Sitarampur.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh yes! Sitarampur. Send her there. She +should not remain any longer near a sick man. +She herself is not strong.’</p> + +<p>‘Just listen to him! How can she bear to +leave you in this state?’</p> + +<p>‘Does she know what the doctors<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>‘But she can see for herself! The other day +she cried her eyes out at the merest hint of having +to go to her father's house.’</p> + +<p>We must explain that in this statement there +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_4" title="4"> </a> +was a slight distortion of truth, to say the least of +it. The actual talk with Mani was as follows:—</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>‘I suppose, my child, you have got some news +from your father? I thought I saw your cousin +Anath here.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes! Next Friday will be my little sister's +<i>annaprashan</i><a name="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> ceremony. So I'm thinking<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘All right, my dear. Send her a gold necklace. +It will please your mother.’</p> + +<p>‘I'm thinking of going myself. I've never +seen my little sister, and I want to ever so +much.’</p> + +<p>‘Whatever do you mean? You surely don't +think of leaving Jotin alone? Haven't you heard +what the doctor says about him?’</p> + +<p>‘But he said that just now there's no special +cause for<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Even if he did, you can see his state.’</p> + +<p>‘This is the first girl after three brothers, and +she's a great favourite.—I have heard that it's going +to be a grand affair. If I don't go, mother will +be very<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes! I don't understand your mother. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_5" title="5"> </a> +But I know very well that your father will be +angry enough if you leave Jotin just now.’</p> + +<p>‘You'll have to write a line to him saying that +there is no special cause for anxiety, and that even +if I go, there will be no<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘You're right there; it will certainly be no +great loss if you do go. But remember, if I write +to your father, I'll tell him plainly what is in my +mind.’</p> + +<p>‘Then you needn't write. I shall ask my +husband, and he will surely<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Look here, child, I've borne a good deal from +you, but if you do that, I won't stand it for a +moment. Your father knows you too well for +you to deceive him.’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>When Mashi had left her, Mani lay down on +her bed in a bad temper.</p> + +<p>Her neighbour and friend came and asked +what was the matter.</p> + +<p>‘Look here! What a shame it is! Here's +my only sister's <i>annaprashan</i> coming, and they +don't want to let me go to it!’</p> + +<p>‘Why! Surely you're never thinking of going, +are you, with your husband so ill?’</p> + +<p>‘I don't do anything for him, and I couldn't if +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_6" title="6"> </a> +I tried. It's so deadly dull in this house, that I +tell you frankly I can't bear it.’</p> + +<p>‘You are a strange woman!’</p> + +<p>‘But I can't pretend, as you people do, and +look glum lest any one should think ill of me.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, tell me your plan.’</p> + +<p>‘I must go. Nobody can prevent me.’</p> + +<p>‘Isss! What an imperious young woman you +are!’</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Hearing that Mani had wept at the mere +thought of going to her father's house, Jotin was +so excited that he sat up in bed. Pulling his +pillow towards him, he leaned back, and said: +‘Mashi, open this window a little, and take that +lamp away.’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>The still night stood silently at the window like +a pilgrim of eternity; and the stars gazed in, +witnesses through untold ages of countless death-scenes.</p> + +<p>Jotin saw his Mani's face traced on the background +of the dark night, and saw those two big +dark eyes brimming over with tears, as it were for +all eternity.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_7" title="7"> </a>Mashi felt relieved when she saw him so quiet, +thinking he was asleep.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he started up, and said: ‘Mashi, +you all thought that Mani was too frivolous +ever to be happy in our house. But you see +now<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I see now, my Baba,<a name="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> I was mistaken—but +trial tests a person.’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi!’</p> + +<p>‘Do try to sleep, dear!’</p> + +<p>‘Let me think a little, let me talk. Don't be +vexed, Mashi!’</p> + +<p>‘Very well.’</p> + +<p>‘Once, when I used to think I could not win +Mani's heart, I bore it silently. But you<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘No, dear, I won't allow you to say that; I +also bore it.’</p> + +<p>‘Our minds, you know, are not clods of earth +which you can possess by merely picking up. I +felt that Mani did not know her own mind, and +that one day at some great shock<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Jotin, you are right.’</p> + +<p>‘Therefore I never took much notice of her +waywardness.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_8" title="8"> </a>Mashi remained silent, suppressing a sigh. Not +once, but often she had seen Jotin spending the +night on the verandah wet with the splashing rain, +yet not caring to go into his bedroom. Many a +day he lay with a throbbing head, longing, she +knew, that Mani would come and soothe his brow, +while Mani was getting ready to go to the theatre. +Yet when Mashi went to fan him, he sent her away +petulantly. She alone knew what pain lay hidden +in that distress. Again and again she had wanted +to say to Jotin: ‘Don't pay so much attention to +that silly child, my dear; let her learn to want,—to +cry for things.’ But these things cannot +be said, and are apt to be misunderstood. Jotin +had in his heart a shrine set up to the goddess +Woman, and there Mani had her throne. It was +hard for him to imagine that his own fate was to +be denied his share of the wine of love poured out +by that divinity. Therefore the worship went on, +the sacrifice was offered, and the hope of a boon +never ceased.</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Mashi imagined once more that Jotin was +sleeping, when he cried out suddenly:</p> + +<p>‘I know you thought that I was not happy +with Mani, and therefore you were angry with her. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" title="9"> </a> +But, Mashi, happiness is like those stars. They +don't cover all the darkness; there are gaps between. +We make mistakes in life and we misunderstand, +and yet there remain gaps through which truth +shines. I do not know whence comes this gladness +that fills my heart to-night.’</p> + +<p>Mashi began gently to soothe Jotin's brow, her +tears unseen in the dark.</p> + +<p>‘I was thinking, Mashi, she's so young! What +will she do when I am<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>‘Young, Jotin? She's old enough. I too was +young when I lost the idol of my life, only to find +him in my heart for ever. Was that any loss, +do you think? Besides, is happiness absolutely +necessary?’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, it seems as if just when Mani's heart +shows signs of awakening I have to<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Don't you worry about that, Jotin. Isn't it +enough if her heart awakes?’</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jotin recollected the words of a village +minstrel's song which he had heard long before:</p> + +<div class="poetry italic width34"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">O my heart! you woke not when the man of my heart came to my door.<br/></div> +<div class="line">At the sound of his departing steps you woke up.<br/></div> +<div class="line">Oh, you woke up in the dark!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_10" title="10"> </a>‘Mashi, what is the time now?’</p> + +<p>‘About nine.’</p> + +<p>‘So early as that! Why, I thought it must be +at least two or three o'clock. My midnight, you +know, begins at sundown. But why did you want +me to sleep, then?’</p> + +<p>‘Why, you know how late last night you kept +awake talking; so to-day you must get to sleep +early.’</p> + +<p>‘Is Mani asleep?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh no, she's busy making some soup for +you.’</p> + +<p>‘You don't mean to say so, Mashi? Does +she<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>‘Certainly! Why, she prepares all your food, +the busy little woman.’</p> + +<p>‘I thought perhaps Mani could not<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘It doesn't take long for a woman to learn +such things. With the need it comes of itself.’</p> + +<p>‘The fish soup, that I had in the morning, +had such a delicate flavour, I thought you had +made it.’</p> + +<p>‘Dear me, no! Surely you don't think Mani +would let me do anything for you? Why, she +does all your washing herself. She knows you +can't bear anything dirty about you. If only you +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_11" title="11"> </a> +could see your sitting-room, how spick and span +she keeps it! If I were to let her haunt your +sick-room, she would wear herself out. But that's +what she really wants to do.’</p> + +<p>‘Is Mani's health, then<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>‘The doctors think she should not be allowed +to visit the sick-room too often. She's too tender-hearted.’</p> + +<p>‘But, Mashi, how do you prevent her from +coming?’</p> + +<p>‘Because she obeys me implicitly. But still I +have constantly to be giving her news of you.’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>The stars glistened in the sky like tear-drops. +Jotin bowed his head in gratitude to his life that +was about to depart, and when Death stretched out +his right hand towards him through the darkness, +he took it in perfect trust.</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Jotin sighed, and, with a slight gesture of impatience, +said:</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, if Mani is still awake, then, could I—if +only for a<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>‘Very well! I'll go and call her.’</p> + +<p>‘I won't keep her long, only for five minutes. +I have something particular to tell her.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_12" title="12"> </a>Mashi, sighing, went out to call Mani. Meanwhile +Jotin's pulse began to beat fast. He knew +too well that he had never been able to have an +intimate talk with Mani. The two instruments +were tuned differently and it was not easy to +play them in unison. Again and again, Jotin had +felt pangs of jealousy on hearing Mani chattering +and laughing merrily with her girl companions. +Jotin blamed only himself,—why couldn't he talk +irrelevant trifles as they did? Not that he could +not, for with his men friends he often chatted +on all sorts of trivialities. But the small talk that +suits men is not suitable for women. You can +hold a philosophical discourse in monologue, +ignoring your inattentive audience altogether, but +small talk requires the co-operation of at least +two. The bagpipes can be played singly, but +there must be a pair of cymbals. How often in +the evenings had Jotin, when sitting on the open +verandah with Mani, made some strained attempts +at conversation, only to feel the thread snap. And +the very silence of the evening felt ashamed. Jotin +was certain that Mani longed to get away. He +had even wished earnestly that a third person +would come. For talking is easy with three, +when it is hard for two.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_13" title="13"> </a>He began to think what he should say when +Mani came. But such manufactured talk would +not satisfy him. Jotin felt afraid that this five +minutes of to-night would be wasted. Yet, for +him, there were but few moments left for intimate +talk.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>‘What's this, child, you're not going anywhere, +are you?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course, I'm going to Sitarampur.’</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean? Who is going to take +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Anath.’</p> + +<p>‘Not to-day, my child, some other day.’</p> + +<p>‘But the compartment has already been reserved.’</p> + +<p>‘What does that matter? That loss can easily +be borne. Go to-morrow, early in the morning.’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, I don't hold by your inauspicious +days. What harm if I do go to-day?’</p> + +<p>‘Jotin wants to have a talk with you.’</p> + +<p>‘All right! there's still some time. I'll just +go and see him.’</p> + +<p>‘But you mustn't say that you are going.’</p> + +<p>‘Very well, I won't tell him, but I shan't be +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_14" title="14"> </a> +able to stay long. To-morrow is my sister's +<i>annaprashan</i>, and I must go to-day.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my child! I beg you to listen to +me this once. Quiet your mind for a while +and sit by him. Don't let him see your +hurry.’</p> + +<p>‘What can I do? The train won't wait for +me. Anath will be back in ten minutes. I can +sit by him till then.’</p> + +<p>‘No, that won't do. I shall never let you go +to him in that frame of mind.… Oh, you +wretch! the man you are torturing is soon to leave +this world; but I warn you, you will remember +this day till the end of your days! That there is +a God! that there is a God! you will some day +understand!’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, you mustn't curse me like that.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my darling boy! my darling! why do +you go on living longer? There is no end to +this sin, yet I cannot check it!’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Mashi after delaying a little returned to the +sick-room, hoping by that time Jotin would be +asleep. But Jotin moved in his bed when she +entered. Mashi exclaimed:</p> + +<p>‘Just look what she has done!’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_15" title="15"> </a>‘What's happened? Hasn't Mani come? +Why have you been so long, Mashi?’</p> + +<p>‘I found her weeping bitterly because she had +allowed the milk for your soup to get burnt! I +tried to console her, saying, “Why, there's more +milk to be had!” But that she could be so careless +about the preparation of <em>your</em> soup made her wild. +With great trouble I managed to pacify her and +put her to bed. So I haven't brought her to-day. +Let her sleep it off.’</p> + +<p>Though Jotin was pained when Mani didn't +come, yet he felt a certain amount of relief. He +had half feared that Mani's bodily presence would +do violence to his heart's image of her. Such +things had happened before in his life. And the +gladness of the idea that Mani was miserable at +burning <em>his</em> milk filled his heart to overflowing.</p> + +<p>‘Mashi!’</p> + +<p>‘What is it, Baba?’</p> + +<p>‘I feel quite certain that my days are drawing +to a close. But I have no regrets. Don't grieve +for me.’</p> + +<p>‘No, dear, I won't grieve. I don't believe that +only life is good and not death.’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, I tell you truly that death seems +sweet.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_16" title="16"> </a>Jotin, gazing at the dark sky, felt that it was +Mani herself who was coming to him in Death's +guise. She had immortal youth and the stars were +flowers of blessing, showered upon her dark tresses +by the hand of the World-Mother. It seemed as +if once more he had his first sight of his bride +under the veil of darkness.<a name="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> The immense night +became filled with the loving gaze of Mani's dark +eyes. Mani, the bride of this house, the little +girl, became transformed into a world-image,—her +throne on the altar of the stars at the confluence of +life and death. Jotin said to himself with clasped +hands: ‘At last the veil is raised, the covering is +rent in this deep darkness. Ah, beautiful one! +how often have you wrung my heart, but no +longer shall you forsake me!’</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>‘I'm suffering, Mashi, but nothing like you +imagine. It seems to me as if my pain were +gradually separating itself from my life. Like a +laden boat, it was so long being towed behind, but +the rope has snapped, and now it floats away with +all my burdens. Still I can see it, but it is no +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_17" title="17"> </a> +longer mine.… But, Mashi, I've not seen Mani +even once for the last two days!’</p> + +<p>‘Jotin, let me give you another pillow.’</p> + +<p>‘It almost seems to me, Mashi, that Mani also +has left me like that laden boat of sorrow which +drifts away.’</p> + +<p>‘Just sip some pomegranate juice, dear! Your +throat must be getting dry.’</p> + +<p>‘I wrote my will yesterday; did I show it to +you? I can't recollect.’</p> + +<p>‘There's no need to show it to me, Jotin.’</p> + +<p>‘When mother died, I had nothing of my own. +You fed me and brought me up. Therefore I +was saying<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense, child! I had only this house and +a little property. You earned the rest.’</p> + +<p>‘But this house<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>‘That's nothing. Why, you've added to it so +much that it's difficult to find out where my house +was!’</p> + +<p>‘I'm sure Mani's love for you is really<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, yes! I know that, Jotin. Now you try +to sleep.’</p> + +<p>‘Though I have bequeathed all my property +to Mani, it is practically yours, Mashi. She will +never disobey you.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_18" title="18"> </a>‘Why are you worrying so much about that, +dear?’</p> + +<p>‘All I have I owe to you. When you see my +will don't think for a moment that<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean, Jotin? Do you think +I shall mind for a moment because you give to +Mani what belongs to you? Surely I'm not so +mean as that?’</p> + +<p>‘But you also will have<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘Look here, Jotin, I shall get angry with you. +You want to console me with money!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Mashi, how I wish I could give you +something better than money!’</p> + +<p>‘That you have done, Jotin!—more than +enough. Haven't I had you to fill my lonely +house? I must have won that great good-fortune +in many previous births! You have given me so +much that now, if my destiny's due is exhausted, +I shall not complain. Yes, yes! Give away everything +in Mani's name,—your house, your money, +your carriage, and your land—such burdens are +too heavy for me!’</p> + +<p>‘Of course I know you have lost your taste for +the enjoyments of life, but Mani is so young +that<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘No! you mustn't say that. If you want to +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_19" title="19"> </a> +leave her your property, it is all right, but as for +enjoyment<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘What harm if she does enjoy herself, Mashi?’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, it will be impossible. Her throat +will become parched, and it will be dust and ashes +to her.’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Jotin remained silent. He could not decide +whether it was true or not, and whether it was a +matter of regret or otherwise, that the world +would become distasteful to Mani for want of him. +The stars seemed to whisper in his heart:</p> + +<p>‘Indeed it is true. We have been watching +for thousands of years, and know that all +these great preparations for enjoyment are but +vanity.’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Jotin sighed and said: ‘We cannot leave behind +us what is really worth giving.’</p> + +<p>‘It's no trifle you are giving, dearest. I only +pray she may have the power to know the value +of what is given her.’</p> + +<p>‘Give me a little more of that pomegranate juice, +Mashi, I'm thirsty. Did Mani come to me yesterday, +I wonder?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, she came, but you were asleep. She sat +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_20" title="20"> </a> +by your head, fanning you for a long time, and +then went away to get your clothes washed.’</p> + +<p>‘How wonderful! I believe I was dreaming +that very moment that Mani was trying to enter +my room. The door was slightly open, and she +was pushing against it, but it wouldn't open. +But, Mashi, you're going too far,—you ought to +let her see that I am dying; otherwise my death +will be a terrible shock to her.’</p> + +<p>‘Baba, let me put this shawl over your feet; +they are getting cold.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Mashi, I can't bear anything over me +like that.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you know, Jotin, Mani made this shawl +for you? When she ought to have been asleep, +she was busy at it. It was finished only yesterday.’</p> + +<p>Jotin took the shawl, and touched it tenderly +with his hands. It seemed to him that the softness +of the wool was Mani's own. Her loving +thoughts had been woven night after night with +its threads. It was not made merely of wool, but +also of her touch. Therefore, when Mashi drew +that shawl over his feet, it seemed as if, night after +night, Mani had been caressing his tired limbs.</p> + +<p>‘But, Mashi, I thought Mani didn't know +how to knit,—at any rate she never liked it.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_21" title="21"> </a>‘It doesn't take long to learn a thing. Of +course I had to teach her. Then there are a good +many mistakes in it.’</p> + +<p>‘Let there be mistakes; we're not going to +send it to the Paris Exhibition. It will keep my +feet warm in spite of its mistakes.’</p> + +<p>Jotin's mind began to picture Mani at her task, +blundering and struggling, and yet patiently going +on night after night. How sweetly pathetic it +was! And again he went over the shawl with his +caressing fingers.</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, is the doctor downstairs?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, he will stay here to-night.’</p> + +<p>‘But tell him it is useless for him to give me a +sleeping draught. It doesn't bring me real rest and +only adds to my pain. Let me remain properly +awake. Do you know, Mashi, that my wedding +took place on the night of the full moon in the +month of <i>Baisakh</i>? To-morrow will be that day, +and the stars of that very night will be shining in +the sky. Mani perhaps has forgotten. I want to +remind her of it to-day; just call her to me for a +minute or two.… Why do you keep silent? +I suppose the doctor has told you I am so weak +that any excitement will<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>but I tell you truly, +Mashi, to-night, if I can have only a few minutes' +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_22" title="22"> </a> +talk with her, there will be no need for any +sleeping draughts. Mashi, don't cry like that! +I am quite well. To-day my heart is full as it has +never been in my life before. That's why I want +to see Mani. No, no, Mashi, I can't bear to +see you crying! You have been so quiet all these +last days. Why are you so troubled to-night?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Jotin, I thought that I had exhausted all +my tears, but I find there are plenty left. I can't +bear it any longer.’</p> + +<p>‘Call Mani. I'll remind her of our wedding +night, so that to-morrow she may<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘I'm going, dear. Shombhu will wait at the +door. If you want anything, call him.’</p> + +<p>Mashi went to Mani's bedroom and sat down +on the floor crying,—‘Oh come, come once, you +heartless wretch! Keep his last request who has +given you his all! Don't kill him who is already +dying!’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Jotin hearing the sound of footsteps started up, +saying, ‘Mani!’</p> + +<p>‘I am Shombhu. Did you call me?’</p> + +<p>‘Ask your mistress to come?’</p> + +<p>‘Ask whom?’</p> + +<p>‘Your mistress.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_23" title="23"> </a>‘She has not yet returned.’</p> + +<p>‘Returned? From where?’</p> + +<p>‘From Sitarampur.’</p> + +<p>‘When did she go?’</p> + +<p>‘Three days ago.’</p> + +<p>For a moment Jotin felt numb all over, and his +head began to swim. He slipped down from the +pillows, on which he was reclining, and kicked off +the woollen shawl that was over his feet.</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>When Mashi came back after a long time, +Jotin did not mention Mani's name, and Mashi +thought he had forgotten all about her.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jotin cried out: ‘Mashi, did I tell +you about the dream I had the other night?’</p> + +<p>‘Which dream?’</p> + +<p>‘That in which Mani was pushing the door, +and the door wouldn't open more than an inch. +She stood outside unable to enter. Now I know +that Mani has to stand outside my door till the last.’</p> + +<hr class="space-break"/> + +<p>Mashi kept silent. She realised that the heaven +she had been building for Jotin out of falsehood +had toppled down at last. If sorrow comes, it +is best to acknowledge it.—When God strikes, we +cannot avoid the blow.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_24" title="24"> </a>‘Mashi, the love I have got from you will last +through all my births. I have filled this life with +it to carry it with me. In the next birth, I am +sure you will be born as my daughter, and I shall +tend you with all my love.’</p> + +<p>‘What are you saying, Jotin? Do you mean +to say I shall be born again as a woman? Why +can't you pray that I should come to your arms +as a son?’</p> + +<p>‘No, no, not a son! You will come to my +house in that wonderful beauty which you had +when you were young. I can even imagine how +I shall dress you.’</p> + +<p>‘Don't talk so much, Jotin, but try to sleep.’</p> + +<p>‘I shall name you “Lakshmi.”’</p> + +<p>‘But that is an old-fashioned name, Jotin!’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, but you are my old-fashioned Mashi. +Come to my house again with those beautiful old-fashioned +manners.’</p> + +<p>‘I can't wish that I should come and burden +your home with the misfortune of a girl-child!’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, you think me weak, and are wanting +to save me all trouble.’</p> + +<p>‘My child, I am a woman, so I have my weakness. +Therefore I have tried all my life to save +you from all sorts of trouble,—only to fail.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_25" title="25"> </a>‘Mashi, I have not had time in this life to +apply the lessons I have learnt. But they will +keep for my next birth. I shall show then what +a man is able to do. I have learnt how false it is +always to be looking after oneself.’</p> + +<p>‘Whatever you may say, darling, you have +never grasped anything for yourself, but given +everything to others.’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, I can boast of one thing at any rate. +I have never been a tyrant in my happiness, or +tried to enforce my claims by violence. Because +lies could not content me, I have had to wait long. +Perhaps truth will be kind to me at last.—Who +is that, Mashi, who is that?’</p> + +<p>‘Where? There's no one there, Jotin!’</p> + +<p>‘Mashi, just go and see in the other room. I +thought I<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘No, dear! I don't see anybody.’</p> + +<p>‘But it seemed quite clear to me that<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>’</p> + +<p>‘No, Jotin, it's nothing. So keep quiet! The +doctor is coming now.’</p> + +<p>When the doctor entered, he said:</p> + +<p>‘Look here, you mustn't stay near the patient +so much, you excite him. You go to bed, and +my assistant will remain with him.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Mashi, I can't let you go.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_26" title="26"> </a>‘All right, Baba! I will sit quietly in that corner.’</p> + +<p>‘No, no! you must sit by my side. I can't +let go your hand, not till the very end. I have +been made by your hand, and only from your +hand shall God take me.’</p> + +<p>‘All right,’ said the doctor, ‘you can remain +there. But, Jotin Babu, you must not talk to +her. It's time for you to take your medicine.’