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+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: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** 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.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Note:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
+    possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation;
+    changes (corrections of spelling and punctuation) made to the
+    original text are listed at the end of this file.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+    Bold text has been marked with =equals signs=.
+
+    A and a with macron have been replaced with  and â, respectively.
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+WORKS BY SIR RABINDRANATH TAGORE
+
+
+=GITANJALI (Song Offerings).= Translated by the Author. With an
+Introduction by W. B. YEATS and a Portrait by W. ROTHENSTEIN. Cr.
+8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=FRUIT-GATHERING. A Sequel to "Gitanjali."= 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=STRAY BIRDS. Poems.= Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=THE GARDENER. Lyrics of Love and Life.= Translated by the Author. With
+Portrait. Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=THE CRESCENT MOON. Child-Poems.= Translated by the Author. With 8
+Illustrations in Colour. Pott 4to. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=LOVER'S GIFT AND CROSSING.= Cr. 8vo.
+
+=CHITRA. A Play.= Translated by the Author. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.
+
+=THE KING OF THE DARK CHAMBER. A Play.= Translated by KSHITISH CHANDRA
+SEN. Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=THE POST OFFICE. A Play.= Translated by DEVABRATA MUKERJEA. Cr. 8vo.
+2s. 6d. net.
+
+=THE CYCLE OF SPRING. A Play.= Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.
+
+=SACRIFICE AND OTHER PLAYS.= Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.
+
+=HUNGRY STONES AND OTHER STORIES.= 5s. net.
+
+=MASHI AND OTHER STORIES.= Cr. 8vo.
+
+=PERSONALITY: Lectures delivered in America.= With Illustrations. Ex.
+cr. 8vo. 5s. net.
+
+=MY REMINISCENCES.= By Sir RABINDRANATH TAGORE. Illustrated. Ex. cr.
+8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
+
+=NATIONALISM.= Ex. cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+=SÂDHANÂ: The Realisation of Life. Lectures.= Ex. cr. 8vo. 5s. net.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+=ONE HUNDRED POEMS OF KABIR.= Translated by Sir RABINDRANATH TAGORE.
+Assisted by EVELYN UNDERHILL. Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
+
+LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.
+
+
+
+
+  MASHI
+  AND OTHER STORIES
+
+
+
+
+  MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
+
+  LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS
+  MELBOURNE
+
+
+  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+
+  NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
+  DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO
+
+
+  THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
+
+  TORONTO
+
+
+
+
+  MASHI
+  AND OTHER STORIES
+
+  BY
+  Sir RABINDRANATH TAGORE
+
+  TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL BENGALI
+  BY VARIOUS WRITERS
+
+  MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+  ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
+  1918
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                           PAGE
+
+  Mashi                       3
+
+  The Skeleton               31
+
+  The Auspicious Vision      49
+
+  The Supreme Night          61
+
+  Raja and Rani              77
+
+  The Trust Property         87
+
+  The Riddle solved         107
+
+  The Elder Sister          123
+
+  Subha                     145
+
+  The Postmaster            159
+
+  The River Stairs          173
+
+  The Castaway              185
+
+  Saved                     207
+
+  My Fair Neighbour         215
+
+
+
+
+MASHI
+
+
+I
+
+'Mashi!'[1]
+
+  [1] The maternal aunt is addressed as Mashi.
+
+'Try to sleep, Jotin, it is getting late.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Sitarampur.'
+
+'Oh yes! Sitarampur. Send her there. She should not remain any longer
+near a sick man. She herself is not strong.'
+
+'Just listen to him! How can she bear to leave you in this state?'
+
+'Does she know what the doctors----?'
+
+'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.'
+
+We must explain that in this statement there was a slight distortion
+of truth, to say the least of it. The actual talk with Mani was as
+follows:--
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+'I suppose, my child, you have got some news from your father? I
+thought I saw your cousin Anath here.'
+
+'Yes! Next Friday will be my little sister's _annaprashan_[2]
+ceremony. So I'm thinking----'
+
+  [2] The _annaprashan_ ceremony takes place when a child is first given
+  rice. Usually it receives its name on that day.
+
+'All right, my dear. Send her a gold necklace. It will please your
+mother.'
+
+'I'm thinking of going myself. I've never seen my little sister, and
+I want to ever so much.'