</p> + +<p>‘Time for my medicine? Nonsense! The +time for that is over. To give medicine now is +merely to deceive; besides I am not afraid to die. +Mashi, Death is busy with his physic; why do +you add another nuisance in the shape of a doctor? +Send him away, send him away! It is you alone +I need now! No one else, none whatever! No +more falsehood!’</p> + +<p>‘I protest, as a doctor, this excitement is doing +you harm.’</p> + +<p>‘Then go, doctor, don't excite me any more!—Mashi, +has he gone?… That's good! +Now come and take my head in your lap.’</p> + +<p>‘All right, dear! Now, Baba, try to sleep!’</p> + +<p>‘No, Mashi, don't ask me to sleep. If I +sleep, I shall never wake. I still need to keep +awake a little longer. Don't you hear a sound? +Somebody is coming.’</p> + +<h3><a class="pagenum" name="Page_27" title="27–28"> </a>V</h3> + +<p>‘Jotin dear, just open your eyes a little. She +has come. Look once and see!’</p> + +<p>‘Who has come? A dream?’</p> + +<p>‘Not a dream, darling! Mani has come with +her father.’</p> + +<p>‘Who are you?’</p> + +<p>‘Can't you see? This is your Mani!’</p> + +<p>‘Mani? Has that door opened?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, Baba, it is wide open.’</p> + +<p>‘No, Mashi, not that shawl! not <em>that</em> shawl! +That shawl is a fraud!’</p> + +<p>‘It is not a shawl, Jotin! It is our Mani, +who has flung herself on your feet. Put your +hand on her head and bless her. Don't cry like +that, Mani! There will be time enough for that. +Keep quiet now for a little.’</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_29" title="29–30"> </a>THE SKELETON</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_31" title="31"> </a>THE SKELETON</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">In</span> the room next to the one in which we boys +used to sleep, there hung a human skeleton. In +the night it would rattle in the breeze which +played about its bones. In the day these bones +were rattled by us. We were taking lessons in +osteology from a student in the Campbell Medical +School, for our guardians were determined to make +us masters of all the sciences. How far they +succeeded we need not tell those who know us; +and it is better hidden from those who do not.</p> + +<p>Many years have passed since then. In the +meantime the skeleton has vanished from the +room, and the science of osteology from our brains, +leaving no trace behind.</p> + +<p>The other day, our house was crowded with +guests, and I had to pass the night in the same +old room. In these now unfamiliar surroundings, +sleep refused to come, and, as I tossed from side to +side, I heard all the hours of the night chimed, one +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_32" title="32"> </a> +after another, by the church clock near by. At +length the lamp in the corner of the room, after +some minutes of choking and spluttering, went +out altogether. One or two bereavements had +recently happened in the family, so the going +out of the lamp naturally led me to thoughts of +death. In the great arena of nature, I thought, +the light of a lamp losing itself in eternal darkness, +and the going out of the light of our little +human lives, by day or by night, were much the +same thing.</p> + +<p>My train of thought recalled to my mind the +skeleton. While I was trying to imagine what +the body which had clothed it could have been +like, it suddenly seemed to me that something was +walking round and round my bed, groping along +the walls of the room. I could hear its rapid +breathing. It seemed as if it was searching for +something which it could not find, and pacing +round the room with ever-hastier steps. I felt +quite sure that this was a mere fancy of my sleepless, +excited brain; and that the throbbing of the +veins in my temples was really the sound which +seemed like running footsteps. Nevertheless, a +cold shiver ran all over me. To help to get rid +of this hallucination, I called out aloud: ‘Who is +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_33" title="33"> </a> +there?’ The footsteps seemed to stop at my bedside, +and the reply came: ‘It is I. I have come to +look for that skeleton of mine.’</p> + +<p>It seemed absurd to show any fear before the +creature of my own imagination; so, clutching +my pillow a little more tightly, I said in a casual +sort of way: ‘A nice business for this time of +night! Of what use will that skeleton be to you +now?’</p> + +<p>The reply seemed to come almost from my +mosquito-curtain itself. ‘What a question! In +that skeleton were the bones that encircled my +heart; the youthful charm of my six-and-twenty +years bloomed about it. Should I not desire to +see it once more?’</p> + +<p>‘Of course,’ said I, ‘a perfectly reasonable +desire. Well, go on with your search, while I try +to get a little sleep.’</p> + +<p>Said the voice: ‘But I fancy you are lonely. +All right; I'll sit down a while, and we will have +a little chat. Years ago I used to sit by men and +talk to them. But during the last thirty-five years +I have only moaned in the wind in the burning-places +of the dead. I would talk once more with +a man as in the old times.’</p> + +<p>I felt that some one sat down just near my +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_34" title="34"> </a> +curtain. Resigning myself to the situation, I replied +with as much cordiality as I could summon: +‘That will be very nice indeed. Let us talk of +something cheerful.’</p> + +<p>‘The funniest thing I can think of is my own +life-story. Let me tell you that.’</p> + +<p>The church clock chimed the hour of two.</p> + +<p>‘When I was in the land of the living, and +young, I feared one thing like death itself, and +that was my husband. My feelings can be likened +only to those of a fish caught with a hook. For +it was as if a stranger had snatched me away with +the sharpest of hooks from the peaceful calm of +my childhood's home—and from him I had no +means of escape. My husband died two months +after my marriage, and my friends and relations +moaned pathetically on my behalf. My husband's +father, after scrutinising my face with great care, +said to my mother-in-law: “Do you not see, she +has the evil eye?”—Well, are you listening? I +hope you are enjoying the story?’</p> + +<p>‘Very much indeed!’ said I. ‘The beginning +is extremely humorous.’</p> + +<p>‘Let me proceed then. I came back to my +father's house in great glee. People tried to +conceal it from me, but I knew well that I was +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_35" title="35"> </a> +endowed with a rare and radiant beauty. What +is your opinion?’</p> + +<p>‘Very likely,’ I murmured. ‘But you must +remember that I never saw you.’</p> + +<p>‘What! Not seen me? What about that +skeleton of mine? Ha! ha! ha! Never mind. +I was only joking. How can I ever make you +believe that those two cavernous hollows contained +the brightest of dark, languishing eyes? And +that the smile which was revealed by those ruby +lips had no resemblance whatever to the grinning +teeth which you used to see? The mere attempt +to convey to you some idea of the grace, the +charm, the soft, firm, dimpled curves, which in the +fulness of youth were growing and blossoming +over those dry old bones makes me smile; it also +makes me angry. The most eminent doctors of +my time could not have dreamed of the bones +of that body of mine as materials for teaching +osteology. Do you know, one young doctor that +I knew of, actually compared me to a golden +<i>champak</i> blossom. It meant that to him the +rest of humankind was fit only to illustrate the +science of physiology, that I was a flower of beauty. +Does any one think of the skeleton of a <i>champak</i> +flower?</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_36" title="36"> </a>‘When I walked, I felt that, like a diamond +scattering splendour, my every movement set +waves of beauty radiating on every side. I used +to spend hours gazing on my hands—hands which +could gracefully have reined the liveliest of male +creatures.</p> + +<p>‘But that stark and staring old skeleton of +mine has borne false-witness to you against me, +while I was unable to refute the shameless libel. +That is why of all men I hate you most! I feel +I would like once for all to banish sleep from your +eyes with a vision of that warm rosy loveliness +of mine, to sweep out with it all the wretched +osteological stuff of which your brain is full.’</p> + +<p>‘I could have sworn by your body,’ cried I, ‘if +you had it still, that no vestige of osteology has +remained in my head, and that the only thing that +it is now full of is a radiant vision of perfect +loveliness, glowing against the black background +of night. I cannot say more than that.’</p> + +<p>‘I had no girl-companions,’ went on the voice. +‘My only brother had made up his mind not to +marry. In the zenana I was alone. Alone I +used to sit in the garden under the shade of the +trees, and dream that the whole world was in love +with me; that the stars with sleepless gaze were +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_37" title="37"> </a> +drinking in my beauty; that the wind was +languishing in sighs as on some pretext or other it +brushed past me; and that the lawn on which my +feet rested, had it been conscious, would have lost +consciousness again at their touch. It seemed to +me that all the young men in the world were as +blades of grass at my feet; and my heart, I know +not why, used to grow sad.</p> + +<p>‘When my brother's friend, Shekhar, had passed +out of the Medical College, he became our family +doctor. I had already often seen him from +behind a curtain. My brother was a strange man, +and did not care to look on the world with open +eyes. It was not empty enough for his taste; so +he gradually moved away from it, until he was +quite lost in an obscure corner. Shekhar was his +one friend, so he was the only young man I could +ever get to see. And when I held my evening +court in my garden, then the host of imaginary +young men whom I had at my feet were each one +a Shekhar.—Are you listening? What are you +thinking of?’</p> + +<p>I sighed as I replied: ‘I was wishing I was +Shekhar!’</p> + +<p>‘Wait a bit. Hear the whole story first. One +day, in the rains, I was feverish. The doctor +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_38" title="38"> </a> +came to see me. That was our first meeting. I +was reclining opposite the window, so that the +blush of the evening sky might temper the pallor +of my complexion. When the doctor, coming in, +looked up into my face, I put myself into his place, +and gazed at myself in imagination. I saw in the +glorious evening light that delicate wan face laid +like a drooping flower against the soft white pillow, +with the unrestrained curls playing over the forehead, +and the bashfully lowered eyelids casting a +pathetic shade over the whole countenance.</p> + +<p>‘The doctor, in a tone bashfully low, asked +my brother: “Might I feel her pulse?”</p> + +<p>‘I put out a tired, well-rounded wrist from +beneath the coverlet. “Ah!” thought I, as I looked +on it, “if only there had been a sapphire bracelet.”<a name="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> +I have never before seen a doctor so awkward +about feeling a patient's pulse. His fingers +trembled as they felt my wrist. He measured the +heat of my fever, I gauged the pulse of his heart.—Don't +you believe me?’</p> + +<p>‘Very easily,’ said I; ‘the human heart-beat +tells its tale.’</p> + +<p>‘After I had been taken ill and restored to +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_39" title="39"> </a> +health several times, I found that the number of +the courtiers who attended my imaginary evening +reception began to dwindle till they were reduced +to only one! And at last in my little world there +remained only one doctor and one patient.</p> + +<p>‘In these evenings I used to dress myself<a name="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> +secretly in a canary-coloured <i>sari</i>; twine about the +braided knot into which I did my hair a garland +of white jasmine blossoms; and with a little +mirror in my hand betake myself to my usual seat +under the trees.</p> + +<p>‘Well! Are you perhaps thinking that the +sight of one's own beauty would soon grow +wearisome? Ah no! for I did not see myself +with my own eyes. I was then one and also two. +I used to see myself as though I were the doctor; +I gazed, I was charmed, I fell madly in love. +But, in spite of all the caresses I lavished on myself, +a sigh would wander about my heart, moaning +like the evening breeze.</p> + +<p>‘Anyhow, from that time I was never alone. +When I walked I watched with downcast eyes the +play of my dainty little toes on the earth, and +wondered what the doctor would have felt had he +been there to see. At mid-day the sky would be +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_40" title="40"> </a> +filled with the glare of the sun, without a sound, +save now and then the distant cry of a passing kite. +Outside our garden-walls the hawker would pass +with his musical cry of “Bangles for sale, crystal +bangles.” And I, spreading a snow-white sheet on +the lawn, would lie on it with my head on my arm. +With studied carelessness the other arm would rest +lightly on the soft sheet, and I would imagine to +myself that some one had caught sight of the +wonderful pose of my hand, that some one had +clasped it in both of his and imprinted a kiss on its +rosy palm, and was slowly walking away.—What +if I ended the story here? How would it do?’</p> + +<p>‘Not half a bad ending,’ I replied thoughtfully. +‘It would no doubt remain a little incomplete, but +I could easily spend the rest of the night putting +in the finishing touches.’</p> + +<p>‘But that would make the story too serious. +Where would the laugh come in? Where would +be the skeleton with its grinning teeth?</p> + +<p>‘So let me go on. As soon as the doctor had +got a little practice, he took a room on the ground-floor +of our house for a consulting-chamber. I +used then sometimes to ask him jokingly about +medicines and poisons, and how much of this +drug or that would kill a man. The subject was +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_41" title="41"> </a> +congenial and he would wax eloquent. These +talks familiarised me with the idea of death; and +so love and death were the only two things that +filled my little world. My story is now nearly +ended—there is not much left.’</p> + +<p>‘Not much of the night is left either,’ I +muttered.</p> + +<p>‘After a time I noticed that the doctor had +grown strangely absent-minded, and it seemed as +if he were ashamed of something which he was +trying to keep from me. One day he came in, +somewhat smartly dressed, and borrowed my +brother's carriage for the evening.</p> + +<p>‘My curiosity became too much for me, and I +went up to my brother for information. After +some talk beside the point, I at last asked him: +“By the way, Dada,<a name="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> where is the doctor going +this evening in your carriage?”</p> + +<p>‘My brother briefly replied: “To his death.”</p> + +<p>‘“Oh, do tell me,” I importuned. “Where is +he really going?”</p> + +<p>‘“To be married,” he said, a little more +explicitly.</p> + +<p>‘“Oh, indeed!” said I, as I laughed long and +loudly.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_42" title="42"> </a>‘I gradually learnt that the bride was an heiress, +who would bring the doctor a large sum of money. +But why did he insult me by hiding all this from +me? Had I ever begged and prayed him not to +marry, because it would break my heart? Men +are not to be trusted. I have known only one +man in all my life, and in a moment I made this +discovery.</p> + +<p>‘When the doctor came in after his work and +was ready to start, I said to him, rippling with +laughter the while: “Well, doctor, so you are to +be married to-night?”</p> + +<p>‘My gaiety not only made the doctor lose +countenance; it thoroughly irritated him.</p> + +<p>‘“How is it,” I went on, “that there is no +illumination, no band of music?”</p> + +<p>‘With a sigh he replied: “Is marriage then +such a joyful occasion?”</p> + +<p>‘I burst out into renewed laughter. “No, no,” +said I, “this will never do. Who ever heard of a +wedding without lights and music?”</p> + +<p><ins title="I">‘I</ins> bothered my brother about it so much that +he at once ordered all the trappings of a gay +wedding.</p> + +<p>‘All the time I kept on gaily talking of the +bride, of what would happen, of what I would do +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_43" title="43"> </a> +when the bride came home. “And, doctor,” I +asked, “will you still go on feeling pulses?” +Ha! ha! ha! Though the inner workings of +people's, especially men's, minds are not visible, +still I can take my oath that these words were +piercing the doctor's bosom like deadly darts.</p> + +<p>‘The marriage was to be celebrated late at night. +Before starting, the doctor and my brother were +having a glass of wine together on the terrace, as +was their daily habit. The moon had just risen.</p> + +<p>‘I went up smiling, and said: “Have you +forgotten your wedding, doctor? It is time to +start.”</p> + +<p>‘I must here tell you one little thing. I had +meanwhile gone down to the dispensary and got a +little powder, which at a convenient opportunity +I had dropped unobserved into the doctor's glass.</p> + +<p>‘The doctor, draining his glass at a gulp, in a +voice thick with emotion, and with a look that +pierced me to the heart, said: “Then I must go.”</p> + +<p>‘The music struck up. I went into my room +and dressed myself in my bridal-robes of silk and +gold. I took out my jewellery and ornaments from +the safe and put them all on; I put the red mark +of wifehood on the parting in my hair. And then +under the tree in the garden I prepared my bed.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_44" title="44"> </a>‘It was a beautiful night. The gentle south +wind was kissing away the weariness of the world. +The scent of jasmine and <i>bela</i> filled the garden +with rejoicing.</p> + +<p>‘When the sound of the music began to grow +fainter and fainter; the light of the moon to get +dimmer and dimmer; the world with its lifelong +associations of home and kin to fade away from +my perceptions like some illusion;—then I closed +my eyes, and smiled.</p> + +<p>‘I fancied that when people came and found +me they would see that smile of mine lingering on +my lips like a trace of rose-coloured wine, that +when I thus slowly entered my eternal bridal-chamber +I should carry with me this smile, +illuminating my face. But alas for the bridal-chamber! +Alas for the bridal-robes of silk and +gold! When I woke at the sound of a rattling +within me, I found three urchins learning +osteology from my skeleton. Where in my +bosom my joys and griefs used to throb, and the +petals of youth to open one by one, there the +master with his pointer was busy naming my bones. +And as to that last smile, which I had so carefully +rehearsed, did you see any sign of that?</p> + +<p>‘Well, well, how did you like the story?’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_45" title="45–46"> </a>‘It has been delightful,’ said I.</p> + +<p>At this point the first crow began to caw. +‘Are you there?’ I asked. There was no reply.</p> + +<p>The morning light entered the room.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_47" title="47–48"> </a>THE AUSPICIOUS VISION</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_49" title="49"> </a>THE AUSPICIOUS VISION</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Kantichandra</span> was young; yet after his wife's +death he sought no second partner, and gave his +mind to the hunting of beasts and birds. His +body was long and slender, hard and agile; his +sight keen; his aim unerring. He dressed like a +countryman, and took with him Hira Singh the +wrestler, Chakkanlal, Khan Saheb the musician, +Mian Saheb, and many others. He had no lack +of idle followers.</p> + +<p>In the month of <i>Agrahayan</i> Kanti had gone +out shooting near the swamp of Nydighi with a +few sporting companions. They were in boats, +and an army of servants, in boats also, filled the +bathing-<i>ghats</i>. The village women found it well-nigh +impossible to bathe or to draw water. All +day long, land and water trembled to the firing of +the guns; and every evening musicians killed the +chance of sleep.</p> + +<p>One morning as Kanti was seated in his boat +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_50" title="50"> </a> +cleaning a favourite gun, he suddenly started at +what he thought was the cry of wild duck. Looking +up, he saw a village maiden, coming to the +water's edge, with two white ducklings clasped to +her breast. The little stream was almost stagnant. +Many weeds choked the current. The girl put +the birds into the water, and watched them +anxiously. Evidently the presence of the sportsmen +was the cause of her care and not the wildness +of the ducks.</p> + +<p>The girl's beauty had a rare freshness—as if +she had just come from Vishwakarma's<a name="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> workshop. +It was difficult to guess her age. Her figure was +almost a woman's, but her face was so childish +that clearly the world had left no impression there. +She seemed not to know herself that she had +reached the threshold of youth.</p> + +<p>Kanti's gun-cleaning stopped for a while. He +was fascinated. He had not expected to see such +a face in such a spot. And yet its beauty suited +its surroundings better than it would have suited +a palace. A bud is lovelier on the bough than in +a golden vase. That day the blossoming reeds +glittered in the autumn dew and morning sun, and +the fresh, simple face set in the midst was like a +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_51" title="51"> </a> +picture of festival to Kanti's enchanted mind. +Kalidos has forgotten to sing how Siva's Mountain-Queen +herself sometimes has come to the young +Ganges, with just such ducklings in her breast. +As he gazed, the maiden started in terror, and +hurriedly took back the ducks into her bosom +with a half-articulate cry of pain. In another +moment, she had left the river-bank and disappeared +into the bamboo thicket hard by. +Looking round, Kanti saw one of his men pointing +an unloaded gun at the ducks. He at once went +up to him, wrenched away his gun, and bestowed +on his cheek a prodigious slap. The astonished +humourist finished his joke on the floor. Kanti +went on cleaning his gun.</p> + +<p>But curiosity drove Kanti to the thicket +wherein he had seen the girl disappear. Pushing +his way through, he found himself in the yard of +a well-to-do householder. On one side was a row +of conical thatched barns, on the other a clean +cow-shed, at the end of which grew a <i>zizyph</i> bush. +Under the bush was seated the girl he had seen +that morning, sobbing over a wounded dove, into +whose yellow beak she was trying to wring a little +water from the moist corner of her garment. +A grey cat, its fore-paws on her knee, was looking +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_52" title="52"> </a> +eagerly at the bird, and every now and then, when +it got too forward, she kept it in its place by a +warning tap on the nose.</p> + +<p>This little picture, set in the peaceful mid-day +surroundings of the householder's yard, instantly +impressed itself on Kanti's sensitive heart. The +checkered light and shade, flickering beneath the +delicate foliage of the <i>zizyph</i>, played on the girl's +lap. Not far off a cow was chewing the cud, and +lazily keeping off the flies with slow movements +of its head and tail. The north wind whispered +softly in the rustling bamboo thickets. And she +who at dawn on the river-bank had looked like +the Forest Queen, now in the silence of noon +showed the eager pity of the Divine Housewife. +Kanti, coming in upon her with his gun, had a sense +of intrusion. He felt like a thief caught red-handed. +He longed to explain that it was not he +who had hurt the dove. As he wondered how he +should begin, there came a call of ‘Sudha!’ from +the house. The girl jumped up. ‘Sudha!’ came +the voice again. She took up her dove, and ran +within. ‘Sudha,’<a name="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> thought Kanti, ‘what an appropriate +name!’</p> + +<p>Kanti returned to the boat, handed his gun to +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_53" title="53"> </a> +his men, and went over to the front door of the +house. He found a middle-aged Brahmin, with +a peaceful, clean-shaven face, seated on a bench +outside, and reading a devotional book. Kanti +saw in his kindly, thoughtful face something +of the tenderness which shone in the face of the +maiden.</p> + +<p>Kanti saluted him, and said: ‘May I ask for +some water, sir? I am very thirsty.’ The elder +man welcomed him with eager hospitality, and, +offering him a seat on the bench, went inside +and fetched with his own hands a little brass +plate of sugar wafers and a bell-metal vessel +full of water.</p> + +<p>After Kanti had eaten and drunk, the Brahmin +begged him to introduce himself. Kanti gave his +own name, his father's name, and the address of +his home, and then said in the usual way: ‘If I +can be of any service, sir, I shall deem myself +fortunate.’</p> + +<p>‘I require no service, my son,’ said Nabin +Banerji; ‘I have only one care at present.’</p> + +<p>‘What is that, sir?’ said Kanti.</p> + +<p>‘It is my daughter, Sudha, who is growing up’ +(Kanti smiled as he thought of her babyish face), +‘and for whom I have not yet been able to find a +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_54" title="54"> </a> +worthy bridegroom. If I could only see her well +married, all my debt to this world would be paid. +But there is no suitable bridegroom here, and I +cannot leave my charge of Gopinath here, to +search for a husband elsewhere.’</p> + +<p>‘If you would see me in my boat, sir, we +would have a talk about the marriage of your +daughter.’ So saying, Kanti repeated his salute +and went back. He then sent some of his men +into the village to inquire, and in answer heard +nothing but praise of the beauty and virtues of +the Brahmin's daughter.</p> + +<p>When next day the old man came to the boat +on his promised visit, Kanti bent low in salutation, +and begged the hand of his daughter for himself. +The Brahmin was so much overcome by this +undreamed-of piece of good fortune—for Kanti +not only belonged to a well-known Brahmin family, +but was also a landed proprietor of wealth and +position—that at first he could hardly utter a +word in reply. He thought there must have been +some mistake, and at length mechanically repeated: +‘You desire to marry my daughter?’</p> + +<p>‘If you will deign to give her to me,’ said +Kanti.</p> + +<p>‘You mean Sudha?’ he asked again.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_55" title="55"> </a>‘Yes,’ was the reply.</p> + +<p>‘But will you not first see and speak to +her<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p> + +<p>Kanti, pretending he had not seen her already, +said: ‘Oh, that we shall do at the moment of the +Auspicious Vision.’<a name="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<p>In a voice husky with emotion the old man +said: ‘My Sudha is indeed a good girl, well skilled +in all the household arts. As you are so generously +taking her on trust, may she never cause +you a moment's regret. This is my blessing!’</p> + +<p>The brick-built mansion of the Mazumdars +had been borrowed for the wedding ceremony, +which was fixed for next <i>Magh</i>, as Kanti did +not wish to delay. In due time the bridegroom +arrived on his elephant, with drums and music +and with a torchlight procession, and the ceremony +began.</p> + +<p>When the bridal couple were covered with the +scarlet screen for the rite of the Auspicious Vision, +Kanti looked up at his bride. In that bashful, +downcast face, crowned with the wedding coronet +and bedecked with sandal paste, he could scarcely +recognise the village maiden of his fancy, and in +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_56" title="56"> </a> +the fulness of his emotion a mist seemed to becloud +his eyes.</p> + +<p>At the gathering of women in the bridal +chamber, after the wedding ceremony was over, +an old village dame insisted that Kanti himself +should take off his wife's bridal veil. As he did +so he started back. It was not the same girl.</p> + +<p>Something rose from within his breast and +pierced into his brain. The light of the lamps +seemed to grow dim, and darkness to tarnish the +face of the bride herself.</p> + +<p>At first he felt angry with his father-in-law. +The old scoundrel had shown him one girl, and +married him to another. But on calmer reflection +he remembered that the old man had not shown +him any daughter at all—that it was all his own +fault. He thought it best not to show his arrant +folly to the world, and took his place again with +apparent calmness.</p> + +<p>He could swallow the powder; he could not +get rid of its taste. He could not bear the merry-makings +of the festive throng. He was in a +blaze of anger with himself as well as with everybody +else.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he felt the bride, seated by his side, +give a little start and a suppressed scream; a +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_57" title="57"> </a> +leveret, scampering into the room, had brushed +across her feet. Close upon it followed the girl +he had seen before. She caught up the leveret +into her arms, and began to caress it with an +affectionate murmuring. ‘Oh, the mad girl!’ +cried the women as they made signs to her +to leave the room. She heeded them not, however, +but came and unconcernedly sat in front of +the wedded pair, looking into their faces with a +childish curiosity. When a maidservant came and +took her by the arm to lead her away, Kanti +hurriedly interposed, saying, ‘Let her be.’</p> + +<p>‘What is your name?’ he then went on to ask +her.</p> + +<p>The girl swayed backwards and forwards but +gave no reply. All the women in the room began +to titter.</p> + +<p>Kanti put another question: ‘Have those +ducklings of yours grown up?’</p> + +<p>The girl stared at him as unconcernedly as +before.</p> + +<p>The bewildered Kanti screwed up courage for +another effort, and asked tenderly after the +wounded dove, but with no avail. The increasing +laughter in the room betokened an amusing joke.</p> + +<p>At last Kanti learned that the girl was deaf +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_58" title="58"> </a> +and dumb, the companion of all the animals and +birds of the locality. It was but by chance that +she rose the other day when the name of Sudha +was called.</p> + +<p>Kanti now received a second shock. A black +screen lifted from before his eyes. With a sigh +of intense relief, as of escape from calamity, he +looked once more into the face of his bride. +Then came the true Auspicious Vision. The light +from his heart and from the smokeless lamps fell +on her gracious face; and he saw it in its true +radiance, knowing that Nabin's blessing would find +fulfilment.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_59" title="59–60"> </a>THE SUPREME NIGHT</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_61" title="61"> </a>THE SUPREME NIGHT</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">I used</span> to go to the same dame's school with +Surabala and play at marriage with her. When +I paid visits to her house, her mother would pet +me, and setting us side by side would say to herself: +‘What a lovely pair!’</p> + +<p>I was a child then, but I could understand her +meaning well enough. The idea became rooted +in my mind that I had a special right to Surabala +above that of people in general. So it happened +that, in the pride of ownership, at times I punished +and tormented her; and she, too, fagged for me +and bore all my punishments without complaint. +The village was wont to praise her beauty; but +in the eyes of a young barbarian like me that +beauty had no glory;—I knew only that Surabala +had been born in her father's house solely to bear +my yoke, and that therefore she was the particular +object of my neglect.</p> + +<p>My father was the land-steward of the Chaudhuris, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_62" title="62"> </a> +a family of <i>zemindars</i>. It was his plan, as +soon as I had learnt to write a good hand, to +train me in the work of estate management and +secure a rent collectorship for me somewhere. +But in my heart I disliked the proposal. Nilratan +of our village had run away to Calcutta, had +learnt English there, and finally became the <i>Nazir</i><a name="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> +of the District Magistrate; <em>that</em> was my life's +ideal: I was secretly determined to be the Head +Clerk of the Judge's Court, even if I could not +become the Magistrate's <i>Nazir</i>.</p> + +<p>I saw that my father always treated these court +officers with the greatest respect. I knew from +my childhood that they had to be propitiated with +gifts of fish, vegetables, and even money. For +this reason I had given a seat of high honour in +my heart to the court underlings, even to the +bailiffs. These are the gods worshipped in our +Bengal,—a modern miniature edition of the 330 +millions of deities of the Hindu pantheon. For +gaining material success, people have more genuine +faith in <em>them</em> than in the good Ganesh, the giver +of success; hence the people now offer to these +officers everything that was formerly Ganesh's +due.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_63" title="63"> </a>Fired by the example of Nilratan, I too seized +a suitable opportunity and ran away to Calcutta. +There I first put up in the house of a village +acquaintance, and afterwards got some funds from +my father for my education. Thus I carried on +my studies regularly.</p> + +<p>In addition, I joined political and benevolent +societies. I had no doubt whatever that it was +urgently necessary for me to give my life suddenly +for my country. But I knew not how such a hard +task could be carried out. Also no one showed +me the way.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, my enthusiasm did not abate +at all. We country lads had not learnt to sneer +at everything like the precocious boys of Calcutta, +and hence our faith was very strong. The +‘leaders’ of our associations delivered speeches, +and we went begging for subscriptions from door +to door in the hot blaze of noon without breaking +our fast; or we stood by the roadside distributing +hand-bills, or arranged the chairs and benches in +the lecture-hall, and, if anybody whispered a word +against our leader, we got ready to fight him. +For these things the city boys used to laugh at us +as provincials.</p> + +<p>I had come to Calcutta to be a <i>Nazir</i> or a +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_64" title="64"> </a> +Head Clerk, but I was preparing to become a +Mazzini or a Garibaldi.</p> + +<p>At this time Surabala's father and my father +laid their heads together to unite us in marriage. +I had come to Calcutta at the age of fifteen; +Surabala was eight years old then. I was now +eighteen, and in my father's opinion I was almost +past the age of marriage. But it was my secret +vow to remain unmarried all my life and to die +for my country; so I told my father that I +would not marry before I had finished my +education.</p> + +<p>In two or three months I learnt that Surabala +had been married to a pleader named Ram Lochan. +I was then busy collecting subscriptions for raising +fallen India, and this news did not seem worth my +thought.</p> + +<p>I had matriculated, and was about to appear at +the Intermediate Examination, when my father +died. I was not alone in the world, but had to +maintain my mother and two sisters. I had therefore +to leave college and look out for employment. +After a good deal of exertion I secured the post +of second master in the matriculation school of a +small town in the Noakhali District.</p> + +<p>I thought, here is just the work for me! By +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_65" title="65"> </a> +my advice and inspiration I shall train up every +one of my pupils as a general for future India.</p> + +<p>I began to work, and then found that the impending +examination was a more pressing affair +than the future of India. The headmaster got +angry whenever I talked of anything outside +grammar or algebra. And in a few months my +enthusiasm, too, flagged.</p> + +<p>I am no genius. In the quiet of the home I +may form vast plans; but when I enter the field of +work, I have to bear the yoke of the plough on +my neck like the Indian bullock, get my tail +twisted by my master, break clods all day, patiently +and with bowed head, and then at sunset have to +be satisfied if I can get any cud to chew. Such a +creature has not the spirit to prance and caper.</p> + +<p>One of the teachers lived in the school-house, to +guard against fires. As I was a bachelor, this work +was thrown on me. I lodged in a thatched shed +close to the large cottage in which the school sat.</p> + +<p>The school-house stood at some distance from +the inhabited portion of the town, and beside a +big tank. Around it were betel-nut, cocoa-nut, +and <i>madar</i> trees, and very near to the school +building two large ancient <i>nim</i> trees grew close +together, and cast a cool shade around.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_66" title="66"> </a>One thing I have forgotten to mention, and +indeed I had not so long considered it worth +mentioning. The local Government pleader, Ram +Lochan Ray, lived near our school. I also knew +that his wife—my early playmate, Surabala—lived +with him.</p> + +<p>I got acquainted with Ram Lochan Babu. I +cannot say whether he knew that I had known +Surabala in childhood. I did not think fit to +mention the fact at my first introduction to him. +Indeed, I did not clearly remember that Surabala +had been ever linked with my life in any way.</p> + +<p>One holiday I paid a visit to Ram Lochan Babu. +The subject of our conversation has gone out of +my mind; probably it was the unhappy condition +of present-day India. Not that he was very much +concerned or heart-broken over the matter; but +the subject was such that one could freely pour +forth one's sentimental sorrow over it for an hour +or two while puffing at one's <i>hooka</i>.</p> + +<p>While thus engaged, I heard in a side-room +the softest possible jingle of bracelets, crackle of +dress, and footfall; and I felt certain that two +curious eyes were watching me through a small +opening of the window.</p> + +<p>All at once there flashed upon my memory a +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_67" title="67"> </a> +pair of eyes,—a pair of large eyes, beaming with +trust, simplicity, and girlhood's love,—black pupils,—thick +dark eyelashes,—a calm fixed gaze. +Suddenly some unseen force squeezed my heart +in an iron grip, and it throbbed with intense pain.</p> + +<p>I returned to my house, but the pain clung to +me. Whether I read, wrote, or did any other +work, I could not shake that weight off my heart; +a heavy load seemed to be always swinging from +my heart-strings.</p> + +<p>In the evening, calming myself a little, I began +to reflect: ‘What ails me?’ From within came +the question: ‘Where is <em>your</em> Surabala now?’ I +replied: ‘I gave her up of my free will. Surely +I did not expect her to wait for me for ever.’</p> + +<p>But something kept saying: ‘<em>Then</em> you could +have got her merely for the asking. <em>Now</em> you +have not the right to look at her even once, do +what you will. That Surabala of your boyhood +may come very close to you; you may hear the +jingle of her bracelets; you may breathe the air +embalmed by the essence of her hair,—but there +will always be a wall between you two.’</p> + +<p>I answered: ‘Be it so. What is Surabala to +me?’</p> + +<p>My heart rejoined: ‘To-day Surabala is nobody +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_68" title="68"> </a> +to you. But what might she not have been to +you?’</p> + +<p>Ah! that's true. <em>What</em> might she not have +been to me? Dearest to me of all things, closer +to me than the world besides, the sharer of all my +life's joys and sorrows,—she might have been. +And now, she is so distant, so much of a stranger, +that to look on her is forbidden, to talk with her +is improper, and to think of her is a sin!—while +this Ram Lochan, coming suddenly from nowhere, +has muttered a few set religious texts, and in one +swoop has carried off Surabala from the rest of +mankind!</p> + +<p>I have not come to preach a new ethical code, +or to revolutionise society; I have no wish to +tear asunder domestic ties. I am only expressing +the exact working of my mind, though it may +not be reasonable. I could not by any means +banish from my mind the sense that Surabala, +reigning there within shelter of Ram Lochan's +home, was mine far more than his. The thought +was, I admit, unreasonable and improper,—but it +was not unnatural.</p> + +<p>Thereafter I could not set my mind to any +kind of work. At noon when the boys in my +class hummed, when Nature outside simmered in +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_69" title="69"> </a> +the sun, when the sweet scent of the <i>nim</i> blossoms +entered the room on the tepid breeze, I then +wished,—I know not what I wished for; but this +I can say, that I did not wish to pass all my life in +correcting the grammar exercises of those future +hopes of India.</p> + +<p>When school was over, I could not bear to live +in my large lonely house; and yet, if any one paid +me a visit, it bored me. In the gloaming as I sat +by the tank and listened to the meaningless breeze +sighing through the betel- and cocoa-nut palms, I +used to muse that human society is a web of +mistakes; nobody has the sense to do the right +thing at the right time, and when the chance is +gone we break our hearts over vain longings.</p> + +<p>I could have married Surabala and lived happily. +But I must be a Garibaldi,—and I ended by +becoming the second master of a village school! +And pleader Ram Lochan Ray, who had no +special call to be Surabala's husband,—to whom, +before his marriage, Surabala was no wise different +from a hundred other maidens,—has very quietly +married her, and is earning lots of money as +Government pleader; when his dinner is badly +cooked he scolds Surabala, and when he is in good +humour he gives her a bangle! He is sleek and +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_70" title="70"> </a> +fat, tidily dressed, free from every kind of worry; +<em>he</em> never passes his evenings by the tank gazing at +the stars and sighing.</p> + +<p>Ram Lochan was called away from our town +for a few days by a big case elsewhere. Surabala +in her house was as lonely as I was in my school +building.</p> + +<p>I remember it was a Monday. The sky was +overcast with clouds from the morning. It began +to drizzle at ten o'clock. At the aspect of the +heavens our headmaster closed the school early. +All day the black detached clouds began to run +about in the sky as if making ready for some grand +display. Next day, towards afternoon, the rain +descended in torrents, accompanied by storm. +As the night advanced the fury of wind and +water increased. At first the wind was easterly; +gradually it veered, and blew towards the south +and south-west.</p> + +<p>It was idle to try to sleep on such a night. I +remembered that in this terrible weather Surabala +was alone in her house. Our school was much +more strongly built than her bungalow. Often and +often did I plan to invite her to the school-house, +while I meant to pass the night alone by the tank. +But I could not summon up courage for it.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_71" title="71"> </a>When it was half-past one in the morning, the +roar of the tidal wave was suddenly heard,—the +sea was rushing on us! I left my room and ran +towards Surabala's house. In the way stood one +embankment of our tank, and as I was wading to +it the flood already reached my knees. When I +mounted the bank, a second wave broke on it. +The highest part of the bank was more than +seventeen feet above the plain.</p> + +<p>As I climbed up the bank, another person reached +it from the opposite side. Who she was, every +fibre of my body knew at once, and my whole +soul was thrilled with the consciousness. I had no +doubt that she, too, had recognised me.</p> + +<p>On an island some three yards in area stood +we two; all else was covered with water.</p> + +<p>It was a time of cataclysm; the stars had been +blotted out of the sky; all the lights of the earth +had been darkened; there would have been no +harm if we had held converse <em>then</em>. But we could +not bring ourselves to utter a word; neither of +us made even a formal inquiry after the other's +health. Only we stood gazing at the darkness. +At our feet swirled the dense, black, wild, roaring +torrent of death.</p> + +<p>To-day Surabala has come to <em>my</em> side, leaving +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_72" title="72"> </a> +the whole world. To-day she has none besides <em>me</em>. +In our far-off childhood this Surabala had come +from some dark primeval realm of mystery, from a +life in another orb, and stood by my side on this +luminous peopled earth; and to-day, after a wide +span of time, she has left that earth, so full of +light and human beings, to stand alone by <em>my</em> side +amidst this terrible desolate gloom of Nature's +death-convulsion. The stream of birth had flung +that tender bud before me, and the flood of death +had wafted the same flower, now in full bloom, to +<em>me</em> and to none else. One more wave and we shall +be swept away from this extreme point of the earth, +torn from the stalks on which we now sit apart, +and made one in death.</p> + +<p>May that wave never come! May Surabala +live long and happily, girt round by husband and +children, household and kinsfolk! This one +night, standing on the brink of Nature's destruction, +I have tasted eternal bliss.</p> + +<p>The night wore out, the tempest ceased, the +flood abated; without a word spoken, Surabala +went back to her house, and I, too, returned to +my shed without having uttered a word.</p> + +<p>I reflected: True, I have become no <i>Nazir</i> or +Head Clerk, nor a Garibaldi; I am only the second +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_73" title="73–74"> </a> +master of a beggarly school. But one night had +for its brief space beamed upon my whole life's +course.</p> + +<p>That one night, out of all the days and nights +of my allotted span, has been the supreme glory of +my humble existence.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_75" title="75–76"> </a>RAJA AND RANI</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_77" title="77"> </a>RAJA AND RANI</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Bipin Kisore</span> was born ‘with a golden spoon in +his mouth’; hence he knew how to squander +money twice as well as how to earn it. The +natural result was that he could not live long in +the house where he was born.</p> + +<p>He was a delicate young man of comely appearance, +an adept in music, a fool in business, and +unfit for life's handicap. He rolled along life's +road like the wheel of Jagannath's car. He could +not long command his wonted style of magnificent +living.</p> + +<p>Luckily, however, Raja Chittaranjan, having +got back his property from the Court of Wards, +was intent upon organising an Amateur Theatre +Party. Captivated by the prepossessing looks of +Bipin Kisore and his musical endowments, the +Raja gladly ‘admitted him of his crew.’</p> + +<p>Chittaranjan was a B.A. He was not given +to any excesses. Though the son of a rich man, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_78" title="78"> </a> +he used to dine and sleep at appointed hours +and even at appointed places. And he suddenly +became enamoured of Bipin like one unto drink. +Often did meals cool and nights grow old while +he listened to Bipin and discussed with him the +merits of operatic compositions. The Dewan +remarked that the only blemish in the otherwise +perfect character of his master was his inordinate +fondness for Bipin Kisore.</p> + +<p>Rani Basanta Kumari raved at her husband, +and said that he was wasting himself on a luckless +baboon. The sooner she could do away with him, +the easier she would feel.</p> + +<p>The Raja was much pleased in his heart at this +seeming jealousy of his youthful wife. He smiled, +and thought that women-folk know only one +man upon the earth—him whom they love; and +never think of other men's deserts. That there +may be many whose merits deserve regard, is not +recorded in the scriptures of women. The only +good man and the only object of a woman's favours +is he who has blabbered into her ears the matrimonial +incantations. A little moment behind the +usual hour of her husband's meals is a world of +anxiety to her, but she never cares a brass button +if her husband's dependents have a mouthful or +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_79" title="79"> </a> +not. This inconsiderate partiality of the softer +sex might be cavilled at, but to Chittaranjan it +did not seem unpleasant. Thus, he would often +indulge in hyperbolic laudations of Bipin in his +wife's presence, just to provoke a display of her +delightful fulminations.</p> + +<p>But what was sport to the ‘royal’ couple, was +death to poor Bipin. The servants of the house, +as is their wont, took their cue from the Rani's +apathetic and wilful neglect of the wretched +hanger-on, and grew more apathetic and wilful +still. They contrived to forget to look after his +comforts, to Bipin's infinite chagrin and untold +sufferings.</p> + +<p>Once the Rani rebuked the servant Puté, and +said: ‘You are always shirking work; what do +you do all through the day?’ ‘Pray, madam, the +whole day is taken up in serving Bipin Babu +under the Maharaja's orders,’ stammered the poor +valet.</p> + +<p>The Rani retorted: ‘Your Bipin Babu is a great +Nawab, eh?’ This was enough for Puté. He +took the hint. From the very next day he left +Bipin Babu's orts as they were, and at times forgot +to cover the food for him. With unpractised +hands Bipin often scoured his own dishes and not +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_80" title="80"> </a> +unfrequently went without meals. But it was not +in him to whine and report to the Raja. It was +not in him to lower himself by petty squabblings +with menials. He did not mind it; he took +everything in good part. And thus while the +Raja's favours grew, the Rani's disfavour intensified, +and at last knew no bounds.</p> + +<p>Now the opera of <i>Subhadraharan</i> was ready +after due rehearsal. The stage was fitted up in +the palace court-yard. The Raja acted the part +of ‘Krishna,’ and Bipin that of ‘Arjuna.’ Oh, +how sweetly he sang! how beautiful he looked! +The audience applauded in transports of joy.</p> + +<p>The play over, the Raja came to the Rani and +asked her how she liked it. The Rani replied: +‘Indeed, Bipin acted the part of “Arjuna” gloriously! +He does look like the scion of a noble +family. His voice is rare!’ The Raja said +jocosely: ‘And how do I look? Am I not fair? +Have I not a sweet voice?’ ‘Oh, yours is +different case!’ added the Rani, and again fell to +dilating on the histrionic abilities of Bipin Kisore.</p> + +<p>The tables were now turned. He who used +to praise, now began to deprecate. The Raja, who +was never weary of indulging in high-sounding +panegyrics of Bipin before his consort, now +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_81" title="81"> </a> +suddenly fell reflecting that, after all, unthinking +people made too much of Bipin's actual merits. +What was extraordinary about his appearance or +voice? A short while before he himself was +one of those unthinking men, but in a sudden +and mysterious way he developed symptoms of +thoughtfulness!</p> + +<p>From the day following, every good arrangement +was made for Bipin's meals. The Rani told +the Raja: ‘It is undoubtedly wrong to lodge +Bipin Babu with the petty officers of the Raj in +the Kachari<a name="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a>; for all he now is, he was once a man +of means.’ The Raja ejaculated curtly: ‘Ha!’ +and turned the subject. The Rani proposed that +there might be another performance on the occasion +of the first-rice ceremony of the ‘royal’ weanling. +The Raja heard and heard her not.</p> + +<p>Once on being reprimanded by the Raja for +not properly laying his cloth, the servant Puté +replied: ‘What can I do? According to the +Rani's behests I have to look after Bipin Babu and +wait on him the livelong day.’ This angered the +Raja, and he exclaimed, highly nettled: ‘Pshaw! +Bipin Babu is a veritable Nawab, I see! Can't he +cleanse his own dishes himself?’ The servant, as +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_82" title="82"> </a> +before, took his cue, and Bipin lapsed back into +his former wretchedness.</p> + +<p>The Rani liked Bipin's songs—they were sweet—there +was no gainsaying it. When her husband +sat with Bipin to the wonted discourses of sweet +music of an evening, she would listen from behind +the screen in an adjoining room. Not long afterwards, +the Raja began again his old habit of dining +and sleeping at regular hours. The music came +to an end. Bipin's evening services were no more +needed.</p> + +<p>Raja Chittaranjan used to look after his +<i>zemindari</i> affairs at noon. One day he came +earlier to the zenana, and found his consort reading +something. On his asking her what she read, +the Rani was a little taken aback, but promptly +replied: ‘I am conning over a few songs from +Bipin Babu's song-book. We have not had any +music since you tired abruptly of your musical +hobby.’ Poor woman! it was she who had herself +made no end of efforts to eradicate the hobby +from her husband's mind.</p> + +<p>On the morrow the Raja dismissed Bipin—without +a thought as to how and where the poor +fellow would get a morsel henceforth!</p> + +<p>Nor was this the only matter of regret to +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_83" title="83–84"> </a> +Bipin. He had been bound to the Raja by the +dearest and most sincere tie of attachment. He +served him more for affection than for pay. He +was fonder of his friend than of the wages he +received. Even after deep cogitation, Bipin could +not ascertain the cause of the Raja's sudden +estrangement. ‘'Tis Fate! all is Fate!’ Bipin +said to himself. And then, silently and bravely, +he heaved a deep sigh, picked up his old guitar, +put it up in the case, paid the last two coins in his +pocket as a farewell <i>bakshish</i> to Puté, and walked +out into the wide wide world where he had not a +soul to call his friend.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_85" title="85–86"> </a>THE TRUST PROPERTY</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_87" title="87"> </a>THE TRUST PROPERTY</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Brindaban Kundu</span> came to his father in a rage +and said: ‘I am off this moment.’</p> + +<p>‘Ungrateful wretch!’ sneered the father, +Jaganath Kundu. ‘When you have paid me +back all that I have spent on your food and clothing, +it will be time enough to give yourself these +airs.’</p> + +<p>Such food and clothing as was customary in +Jaganath's household could not have cost very +much. Our <i>rishis</i> of old managed to feed and +clothe themselves on an incredibly small outlay. +Jaganath's behaviour showed that his ideal in these +respects was equally high. That he could not +fully live up to it was due partly to the bad influence +of the degenerate society around him, and +partly to certain unreasonable demands of Nature +in her attempt to keep body and soul together.</p> + +<p>So long as Brindaban was single, things went +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_88" title="88"> </a> +smoothly enough, but after his marriage he began +to depart from the high and rarefied standard +cherished by his sire. It was clear that the son's +ideas of comfort were moving away from the +spiritual to the material, and imitating the ways +of the world. He was unwilling to put up +with the discomforts of heat and cold, thirst and +hunger. His minimum of food and clothing rose +apace.</p> + +<p>Frequent were the quarrels between the father +and the son. At last Brindaban's wife became +seriously ill and a <i>kabiraj</i><a name="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> was called in. But +when the doctor prescribed a costly medicine for +his patient, Jaganath took it as a proof of sheer +incompetence, and turned him out immediately. +At first Brindaban besought his father to allow the +treatment to continue; then he quarrelled with +him about it, but to no purpose. When his wife +died, he abused his father and called him a +murderer.</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense!’ said the father. ‘Don't people die +even after swallowing all kinds of drugs? If +costly medicines could save life, how is it that +kings and emperors are not immortal? You don't +expect your wife to die with more pomp and +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_89" title="89"> </a> +ceremony than did your mother and your grandmother +before her, do you?’</p> + +<p>Brindaban might really have derived a great +consolation from these words, had he not been +overwhelmed with grief and incapable of proper +thinking. Neither his mother nor his grandmother +had taken any medicine before making +their exit from this world, and this was the time-honoured +custom of the family. But, alas, the +younger generation was unwilling to die according +to ancient custom. The English had newly come +to the country at the time we speak of. Even in +those remote days, the good old folks were horrified +at the unorthodox ways of the new generation, +and sat speechless, trying to draw comfort from +their <i>hookas</i>.