+
+'Whatever do you mean? You surely don't think of leaving Jotin alone?
+Haven't you heard what the doctor says about him?'
+
+'But he said that just now there's no special cause for----'
+
+'Even if he did, you can see his state.'
+
+'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----'
+
+'Yes, yes! I don't understand your mother. But I know very well that
+your father will be angry enough if you leave Jotin just now.'
+
+'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----'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Then you needn't write. I shall ask my husband, and he will
+surely----'
+
+'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.'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Mashi had left her, Mani lay down on her bed in a bad temper.
+
+Her neighbour and friend came and asked what was the matter.
+
+'Look here! What a shame it is! Here's my only sister's _annaprashan_
+coming, and they don't want to let me go to it!'
+
+'Why! Surely you're never thinking of going, are you, with your
+husband so ill?'
+
+'I don't do anything for him, and I couldn't if I tried. It's so
+deadly dull in this house, that I tell you frankly I can't bear it.'
+
+'You are a strange woman!'
+
+'But I can't pretend, as you people do, and look glum lest any one
+should think ill of me.'
+
+'Well, tell me your plan.'
+
+'I must go. Nobody can prevent me.'
+
+'Isss! What an imperious young woman you are!'
+
+
+II
+
+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.'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Mashi felt relieved when she saw him so quiet, thinking he was asleep.
+
+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----'
+
+'Yes, I see now, my Baba,[3] I was mistaken--but trial tests a
+person.'
+
+  [3] Baba literally means Father, but is often used by elders as a term
+  of endearment. In the same way 'Ma' is used.
+
+'Mashi!'
+
+'Do try to sleep, dear!'
+
+'Let me think a little, let me talk. Don't be vexed, Mashi!'
+
+'Very well.'
+
+'Once, when I used to think I could not win Mani's heart, I bore it
+silently. But you----'
+
+'No, dear, I won't allow you to say that; I also bore it.'
+
+'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----'
+
+'Yes, Jotin, you are right.'
+
+'Therefore I never took much notice of her waywardness.'
+
+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.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mashi imagined once more that Jotin was sleeping, when he cried out
+suddenly:
+
+'I know you thought that I was not happy with Mani, and therefore you
+were angry with her. 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.'
+
+Mashi began gently to soothe Jotin's brow, her tears unseen in the dark.
+
+'I was thinking, Mashi, she's so young! What will she do when I
+am----?'
+
+'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?'
+
+'Mashi, it seems as if just when Mani's heart shows signs of awakening
+I have to----'
+
+'Don't you worry about that, Jotin. Isn't it enough if her heart
+awakes?'
+
+Suddenly Jotin recollected the words of a village minstrel's song which
+he had heard long before:
+
+    O my heart! you woke not when the man of my heart came to my door.
+    At the sound of his departing steps you woke up.
+    Oh, you woke up in the dark!
+
+'Mashi, what is the time now?'
+
+'About nine.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'Why, you know how late last night you kept awake talking; so to-day
+you must get to sleep early.'
+
+'Is Mani asleep?'
+
+'Oh no, she's busy making some soup for you.'
+
+'You don't mean to say so, Mashi? Does she----?'
+
+'Certainly! Why, she prepares all your food, the busy little woman.'
+
+'I thought perhaps Mani could not----'
+
+'It doesn't take long for a woman to learn such things. With the need
+it comes of itself.'
+
+'The fish soup, that I had in the morning, had such a delicate
+flavour, I thought you had made it.'
+
+'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 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.'
+
+'Is Mani's health, then----?'
+
+'The doctors think she should not be allowed to visit the sick-room
+too often. She's too tender-hearted.'
+
+'But, Mashi, how do you prevent her from coming?'
+
+'Because she obeys me implicitly. But still I have constantly to be
+giving her news of you.'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jotin sighed, and, with a slight gesture of impatience, said:
+
+'Mashi, if Mani is still awake, then, could I--if only for a----?'
+
+'Very well! I'll go and call her.'
+
+'I won't keep her long, only for five minutes. I have something
+particular to tell her.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+III
+
+'What's this, child, you're not going anywhere, are you?'
+
+'Of course, I'm going to Sitarampur.'
+
+'What do you mean? Who is going to take you?'
+
+'Anath.'
+
+'Not to-day, my child, some other day.'
+
+'But the compartment has already been reserved.'
+
+'What does that matter? That loss can easily be borne. Go to-morrow,
+early in the morning.'
+
+'Mashi, I don't hold by your inauspicious days. What harm if I do go
+to-day?'
+
+'Jotin wants to have a talk with you.'
+
+'All right! there's still some time. I'll just go and see him.'
+
+'But you mustn't say that you are going.'
+
+'Very well, I won't tell him, but I shan't be able to stay long.
+To-morrow is my sister's _annaprashan_, and I must go to-day.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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!'
+
+'Mashi, you mustn't curse me like that.'
+
+'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!'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+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:
+
+'Just look what she has done!'
+
+'What's happened? Hasn't Mani come? Why have you been so long, Mashi?'
+
+'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 _your_ 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.'
+
+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 _his_ milk filled his heart to overflowing.
+
+'Mashi!'
+
+'What is it, Baba?'
+
+'I feel quite certain that my days are drawing to a close. But I have
+no regrets. Don't grieve for me.'
+
+'No, dear, I won't grieve. I don't believe that only life is good and
+not death.'
+
+'Mashi, I tell you truly that death seems sweet.'
+
+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.[4] 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!'
+
+  [4] 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.
+
+
+IV
+
+'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 longer mine.... But, Mashi, I've not seen Mani even
+once for the last two days!'
+
+'Jotin, let me give you another pillow.'
+
+'It almost seems to me, Mashi, that Mani also has left me like that
+laden boat of sorrow which drifts away.'
+
+'Just sip some pomegranate juice, dear! Your throat must be getting
+dry.'
+
+'I wrote my will yesterday; did I show it to you? I can't recollect.'
+
+'There's no need to show it to me, Jotin.'
+
+'When mother died, I had nothing of my own. You fed me and brought me
+up. Therefore I was saying----'
+
+'Nonsense, child! I had only this house and a little property. You
+earned the rest.'
+
+'But this house----?'
+
+'That's nothing. Why, you've added to it so much that it's difficult
+to find out where my house was!'
+
+'I'm sure Mani's love for you is really----'
+
+'Yes, yes! I know that, Jotin. Now you try to sleep.'
+
+'Though I have bequeathed all my property to Mani, it is practically
+yours, Mashi. She will never disobey you.'
+
+'Why are you worrying so much about that, dear?'
+
+'All I have I owe to you. When you see my will don't think for a
+moment that----'
+
+'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?'
+
+'But you also will have----'
+
+'Look here, Jotin, I shall get angry with you. You want to console me
+with money!'
+
+'Oh, Mashi, how I wish I could give you something better than money!'
+
+'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!'
+
+'Of course I know you have lost your taste for the enjoyments of life,
+but Mani is so young that----'
+
+'No! you mustn't say that. If you want to leave her your property,
+it is all right, but as for enjoyment----'
+
+'What harm if she does enjoy herself, Mashi?'
+
+'No, no, it will be impossible. Her throat will become parched, and
+it will be dust and ashes to her.'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+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:
+
+'Indeed it is true. We have been watching for thousands of years, and
+know that all these great preparations for enjoyment are but vanity.'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jotin sighed and said: 'We cannot leave behind us what is really worth
+giving.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Give me a little more of that pomegranate juice, Mashi, I'm thirsty.
+Did Mani come to me yesterday, I wonder?'
+
+'Yes, she came, but you were asleep. She sat by your head, fanning
+you for a long time, and then went away to get your clothes washed.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Baba, let me put this shawl over your feet; they are getting cold.'
+
+'No, Mashi, I can't bear anything over me like that.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'But, Mashi, I thought Mani didn't know how to knit,--at any rate she
+never liked it.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Mashi, is the doctor downstairs?'
+
+'Yes, he will stay here to-night.'
+
+'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 _Baisakh_? 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----but I tell you truly, Mashi, to-night, if I can have only a
+few minutes' 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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Call Mani. I'll remind her of our wedding night, so that to-morrow
+she may----'
+
+'I'm going, dear. Shombhu will wait at the door. If you want anything,
+call him.'
+
+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!'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jotin hearing the sound of footsteps started up, saying, 'Mani!'
+
+'I am Shombhu. Did you call me?'
+
+'Ask your mistress to come?'