</p> + +<p>Be that as it may, the modern Brindaban said +to his old fogy of a father: ‘I am off.’</p> + +<p>The father instantly agreed, and wished publicly +that, should he ever give his son one single pice in +future, the gods might reckon his act as shedding +the holy blood of cows. Brindaban in his turn +similarly wished that, should he ever accept anything +from his father, his act might be held as bad +as matricide.</p> + +<p>The people of the village looked upon this +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_90" title="90"> </a> +small revolution as a great relief after a long period +of monotony. And when Jaganath disinherited +his only son, every one did his best to console him. +All were unanimous in the opinion that to quarrel +with a father for the sake of a wife was possible +only in these degenerate days. And the reason +they gave was sound too. ‘When your wife dies,’ +they said, ‘you can find a second one without delay. +But when your father dies, you can't get another +to replace him for love or money.’ Their logic +no doubt was perfect, but we suspect that the +utter hopelessness of getting another father did +not trouble the misguided son very much. On +the contrary, he looked upon it as a mercy.</p> + +<p>Nor did separation from Brindaban weigh +heavily on the mind of his father. In the first +place, his absence from home reduced the household +expenses. Then, again, the father was freed +from a great anxiety. The fear of being poisoned +by his son and heir had always haunted him. +When he ate his scanty fare, he could never banish +the thought of poison from his mind. This fear +had abated somewhat after the death of his +daughter-in-law, and, now that the son was gone, +it disappeared altogether.</p> + +<p>But there was one tender spot in the old man's +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_91" title="91"> </a> +heart. Brindaban had taken away with him his +four-year-old son, Gokul Chandra. Now, the +expense of keeping the child was comparatively +small, and so Jaganath's affection for him was +without a drawback. Still, when Brindaban took +him away, his grief, sincere as it was, was mingled +at first with calculation as to how much he would +save a month by the absence of the two, how much +the sum would come to in the year, and what +would be the capital to bring it in as interest.</p> + +<p>But the empty house, without Gokul Chandra +in it to make mischief, became more and more +difficult for the old man to live in. There was no +one now to play tricks upon him when he was +engaged in his <i>puja</i>,<a name="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> no one to snatch away his +food and eat it, no one to run away with his inkpot, +when he was writing up his accounts. His +daily routine of life, now uninterrupted, became +an intolerable burden to him. He bethought him +that this unworried peace was endurable only in +the world to come. When he caught sight of the +holes made in his quilt by his grandchild, and the +pen-and-ink sketches executed by the same artist +on his rush-mat, his heart was heavy with grief. +Once upon a time he had reproached the boy +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_92" title="92"> </a> +bitterly because he had torn his <i>dhoti</i> into pieces +within the short space of two years; now tears +stood in Jaganath's eyes as he gazed upon the +dirty remnants lying in the bedroom. He carefully +put them away in his safe, and registered a +vow that, should Gokul ever come back again, he +should not be reprimanded even if he destroyed +one <i>dhoti</i> a year.</p> + +<p>But Gokul did not return, and poor Jaganath +aged rapidly. His empty home seemed emptier +every day.</p> + +<p>No longer could the old man stay peacefully at +home. Even in the middle of the day, when all +respectable folks in the village enjoyed their after-dinner +siesta, Jaganath might be seen roaming over +the village, <i>hooka</i> in hand. The boys, at sight of +him, would give up their play, and, retiring in a +body to a safe distance, chant verses composed by +a local poet, praising the old gentleman's economical +habits. No one ventured to say his real name, +lest he should have to go without his meal that +day<a name="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a>—and so people gave him names after their +own fancy. Elderly people called him Jaganash,<a name="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_93" title="93"> </a> +but the reason why the younger generation preferred +to call him a vampire was hard to guess. +It may be that the bloodless, dried-up skin of the +old man had some physical resemblance to the +vampire's.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>One afternoon, when Jaganath was rambling as +usual through the village lanes shaded by mango +topes, he saw a boy, apparently a stranger, assuming +the captaincy of the village boys and explaining to +them the scheme of some new prank. Won by +the force of his character and the startling novelty +of his ideas, the boys had all sworn allegiance to +him. Unlike the others, he did not run away +from the old man as he approached, but came +quite close to him and began to shake his own +<i>chadar</i>. The result was that a live lizard sprang +out of it on to the old man's body, ran down his +back and off towards the jungle. Sudden fright +made the poor man shiver from head to foot, to +the great amusement of the other boys, who shouted +with glee. Before Jaganath had gone far, cursing +and swearing, the <i>gamcha</i> on his shoulder suddenly +disappeared, and the next moment it was seen on +the head of the new boy, transformed into a +turban.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_94" title="94"> </a>The novel attentions of this manikin came as a +great relief to Jaganath. It was long since any +boy had taken such freedom with him. After a +good deal of coaxing and many fair promises, he +at last persuaded the boy to come to him, and this +was the conversation which followed:</p> + +<p>‘What's your name, my boy?’</p> + +<p>‘Nitai Pal.’</p> + +<p>‘Where's your home?’</p> + +<p>‘Won't tell.’</p> + +<p>‘Who's your father?’</p> + +<p>‘Won't tell.’</p> + +<p>‘Why won't you?’</p> + +<p>‘Because I have run away from home.’</p> + +<p>‘What made you do it?’</p> + +<p>‘My father wanted to send me to school.’</p> + +<p>It occurred to Jaganath that it would be useless +extravagance to send such a boy to school, and his +father must have been an unpractical fool not to +have thought so.</p> + +<p>‘Well, well,’ said Jaganath, ‘how would you +like to come and stay with me?’</p> + +<p>‘Don't mind,’ said the boy, and forthwith he +installed himself in Jaganath's house. He felt as +little hesitation as though it were the shadow of +a tree by the wayside. And not only that. He +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_95" title="95"> </a> +began to proclaim his wishes as regards his food +and clothing with such coolness that you would +have thought he had paid his reckoning in full +beforehand; and, when anything went wrong, he +did not scruple to quarrel with the old man. It +had been easy enough for Jaganath to get the better +of his own child; but, now, where another man's +child was concerned, he had to acknowledge defeat.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The people of the village marvelled when +Nitai Pal was unexpectedly made so much of by +Jaganath. They felt sure that the old man's end +was near, and the prospect of his bequeathing all +his property to this unknown brat made their +hearts sore. Furious with envy, they determined +to do the boy an injury, but the old man took care +of him as though he was a rib in his breast.</p> + +<p>At times, the boy threatened that he would go +away, and the old man used to say to him temptingly: +‘I will leave you all the property I possess.’ +Young as he was, the boy fully understood the +grandeur of this promise.</p> + +<p>The village people then began to make inquiries +after the father of the boy. Their hearts melted +with compassion for the agonised parents, and they +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_96" title="96"> </a> +declared that the son must be a rascal to cause +them so much suffering. They heaped abuses on +his head, but the heat with which they did it +betrayed envy rather than a sense of justice.</p> + +<p>One day the old man learned from a wayfarer +that one Damodar Pal was seeking his lost son, +and was even now coming towards the village. +Nitai, when he heard this, became very restless +and was ready to run away, leaving his future +wealth to take care of itself. Jaganath reassured +him, saying: ‘I mean to hide you where nobody +can find you—not even the village people +themselves.’</p> + +<p>This whetted the curiosity of the boy and he +said: ‘Oh, where? Do show me.’</p> + +<p>‘People will know, if I show you now. Wait +till it is night,’ said Jaganath.</p> + +<p>The hope of discovering the mysterious hiding-place +delighted Nitai. He planned to himself how, +as soon as his father had gone away without him, +he would have a bet with his comrades, and play +hide-and-seek. Nobody would be able to find +him. Wouldn't it be fun? His father, too, would +ransack the whole village, and not find him—that +would be rare fun also.</p> + +<p>At noon, Jaganath shut the boy up in his house, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_97" title="97"> </a> +and disappeared for some time. When he came +home again, Nitai worried him with questions.</p> + +<p>No sooner was it dark than Nitai said: ‘Grandfather, +shall we go now?’</p> + +<p>‘It isn't night yet,’ replied Jaganath.</p> + +<p>A little while later the boy exclaimed: ‘It is +night now, grandfather; come let's go.’</p> + +<p>‘The village people haven't gone to bed yet,’ +whispered Jaganath.</p> + +<p>Nitai waited but a moment, and said: ‘They +have gone to bed now, grandfather; I am sure they +have. Let's start now.’</p> + +<p>The night advanced. Sleep began to weigh +heavily on the eyelids of the poor boy, and it was +a hard struggle for him to keep awake. At midnight, +Jaganath caught hold of the boy's arm, and +left the house, groping through the dark lanes +of the sleeping village. Not a sound disturbed +the stillness, except the occasional howl of a dog, +when all the other dogs far and near would join in +chorus, or perhaps the flapping of a night-bird, +scared by the sound of human footsteps at that +unusual hour. Nitai trembled with fear, and held +Jaganath fast by the arm.</p> + +<p>Across many a field they went, and at last came +to a jungle, where stood a dilapidated temple +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_98" title="98"> </a> +without a god in it. ‘What, here!’ exclaimed +Nitai in a tone of disappointment. It was nothing +like what he had imagined. There was not much +mystery about it. Often, since running away from +home, he had passed nights in deserted temples like +this. It was not a bad place for playing hide-and-seek; +still it was quite possible that his comrades +might track him there.</p> + +<p>From the middle of the floor inside, Jaganath +removed a slab of stone, and an underground room +with a lamp burning in it was revealed to the +astonished eyes of the boy. Fear and curiosity +assailed his little heart. Jaganath descended by a +ladder and Nitai followed him.</p> + +<p>Looking around, the boy saw that there were +brass <i>ghurras</i><a name="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> on all sides of him. In the middle +lay spread an <i>assan</i><a name="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>, and in front of it were +arranged vermilion, sandal paste, flowers, and other +articles of <i>puja</i>. To satisfy his curiosity the boy +dipped his hand into some of the <i>ghurras</i>, and +drew out their contents. They were rupees and +gold <i>mohurs</i>.</p> + +<p>Jaganath, addressing the boy, said: ‘I told you, +Nitai, that I would give you all my money. I +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_99" title="99"> </a> +have not got much,—these <i>ghurras</i> are all that I +possess. These I will make over to you to-day.’</p> + +<p>The boy jumped with delight. ‘All?’ he +exclaimed; ‘you won't take back a rupee, will +you?’</p> + +<p>‘If I do,’ said the old man in solemn tones, +‘may my hand be attacked with leprosy. But +there is one condition. If ever my grandson, +Gokul Chandra, or his son, or his grandson, or his +great-grandson or any of his progeny should happen +to pass this way, then you must make over to +him, or to them, every rupee and every <i>mohur</i> +here.’</p> + +<p>The boy thought that the old man was raving. +‘Very well,’ he replied.</p> + +<p>‘Then sit on this <i>assan</i>,’ said Jaganath.</p> + +<p>‘What for?’</p> + +<p>‘Because <i>puja</i> will be done to you.’</p> + +<p>‘But why?’ said the boy, taken aback.</p> + +<p>‘This is the rule.’</p> + +<p>The boy squatted on the <i>assan</i> as he was told. +Jaganath smeared his forehead with sandal paste, +put a mark of vermilion between his eyebrows, +flung a garland of flowers round his neck, and +began to recite <i>mantras</i>.<a name="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_100" title="100"> </a>To sit there like a god, and hear <i>mantras</i> recited +made poor Nitai feel very uneasy. ‘Grandfather,’ +he whispered.</p> + +<p>But Jaganath did not reply, and went on +muttering his incantations.</p> + +<p>Finally, with great difficulty he dragged each +<i>ghurra</i> before the boy and made him repeat the +following vow after him:</p> + +<p>‘I do solemnly promise that I will make over +all this treasure to Gokul Chandra Kundu, the son +of Brindaban Kundu, the grandson of Jaganath +Kundu, or to the son or to the grandson or to +the great-grandson of the said Gokul Chandra +Kundu, or to any other progeny of his who may +be the rightful heir.’</p> + +<p>The boy repeated this over and over again, +until he felt stupefied, and his tongue began to +grow stiff in his mouth. When the ceremony was +over, the air of the cave was laden with the smoke +of the earthen lamp and the breath-poison of the +two. The boy felt that the roof of his mouth had +become dry as dust, and his hands and feet were +burning. He was nearly suffocated.</p> + +<p>The lamp became dimmer and dimmer, and +then went out altogether. In the total darkness +that followed, Nitai could hear the old man climbing +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_101" title="101"> </a> +up the ladder. ‘Grandfather, where are you +going to?’ said he, greatly distressed.</p> + +<p>‘I am going now,’ replied Jaganath; ‘you +remain here. No one will be able to find you. +Remember the name Gokul Chandra, the son of +Brindaban, and the grandson of Jaganath.’</p> + +<p>He then withdrew the ladder. In a stifled, +agonised voice the boy implored: ‘I want to go +back to father.’</p> + +<p>Jaganath replaced the slab. He then knelt +down and placed his ear on the stone. Nitai's +voice was heard once more—‘Father’—and then +came a sound of some heavy object falling with a +bump—and then—everything was still.</p> + +<p>Having thus placed his wealth in the hands of +a <i>yak</i>,<a name="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> Jaganath began to cover up the stone with +earth. Then he piled broken bricks and loose +mortar over it. On the top of all he planted turfs +of grass and jungle weeds. The night was almost +spent, but he could not tear himself away from the +spot. Now and again he placed his ear to the +ground, and tried to listen. It seemed to him that +from far far below—from the abysmal depth of the +earth's interior—came a wailing. It seemed to +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_102" title="102"> </a> +him that the night-sky was flooded with that one +sound, that the sleeping humanity of all the world +was awake, and was sitting on its beds, trying to +listen.</p> + +<p>The old man in his frenzy kept on heaping +earth higher and higher. He wanted somehow to +stifle that sound, but still he fancied he could hear +‘Father.’</p> + +<p>He struck the spot with all his might and said: +‘Be quiet—people might hear you.’ But still he +imagined he heard ‘Father.’</p> + +<p>The sun lighted up the eastern horizon. +Jaganath then left the temple, and came into the +open fields.</p> + +<p>There, too, somebody called out ‘Father.’ +Startled at the sound, he turned back and saw his +son at his heels.</p> + +<p>‘Father,’ said Brindaban, ‘I hear my boy is +hiding himself in your house. I must have him +back.’</p> + +<p>With eyes dilated and distorted mouth, the +old man leaned forward and exclaimed: ‘Your +boy?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, my boy Gokul. He is Nitai Pal now, +and I myself go by the name of Damodar Pal. +Your <em>fame</em> has spread so widely in the neighbourhood, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_103" title="103"> </a> +that we were obliged to cover up our origin, +lest people should have refused to pronounce our +names.’</p> + +<p>Slowly the old man lifted both his arms above +his head. His fingers began to twitch convulsively, +as though he was trying to catch hold of some +imaginary object in the air. He then fell on the +ground.</p> + +<p>When he came to his senses again, he dragged +his son towards the ruined temple. When they +were both inside it, he said: ‘Do you hear any +wailing sound?’</p> + +<p>‘No, I don't,’ said Brindaban.</p> + +<p>‘Just listen very carefully. Do you hear anybody +calling out “Father”?’</p> + +<p>‘No.’</p> + +<p>This seemed to relieve him greatly.</p> + +<p>From that day forward, he used to go about +asking people: ‘Do you hear any wailing sound?’ +They laughed at the raving dotard.</p> + +<p>About four years later, Jaganath lay on his +death-bed. When the light of this world was +gradually fading away from his eyes, and his +breathing became more and more difficult, he +suddenly sat up in a state of delirium. Throwing +both his hands in the air he seemed to grope about +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_104" title="104"> </a> +for something, muttering: ‘Nitai, who has removed +my ladder?’</p> + +<p>Unable to find the ladder to climb out of his +terrible dungeon, where there was no light to see +and no air to breathe, he fell on his bed once +more, and disappeared into that region where no +one has ever been found out in the world's eternal +game of hide-and-seek.<a name="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_105" title="105–106"> </a>THE RIDDLE SOLVED</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_107" title="107"> </a>THE RIDDLE SOLVED</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Krishna Gopal Sircar</span>, zemindar of Jhikrakota, +made over his estates to his eldest son, and retired +to Kasi, as befits a good Hindu, to spend the +evening of his life in religious devotion. All the +poor and the destitute of the neighbourhood were +in tears at the parting. Every one declared that +such piety and benevolence were rare in these +degenerate days.</p> + +<p>His son, Bipin Bihari, was a young man well +educated after the modern fashion, and had taken +the degree of Bachelor of Arts. He sported a +pair of spectacles, wore a beard, and seldom mixed +with others. His private life was unsullied. He +did not smoke, and never touched cards. He +was a man of stern disposition, though he looked +soft and pliable. This trait of his character soon +came home to his tenantry in diverse ways. Unlike +his father, he would on no account allow the +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_108" title="108"> </a> +remission of one single pice out of the rents justly +due to him. In no circumstances would he grant +any tenant one single day's grace in paying up.</p> + +<p>On taking over the management of the property, +Bipin Bihari discovered that his father had +allowed a large number of Brahmins to hold land +entirely rent-free, and a larger number at rents +much below the prevailing rates. His father was +incapable of resisting the importunate solicitation +of others—such was the weakness of his character.</p> + +<p>Bipin Bihari said this could never be. He +could not abandon the income of half his property—and +he reasoned with himself thus: <em>Firstly</em>, the +persons who were in actual enjoyment of the concessions +and getting fat at his expense were a lot +of worthless people, and wholly undeserving of +charity. Charity bestowed on such objects only +encouraged idleness. <em>Secondly</em>, living nowadays +had become much costlier than in the days of his +ancestors. Wants had increased apace. For a +gentleman to keep up his position had become +four times as expensive as in days past. So he +could not afford to scatter gifts right and left as +his father had done. On the contrary, it was his +bounden duty to call back as many of them as he +possibly could.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_109" title="109"> </a>So Bipin Bihari lost no time in carrying into +effect what he conceived to be his duty. He was +a man of strict principles.</p> + +<p>What had gone out of his grasp, returned to +him little by little. Only a very small portion of +his father's grants did he allow to remain undisturbed, +and he took good care to arrange that +even those should not be deemed permanent.</p> + +<p>The wails of the tenants reached Krishna Gopal +at Benares through the post. Some even made a +journey to that place to represent their grievances +to him in person. Krishna Gopal wrote to his +son intimating his displeasure. Bipin Bihari replied, +pointing out that the times had changed. In +former days, he said, the <i>zemindar</i> was compensated +for the gifts he made by the many customary +presents he received from his tenantry. Recent +statutes had made all such impositions illegal. +The <i>zemindar</i> had now to rest content with just +the stipulated rent, and nothing more. ‘Unless,’ +he continued, ‘we keep a strict watch over the +payment of our just dues, what will be left to us? +Since the tenants won't give us anything extra +now, how can we allow them concessions? Our +relations must henceforth be strictly commercial. +We shall be ruined if we go on making gifts and +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_110" title="110"> </a> +endowments, and the preservation of our property +and the keeping up of our position will be rendered +very difficult.’</p> + +<p>Krishna Gopal became uneasy at finding that +times should have changed so much. ‘Well, +well,’ he murmured to himself, ‘the younger +generation knows best, I suppose. Our old-fashioned +methods won't do now. If I interfere, +my son might refuse to manage the property, and +insist on my going back. No, thank you—I would +rather not. I prefer to devote the few days that +are left me to the service of my God.’</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>So things went on. Bipin Bihari put his affairs +in order after much litigation in the Courts, and +by less constitutional methods outside. Most +of the tenants submitted to his will out of fear. +Only a fellow called Asimuddin, son of Mirza +Bibi, remained refractory.</p> + +<p>Bipin's displeasure was keenest against this +man. He could quite understand his father having +granted rent-free lands to Brahmins, but why this +Mohammedan should be holding so much land, +some free and some at rents lower than the prevailing +rates, was a riddle to him. And what +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_111" title="111"> </a> +was he? The son of a low Mohammedan widow, +giving himself airs and defying the whole world, +simply because he had learnt to read and write a +little at the village school. To Bipin it was intolerable.</p> + +<p>He made inquiries of his clerks about Asimuddin's +holdings. All that they could tell him was +that Babu Krishna Gopal himself had made these +grants to the family many years back, but they +had no idea as to what his motive might have +been. They imagined, however, that perhaps the +widow won the compassion of the kind-hearted +<i>zemindar</i>, by representing to him her woe and +misery.</p> + +<p>To Bipin these favours seemed to be utterly +undeserved. He had not seen the pitiable condition +of these people in days gone by. Their +comparative ease at the present day and their +arrogance drove him to the conclusion that they +had impudently swindled his tender-hearted father +out of a part of his lawful income.</p> + +<p>Asimuddin was a stiff-necked sort of a fellow, +too. He vowed that he would lay down his life +sooner than give up an inch of his land. Then +came open hostilities.</p> + +<p>The poor old widow tried her best to pacify +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_112" title="112"> </a> +her son. ‘It is no good fighting with the <i>zemindar</i>,’ +she would often say to him. ‘His kindness has +kept us alive so long; let us depend upon him +still, though he may curtail his favours. Surrender +to him part of the lands as he desires.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, mother!’ protested Asimuddin. ‘What +do you know of these matters, pray?’</p> + +<p>One by one, Asimuddin lost the cases instituted +against him. The more he lost, the more his +obstinacy increased. For the sake of his all, he +staked all that was his.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, Mirza Bibi collected some fruits +and vegetables from her little garden, and unknown +to her son went and sought an interview +with Bipin Babu. She looked at him with a +tenderness maternal in its intensity, and spoke: +‘May Allah bless you, my son. Do not destroy +Asim—it wouldn't be right of you. To your +charge I commit him. Take him as though he +were one whom it is your duty to support—as +though he were a ne'er-do-well younger brother +of yours. Vast is your wealth—don't grudge him +a small particle of it, my son.’</p> + +<p>This assumption of familiarity on the part of +the garrulous old woman annoyed Bipin not a +little. ‘What do you know of these things, my +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_113" title="113"> </a> +good woman?’ he condescended to say. ‘If you +have any representations to make, send your son +to me.’</p> + +<p>Being assured for the second time that she +knew nothing about these affairs, Mirza Bibi +returned home, wiping her eyes with her apron all +the way, and offering her silent prayers to Allah.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The litigation dragged its weary length from the +Criminal to the Civil Courts, and thence to the +High Court, where at last Asimuddin met with a +partial success. Eighteen months passed in this +way. But he was a ruined man now—plunged in +debts up to his very ears. His creditors took this +opportunity to execute the decrees they had obtained +against him. A date was fixed for putting +up to auction every stick and stone that he had left.</p> + +<p>It was Monday. The village market had +assembled by the side of a tiny river, now swollen +by the rains. Buying and selling were going on, +partly on the bank and partly in the boats moored +there. The hubbub was great. Among the commodities +for sale jack-fruits preponderated, it +being the month of <i>Asadh</i>. <i>Hilsa</i> fish were seen +in large quantities also. The sky was cloudy. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_114" title="114"> </a> +Many of the stall-holders, apprehending a downpour, +had stretched a piece of cloth overhead, +across bamboo poles put up for the purpose.</p> + +<p>Asimuddin had come too—but he had not a +copper with him. No shopkeepers allowed him +credit nowadays. He therefore had brought a +brass <i>thali</i><a name="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> and a <i>dao</i><a name="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> with him. These he would +pawn, and then buy what he needed.</p> + +<p>Towards evening, Bipin Babu was out for a +walk attended by two or three retainers armed +with <i>lathis</i>.<a name="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> Attracted by the noise, he directed +his steps towards the market. On his arrival, he +stopped awhile before the stall of Dwari, the oilman, +and made kindly inquiries about his business. +All on a sudden, Asimuddin raised his <i>dao</i> and ran +towards Bipin Babu, roaring like a tiger. The +market people caught hold of him half-way, and +quickly disarmed him. He was forthwith given +in custody to the police. Business in the market +then went on as usual.</p> + +<p>We cannot say that Bipin Babu was not inwardly +pleased at this incident. It is intolerable +that the creature we are hunting down should turn +and show fight. ‘The <i>badmash</i>,’ Bipin chuckled; +‘I have got him at last.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_115" title="115"> </a>The ladies of Bipin Babu's house, when they +heard the news, exclaimed with horror: ‘Oh, the +ruffian! What a mercy they seized him in time!’ +They found consolation in the prospect of the man +being punished as he richly deserved.