+
+'Ask whom?'
+
+'Your mistress.'
+
+'She has not yet returned.'
+
+'Returned? From where?'
+
+'From Sitarampur.'
+
+'When did she go?'
+
+'Three days ago.'
+
+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.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Mashi came back after a long time, Jotin did not mention Mani's
+name, and Mashi thought he had forgotten all about her.
+
+Suddenly Jotin cried out: 'Mashi, did I tell you about the dream I
+had the other night?'
+
+'Which dream?'
+
+'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.'
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Don't talk so much, Jotin, but try to sleep.'
+
+'I shall name you "Lakshmi."'
+
+'But that is an old-fashioned name, Jotin!'
+
+'Yes, but you are my old-fashioned Mashi. Come to my house again with
+those beautiful old-fashioned manners.'
+
+'I can't wish that I should come and burden your home with the
+misfortune of a girl-child!'
+
+'Mashi, you think me weak, and are wanting to save me all trouble.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Whatever you may say, darling, you have never grasped anything for
+yourself, but given everything to others.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'Where? There's no one there, Jotin!'
+
+'Mashi, just go and see in the other room. I thought I----'
+
+'No, dear! I don't see anybody.'
+
+'But it seemed quite clear to me that----'
+
+'No, Jotin, it's nothing. So keep quiet! The doctor is coming now.'
+
+When the doctor entered, he said:
+
+'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.'
+
+'No, Mashi, I can't let you go.'
+
+'All right, Baba! I will sit quietly in that corner.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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!'
+
+'I protest, as a doctor, this excitement is doing you harm.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'All right, dear! Now, Baba, try to sleep!'
+
+'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.'
+
+
+V
+
+'Jotin dear, just open your eyes a little. She has come. Look once
+and see!'
+
+'Who has come? A dream?'
+
+'Not a dream, darling! Mani has come with her father.'
+
+'Who are you?'
+
+'Can't you see? This is your Mani!'
+
+'Mani? Has that door opened?'
+
+'Yes, Baba, it is wide open.'
+
+'No, Mashi, not that shawl! not _that_ shawl! That shawl is a fraud!'
+
+'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.'
+
+
+
+
+THE SKELETON
+
+
+In 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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 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.'
+
+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?'
+
+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?'
+
+'Of course,' said I, 'a perfectly reasonable desire. Well, go on
+with your search, while I try to get a little sleep.'
+
+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.'
+
+I felt that some one sat down just near my 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.'
+
+'The funniest thing I can think of is my own life-story. Let me tell
+you that.'
+
+The church clock chimed the hour of two.
+
+'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?'
+
+'Very much indeed!' said I. 'The beginning is extremely humorous.'
+
+'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 endowed
+with a rare and radiant beauty. What is your opinion?'
+
+'Very likely,' I murmured. 'But you must remember that I never saw
+you.'
+
+'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 _champak_ 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 _champak_ flower?
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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 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.
+
+'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?'
+
+I sighed as I replied: 'I was wishing I was Shekhar!'
+
+'Wait a bit. Hear the whole story first. One day, in the rains, I
+was feverish. The doctor 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.
+
+'The doctor, in a tone bashfully low, asked my brother: "Might I feel
+her pulse?"
+
+'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."[5] 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?'
+
+  [5] Widows are supposed to dress in white only, without ornaments or
+  jewellery.
+
+'Very easily,' said I; 'the human heart-beat tells its tale.'
+
+'After I had been taken ill and restored to 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.
+
+'In these evenings I used to dress myself[6] secretly in a
+canary-coloured _sari_; 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.
+
+  [6] See note on p. 38.
+
+'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.
+
+'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 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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'But that would make the story too serious. Where would the laugh come
+in? Where would be the skeleton with its grinning teeth?
+
+'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 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.'
+
+'Not much of the night is left either,' I muttered.
+
+'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.
+
+'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,[7] where is the doctor going this evening in your
+carriage?"
+
+  [7] Elder brother.
+
+'My brother briefly replied: "To his death."
+
+'"Oh, do tell me," I importuned. "Where is he really going?"
+
+'"To be married," he said, a little more explicitly.
+
+'"Oh, indeed!" said I, as I laughed long and loudly.
+
+'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.
+
+'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?"
+
+'My gaiety not only made the doctor lose countenance; it thoroughly
+irritated him.