</p> + +<p>In another part of the village the same evening +the widow's humble cottage, devoid of bread and +bereft of her son, became darker than death. +Others dismissed the incident of the afternoon +from their minds, sat down to their meals, retired +to bed and went to sleep, but to the widow the +event loomed larger than anything else in this wide +world. But, alas, who was there to combat it? +Only a bundle of wearied bones and a helpless +mother's heart trembling with fear.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Three days have passed in the meanwhile. To-morrow +the case would come up for trial before a +Deputy Magistrate. Bipin Babu would have to +be examined as a witness. Never before this did a +<i>zemindar</i> of Jhikrakota appear in the witness-box, +but Bipin did not mind.</p> + +<p>The next day at the appointed hour, Bipin Babu +arrived at the Court in a palanquin in great state. +He wore a turban on his head, and a watch-chain +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_116" title="116"> </a> +dangled on his breast. The Deputy Magistrate +invited him to a seat on the daïs, beside his own. +The Court-room was crowded to suffocation. So +great a sensation had not been witnessed in this +Court for many years.</p> + +<p>When the time for the case to be called drew +near, a <i>chaprassi</i> came and whispered something in +Bipin Babu's ear. He got up very agitated and +walked out, begging the Deputy Magistrate to +excuse him for a few minutes.</p> + +<p>Outside he saw his old father a little way off, +standing under a <i>banian</i> tree, barefooted and +wrapped in a piece of <i>namabali</i>.<a name="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> A string of +beads was in his hand. His slender form shone +with a gentle lustre, and tranquil compassion +seemed to radiate from his forehead.</p> + +<p>Bipin, hampered by his close-fitting trousers +and his flowing <i>chapkan</i>, touched his father's feet +with his forehead. As he did this his turban came +off and kissed his nose, and his watch, popping out +of his pocket, swung to and fro in the air. Bipin +hurriedly straightened his turban, and begged his +father to come to his pleader's house close by.</p> + +<p>‘No, thank you,’ Krishna Gopal replied, ‘I will +tell you here what I have got to say.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_117" title="117"> </a>A curious crowd had gathered by this time. +Bipin's attendants pushed them back.</p> + +<p>Then Krishna Gopal said: ‘You must do what +you can to get Asim acquitted, and restore him the +lands that you have taken away from him.’</p> + +<p>‘Is it for this, father,’ said Bipin, very much +surprised, ‘that you have come all the way from +Benares? Would you tell me why you have made +these people the objects of your special favour?’</p> + +<p>‘What would you gain by knowing it, my boy?’</p> + +<p>But Bipin persisted. ‘It is only this, father,’ +he went on; ‘I have revoked many a grant because +I thought the tenants were not deserving. There +were many Brahmins among them, but of them you +never said a word. Why are you so keen about these +Mohammedans now? After all that has happened, +if I drop this case against Asim, and give him +back his lands, what shall I say to people?’</p> + +<p>Krishna Gopal kept silence for some moments. +Then, passing the beads through his shaky fingers +with rapidity, he spoke with a tremulous voice: +‘Should it be necessary to explain your conduct to +people, you may tell them that Asimuddin is my +son—and your brother.’</p> + +<p>‘What?’ exclaimed Bipin in painful surprise. +‘From a Musalman's womb?’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_118" title="118"> </a>‘Even so, my son,’ was the calm reply.</p> + +<p>Bipin stood there for some time in mute astonishment. +Then he found words to say: ‘Come +home, father; we will talk about it afterwards.’</p> + +<p>‘No, my son,’ replied the old man, ‘having +once relinquished the world to serve my God, I +cannot go home again. I return hence. Now I +leave you to do what your sense of duty may +suggest.’ He then blessed his son, and, checking +his tears with difficulty, walked off with tottering +steps.</p> + +<p>Bipin was dumbfounded, not knowing what to +say nor what to do. ‘So, such was the piety of +the older generation,’ he said to himself. He reflected +with pride how much better he was than his +father in point of education and morality. This +was the result, he concluded, of not having a +principle to guide one's actions.</p> + +<p>Returning to the Court, he saw Asimuddin +outside between two constables, awaiting his trial. +He looked emaciated and worn out. His lips +were pale and dry, and his eyes unnaturally bright. +A dirty piece of cloth worn to shreds covered him. +‘This my brother!’ Bipin shuddered at the +thought.</p> + +<p>The Deputy Magistrate and Bipin were friends, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_119" title="119–120"> </a> +and the case ended in a fiasco. In a few days +Asimuddin was restored to his former condition. +Why all this happened, he could not understand. +The village people were greatly surprised also.</p> + +<p>However, the news of Krishna Gopal's arrival +just before the trial soon got abroad. People +began to exchange meaning glances. The pleaders +in their shrewdness guessed the whole affair. One +of them, Ram Taran Babu, was beholden to Krishna +Gopal for his education and his start in life. Somehow +or other he had always suspected that the +virtue and piety of his benefactor were shams. Now +he was fully convinced that, if a searching inquiry +were made, all ‘pious’ men might be found out. +‘Let them tell their beads as much as they like,’ he +thought with glee, ‘everybody in this world is just +as bad as myself. The only difference between +a good and a bad man is that the good practise +dissimulation while the bad don't.’ The revelation +that Krishna Gopal's far-famed piety, benevolence, +and magnanimity were nothing but a cloak of +hypocrisy, settled a difficulty that had oppressed +Ram Taran Babu for many years. By what process +of reasoning, we do not know, the burden of +gratitude was greatly lifted off his mind. It was +a vast relief to him!</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_121" title="121–122"> </a>THE ELDER SISTER</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_123" title="123"> </a>THE ELDER SISTER</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Having</span> described at length the misdeeds of an +unfortunate woman's wicked, tyrannical husband, +Tara, the woman's neighbour in the village, very +shortly declared her verdict: ‘Fire be to such a +husband's mouth.’</p> + +<p>At this Joygopal Babu's wife felt much hurt; +it did not become womankind to wish, in any +circumstances whatever, a worse species of fire +than that of a cigar in a husband's mouth.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, she mildly disapproved the +verdict, hard-hearted Tara cried with redoubled +vehemence: ‘'Twere better to be a widow seven +births over than the wife of such a husband,’ +and saying this she broke up the meeting and +left.</p> + +<p>Sasi said within herself: ‘I can't imagine any +offence in a husband that could so harden the +heart against him.’ Even as she turned the matter +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_124" title="124"> </a> +over in her mind, all the tenderness of her loving +soul gushed forth towards her own husband now +abroad. Throwing herself with outstretched arms +on that part of the bed whereon her husband +was wont to lie, she kissed the empty pillow, +caught the smell of her husband's head, and, shutting +the door, brought out from a wooden box an +old and almost faded photograph with some letters +in his handwriting, and sat gazing upon them. +Thus she passed the hushed noontide alone in +her room, musing of old memories and shedding +tears of sadness.</p> + +<p>It was no new yoke this between Sasikala and +Joygopal. They had been married at an early +age and had children. Their long companionship +had made the days go by in an easy, commonplace +sort of way. On neither side had there been any +symptoms of excessive passion. They had lived +together nearly sixteen years without a break, +when her husband was suddenly called away from +home on business, and then a great impulse of +love awoke in Sasi's soul. As separation strained +the tie, love's knot grew tighter, and the passion, +whose existence Sasi had not felt, now made her +throb with pain.</p> + +<p>So it happened that after so many long years, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_125" title="125"> </a> +and at such an age, and being the mother of +children, Sasi, on this spring noon, in her lonely +chamber, lying on the bed of separation, began to +dream the sweet dream of a bride in her budding +youth. That love of which hitherto she had been +unconscious suddenly aroused her with its murmuring +music. She wandered a long way up the stream, +and saw many a golden mansion and many a grove +on either bank; but no foothold could she find now +amid the vanished hopes of happiness. She began +to say to herself that, when next she met her +husband, life should not be insipid nor should the +spring come in vain. How very often, in idle +disputation or some petty quarrel, had she teased +her husband! With all the singleness of a penitent +heart she vowed that she would never show +impatience again, never oppose her husband's +wishes, bear all his commands, and with a tender +heart submit to whatever he wished of good or +ill; for the husband was all-in-all, the husband +was the dearest object of love, the husband was +divine.</p> + +<p>Sasikala was the only and much-petted daughter +of her parents. For this reason, though he had +only a small property of his own, Joygopal had +no anxieties about the future. His father-in-law +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_126" title="126"> </a> +had enough to support them in a village with +royal state.</p> + +<p>And then in his old age a son was born untimely +to Sasikala's father. To tell the truth, +Sasi was very sore in her mind at this unlooked-for, +improper, and unjust action of her parents; +nor was Joygopal particularly pleased.</p> + +<p>The parents' love centred in this son of their +advanced years, and when the newly arrived, +diminutive, sleepy brother-in-law seized with his +two weak tiny fists all the hopes and expectations +of Joygopal, Joygopal found a place in a tea-garden +in Assam.</p> + +<p>His friends urged him to look for employment +hard-by, but whether out of a general feeling of +resentment, or knowing the chances of rapid rise in +a tea-garden, Joygopal would not pay heed to anybody. +He sent his wife and children to his father-in-law's, +and left for Assam. It was the first separation +between husband and wife in their married life.</p> + +<p>This incident made Sasikala very angry with +her baby brother. The soreness which may not +pass the lips is felt the more keenly within. +When the little fellow sucked and slept at his +ease, his big sister found a hundred reasons, such +as the rice is cold, the boys are too late for school, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_127" title="127"> </a> +to worry herself and others, day and night, with +her petulant humours.</p> + +<p>But in a short time the child's mother died. +Before her death, she committed her infant son to +her daughter's care.</p> + +<p>Then did the motherless child easily conquer +his sister's heart. With loud whoops he would +fling himself upon her, and with right good-will +try to get her mouth, nose, eyes within his own +tiny mouth; he would seize her hair within his +little fists and refuse to give it up; awaking before +the dawn, he would roll over to her side and thrill +her with his soft touch, and babble like a noisy +brook; later on, he would call her <i>jiji</i> and <i>jijima</i>, +and in hours of work and rest, by doing forbidden +things, eating forbidden food, going to forbidden +places, would set up a regular tyranny over her; +then Sasi could resist no longer. She surrendered +herself completely to this wayward little tyrant. +Since the child had no mother, his influence over +her became the greater.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The child was named Nilmani. When he was +two years old his father fell seriously ill. A letter +reached Joygopal asking him to come as quickly +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_128" title="128"> </a> +as possible. When after much trouble he got +leave and arrived, Kaliprasanna's last hour had +come.</p> + +<p>Before he died Kaliprasanna entrusted Joygopal +with the charge of his son, and left a quarter of +his estate to his daughter.</p> + +<p>So Joygopal gave up his appointment, and +came home to look after his property.</p> + +<p>After a long time husband and wife met again. +When a material body breaks it may be put together +again. But when two human beings are +divided, after a long separation, they never re-unite +at the same place, and to the same time; for the +mind is a living thing, and moment by moment it +grows and changes.</p> + +<p>In Sasi reunion stirred a new emotion. The +numbness of age-long habit in their old marriage +was entirely removed by the longing born of +separation, and she seemed to win her husband +much more closely than before. Had she not +vowed in her mind that whatever days might +come, and how long soever they might be, she +would never let the brightness of this glowing +love for her husband be dimmed.</p> + +<p>Of this reunion, however, Joygopal felt differently. +When they were constantly together +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_129" title="129"> </a> +before he had been bound to his wife by his +interests and idiosyncrasies. His wife was then +a living truth in his life, and there would have been +a great rent in the web of his daily habit if she +were left out. Consequently Joygopal found +himself in deep waters at first when he went +abroad. But in time this breach in habit was +patched up by a new habit.</p> + +<p>And this was not all. Formerly his days went +by in the most indolent and careless fashion. For +the last two years, the stimulus of bettering his +condition had stirred so powerfully in his breast +that he had nothing else in his thoughts. As +compared with the intensity of this new passion, +his old life seemed like an unsubstantial shadow. +The greatest changes in a woman's nature are +wrought by love; in a man's, by ambition.</p> + +<p>Joygopal, when he returned after two years, +found his wife not quite the same as of old. To +her life his infant brother-in-law had added a new +breadth. This part of her life was wholly unfamiliar +to him—here he had no communion with his wife. +His wife tried hard to share her love for the child +with him, but it cannot be said that she succeeded. +Sasi would come with the child in her arms, and +hold him before her husband with a smiling face—Nilmani +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_130" title="130"> </a> +would clasp Sasi's neck, and hide his +face on her shoulder, and admit no obligation +of kindred. Sasi wished that her little brother +might show Joygopal all the arts he had learnt to +capture a man's mind. But Joygopal was not +very keen about it. How could the child show +any enthusiasm? Joygopal could not at all +understand what there was in the heavy-pated, +grave-faced, dusky child that so much love should +be wasted on him.</p> + +<p>Women quickly understand the ways of love. +Sasi at once understood that Joygopal did not +care for Nilmani. Henceforth she used to screen +her brother with the greatest care—to keep him +away from the unloving, repelling look of her +husband. Thus the child came to be the treasure +of her secret care, the object of her isolated love.</p> + +<p>Joygopal was greatly annoyed when Nilmani +cried; so Sasi would quickly press the child to +her breast, and with her whole heart and soul try +to soothe him. And when Nilmani's cry happened +to disturb Joygopal's sleep at night, and Joygopal +with an expression of displeasure, and in a tortured +spirit, growled at the child, Sasi felt humbled and +fluttered like a guilty thing. Then she would +take up the child in her lap, retire to a distance, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_131" title="131"> </a> +and in a voice of pleading love, with such endearments +as ‘my gold, my treasure, my jewel,’ lull +him to sleep.</p> + +<p>Children will fall out for a hundred things. +Formerly in such cases, Sasi would punish her +children, and side with her brother, for he was +motherless. Now the law changed with the judge. +Nilmani had often to bear heavy punishment +without fault and without inquiry. This wrong +went like a dagger to Sasi's heart; so she would +take her punished brother into her room, and +with sweets and toys, and by caressing and +kissing him, solace as much as she could his +stricken heart.</p> + +<p>Thus the more Sasi loved Nilmani, the more +Joygopal was annoyed with him. On the other +hand, the more Joygopal showed his contempt +for Nilmani, the more would Sasi bathe the child +with the nectar of her love.</p> + +<p>And when the fellow Joygopal behaved harshly +to his wife, Sasi would minister to him silently, +meekly, and with loving-kindness. But inwardly +they hurt each other, moment by moment, about +Nilmani.</p> + +<p>The hidden clash of a silent conflict like this is +far harder to bear than an open quarrel.</p> + +<div><a class="pagenum" name="Page_132" title="132"> </a></div> +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Nilmani's head was the largest part of him. +It seemed as if the Creator had blown through +a slender stick a big bubble at its top. The +doctors feared sometimes that the child might be +as frail and as quickly evanescent as a bubble. +For a long time he could neither speak nor walk. +Looking at his sad grave face, you might think +that his parents had unburdened all the sad weight +of their advanced years upon the head of this +little child.</p> + +<p>With his sister's care and nursing, Nilmani +passed the period of danger, and arrived at his +sixth year.</p> + +<p>In the month of Kartik, on the <i>bhaiphoto</i><a name="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> day, +Sasi had dressed Nilmani up as a little Babu, in +coat and <i>chadar</i> and red-bordered <i>dhoti</i>, and was +giving him the ‘brother's mark,’ when her outspoken +neighbour Tara came in and, for one +reason or another, began a quarrel.</p> + +<p>‘'Tis no use,’ cried she, ‘giving the “brother's +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_133" title="133"> </a> +mark” with so much show and ruining the +brother in secret.’</p> + +<p>At this Sasi was thunderstruck with astonishment, +rage, and pain. Tara repeated the rumour +that Sasi and her husband had conspired together +to put the minor Nilmani's property up for sale +for arrears of rent, and to purchase it in the name +of her husband's cousin. When Sasi heard this, +she uttered a curse that those who could spread +such a foul lie might be stricken with leprosy in +the mouth. And then she went weeping to her +husband, and told him of the gossip. Joygopal +said: ‘Nobody can be trusted in these days. +Upen is my aunt's son, and I felt quite safe in +leaving him in charge of the property. He could +not have allowed the <i>taluk</i> Hasilpur to fall into +arrears and purchase it himself in secret, if I had +had the least inkling about it.’</p> + +<p>‘Won't you sue then?’ asked Sasi in astonishment.</p> + +<p>‘Sue one's cousin!’ said Joygopal. ‘Besides, +it would be useless, a simple waste of money.’</p> + +<p>It was Sasi's supreme duty to trust her husband's +word, but Sasi could not. At last her happy +home, the domesticity of her love seemed hateful +to her. That home life which had once seemed +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_134" title="134"> </a> +her supreme refuge was nothing more than a cruel +snare of self-interest, which had surrounded them, +brother and sister, on all sides. She was a +woman, single-handed, and she knew not how +she could save the helpless Nilmani. The more +she thought, the more her heart filled with terror, +loathing, and an infinite love for her imperilled +little brother. She thought that, if she only knew +how, she would appear before the <i>Lat Saheb</i>,<a name="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> nay, +write to the Maharani herself, to save her brother's +property. The Maharani would surely not allow +Nilmani's <i>taluk</i><a name="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> of Hasilpur, with an income of +seven hundred and fifty-eight rupees a year, to be +sold.</p> + +<p>When Sasi was thus thinking of bringing her +husband's cousin to book by appealing to the +Maharani herself, Nilmani was suddenly seized +with fever and convulsions.</p> + +<p>Joygopal called in the village doctor. When +Sasi asked for a better doctor, Joygopal said: +‘Why, Matilal isn't a bad sort.’</p> + +<p>Sasi fell at his feet, and charged him with an +oath on her own head; whereupon Joygopal said: +‘Well, I shall send for the doctor from town.’</p> + +<p>Sasi lay with Nilmani in her lap, nor would +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_135" title="135"> </a> +Nilmani let her out of his sight for a minute; he +clung to her lest by some pretence she should +escape; even while he slept he would not loosen +his hold of her dress.</p> + +<p>Thus the whole day passed, and Joygopal +came after nightfall to say that the doctor was +not at home; he had gone to see a patient at a +distance. He added that he himself had to leave +that very day on account of a lawsuit, and that he +had told Matilal, who would regularly call to see +the patient.</p> + +<p>At night Nilmani wandered in his sleep. As +soon as the morning dawned, Sasi, without the +least scruple, took a boat with her sick brother, +and went straight to the doctor's house. The +doctor was at home—he had not left the town. +He quickly found lodgings for her, and having +installed her under the care of an elderly widow, +undertook the treatment of the boy.</p> + +<p>The next day Joygopal arrived. Blazing with +fury, he ordered his wife to return home with him +at once.</p> + +<p>‘Even if you cut me to pieces, I won't return,’ +replied his wife. ‘You all want to kill my Nilmani, +who has no father, no mother, none other than me, +but I will save him.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_136" title="136"> </a>‘Then you remain here, and don't come back +to my house,’ cried Joygopal indignantly.</p> + +<p>Sasi at length fired up. ‘<em>Your</em> house! Why, +'tis my brother's!’</p> + +<p>‘All right, we'll see,’ said Joygopal. The +neighbours made a great stir over this incident. +‘If you want to quarrel with your husband,’ said +Tara, ‘do so at home. What is the good of leaving +your house? After all, Joygopal is your husband.’</p> + +<p>By spending all the money she had with her, +and selling her ornaments, Sasi saved her brother +from the jaws of death. Then she heard that the +big property which they had in Dwarigram, where +their dwelling-house stood, the income of which +was more than Rs. 1500 a year, had been transferred +by Joygopal into his own name with the help of +the Jemindar. And now the whole property +belonged to them, not to her brother.</p> + +<p>When he had recovered from his illness, +Nilmani would cry plaintively: ‘Let us go home, +sister.’ His heart was pining for his nephews and +nieces, his companions. So he repeatedly said: +‘Let us go home, sister, to that old house of ours.’ +At this Sasi wept. Where was their home?</p> + +<p>But it was no good crying. Her brother had +no one else besides herself in the world. Sasi +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_137" title="137"> </a> +thought of this, wiped her tears, and, entering the +Zenana of the Deputy Magistrate, Tarini Babu, +appealed to his wife. The Deputy Magistrate +knew Joygopal. That a woman should forsake +her home, and engage in a dispute with her husband +regarding matters of property, greatly incensed +him against Sasi. However, Tarini Babu kept +Sasi diverted, and instantly wrote to Joygopal. +Joygopal put his wife and brother-in-law into a +boat by force, and brought them home.</p> + +<p>Husband and wife, after a second separation, +met again for the second time! The decree of +Prajapati!<a name="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p> + +<p>Having got back his old companions after a +long absence, Nilmani was perfectly happy. Seeing +his unsuspecting joy, Sasi felt as if her heart would +break.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The Magistrate was touring in the Mofussil during +the cold weather and pitched his tent within +the village to shoot. The Saheb met Nilmani +on the village <i>maidan</i>. The other boys gave him +a wide berth, varying Chanakya's couplet a little, +and adding the Saheb to the list of ‘the clawed, +the toothed, and the horned beasts.’ But grave-natured +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_138" title="138"> </a> +Nilmani in imperturbable curiosity serenely +gazed at the Saheb.</p> + +<p>The Saheb was amused and came up and asked +in Bengali: ‘You read at the <i>pathsala</i>?’</p> + +<p>The boy silently nodded. ‘What <i>pustaks</i><a name="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> do +you read?’ asked the Saheb.</p> + +<p>As Nilmani did not understand the word <i>pustak</i>, +he silently fixed his gaze on the Magistrate's face. +Nilmani told his sister the story of his meeting +the Magistrate with great enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>At noon, Joygopal, dressed in trousers, <i>chapkan</i>,<a name="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> +and <i>pagri</i>,<a name="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> went to pay his salams to the Saheb. +A crowd of suitors, <i>chaprasies</i>,<a name="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> and constables +stood about him. Fearing the heat, the Saheb had +seated himself at a court-table outside the tent, in +the open shade, and placing Joygopal in a chair, +questioned him about the state of the village. +Having taken the seat of honour in open view of +the community, Joygopal swelled inwardly, and +thought it would be a good thing if any of the +Chakrabartis or Nandis came and saw him there.</p> + +<p>At this moment, a woman, closely veiled, and +accompanied by Nilmani, came straight up to the +Magistrate. She said: ‘Saheb, into your hands I +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_139" title="139"> </a> +resign my helpless brother. Save him.’ The +Saheb, seeing the large-headed, solemn boy, whose +acquaintance he had already made, and thinking +that the woman must be of a respectable family, +at once stood up and said: ‘Please enter the tent.’</p> + +<p>The woman said: ‘What I have to say I will +say here.’</p> + +<p>Joygopal writhed and turned pale. The curious +villagers thought it capital fun, and pressed closer. +But the moment the Saheb lifted his cane they +scampered off.</p> + +<p>Holding her brother by the hand, Sasi narrated +the history of the orphan from the beginning. As +Joygopal tried to interrupt now and then, the +Magistrate thundered with a flushed face, ‘<i>Chup +rao</i>,’ and with the tip of his cane motioned to +Joygopal to leave the chair and stand up.</p> + +<p>Joygopal, inwardly raging against Sasi, stood +speechless. Nilmani nestled up close to his sister, +and listened awe-struck.</p> + +<p>When Sasi had finished her story, the Magistrate +put a few questions to Joygopal, and on hearing +his answers, kept silence for a long while, and then +addressed Sasi thus: ‘My good woman, though +this matter may not come up before me, still rest +assured I will do all that is needful about it. You +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_140" title="140"> </a> +can return home with your brother without the +least misgiving.’</p> + +<p>Sasi said: ‘Saheb, so long as he does not get +back his own home, I dare not take him there. +Unless you keep Nilmani with you, none else will +be able to save him.’</p> + +<p>‘And what would you do?’ queried the Saheb.</p> + +<p>‘I will retire to my husband's house,’ said Sasi; +‘there is nothing to fear for me.’</p> + +<p>The Saheb smiled a little, and, as there was +nothing else to do, agreed to take charge of this +lean, dusty, grave, sedate, gentle Bengali boy whose +neck was ringed with amulets.</p> + +<p>When Sasi was about to take her leave, the boy +clutched her dress. ‘Don't be frightened, <i>baba</i>,—come,’ +said the Saheb. With tears streaming +behind her veil, Sasi said: ‘Do go, my brother, +my darling brother—you will meet your sister +again!’</p> + +<p>Saying this she embraced him and stroked his +head and back, and releasing her dress, hastily +withdrew; and just then the Saheb put his left arm +round him. The child wailed out: ‘Sister, oh, my +sister!’ Sasi turned round at once, and with outstretched +arm made a sign of speechless solace, and +with a bursting heart withdrew.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_141" title="141–142"> </a>Again in that old, ever-familiar house husband +and wife met. The decree of Prajapati!</p> + +<p>But this union did not last long. For soon +after the villagers learnt one morning that Sasi had +died of cholera in the night, and had been instantly +cremated.</p> + +<p>None uttered a word about it. Only neighbour +Tara would sometimes be on the point of bursting +out, but people would shut up her mouth, saying, +‘Hush!’</p> + +<p>At parting, Sasi gave her word to her brother +they would meet again. Where that word was +kept none can tell.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_143" title="143–144"> </a>SUBHA</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_145" title="145"> </a>SUBHA</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">When</span> the girl was given the name of Subhashini,<a name="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> +who could have guessed that she would prove +dumb? Her two elder sisters were Sukeshini<a name="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> and +Suhasini,<a name="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> and for the sake of uniformity her +father named his youngest girl Subhashini. She +was called Subha for short.</p> + +<p>Her two elder sisters had been married with +the usual cost and difficulty, and now the youngest +daughter lay like a silent weight upon the heart of +her parents. All the world seemed to think that, +because she did not speak, therefore she did not feel; +it discussed her future and its own anxiety freely in +her presence. She had understood from her earliest +childhood that God had sent her like a curse to her +father's house, so she withdrew herself from ordinary +people, and tried to live apart. If only they would +all forget her she felt she could endure it. But +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_146" title="146"> </a> +who can forget pain? Night and day her parents' +minds were aching on her account. Especially +her mother looked upon her as a deformity in +herself. To a mother a daughter is a more closely +intimate part of herself than a son can be; and a +fault in her is a source of personal shame. Banikantha, +Subha's father, loved her rather better +than his other daughters; her mother regarded +her with aversion as a stain upon her own body.</p> + +<p>If Subha lacked speech, she did not lack a pair +of large dark eyes, shaded with long lashes; and +her lips trembled like a leaf in response to any +thought that rose in her mind.</p> + +<p>When we express our thought in words, the +medium is not found easily. There must be a +process of translation, which is often inexact, and +then we fall into error. But black eyes need no +translating; the mind itself throws a shadow upon +them. In them thought opens or shuts, shines +forth, or goes out in darkness, hangs steadfast like +the setting moon, or, like the swift and restless +lightning, illumines all quarters of the sky. They +who from birth have had no other speech than +the trembling of their lips learn a language of the +eyes, endless in expression, deep as the sea, clear as +the heavens, wherein play dawn and sunset, light +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_147" title="147"> </a> +and shadow. The dumb have a lonely grandeur +like Nature's own. Wherefore the other children +almost dreaded Subha, and never played with her. +She was silent and companionless as noontide.</p> + +<p>The hamlet where she lived was Chandipur. Its +river, small for a river of Bengal, kept to its narrow +bounds like a daughter of the middle class. This +busy streak of water never overflowed its banks, but +went about its duties as though it were a member +of every family in the villages beside it. On either +side were houses and banks shaded with trees. +So stepping from her queenly throne, the river-goddess +became a garden deity of each home; +and forgetful of herself, performed her task of +endless benediction with swift and cheerful foot.</p> + +<p>Banikantha's house looked upon the stream. +Every hut and stack in the place could be seen by +the passing boatmen. I know not if amid these +signs of worldly wealth any one noticed the little +girl who, when her work was done, stole away to +the waterside, and sat there. But here Nature +fulfilled her want of speech, and spoke for her. +The murmur of the brook, the voice of the village +folk, the songs of the boatmen, the crying of the +birds and rustle of trees mingled, and were one +with the trembling of her heart. They became +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_148" title="148"> </a> +one vast wave of sound, which beat upon her restless +soul. This murmur and movement of Nature +were the dumb girl's language; that speech of +the dark eyes, which the long lashes shaded, was +the language of the world about her. From the +trees, where the cicalas chirped, to the quiet stars +there was nothing but signs and gestures, weeping +and sighing. And in the deep mid-noon, when +the boatmen and fisherfolk had gone to their +dinner, when the villagers slept, and birds were +still, when the ferry-boats were idle, when the great +busy world paused in its toil, and became suddenly +a lonely, awful giant, then beneath the vast impressive +heavens there were only dumb Nature +and a dumb girl, sitting very silent—one under +the spreading sunlight, the other where a small +tree cast its shadow.</p> + +<p>But Subha was not altogether without friends. +In the stall were two cows, Sarbbashi and Panguli. +They had never heard their names from her lips, +but they knew her footfall. Though she had no +words, she murmured lovingly and they understood +her gentle murmuring better than all speech. +When she fondled them or scolded or coaxed them, +they understood her better than men could do. +Subha would come to the shed, and throw her +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_149" title="149"> </a> +arms round Sarbbashi's neck; she would rub her +cheek against her friend's, and Panguli would turn +her great kind eyes and lick her face. The girl +paid them three regular visits every day, and +others that were irregular. Whenever she heard +any words that hurt her, she would come to these +dumb friends out of due time. It was as though +they guessed her anguish of spirit from her quiet +look of sadness. Coming close to her, they +would rub their horns softly against her arms, +and in dumb, puzzled fashion try to comfort +her. Besides these two, there were goats and a +kitten; but Subha had not the same equality of +friendship with them, though they showed the +same attachment. Every time it got a chance, +night or day, the kitten would jump into her lap, +and settle down to slumber, and show its appreciation +of an aid to sleep as Subha drew her soft +fingers over its neck and back.</p> + +<p>Subha had a comrade also among the higher +animals, and it is hard to say what were the girl's +relations with him, for he could speak, and his +gift of speech left them without any common +language. He was the youngest boy of the +Gosains, Pratap by name, an idle fellow. After +long effort, his parents had abandoned the hope +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_150" title="150"> </a> +that he would ever make his living. Now losels +have this advantage, that, though their own folk +disapprove of them, they are generally popular +with every one else. Having no work to chain +them, they become public property. Just as every +town needs an open space where all may breathe, +so a village needs two or three gentlemen of +leisure, who can give time to all; so that, if we +are lazy and want a companion, one is to hand.</p> + +<p>Pratap's chief ambition was to catch fish. He +managed to waste a lot of time this way, and +might be seen almost any afternoon so employed. +It was thus most often that he met Subha. Whatever +he was about, he liked a companion; and, +when one is catching fish, a silent companion is +best of all. Pratap respected Subha for her taciturnity, +and, as every one called her Subha, he +showed his affection by calling her Su. Subha +used to sit beneath a tamarind, and Pratap, a little +distance off, would cast his line. Pratap took +with him a small allowance of betel, and Subha +prepared it for him. And I think that, sitting and +gazing a long while, she desired ardently to bring +some great help to Pratap, to be of real aid, to +prove by any means that she was not a useless +burden to the world. But there was nothing to +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_151" title="151"> </a> +do. Then she turned to the Creator in prayer +for some rare power, that by an astonishing +miracle she might startle Pratap into exclaiming: +‘My! I never dreamt our Su could have done +this!’</p> + +<p>Only think! if Subha had been a water nymph, +she might have risen slowly from the river, bringing +the gem of a snake's crown to the landing-place. +Then Pratap, leaving his paltry fishing, +might dive into the lower world, and see there, on +a golden bed in a palace of silver, whom else but +dumb little Su, Banikantha's child? Yes, our Su, +the only daughter of the king of that shining city +of jewels! But that might not be, it was impossible. +Not that anything is really impossible, but +Su had been born, not into the royal house of +Patalpur,<a name="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> but into Banikantha's family, and she +knew no means of astonishing the Gosains' boy.</p> + +<p>Gradually she grew up. Gradually she began +to find herself. A new inexpressible consciousness +like a tide from the central places of the sea, when +the moon is full, swept through her. She saw +herself, questioned herself, but no answer came +that she could understand.</p> + +<p>Once upon a time, late on a night of full moon, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_152" title="152"> </a> +she slowly opened her door, and peeped out timidly. +Nature, herself at full moon, like lonely Subha, +was looking down on the sleeping earth. Her +strong young life beat within her; joy and sadness +filled her being to its brim; she reached the +limits even of her own illimitable loneliness, nay, +passed beyond them. Her heart was heavy, and she +could not speak! At the skirts of this silent, +troubled Mother there stood a silent troubled +girl.</p> + +<p>The thought of her marriage filled her parents +with an anxious care. People blamed them, and +even talked of making them outcasts. Banikantha +was well off; they had fish-curry twice daily; and +consequently he did not lack enemies. Then the +women interfered, and Bani went away for a few +days. Presently he returned, and said: ‘We +must go to Calcutta.’</p> + +<p>They got ready to go to this strange country. +Subha's heart was heavy with tears, like a mist-wrapt +dawn. With a vague fear that had been +gathering for days, she dogged her father and +mother like a dumb animal. With her large eyes +wide open, she scanned their faces as though she +wished to learn something. But not a word did +they vouchsafe. One afternoon in the midst of +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_153" title="153"> </a> +all this, as Pratap was fishing, he laughed: ‘So then, +Su, they have caught your bridegroom, and you +are going to be married! Mind you don't forget +me altogether!’ Then he turned his mind again +to his fish. As a stricken doe looks in the hunter's +face, asking in silent agony: ‘What have I done +to you?’ so Subha looked at Pratap. That day +she sat no longer beneath her tree. Banikantha, +having finished his nap, was smoking in his bedroom +when Subha dropped down at his feet and +burst out weeping as she gazed towards him. +Banikantha tried to comfort her, and his cheek +grew wet with tears.</p> + +<p>It was settled that on the morrow they should +go to Calcutta. Subha went to the cow-shed to +bid farewell to her childhood's comrades. She fed +them with her hand; she clasped their necks; she +looked into their faces, and tears fell fast from +the eyes which spoke for her. That night was +the tenth of the moon. Subha left her room, and +flung herself down on her grassy couch beside her +dear river. It was as if she threw her arms about +Earth, her strong, silent mother, and tried to say: +‘Do not let me leave you, mother. Put your +arms about me, as I have put mine about you, and +hold me fast.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_154" title="154"> </a>One day in a house in Calcutta, Subha's mother +dressed her up with great care. She imprisoned +her hair, knotting it up in laces, she hung her +about with ornaments, and did her best to kill her +natural beauty, Subha's eyes filled with tears. +Her mother, fearing they would grow swollen with +weeping, scolded her harshly, but the tears disregarded +the scolding. The bridegroom came with +a friend to inspect the bride. Her parents were +dizzy with anxiety and fear when they saw the +god arrive to select the beast for his sacrifice. +Behind the stage, the mother called her instructions +aloud, and increased her daughter's +weeping twofold, before she sent her into the +examiner's presence. The great man, after scanning +her a long time, observed: ‘Not so bad.’</p> + +<p>He took special note of her tears, and thought +she must have a tender heart. He put it to her +credit in the account, arguing that the heart, which +to-day was distressed at leaving her parents, would +presently prove a useful possession. Like the +oyster's pearls, the child's tears only increased her +value, and he made no other comment.</p> + +<p>The almanac was consulted, and the marriage +took place on an auspicious day. Having delivered +over their dumb girl into another's hands, Subha's +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_155" title="155–156"> </a> +parents returned home. Thank God! Their caste +in this and their safety in the next world were +assured! The bridegroom's work lay in the west, +and shortly after the marriage he took his wife +thither.</p> + +<p>In less than ten days every one knew that the +bride was dumb! At least, if any one did not, it +was not her fault, for she deceived no one. Her +eyes told them everything, though no one understood +her. She looked on every hand; she found +no speech; she missed the faces, familiar from +birth, of those who had understood a dumb girl's +language. In her silent heart there sounded an +endless, voiceless weeping, which only the Searcher +of Hearts could hear.</p> + +<p>Using both eyes and ears <em>this</em> time, her lord +made another careful examination, using his ears +this time as well as his eyes, and married a second +wife who could speak.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_157" title="157–158"> </a>THE POSTMASTER</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_159" title="159"> </a>THE POSTMASTER</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">The</span> postmaster first took up his duties in the +village of Ulapur. Though the village was a +small one, there was an indigo factory near by, and +the proprietor, an Englishman, had managed to +get a post office established.</p> + +<p>Our postmaster belonged to Calcutta. He felt +like a fish out of water in this remote village. +His office and living-room were in a dark thatched +shed, not far from a green, slimy pond, surrounded +on all sides by a dense growth.</p> + +<p>The men employed in the indigo factory had +no leisure; moreover, they were hardly desirable +companions for decent folk. Nor is a Calcutta +boy an adept in the art of associating with others. +Among strangers he appears either proud or ill +at ease. At any rate, the postmaster had but +little company; nor had he much to do.</p> + +<p>At times he tried his hand at writing a verse or +two. That the movement of the leaves and the +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_160" title="160"> </a> +clouds of the sky were enough to fill life with joy—such +were the sentiments to which he sought +to give expression. But God knows that the +poor fellow would have felt it as the gift of a +new life, if some genie of the <cite>Arabian Nights</cite> +had in one night swept away the trees, leaves +and all, and replaced them with a macadamised +road, hiding the clouds from view with rows of +tall houses.</p> + +<p>The postmaster's salary was small. He had to +cook his own meals, which he used to share with +Ratan, an orphan girl of the village, who did odd +jobs for him.</p> + +<p>When in the evening the smoke began to curl +up from the village cow-sheds,<a name="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> and the cicalas +chirped in every bush; when the faquirs of the +Baül sect sang their shrill songs in their daily +meeting-place, when any poet, who had attempted +to watch the movement of the leaves in the dense +bamboo thickets, would have felt a ghostly shiver +run down his back, the postmaster would light his +little lamp, and call out ‘Ratan.’</p> + +<p>Ratan would sit outside waiting for this call, +and, instead of coming in at once, would reply: +‘Did you call me, sir?’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_161" title="161"> </a>‘What are you doing?’ the postmaster would +ask.</p> + +<p>‘I must be going to light the kitchen fire,’ +would be the answer.</p> + +<p>And the postmaster would say: ‘Oh, let the +kitchen fire be for awhile; light me my pipe first.’</p> + +<p>At last Ratan would enter, with puffed-out +cheeks, vigorously blowing into a flame a live coal +to light the tobacco. This would give the postmaster +an opportunity of conversing. ‘Well, +Ratan,’ perhaps he would begin, ‘do you remember +anything of your mother?’ That was a fertile +subject. Ratan partly remembered, and partly +didn't. Her father had been fonder of her than +her mother; him she recollected more vividly. +He used to come home in the evening after +his work, and one or two evenings stood out +more clearly than others, like pictures in her +memory. Ratan would squat on the floor near +the postmaster's feet, as memories crowded in +upon her. She called to mind a little brother that +she had—and how on some bygone cloudy day +she had played at fishing with him on the edge of +the pond, with a twig for a make-believe fishing-rod. +Such little incidents would drive out greater +events from her mind. Thus, as they talked, it +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_162" title="162"> </a> +would often get very late, and the postmaster +would feel too lazy to do any cooking at all. +Ratan would then hastily light the fire, and toast +some unleavened bread, which, with the cold +remnants of the morning meal, was enough for +their supper.</p> + +<p>On some evenings, seated at his desk in the +corner of the big empty shed, the postmaster too +would call up memories of his own home, of his +mother and his sister, of those for whom in his +exile his heart was sad,—memories which were +always haunting him, but which he could not +talk about with the men of the factory, though he +found himself naturally recalling them aloud in the +presence of the simple little girl. And so it came +about that the girl would allude to his people as +mother, brother, and sister,<a name="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> as if she had known +them all her life. In fact, she had a complete +picture of each one of them painted in her little +heart.</p> + +<p>One noon, during a break in the rains, there +was a cool soft breeze blowing; the smell of the +damp grass and leaves in the hot sun felt like the +warm breathing of the tired earth on one's body. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_163" title="163"> </a> +A persistent bird went on all the afternoon repeating +the burden of its one complaint in Nature's +audience chamber.</p> + +<p>The postmaster had nothing to do. The +shimmer of the freshly washed leaves, and the +banked-up remnants of the retreating rain-clouds +were sights to see; and the postmaster was watching +them, and thinking to himself: ‘Oh, if only +some kindred soul were near—just one loving +human being whom I could hold near my heart!’ +This was exactly, he went on to think, what that +bird was trying to say, and it was the same feeling +which the murmuring leaves were striving +to express. But no one knows, or would believe, +that such an idea might also take possession of an +ill-paid village postmaster in the deep, silent mid-day +interval of his work.</p> + +<p>The postmaster sighed, and called out ‘Ratan.’ +Ratan was then sprawling beneath the guava-tree, +busily engaged in eating unripe guavas. At the +voice of her master, she ran up breathlessly, saying: +‘Were you calling me, Dada?’<a name="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> ‘I was thinking,’ +said the postmaster, ‘of teaching you to read,’ +and then for the rest of the afternoon he taught +her the alphabet.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_164" title="164"> </a>Thus, in a very short time, Ratan had got as +far as the double consonants.</p> + +<p>It seemed as though the showers of the season +would never end. Canals, ditches, and hollows +were all overflowing with water. Day and night +the patter of rain was heard, and the croaking of +frogs. The village roads became impassable, and +marketing had to be done in punts.</p> + +<p>One heavily clouded morning, the postmaster's +little pupil had been long waiting outside the door +for her call, but, not hearing it as usual, she took +up her dog-eared book, and slowly entered the +room. She found her master stretched out on his +pallet, and, thinking he was resting, she was about +to retire on tip-toe, when she suddenly heard her +name—‘Ratan!’ She turned at once and asked: +‘Were you sleeping, Dada?’ The postmaster in +a plaintive voice said: ‘I am not well. Feel my +head; is it very hot?’</p> + +<p>In the loneliness of his exile, and in the gloom +of the rains, his ailing body needed a little tender +nursing. He longed to remember the touch on +the forehead of soft hands with tinkling bracelets, +to imagine the presence of loving womanhood, the +nearness of mother and sister. And the exile was +not disappointed. Ratan ceased to be a little girl. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_165" title="165"> </a> +She at once stepped into the post of mother, called +in the village doctor, gave the patient his pills at +the proper intervals, sat up all night by his pillow, +cooked his gruel for him, and every now and then +asked: ‘Are you feeling a little better, Dada?’</p> + +<p>It was some time before the postmaster, with +weakened body, was able to leave his sick-bed. +‘No more of this,’ said he with decision. ‘I must +get a transfer.’ He at once wrote off to Calcutta +an application for a transfer, on the ground of the +unhealthiness of the place.</p> + +<p>Relieved from her duties as nurse, Ratan again +took up her old place outside the door. But she +no longer heard the same old call. She would +sometimes peep inside furtively to find the postmaster +sitting on his chair, or stretched on his +pallet, and staring absent-mindedly into the air. +While Ratan was awaiting her call, the postmaster +was awaiting a reply to his application. The girl +read her old lessons over and over again—her +great fear was lest, when the call came, she might +be found wanting in the double consonants. At +last, after a week, the call did come one evening. +With an overflowing heart Ratan rushed into +the room with her—‘Were you calling me, +Dada?’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_166" title="166"> </a>The postmaster said: ‘I am going away to-morrow, +Ratan.’</p> + +<p>‘Where are you going, Dada?’</p> + +<p>‘I am going home.’</p> + +<p>‘When will you come back?’</p> + +<p>‘I am not coming <ins title="back.">back.’</ins></p> + +<p>Ratan asked no other question. The postmaster, +of his own accord, went on to tell her that +his application for a transfer had been rejected, so +he had resigned his post, and was going home.</p> + +<p>For a long time neither of them spoke another +word. The lamp went on dimly burning, and +from a leak in one corner of the thatch water +dripped steadily into an earthen vessel on the +floor beneath it.</p> + +<p>After a while Ratan rose, and went off to the +kitchen to prepare the meal; but she was not so +quick about it as on other days. Many new things +to think of had entered her little brain. When +the postmaster had finished his supper, the girl +suddenly asked him: ‘Dada, will you take me to +your home?’</p> + +<p>The postmaster laughed. ‘What an idea!’ +said he; but he did not think it necessary to +explain to the girl wherein lay the absurdity.</p> + +<p>That whole night, in her waking and in her +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_167" title="167"> </a> +dreams, the postmaster's laughing reply haunted +her—‘What an idea!’</p> + +<p>On getting up in the morning, the postmaster +found his bath ready. He had stuck to his +Calcutta habit of bathing in water drawn and kept +in pitchers, instead of taking a plunge in the +river as was the custom of the village. For some +reason or other, the girl could not ask him about the +time of his departure, so she had fetched the water +from the river long before sunrise, that it should +be ready as early as he might want it. After the +bath came a call for Ratan. She entered noiselessly, +and looked silently into her master's face for +orders. The master said: ‘You need not be +anxious about my going away, Ratan; I shall tell +my successor to look after you.’ These words +were kindly meant, no doubt: but inscrutable +are the ways of a woman's heart!</p> + +<p>Ratan had borne many a scolding from her +master without complaint, but these kind words +she could not bear. She burst out weeping, and +said: ‘No, no, you need not tell anybody anything +at all about me; I don't want to stay on +here.’</p> + +<p>The postmaster was dumbfounded. He had +never seen Ratan like this before.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_168" title="168"> </a>The new incumbent duly arrived, and the +postmaster, having given over charge, prepared to +depart. Just before starting he called Ratan, +and said: ‘Here is something for you; I hope +it will keep you for some little time.’ He brought +out from his pocket the whole of his month's +salary, retaining only a trifle for his travelling +expenses. Then Ratan fell at his feet and cried: +‘Oh, Dada, I pray you, don't give me anything, +don't in any way trouble about me,’ and then she +ran away out of sight.</p> + +<p>The postmaster heaved a sigh, took up his +carpet bag, put his umbrella over his shoulder, and, +accompanied by a man carrying his many-coloured +tin trunk, he slowly made for the boat.</p> + +<p>When he got in and the boat was under way, +and the rain-swollen river, like a stream of tears +welling up from the earth, swirled and sobbed at +her bows, then he felt a sort of pain at heart; +the grief-stricken face of a village girl seemed to +represent for him the great unspoken pervading +grief of Mother Earth herself. At one time he +had an impulse to go back, and bring away along +with him that lonesome waif, forsaken of the +world. But the wind had just filled the sails, the +boat had got well into the middle of the turbulent +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_169" title="169–170"> </a> +current, and already the village was left behind, +and its outlying burning-ground came in sight.</p> + +<p>So the traveller, borne on the breast of the +swift-flowing river, consoled himself with philosophical +reflections on the numberless meetings +and partings going on in the world—on death, +the great parting, from which none returns.</p> + +<p>But Ratan had no philosophy. She was +wandering about the post office in a flood of +tears. It may be that she had still a lurking hope +in some corner of her heart that her Dada would +return, and that is why she could not tear herself +away. Alas for the foolish human heart!</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_171" title="171–172"> </a>THE RIVER STAIRS</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_173" title="173"> </a>THE RIVER STAIRS</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">If</span> you wish to hear of days gone by, sit on this +step of mine, and lend your ears to the murmur +of the rippling water.</p> + +<p>The month of <i>Ashwin</i> (September) was about +to begin. The river was in full flood. Only +four of my steps peeped above the surface. The +water had crept up to the low-lying parts of the +bank, where the <i>kachu</i> plant grew dense beneath +the branches of the mango grove. At that bend +of the river, three old brick-heaps towered above +the water around them. The fishing-boats, moored +to the trunks of the <i>bābla</i> trees on the bank, +rocked on the heaving flow-tide at dawn. The +path of tall grasses on the sandbank had caught +the newly risen sun; they had just begun to +flower, and were not yet in full bloom.</p> + +<p>The little boats puffed out their tiny sails on +the sunlit river. The Brahmin priest had come +to bathe with his ritual vessels. The women +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_174" title="174"> </a> +arrived in twos and threes to draw water. I +knew this was the time of Kusum's coming to the +bathing-stairs.