+
+'"How is it," I went on, "that there is no illumination, no band of
+music?"
+
+'With a sigh he replied: "Is marriage then such a joyful occasion?"
+
+'I burst out into renewed laughter. "No, no," said I, "this will
+never do. Who ever heard of a wedding without lights and music?"
+
+'I bothered my brother about it so much that he at once ordered all the
+trappings of a gay wedding.
+
+'All the time I kept on gaily talking of the bride, of what would
+happen, of what I would do 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.
+
+'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.
+
+'I went up smiling, and said: "Have you forgotten your wedding,
+doctor? It is time to start."
+
+'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.
+
+'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."
+
+'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.
+
+'It was a beautiful night. The gentle south wind was kissing away
+the weariness of the world. The scent of jasmine and _bela_ filled the
+garden with rejoicing.
+
+'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.
+
+'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?
+
+'Well, well, how did you like the story?'
+
+'It has been delightful,' said I.
+
+At this point the first crow began to caw. 'Are you there?' I asked.
+There was no reply.
+
+The morning light entered the room.
+
+
+
+
+THE AUSPICIOUS VISION
+
+
+Kantichandra 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.
+
+In the month of _Agrahayan_ 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-_ghats_. 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.
+
+One morning as Kanti was seated in his boat 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.
+
+The girl's beauty had a rare freshness--as if she had just come
+from Vishwakarma's[8] 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.
+
+  [8] The divine craftsman in Hindu mythology.
+
+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 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.
+
+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
+_zizyph_ 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 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.
+
+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 _zizyph_, 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,'[9]
+thought Kanti, 'what an appropriate name!'
+
+  [9] _Sudha_ means nectar, ambrosia.
+
+Kanti returned to the boat, handed his gun to 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+'I require no service, my son,' said Nabin Banerji; 'I have only
+one care at present.'
+
+'What is that, sir?' said Kanti.
+
+'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 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.'
+
+'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.
+
+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?'
+
+'If you will deign to give her to me,' said Kanti.
+
+'You mean Sudha?' he asked again.
+
+'Yes,' was the reply.
+
+'But will you not first see and speak to her----?'
+
+Kanti, pretending he had not seen her already, said: 'Oh, that we
+shall do at the moment of the Auspicious Vision.'[10]
+
+  [10] 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 _the Auspicious Vision_.
+
+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!'
+
+The brick-built mansion of the Mazumdars had been borrowed for the
+wedding ceremony, which was fixed for next _Magh_, 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.
+
+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 the fulness of his emotion a mist seemed to becloud
+his eyes.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly he felt the bride, seated by his side, give a little start
+and a suppressed scream; 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.'
+
+'What is your name?' he then went on to ask her.
+
+The girl swayed backwards and forwards but gave no reply. All the women
+in the room began to titter.
+
+Kanti put another question: 'Have those ducklings of yours grown up?'
+
+The girl stared at him as unconcernedly as before.
+
+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.
+
+At last Kanti learned that the girl was deaf 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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+THE SUPREME NIGHT
+
+
+I used 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!'
+
+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.
+
+My father was the land-steward of the Chaudhuris, a family of
+_zemindars_. 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 _Nazir_[11] of the
+District Magistrate; _that_ 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 _Nazir_.
+
+  [11] Superintendent of bailiffs.
+
+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 _them_ than in the good Ganesh, the giver of
+success; hence the people now offer to these officers everything
+that was formerly Ganesh's due.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I had come to Calcutta to be a _Nazir_ or a Head Clerk, but I was
+preparing to become a Mazzini or a Garibaldi.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I thought, here is just the work for me! By my advice and inspiration I
+shall train up every one of my pupils as a general for future India.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _madar_ trees, and very near to the school building two large
+ancient _nim_ trees grew close together, and cast a cool shade around.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _hooka_.
+
+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.
+
+All at once there flashed upon my memory 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.
+
+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.
+
+In the evening, calming myself a little, I began to reflect: 'What
+ails me?' From within came the question: 'Where is _your_ Surabala
+now?' I replied: 'I gave her up of my free will. Surely I did not
+expect her to wait for me for ever.'
+
+But something kept saying: '_Then_ you could have got her merely for
+the asking. _Now_ 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.'