</p> + +<p>But that morning I missed her. Bhuban and +Swarno mourned at the <i>ghāt</i>.<a name="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> They said that +their friend had been led away to her husband's +house, which was a place far away from the river, +with strange people, strange houses, and strange +roads.</p> + +<p>In time she almost faded out of my mind. A +year passed. The women at the <i>ghāt</i> now rarely +talked of Kusum. But one evening I was startled +by the touch of the long familiar feet. Ah, +yes, but those feet were now without anklets, +they had lost their old music.</p> + +<p>Kusum had become a widow. They said that +her husband had worked in some far-off place, +and that she had met him only once or twice. +A letter brought her the news of his death. A +widow at eight years old, she had rubbed out the +wife's red mark from her forehead, stripped off +her bangles, and come back to her old home by +the Ganges. But she found few of her old playmates +there. Of them, Bhuban, Swarno, and +Amala were married, and gone away; only Sarat +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_175" title="175"> </a> +remained, and she too, they said, would be wed in +December next.</p> + +<p>As the Ganges rapidly grows to fulness with +the coming of the rains, even so did Kusum day +by day grow to the fulness of beauty and youth. +But her dull-coloured robe, her pensive face, and +quiet manners drew a veil over her youth, and hid +it from men's eyes as in a mist. Ten years slipped +away, and none seemed to have noticed that Kusum +had grown up.</p> + +<p>One morning such as this, at the end of a far-off +September, a tall, young, fair-skinned Sanyasi, +coming I know not whence, took shelter in the +Shiva temple, in front of me. His arrival was +noised abroad in the village. The women left +their pitchers behind, and crowded into the temple +to bow to the holy man.</p> + +<p>The crowd increased day by day. The Sanyasi's +fame rapidly spread among the womenkind. One +day he would recite the <i>Bhágbat</i>, another day he +would expound the <i>Gita</i>, or hold forth upon a +holy book in the temple. Some sought him for +counsel, some for spells, some for medicines.</p> + +<p>So months passed away. In April, at the time +of the solar eclipse, vast crowds came here to bathe +in the Ganges. A fair was held under the <i>bābla</i> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_176" title="176"> </a> +tree. Many of the pilgrims went to visit the +Sanyasi, and among them were a party of women +from the village where Kusum had been married.</p> + +<p>It was morning. The Sanyasi was counting +his beads on my steps, when all of a sudden one +of the women pilgrims nudged another, and said: +‘Why! He is our Kusum's husband!’ Another +parted her veil a little in the middle with two +fingers and cried out: ‘Oh dear me! So it is! +He is the younger son of the Chattergu family of +our village!’ Said a third, who made little parade +of her veil: ‘Ah! he has got exactly the same +brow, nose, and eyes!’ Yet another woman, +without turning to the Sanyasi, stirred the water +with her pitcher, and sighed: ‘Alas! That young +man is no more; he will not come back. Bad +luck to Kusum!’</p> + +<p>But, objected one, ‘He had not such a big +beard’; and another, ‘He was not so thin’; or +‘He was most probably not so tall.’ That settled +the question for the time, and the matter spread +no further.</p> + +<p>One evening, as the full moon arose, Kusum +came and sat upon my last step above the water, +and cast her shadow upon me.</p> + +<p>There was no other at the <i>ghāt</i> just then. The +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_177" title="177"> </a> +crickets were chirping about me. The din of +brass gongs and bells had ceased in the temple—the +last wave of sound grew fainter and fainter, +until it merged like the shade of a sound in the +dim groves of the farther bank. On the dark +water of the Ganges lay a line of glistening moonlight. +On the bank above, in bush and hedge, +under the porch of the temple, in the base of +ruined houses, by the side of the tank, in the palm +grove, gathered shadows of fantastic shape. The +bats swung from the <i>chhatim</i> boughs. Near the +houses the loud clamour of the jackals rose and +sank into silence.</p> + +<p>Slowly the Sanyasi came out of the temple. +Descending a few steps of the <i>ghāt</i> he saw a +woman sitting alone, and was about to go back, +when suddenly Kusum raised her head, and looked +behind her. The veil slipped away from her. +The moonlight fell upon her face, as she looked up.</p> + +<p>The owl flew away hooting over their heads. +Starting at the sound, Kusum came to herself and +put the veil back on her head. Then she bowed +low at the Sanyasi's feet.</p> + +<p>He gave her blessing and asked: ‘Who are you?’</p> + +<p>She replied: ‘I am called Kusum.’</p> + +<p>No other word was spoken that night. Kusum +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_178" title="178"> </a> +went slowly back to her house which was hard by. +But the Sanyasi remained sitting on my steps for +long hours that night. At last when the moon +passed from the east to the west, and the Sanyasi's +shadow, shifting from behind, fell in front of him, +he rose up and entered the temple.</p> + +<p>Henceforth I saw Kusum come daily to bow at +his feet. When he expounded the holy books, she +stood in a corner listening to him. After finishing +his morning service, he used to call her to himself +and speak on religion. She could not have understood +it all; but, listening attentively in silence, +she tried to understand it. As he directed her, +so she acted implicitly. She daily served at the +temple—ever alert in the god's worship—gathering +flowers for the <i>puja</i>, and drawing water from +the Ganges to wash the temple floor.</p> + +<p>The winter was drawing to its close. We had +cold winds. But now and then in the evening the +warm spring breeze would blow unexpectedly from +the south; the sky would lose its chilly aspect; +pipes would sound, and music be heard in the +village after a long silence. The boatmen would +set their boats drifting down the current, stop +rowing, and begin to sing the songs of Krishna. +This was the season.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_179" title="179"> </a>Just then I began to miss Kusum. For some +time she had given up visiting the temple, the +<i>ghāt</i>, or the Sanyasi.</p> + +<p>What happened next I do not know, but after +a while the two met together on my steps one +evening.</p> + +<p>With downcast looks, Kusum asked: ‘Master, +did you send for me?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, why do I not see you? Why have you +grown neglectful of late in serving the gods?’</p> + +<p>She kept silent.</p> + +<p>‘Tell me your thoughts without reserve.’</p> + +<p>Half averting her face, she replied: ‘I am a +sinner, Master, and hence I have failed in the +worship.’</p> + +<p>The Sanyasi said: ‘Kusum, I know there is +unrest in your heart.’</p> + +<p>She gave a slight start, and, drawing the end of +her sári over her face, she sat down on the step at +the Sanyasi's feet, and wept.</p> + +<p>He moved a little away, and said: ‘Tell me +what you have in your heart, and I shall show +you the way to peace.’</p> + +<p>She replied in a tone of unshaken faith, stopping +now and then for words: ‘If you bid me, I must +speak out. But, then, I cannot explain it clearly. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_180" title="180"> </a> +You, Master, must have guessed it all. I adored +one as a god, I worshipped him, and the bliss of that +devotion filled my heart to fulness. But one night +I dreamt that the lord of my heart was sitting in +a garden somewhere, clasping my right hand in +his left, and whispering to me of love. The +whole scene did not appear to me at all strange. +The dream vanished, but its hold on me remained. +Next day when I beheld him he appeared in +another light than before. That dream-picture +continued to haunt my mind. I fled far from +him in fear, and the picture clung to me. Thenceforth +my heart has known no peace,—all has +grown dark within me!’</p> + +<p>While she was wiping her tears and telling +this tale, I felt that the Sanyasi was firmly pressing +my stone surface with his right foot.</p> + +<p>Her speech done, the Sanyasi said:</p> + +<p>‘You must tell me whom you saw in your +dream.’</p> + +<p>With folded hands, she entreated: ‘I cannot.’</p> + +<p>He insisted: ‘You must tell me who he was.’</p> + +<p>Wringing her hands she asked: ‘Must I tell it?’</p> + +<p>He replied: ‘Yes, you must.’</p> + +<p>Then crying, ‘You are he, Master!’ she fell +on her face on my stony bosom, and sobbed.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_181" title="181–182"> </a>When she came to herself, and sat up, the +Sanyasi said slowly: ‘I am leaving this place +to-night that you may not see me again. Know +that I am a Sanyasi, not belonging to this world. +<em>You</em> must forget me.’</p> + +<p>Kusum replied in a low voice: ‘It will be so, +Master.’</p> + +<p>The Sanyasi said: ‘I take my leave.’</p> + +<p>Without a word more Kusum bowed to him, +and placed the dust of his feet on her head. He +left the place.</p> + +<p>The moon set; the night grew dark. I +heard a splash in the water. The wind raved in +the darkness, as if it wanted to blow out all the +stars of the sky.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_183" title="183–184"> </a>THE CASTAWAY</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_185" title="185"> </a>THE CASTAWAY</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Towards</span> evening the storm was at its height. +From the terrific downpour of rain, the crash of +thunder, and the repeated flashes of lightning, +you might think that a battle of the gods and +demons was raging in the skies. Black clouds +waved like the Flags of Doom. The Ganges was +lashed into a fury, and the trees of the gardens on +either bank swayed from side to side with sighs +and groans.</p> + +<p>In a closed room of one of the riverside houses +at Chandernagore, a husband and his wife were +seated on a bed spread on the floor, intently +discussing. An earthen lamp burned beside them.</p> + +<p>The husband, Sharat, was saying: ‘I wish you +would stay on a few days more; you would then +be able to return home quite strong again.’</p> + +<p>The wife, Kiran, was saying: ‘I have quite +recovered already. It will not, cannot possibly, +do me any harm to go home now.’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_186" title="186"> </a>Every married person will at once understand +that the conversation was not quite so brief as I +have reported it. The matter was not difficult, +but the arguments for and against did not advance +it towards a solution. Like a rudderless boat, +the discussion kept turning round and round the +same point; and at last it threatened to be overwhelmed +in a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>Sharat said: ‘The doctor thinks you should +stop here a few days longer.’</p> + +<p>Kiran replied: ‘Your doctor knows everything!’</p> + +<p>‘Well,’ said Sharat, ‘you know that just now +all sorts of illness are abroad. You would do +well to stop here a month or two more.’</p> + +<p>‘And at this moment I suppose every one in +this place is perfectly well!’</p> + +<p>What had happened was this: Kiran was a +universal favourite with her family and neighbours, +so that, when she fell seriously ill, they were all +anxious. The village wiseacres thought it shameless +for her husband to make so much fuss about +a mere wife and even to suggest a change of air, +and asked if Sharat supposed that no woman had +ever been ill before, or whether he had found out +that the folk of the place to which he meant to +take her were immortal. Did he imagine that the +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_187" title="187"> </a> +writ of Fate did not run there? But Sharat and +his mother turned a deaf ear to them, thinking +that the little life of their darling was of greater +importance than the united wisdom of a village. +People are wont to reason thus when danger +threatens their loved ones. So Sharat went to +Chandernagore, and Kiran recovered, though she +was still very weak. There was a pinched look +on her face which filled the beholder with pity, +and made his heart tremble, as he thought how +narrowly she had escaped death.</p> + +<p>Kiran was fond of society and amusement; +the loneliness of her riverside villa did not suit +her at all. There was nothing to do, there were +no interesting neighbours, and she hated to be +busy all day with medicine and dieting. There +was no fun in measuring doses and making +fomentations. Such was the subject discussed in +their closed room on this stormy evening.</p> + +<p>So long as Kiran deigned to argue, there was a +chance of a fair fight. When she ceased to reply, +and with a toss of her head disconsolately looked +the other way, the poor man was disarmed. He +was on the point of surrendering unconditionally +when a servant shouted a message through the shut +door.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_188" title="188"> </a>Sharat got up, and, opening the door, learnt +that a boat had been upset in the storm, and that +one of the occupants, a young Brahmin boy, had +succeeded in swimming ashore in their garden.</p> + +<p>Kiran was at once her own sweet self, and set +to work to get out some dry clothes for the boy. +She then warmed a cup of milk, and invited him +to her room.</p> + +<p>The boy had long curly hair, big expressive +eyes, and no sign yet of hair on the face. Kiran, +after getting him to drink some milk, asked him +all about himself.</p> + +<p>He told her that his name was Nilkanta, and +that he belonged to a theatrical troupe. They +were coming to play in a neighbouring villa when +the boat had suddenly foundered in the storm. +He had no idea what had become of his +companions. He was a good swimmer, and had +just managed to reach the shore.</p> + +<p>The boy stayed with them. His narrow +escape from a terrible death made Kiran take a +warm interest in him. Sharat thought the boy's +appearance at this moment rather a good thing, +as his wife would now have something to amuse +her, and might be persuaded to stay on for some +time longer. Her mother-in-law, too, was pleased +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_189" title="189"> </a> +at the prospect of profiting their Brahmin guest by +her kindness. And Nilkanta himself was delighted +at his double escape from his master and from +the other world, as well as at finding a home in +this wealthy family.</p> + +<p>But in a short while Sharat and his mother +changed their opinion, and longed for his departure. +The boy found a secret pleasure in smoking +Sharat's hookas; he would calmly go off in +pouring rain with Sharat's best silk umbrella for a +stroll through the village, and make friends with +all whom he met. Moreover, he had got hold of a +mongrel village dog which he petted so recklessly +that it came indoors with muddy paws, and +left tokens of its visit on Sharat's spotless bed. +Then he gathered about him a devoted band of +boys of all sorts and sizes, and the result was that +not a solitary mango in the neighbourhood had a +chance of ripening that season.</p> + +<p>There is no doubt that Kiran had a hand in +spoiling the boy. Sharat often warned her about +it, but she would not listen to him. She made a +dandy of him with Sharat's cast-off clothes, and +gave him new ones too. And because she felt +drawn towards him, and also had a curiosity to +know more about him, she was constantly calling +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_190" title="190"> </a> +him to her own room. After her bath and mid-day +meal Kiran would be seated on the bedstead with +her betel-leaf box by her side; and while her +maid combed and dried her hair, Nilkanta would +stand in front and recite pieces out of his repertory +with appropriate gesture and song, his elf-locks +waving wildly. Thus the long afternoon hours +passed merrily away. Kiran would often try to +persuade Sharat to sit with her as one of the +audience, but Sharat, who had taken a cordial +dislike to the boy, refused, nor could Nilkanta do +his part half so well when Sharat was there. His +mother would sometimes be lured by the hope of +hearing sacred names in the recitation; but love +of her mid-day sleep speedily overcame devotion, +and she lay lapped in dreams.</p> + +<p>The boy often got his ears boxed and pulled +by Sharat, but as this was nothing to what he +had been used to as a member of the troupe, +he did not mind it in the least. In his short experience +of the world he had come to the conclusion +that, as the earth consisted of land and water, so +human life was made up of eatings and beatings, +and that the beatings largely predominated.</p> + +<p>It was hard to tell Nilkanta's age. If it was +about fourteen or fifteen, then his face was too old +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_191" title="191"> </a> +for his years; if seventeen or eighteen, then it was +too young. He was either a man too early or +a boy too late. The fact was that, joining the +theatrical band when very young, he had played +the parts of Radhika, Damaynti, Sita, and Bidya's +Companion. A thoughtful Providence so arranged +things that he grew to the exact stature that his +manager required, and then growth ceased. Since +every one saw how small he was, and he himself +felt small, he did not receive due respect for his +years. These causes, natural and artificial, combined +to make him sometimes seem immature for +seventeen years, and at other times a lad of fourteen +but far too knowing for seventeen. And as +no sign of hair appeared on his face, the confusion +became greater. Either because he smoked or +because he used language beyond his years, his lips +puckered into lines that showed him to be old and +hard; but innocence and youth shone in his large +eyes. I fancy that his heart remained young, but +the hot glare of publicity had been a forcing-house +that ripened untimely his outward aspect.</p> + +<p>In the quiet shelter of Sharat's house and garden +at Chandernagore, Nature had leisure to work her +way unimpeded. He had lingered in a kind of +unnatural youth, but now he silently and swiftly +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_192" title="192"> </a> +overpassed that stage. His seventeen or eighteen +years came to adequate revelation. No one observed +the change, and its first sign was this, that when +Kiran treated him like a boy, he felt ashamed. +When the gay Kiran one day proposed that he +should play the part of lady's companion, the idea +of woman's dress hurt him, though he could not +say why. So now, when she called for him to act +over again his old characters, he disappeared. It +never occurred to him that he was even now not +much more than a lad-of-all-work in a strolling +company. He even made up his mind to pick +up a little education from Sharat's factor. But, +because Nilkanta was the pet of his master's wife, +the factor could not endure the sight of him. Also, +his restless training made it impossible for him to +keep his mind long engaged; presently, the alphabet +did a misty dance before his eyes. He would sit +long enough with an open book on his lap, leaning +against a <i>champak</i> bush beside the Ganges. The +waves sighed below, boats floated past, birds flitted +and twittered restlessly above. What thoughts +passed through his mind as he looked down on +that book he alone knew, if indeed he did know. +He never advanced from one word to another, but +the glorious thought that he was actually reading +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_193" title="193"> </a> +a book filled his soul with exultation. Whenever +a boat went by, he lifted his book, and pretended +to be reading hard, shouting at the top of his voice. +But his energy dropped as soon as the audience +was gone.</p> + +<p>Formerly he sang his songs automatically, but +now their tunes stirred in his mind. Their words +were of little import, and full of trifling alliteration. +Even the little meaning they had was beyond his +comprehension; yet when he sang—</p> + +<div class="poetry width20"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Twice-born<a name="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> bird! ah! wherefore stirred<br/></div> +<div class="line" style="margin-left: 1.2em;">To wrong our royal lady?<br/></div> +<div class="line">Goose, ah! say why wilt thou slay<br/></div> +<div class="line" style="margin-left: 1.2em;">Her in forest shady?<a name="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="no-indent"> then he felt as if transported to another world, +and to far other folk. This familiar earth and +his own poor life became music, and he was transformed. +That tale of goose and king's daughter +flung upon the mirror of his mind a picture of +surpassing beauty. It is impossible to say what he +imagined he himself was, but the destitute little +slave of the theatrical troupe faded from his +memory.</p> + +<p>When with evening the child of want lies down, +dirty and hungry, in his squalid home, and hears +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_194" title="194"> </a> +of prince and princess and fabled gold, then in the +dark hovel with its dim flickering candle, his mind +springs free from her bonds of poverty and misery, +and walks in fresh beauty and glowing raiment, +strong beyond all fear of hindrance, through that +fairy realm where all is possible.</p> + +<p>Even so, this drudge of wandering players +fashioned himself and his world anew, as he moved +in spirit amid his songs. The lapping water, +rustling leaves, and calling birds; the goddess who +had given shelter to him, the helpless, the Godforsaken; +her gracious, lovely face, her exquisite +arms with their shining bangles, her rosy feet as +soft as flower-petals; all these by some magic +became one with the music of his song. When the +singing ended, the mirage faded, and Nilkanta of +the stage appeared again, with his wild elf-locks. +Fresh from the complaints of his neighbour, the +owner of the despoiled mango-orchard, Sharat +would come and box his ears, and cuff him. The +boy Nilkanta, the misleader of adoring youths, +went forth once more, to make ever new mischief +by land and water and in the branches that are +above the earth.</p> + +<p>Shortly after the advent of Nilkanta, Sharat's +younger brother, Satish, came to spend his college +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_195" title="195"> </a> +vacation with them. Kiran was hugely pleased at +finding a fresh occupation. She and Satish were +of the same age, and the time passed pleasantly in +games and quarrels and makings-up and laughter +and even tears. Suddenly she would clasp him +over the eyes, from behind, with vermilion-stained +hands, she would write ‘monkey’ on his back, +and sometimes bolt the door on him from outside +amidst peals of laughter. Satish in his turn did +not take things lying down; he would take her +keys and rings, he would put pepper among her +betel; he would tie her to the bed when she was +not looking.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, heaven only knows what possessed +poor Nilkanta. He was suddenly filled with a +bitterness which he must avenge on somebody or +something. He thrashed his devoted boy-followers +for no fault, and sent them away crying. He +would kick his pet mongrel till it made the skies +resound with its whinings. When he went out +for a walk, he would litter his path with twigs +and leaves beaten from the roadside shrubs with +his cane.</p> + +<p>Kiran liked to see people enjoying good fare. +Nilkanta had an immense capacity for eating, and +never refused a good thing, however often it was +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_196" title="196"> </a> +offered. So Kiran liked to send for him to have +his meals in her presence, and ply him with delicacies, +happy in the bliss of seeing this Brahmin +boy eat to satiety. After Satish's arrival she had +much less spare time on her hands, and was seldom +present when Nilkanta's meals were served. Before, +her absence made no difference to the boy's appetite, +and he would not rise till he had drained his +cup of milk, and rinsed it thoroughly with water.<a name="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> + +<p>But now, if Kiran was not present to ask +him to try this and that, he was miserable, and +nothing tasted right. He would get up without +eating much, and say to the serving-maid in a +choking voice: ‘I am not hungry.’ He thought +in imagination that the news of his repeated refusal, +‘I am not hungry,’ would reach Kiran; he pictured +her concern, and hoped that she would send for +him, and press him to eat. But nothing of the +sort happened. Kiran never knew, and never sent +for him; and the maid finished whatever he left. +He would then put out the lamp in his room, and +throw himself on his bed in the darkness, burying +his head in the pillow in a paroxysm of sobs. +What was his grievance? Against whom? And +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_197" title="197"> </a> +from whom did he expect redress? At last, when +none else came, Mother Sleep soothed with her soft +caresses the wounded heart of the motherless lad.</p> + +<p>Nilkanta came to the unshakable conviction +that Satish was poisoning Kiran's mind against him. +If Kiran was absent-minded, and had not her usual +smile, he would jump to the conclusion that some +trick of Satish had made her angry with him. He +took to praying to the gods, with all the fervour of +his hate, to make him at the next rebirth Satish, +and Satish him. He had an idea that a Brahmin's +wrath could never be in vain; and the more he +tried to consume Satish with the fire of his curses, +the more did his own heart burn within him. And +upstairs he would hear Satish laughing and joking +with his sister-in-law.</p> + +<p>Nilkanta never dared openly to show his enmity +to Satish. But he would contrive a hundred petty +ways of causing him annoyance. When Satish +went for a swim in the river, and left his soap on +the steps of the bathing-place, on coming back for +it he would find that it had disappeared. Once +he found his favourite striped tunic floating past +him on the water, and thought it had been blown +away by the wind.</p> + +<p>One day Kiran, desiring to entertain Satish, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_198" title="198"> </a> +sent for Nilkanta to recite as usual, but he stood +there in gloomy silence. Quite surprised, Kiran +asked him what was the matter. But he remained +silent. And when again pressed by her to repeat +some particular favourite piece of hers, he answered: +‘I don't remember,’ and walked away.</p> + +<p>At last the time came for their return home. +Everybody was busy packing up. Satish was going +with them. But to Nilkanta nobody said a word. +The question whether he was to go or not seemed +not to have occurred to anybody.</p> + +<p>The question, as a matter of fact, had been +raised by Kiran, who had proposed to take him +along with them. But her husband and his mother +and brother had all objected so strenuously that +she let the matter drop. A couple of days before +they were to start, she sent for the boy, and with +kind words advised him to go back to his own +home.</p> + +<p>So many days had he felt neglected that this +touch of kindness was too much for him; he burst +into tears. Kiran's eyes were also brimming over. +She was filled with remorse at the thought that she +had created a tie of affection, which could not be +permanent.</p> + +<p>But Satish was much annoyed at the blubbering +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_199" title="199"> </a> +of this overgrown boy. ‘Why does the fool stand +there howling instead of speaking?’ said he. +When Kiran scolded him for an unfeeling creature, +he replied: ‘Sister mine, you do not understand. +You are too good and trustful. This fellow turns +up from the Lord knows where, and is treated like +a king. Naturally the tiger has no wish to become +a mouse again.<a name="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> And he has evidently discovered +that there is nothing like a tear or two to soften +your heart.’</p> + +<p>Nilkanta hurriedly left the spot. He felt he +would like to be a knife to cut Satish to pieces; a +needle to pierce him through and through; a fire to +burn him to ashes. But Satish was not even scarred. +It was only his own heart that bled and bled.</p> + +<p>Satish had brought with him from Calcutta a +grand inkstand. The inkpot was set in a mother-of-pearl +boat drawn by a German-silver goose +supporting a penholder. It was a great favourite +of his, and he cleaned it carefully every day with +an old silk handkerchief. Kiran would laugh and, +tapping the silver bird's beak, would say—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Twice-born bird, ah! wherefore stirred<br/></div> +<div class="line" style="margin-left: 1.2em;">To wrong our royal lady?</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="no-indent"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_200" title="200"> </a> and the usual war of words would break out +between her and her brother-in-law.</p> + +<p>The day before they were to start, the inkstand +was missing, and could nowhere be found. Kiran +smiled, and said: ‘Brother-in-law, your goose has +flown off to look for your <ins title="Damaynti.”">Damaynti.’</ins><a name="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p> + +<p>But Satish was in a great rage. He was certain +that Nilkanta had stolen it—for several people said +they had seen him prowling about the room the +night before. He had the accused brought before +him. Kiran also was there. ‘You have stolen +my inkstand, you thief!’ he blurted out. ‘Bring +it back at once.’ Nilkanta had always taken +punishment from Sharat, deserved or undeserved, +with perfect equanimity. But, when he was called +a thief in Kiran's presence, his eyes blazed with a +fierce anger, his breast swelled, and his throat +choked. If Satish had said another word he would +have flown at him like a wild cat, and used his nails +like claws.</p> + +<p>Kiran was greatly distressed at the scene, and +taking the boy into another room said in her sweet, +kind way: ‘Nilu, if you really have taken that +inkstand give it to me quietly, and I shall see that +no one says another word to you about it.’ Big +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_201" title="201"> </a> +tears coursed down the boy's cheeks, till at last he +hid his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. Kiran +came back from the room, and said: ‘I am sure +Nilkanta has not taken the inkstand.’ Sharat and +Satish were equally positive that no other than +Nilkanta could have done it.</p> + +<p>But Kiran said determinedly: ‘Never.’</p> + +<p>Sharat wanted to cross-examine the boy, but +his wife refused to allow it.</p> + +<p>Then Satish suggested that his room and box +should be searched. And Kiran said: ‘If you +dare do such a thing I will never, never forgive +you. You shall not spy on the poor innocent boy.’ +And as she spoke, her wonderful eyes filled with +tears. That settled the matter, and effectually +prevented any further molestation of Nilkanta!</p> + +<p>Kiran's heart overflowed with pity at this +attempted outrage on a homeless lad. She got +two new suits of clothes and a pair of shoes, and +with these and a banknote in her hand she quietly +went into Nilkanta's room in the evening. She +intended to put these parting presents into his box +as a surprise. The box itself had been her gift.</p> + +<p>From her bunch of keys she selected one that +fitted, and noiselessly opened the box. It was so +jumbled up with odds and ends that the new +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_202" title="202"> </a> +clothes would not go in. So she thought she had +better take everything out and pack the box for +him. At first knives, tops, kite-flying reels, +bamboo twigs, polished shells for peeling green +mangoes, bottoms of broken tumblers and such +like things dear to a boy's heart were discovered. +Then there came a layer of linen, clean and otherwise. +And from under the linen there emerged +the missing inkstand, goose and all!</p> + +<p>Kiran, with flushed face, sat down helplessly +with the inkstand in her hand, puzzled and +wondering.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Nilkanta had come into the +room from behind without Kiran knowing it. +He had seen the whole thing, and thought that +Kiran had come like a thief to catch him in his +thieving,—and that his deed was out. How +could he ever hope to convince her that he was +not a thief, and that only revenge had prompted +him to take the inkstand, which he meant to +throw into the river at the first chance? In a weak +moment he had put it in his box instead. ‘He +was not a thief,’ his heart cried out, ‘not a thief!’ +Then what was he? What could he say? He +had stolen, and yet he was not a thief! He could +never explain to Kiran how grievously wrong +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_203" title="203–204"> </a> +she was in taking him for a thief; how could he +bear the thought that she had tried to spy on him?</p> + +<p>At last Kiran with a deep sigh replaced the +inkstand in the box, and, as if she were the thief +herself, covered it up with the linen and the +trinkets as they were before; and at the top she +placed the presents together with the banknote +which she had brought for him.</p> + +<p>The next day the boy was nowhere to be found. +The villagers had not seen him; the police could +discover no trace of him. Said Sharat: ‘Now, +as a matter of curiosity, let us have a look at +his box.’ But Kiran was obstinate in her refusal +to allow that to be done.</p> + +<p>She had the box brought up to her own room; +and taking out the inkstand alone, threw it into +the river.</p> + +<p>The whole family went home. In a day the +garden became desolate. And only that starving +mongrel of Nilkanta's remained prowling along +the river-bank, whining and whining as if its heart +would break.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_205" title="205–206"> </a>SAVED</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_207" title="207"> </a>SAVED</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Gouri</span> was the beautiful, delicately nurtured child +of an old and wealthy family. Her husband, +Paresh, had recently by his own efforts improved +his straitened circumstances. So long as he +was poor, Gouri's parents had kept their daughter +at home, unwilling to surrender her to privation; +so she was no longer young when at last she went +to her husband's house. And Paresh never felt +quite that she belonged to him. He was an +advocate in a small western town, and had +no close kinsman with him. All his thought +was about his wife, so much so that sometimes +he would come home before the rising of the +Court. At first Gouri was at a loss to understand +why he came back suddenly. Sometimes, too, he +would dismiss one of the servants without reason; +none of them ever suited him long. Especially +if Gouri desired to keep any particular servant +because he was useful, that man was sure to be +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_208" title="208"> </a> +got rid of forthwith. The high-spirited Gouri +greatly resented this, but her resentment only made +her husband's behaviour still stranger.</p> + +<p>At last when Paresh, unable to contain himself +any longer, began in secret to cross-question the +maid about her, the whole thing reached his wife's +ears. She was a woman of few words; but her pride +raged within like a wounded lioness at these insults, +and this mad suspicion swept like a destroyer's +sword between them. Paresh, as soon as he saw +that his wife understood his motive, felt no more +delicacy about taxing Gouri to her face; and the +more his wife treated it with silent contempt, +the more did the fire of his jealousy consume +him.</p> + +<p>Deprived of wedded happiness, the childless +Gouri betook herself to the consolations of religion. +She sent for Paramananda Swami, the young +preacher of the Prayer-House hard by, and, formally +acknowledging him as her spiritual preceptor, +asked him to expound the <i>Gita</i> to her. All the +wasted love and affection of her woman's heart was +poured out in reverence at the feet of her Guru.</p> + +<p>No one had any doubts about the purity of +Paramananda's character. All worshipped him. +And because Paresh did not dare to hint at any +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_209" title="209"> </a> +suspicion against him, his jealousy ate its way into +his heart like a hidden cancer.</p> + +<p>One day some trifling circumstance made the +poison overflow. Paresh reviled Paramananda to his +wife as a hypocrite, and said: ‘Can you swear that you +are not in love with this crane that plays the ascetic?’</p> + +<p>Gouri sprang up like a snake that has been +trodden on, and, maddened by his suspicion, said +with bitter irony: ‘And what if I am?’ At this +Paresh forthwith went off to the Court-house, and +locked the door on her.</p> + +<p>In a white heat of passion at this last outrage, +Gouri got the door open somehow, and left the house.</p> + +<p>Paramananda was poring over the scriptures in +his lonely room in the silence of noon. All at +once, like a flash of lightning out of a cloudless +sky, Gouri broke in upon his reading.</p> + +<p>‘You here?’ questioned her Guru in surprise.</p> + +<p>‘Rescue me, O my lord Guru,’ said she, +‘from the insults of my home life, and allow me to +dedicate myself to the service of your feet.’</p> + +<p>With a stern rebuke, Paramananda sent Gouri +back home. But I wonder whether he ever again +took up the snapped thread of his reading.</p> + +<p>Paresh, finding the door open, on his return +home, asked: ‘Who has been here?’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_210" title="210"> </a>‘No one!’ his wife replied. ‘<em>I</em> have been to +the house of my Guru.’</p> + +<p>‘Why?’ asked Paresh, pale and red by turns.</p> + +<p>‘Because I wanted to.’</p> + +<p>From that day Paresh had a guard kept over +the house, and behaved so absurdly that the tale +of his jealousy was told all over the town.</p> + +<p>The news of the shameful insults that were +daily heaped on his disciple disturbed the religious +meditations of Paramananda. He felt he ought to +leave the place at once; at the same time he could +not make up his mind to forsake the tortured +woman. Who can say how the poor ascetic got +through those terrible days and nights?</p> + +<p>At last one day the imprisoned Gouri got a +letter. ‘My child,’ it ran, ‘it is true that many +holy women have left the world to devote themselves +to God. Should it happen that the trials of +this world are driving your thoughts away from +God, I will with God's help rescue his handmaid +for the holy service of his feet. If you desire, you +may meet me by the tank in your garden at two +o'clock to-morrow afternoon.’</p> + +<p>Gouri hid the letter in the loops of her hair. +At noon next day when she was undoing her hair +before her bath she found that the letter was not +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_211" title="211"> </a> +there. Could it have fallen on to the bed and got +into her husband's hands, she wondered. At first, +she felt a kind of fierce pleasure in thinking that +it would enrage him; and then she could not bear +to think that this letter, worn as a halo of deliverance +on her head, might be defiled by the touch of +insolent hands.</p> + +<p>With swift steps she hurried to her husband's +room. He lay groaning on the floor, with eyes +rolled back and foaming mouth. She detached the +letter from his clenched fist, and sent quickly for +a doctor.</p> + +<p>The doctor said it was a case of apoplexy. The +patient had died before his arrival.</p> + +<p>That very day, as it happened, Paresh had +an important appointment away from home. +Paramananda had found this out, and accordingly +had made his appointment with Gouri. To such a +depth had he fallen!</p> + +<p>When the widowed Gouri caught sight from the +window of her Guru stealing like a thief to the side +of the pool, she lowered her eyes as at a lightning +flash. And in that flash she saw clearly what a fall +his had been.</p> + +<p>The Guru called: ‘Gouri.’</p> + +<p>‘I am coming,’ she replied.</p> + +<p class="dot-break">. . . . . .</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_212" title="212"> </a>When Paresh's friends heard of his death, and +came to assist in the last rites, they found the dead +body of Gouri lying beside that of her husband. She +had poisoned herself. All were lost in admiration +of the wifely loyalty she had shown in her <i>sati</i>, a +loyalty rare indeed in these degenerate days.</p> + +<div class="story-title"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_213" title="213–214"> </a>MY FAIR NEIGHBOUR</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_215" title="215"> </a>MY FAIR NEIGHBOUR</h2> + +<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">My</span> feelings towards the young widow who lived +in the next house to mine were feelings of worship; +at least, that is what I told to my friends and myself. +Even my nearest intimate, Nabin, knew +nothing of the real state of my mind. And I had +a sort of pride that I could keep my passion pure +by thus concealing it in the inmost recesses of +my heart. She was like a dew-drenched <i>sephali</i>-blossom, +untimely fallen to earth. Too radiant and +holy for the flower-decked marriage-bed, she had +been dedicated to Heaven.</p> + +<p>But passion is like the mountain stream, and +refuses to be enclosed in the place of its birth; +it must seek an outlet. That is why I tried to +give expression to my emotions in poems; but my +unwilling pen refused to desecrate the object of +my worship.</p> + +<p>It happened curiously that just at this time +my friend Nabin was afflicted with a madness of +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_216" title="216"> </a> +verse. It came upon him like an earthquake. It +was the poor fellow's first attack, and he was equally +unprepared for rhyme and rhythm. Nevertheless +he could not refrain, for he succumbed to +the fascination, as a widower to his second +wife.</p> + +<p>So Nabin sought help from me. The subject of +his poems was the old, old one, which is ever new: +his poems were all addressed to the beloved one. +I slapped his back in jest, and asked him: ‘Well, +old chap, who is she?’</p> + +<p>Nabin laughed, as he replied: ‘That I have +not yet discovered!’</p> + +<p>I confess that I found considerable comfort in +bringing help to my friend. Like a hen brooding +on a duck's egg, I lavished all the warmth +of my pent-up passion on Nabin's effusions. So +vigorously did I revise and improve his crude +productions, that the larger part of each poem +became my own.</p> + +<p>Then Nabin would say in surprise: ‘That is +just what I wanted to say, but could not. How +on earth do you manage to get hold of all these +fine sentiments?’</p> + +<p>Poet-like, I would reply: ‘They come from +my imagination; for, as you know, truth is silent, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_217" title="217"> </a> +and it is imagination only which waxes eloquent. +Reality represses the flow of feeling like a rock; +imagination cuts out a path for itself.’</p> + +<p>And the poor puzzled Nabin would say: ‘Y-e-s, +I see, yes, of course’; and then after some thought +would murmur again: ‘Yes, yes, you are right!’</p> + +<p>As I have already said, in my own love there +was a feeling of reverential delicacy which prevented +me from putting it into words. But with Nabin +as a screen, there was nothing to hinder the flow +of my pen; and a true warmth of feeling gushed +out into these vicarious poems.</p> + +<p>Nabin in his lucid moments would say: ‘But +these are yours! Let me publish them over your +name.’</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense!’ I would reply. ‘They are yours, +my dear fellow; I have only added a touch or two +here and there.’</p> + +<p>And Nabin gradually came to believe it.</p> + +<p>I will not deny that, with a feeling akin to that +of the astronomer gazing into the starry heavens, +I did sometimes turn my eyes towards the window +of the house next door. It is also true that now +and again my furtive glances would be rewarded +with a vision. And the least glimpse of the pure +light of that countenance would at once still and +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_218" title="218"> </a> +clarify all that was turbulent and unworthy in my +emotions.</p> + +<p>But one day I was startled. Could I believe +my eyes? It was a hot summer afternoon. One +of the fierce and fitful nor'-westers was threatening. +Black clouds were massed in the north-west corner +of the sky; and against the strange and fearful +light of that background my fair neighbour stood, +gazing out into empty space. And what a world +of forlorn longing did I discover in the far-away +look of those lustrous black eyes! Was there +then, perchance, still some living volcano within +the serene radiance of that moon of mine? Alas! +that look of limitless yearning, which was winging +its way through the clouds like an eager bird, +surely sought—not heaven—but the nest of some +human heart!</p> + +<p>At the sight of the unutterable passion of that +look I could hardly contain myself. I was no +longer satisfied with correcting crude poems. My +whole being longed to express itself in some worthy +action. At last I thought I would devote myself +to making widow-remarriage popular in my +country. I was prepared not only to speak and +write on the subject, but also to spend money on +its cause.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_219" title="219"> </a>Nabin began to argue with me. ‘Permanent +widowhood,’ said he, ‘has in it a sense of immense +purity and peace; a calm beauty like that of the +silent places of the dead shimmering in the wan +light of the eleventh moon.<a name="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> Would not the +mere possibility of remarriage destroy its divine +beauty?’</p> + +<p>Now this sort of sentimentality always makes +me furious. In time of famine, if a well-fed man +speaks scornfully of food, and advises a starving +man at point of death to glut his hunger on the +fragrance of flowers and the song of birds, what +are we to think of him? I said with some heat: +‘Look here, Nabin, to the artist a ruin may be a +beautiful object; but houses are built not only +for the contemplation of artists, but that people +may live therein; so they have to be kept in +repair in spite of artistic susceptibilities. It +is all very well for you to idealise widowhood +from your safe distance, but you should +remember that within widowhood there is a +sensitive human heart, throbbing with pain and +desire.’</p> + +<p>I had an impression that the conversion of +Nabin would be a difficult matter, so perhaps I +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_220" title="220"> </a> +was more impassioned than I need have been. I +was somewhat surprised to find at the conclusion +of my little speech that Nabin after a single +thoughtful sigh completely agreed with me. The +even more convincing peroration which I felt I +might have delivered was not needed!</p> + +<p>After about a week Nabin came to me, and +said that if I would help him he was prepared to +lead the way by marrying a widow himself.</p> + +<p>I was overjoyed. I embraced him effusively, +and promised him any money that might be required +for the purpose. Then Nabin told me his +story.</p> + +<p>I learned that Nabin's loved one was not an +imaginary being. It appeared that Nabin, too, +had for some time adored a widow from a distance, +but had not spoken of his feelings to any living +soul. Then the magazines in which Nabin's +poems, or rather <em>my</em> poems, used to appear had +reached the fair one's hands; and the poems had +not been ineffective.</p> + +<p>Not that Nabin had deliberately intended, as +he was careful to explain, to conduct love-making +in that way. In fact, said he, he had no idea +that the widow knew how to read. He used to +post the magazine, without disclosing the sender's +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_221" title="221"> </a> +name, addressed to the widow's brother. It was +only a sort of fancy of his, a concession to his +hopeless passion. It was flinging garlands before +a deity; it is not the worshipper's affair whether +the god knows or not, whether he accepts or +ignores the offering.</p> + +<p>And Nabin particularly wanted me to understand +that he had no definite end in view when on +diverse pretexts he sought and made the acquaintance +of the widow's brother. Any near relation +of the loved one needs must have a special interest +for the lover.</p> + +<p>Then followed a long story about how an illness +of the brother at last brought them together. +The presence of the poet himself naturally led to +much discussion of the poems; nor was the discussion +necessarily restricted to the subject out of +which it arose.</p> + +<p>After his recent defeat in argument at my +hands, Nabin had mustered up courage to propose +marriage to the widow. At first he could not +gain her consent. But when he had made full use +of my eloquent words, supplemented by a tear or +two of his own, the fair one capitulated unconditionally. +Some money was now wanted by her +guardian to make arrangements.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_222" title="222"> </a>‘Take it at once,’ said I.</p> + +<p>‘But,’ Nabin went on, ‘you know it will be +some months before I can appease my father +sufficiently for him to continue my allowance. +How are we to live in the meantime?’ I wrote +out the necessary cheque without a word, and then +I said: ‘Now tell me who she is. You need not +look on me as a possible rival, for I swear I +will not write poems to her; and even if I do +I will not send them to her brother, but to +you!’</p> + +<p>‘Don't be absurd,’ said Nabin; ‘I have not +kept back her name because I feared your rivalry! +The fact is, she was very much perturbed at taking +this unusual step, and had asked me not to talk +about the matter to my friends. But it no longer +matters, now that everything has been satisfactorily +settled. She lives at No. 19, the house next to +yours.’</p> + +<p>If my heart had been an iron boiler it would +have burst. ‘So she has no objection to remarriage?’ +I simply asked.</p> + +<p>‘Not at the present moment,’ replied Nabin +with a smile.</p> + +<p>‘And was it the poems alone which wrought +the magic change?’</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_223" title="223"> </a>‘Well, my poems were not so bad, you know,’ +said Nabin, ‘were they?’</p> + +<p>I swore mentally.</p> + +<p>But at whom was I to swear? At him? At +myself? At Providence? All the same, I swore.</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin: 6em auto 10em auto;">THE END</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Printed by <span class="small-caps">R. & R. Clark, Limited</span>, Edinburgh.</i></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> +The maternal aunt is addressed as Mashi.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> +The <i>annaprashan</i> ceremony takes place when a child is first given rice. +Usually it receives its name on that day.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> +Baba literally means Father, but is often used by elders as a term of +endearment. In the same way ‘Ma’ is used.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> +The bride and the bridegroom see each other's face for the first time at +the marriage ceremony under a veil thrown over their heads.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> +Widows are supposed to dress in white only, without ornaments or +jewellery.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> +See <a href="#Footnote_5">note on p. 38</a>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> +Elder brother.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> +The divine craftsman in Hindu mythology.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> +<i>Sudha</i> means nectar, ambrosia.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> +After betrothal the prospective bride and bridegroom are not supposed +to see each other again till that part of the wedding ceremony which is +called <i>the Auspicious Vision</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> +Superintendent of bailiffs.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> +<i>Kachari</i>, generally anglicised as <i>cuteberry</i>: offices and courts.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> +Country doctor, unqualified by any medical training.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> +A ceremonial worship.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> +It is a superstition current in Bengal that if a man pronounces the +name of a very miserly individual, he has to go without his meal that day.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> +Jaganath is the Lord of Festivity, and Jaga<i>nash</i> would mean the despoiler +of it.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> +A water-pot holding about three gallons of water.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> +A prayer carpet.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> +Incantations.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> +<i>Yak</i> or <i>Yaksa</i> is a supernatural being described in Sanskrit mythology +and poetry. In Bengal, <i>Yak</i> has come to mean a ghostly custodian of +treasure, under such circumstances as in this story.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> +The incidents described in this story, now happily a thing of the past, +were by no means rare in Bengal at one time. Our author, however, +slightly departs from the current accounts. Such criminally superstitious +practices were resorted to by miserly persons under the idea that they themselves +would re-acquire the treasure in a future state of existence. ‘When +you see me in a future birth passing this way, you must make over all this +treasure to me. Guard it till then and stir not,’—was the usual promise +exacted from the victim before he became <i>yak</i>. Many were the ‘true’ +stories we heard in childhood of people becoming suddenly rich by coming +across ghostly custodians of wealth belonging to them in a past birth.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> +<i>Thali</i>: plate.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> +<i>Dao</i>: knife.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> +<i>Lathis</i>: stick.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> +A garment with the name of Krishna printed over it.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> +Lit. the ‘brother's mark.’ A beautiful and touching ceremony in +which a Hindu sister makes a mark of sandalwood paste on the forehead of +her brother and utters a formula, ‘putting the barrier in Yama's doorway’ +(figurative for wishing long life). On these occasions, the sisters entertain +their brothers and make them presents of clothes, etc.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> +The Viceroy.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> +Land.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> +The Hindu god of marriage.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> +A literary word for books. The colloquial will be <i>boi</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> +A <i>chapkan</i> is a long coat.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> +Turban.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> +Servants.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> +Sweetly speaking.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> +Lovely-locked.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> +Sweetly smiling.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> +The Lower World.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> +Smoky fires are lit in the cow-sheds to drive off mosquitoes.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> +Family servants call the master and mistress father and mother and +the children elder brothers and sisters.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> +Dada = elder brother.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> +Bathing-place.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> +Once in the egg, and again once out of the egg.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> +See <a href="#Footnote_46">note on Damaynti</a>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> +A habit which was relic from his days of poverty, when milk was too +rare a luxury to allow of even its stains in the cup being wasted.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> +A reference to a folk-story of a saint who turned a pet mouse into +a tiger.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> +To find Satish a wife.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> +The eleventh day of the moon is a day of fasting and penance.</p> +</div> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Mashi and Other Stories, by Rabindranath Tagore + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASHI AND OTHER STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 34757-h.htm or 34757-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/7/5/34757/ + +Produced by Sharon Joiner, Jana Srna and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/34757-h/images/macmillan.png b/34757-h/images/macmillan.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5c4569 --- /dev/null +++ b/34757-h/images/macmillan.png diff --git a/34757-h/images/title-page.jpg b/34757-h/images/title-page.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6bdcba0 --- /dev/null +++ b/34757-h/images/title-page.jpg |