+
+I answered: 'Be it so. What is Surabala to me?'
+
+My heart rejoined: 'To-day Surabala is nobody to you. But what might
+she not have been to you?'
+
+Ah! that's true. _What_ 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!
+
+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.
+
+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 the sun,
+when the sweet scent of the _nim_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 fat, tidily dressed,
+free from every kind of worry; _he_ never passes his evenings by the
+tank gazing at the stars and sighing.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+On an island some three yards in area stood we two; all else was
+covered with water.
+
+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 _then_. 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.
+
+To-day Surabala has come to _my_ side, leaving the whole world. To-day
+she has none besides _me_. 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 _my_ 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 _me_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I reflected: True, I have become no _Nazir_ or Head Clerk, nor a
+Garibaldi; I am only the second master of a beggarly school. But one
+night had for its brief space beamed upon my whole life's course.
+
+That one night, out of all the days and nights of my allotted span,
+has been the supreme glory of my humble existence.
+
+
+
+
+RAJA AND RANI
+
+
+Bipin Kisore 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+Chittaranjan was a B.A. He was not given to any excesses. Though the
+son of a rich man, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+Now the opera of _Subhadraharan_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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!
+
+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[12]; 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.
+
+  [12] _Kachari_, generally anglicised as _cuteberry_: offices and
+  courts.
+
+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 before, took his
+cue, and Bipin lapsed back into his former wretchedness.
+
+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.
+
+Raja Chittaranjan used to look after his _zemindari_ 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.
+
+On the morrow the Raja dismissed Bipin--without a thought as to how
+and where the poor fellow would get a morsel henceforth!
+
+Nor was this the only matter of regret to 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 _bakshish_
+to Puté, and walked out into the wide wide world where he had not a
+soul to call his friend.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRUST PROPERTY
+
+
+I
+
+Brindaban Kundu came to his father in a rage and said: 'I am off this
+moment.'
+
+'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.'
+
+Such food and clothing as was customary in Jaganath's household could
+not have cost very much. Our _rishis_ 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.
+
+So long as Brindaban was single, things went 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.
+
+Frequent were the quarrels between the father and the son. At last
+Brindaban's wife became seriously ill and a _kabiraj_[13] 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.
+
+  [13] Country doctor, unqualified by any medical training.
+
+'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 ceremony than did your mother and your
+grandmother before her, do you?'
+
+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 _hookas_.
+
+Be that as it may, the modern Brindaban said to his old fogy of a
+father: 'I am off.'
+
+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.
+
+The people of the village looked upon this 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.
+
+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.
+
+But there was one tender spot in the old man's 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.
+
+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
+_puja_,[14] 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 bitterly because he had torn
+his _dhoti_ 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 _dhoti_ a year.
+
+  [14] A ceremonial worship.
+
+But Gokul did not return, and poor Jaganath aged rapidly. His empty
+home seemed emptier every day.
+
+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, _hooka_ 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[15]--and so people gave him names after their
+own fancy. Elderly people called him Jaganash,[16] 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.
+
+  [15] 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.
+
+  [16] Jaganath is the Lord of Festivity, and Jaga_nash_ would mean the
+  despoiler of it.
+
+
+II
+
+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
+_chadar_. 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 _gamcha_ on his
+shoulder suddenly disappeared, and the next moment it was seen on
+the head of the new boy, transformed into a turban.
+
+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:
+
+'What's your name, my boy?'
+
+'Nitai Pal.'
+
+'Where's your home?'
+
+'Won't tell.'
+
+'Who's your father?'
+
+'Won't tell.'
+
+'Why won't you?'
+
+'Because I have run away from home.'
+
+'What made you do it?'
+
+'My father wanted to send me to school.'
+
+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.
+
+'Well, well,' said Jaganath, 'how would you like to come and stay
+with me?'
+
+'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 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.
+
+
+III
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.'
+
+This whetted the curiosity of the boy and he said: 'Oh, where? Do show
+me.'
+
+'People will know, if I show you now. Wait till it is night,' said
+Jaganath.
+
+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.
+
+At noon, Jaganath shut the boy up in his house, and disappeared for
+some time. When he came home again, Nitai worried him with questions.
+
+No sooner was it dark than Nitai said: 'Grandfather, shall we go now?'
+
+'It isn't night yet,' replied Jaganath.
+
+A little while later the boy exclaimed: 'It is night now, grandfather;
+come let's go.'
+
+'The village people haven't gone to bed yet,' whispered Jaganath.
+
+Nitai waited but a moment, and said: 'They have gone to bed now,
+grandfather; I am sure they have. Let's start now.'
+
+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.
+
+Across many a field they went, and at last came to a jungle, where
+stood a dilapidated temple 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.
+
+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.
+
+Looking around, the boy saw that there were brass _ghurras_[17] on all
+sides of him. In the middle lay spread an _assan_[18], and in front of
+it were arranged vermilion, sandal paste, flowers, and other articles
+of _puja_. To satisfy his curiosity the boy dipped his hand into some
+of the _ghurras_, and drew out their contents. They were rupees and
+gold _mohurs_.
+
+  [17] A water-pot holding about three gallons of water.
+
+  [18] A prayer carpet.
+
+Jaganath, addressing the boy, said: 'I told you, Nitai, that I would
+give you all my money. I have not got much,--these _ghurras_ are all
+that I possess. These I will make over to you to-day.'
+
+The boy jumped with delight. 'All?' he exclaimed; 'you won't take
+back a rupee, will you?'
+
+'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 _mohur_ here.'
+
+The boy thought that the old man was raving. 'Very well,' he replied.
+
+'Then sit on this _assan_,' said Jaganath.
+
+'What for?'
+
+'Because _puja_ will be done to you.'
+
+'But why?' said the boy, taken aback.
+
+'This is the rule.'
+
+The boy squatted on the _assan_ 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 _mantras_.[19]
+
+  [19] Incantations.
+
+To sit there like a god, and hear _mantras_ recited made poor Nitai
+feel very uneasy. 'Grandfather,' he whispered.
+
+But Jaganath did not reply, and went on muttering his incantations.
+
+Finally, with great difficulty he dragged each _ghurra_ before the boy
+and made him repeat the following vow after him:
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+The lamp became dimmer and dimmer, and then went out altogether. In the
+total darkness that followed, Nitai could hear the old man climbing up
+the ladder. 'Grandfather, where are you going to?' said he, greatly
+distressed.
+
+'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.'
+
+He then withdrew the ladder. In a stifled, agonised voice the boy
+implored: 'I want to go back to father.'
+
+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.
+
+Having thus placed his wealth in the hands of a _yak_,[20] 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 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.
+
+  [20] _Yak_ or _Yaksa_ is a supernatural being described in Sanskrit
+  mythology and poetry. In Bengal, _Yak_ has come to mean a ghostly
+  custodian of treasure, under such circumstances as in this story.
+
+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.'
+
+He struck the spot with all his might and said: 'Be quiet--people
+might hear you.' But still he imagined he heard 'Father.'
+
+The sun lighted up the eastern horizon. Jaganath then left the temple,
+and came into the open fields.
+
+There, too, somebody called out 'Father.' Startled at the sound, he
+turned back and saw his son at his heels.
+
+'Father,' said Brindaban, 'I hear my boy is hiding himself in your
+house. I must have him back.'
+
+With eyes dilated and distorted mouth, the old man leaned forward and
+exclaimed: 'Your boy?'
+
+'Yes, my boy Gokul. He is Nitai Pal now, and I myself go by the name
+of Damodar Pal. Your _fame_ has spread so widely in the neighbourhood,
+that we were obliged to cover up our origin, lest people should have
+refused to pronounce our names.'
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+'No, I don't,' said Brindaban.
+
+'Just listen very carefully. Do you hear anybody calling out
+"Father"?'
+
+'No.'
+
+This seemed to relieve him greatly.
+
+From that day forward, he used to go about asking people: 'Do you hear
+any wailing sound?' They laughed at the raving dotard.
+
+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 for something, muttering: 'Nitai, who has removed my
+ladder?'
+
+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.[21]
+
+  [21] 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 _yak_. 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.
+
+
+
+
+THE RIDDLE SOLVED
+
+
+I
+
+Krishna Gopal Sircar, 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.
+
+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
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Bipin Bihari said this could never be. He could not abandon the
+income of half his property--and he reasoned with himself thus:
+_Firstly_, 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. _Secondly_, 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.
+
+So Bipin Bihari lost no time in carrying into effect what he conceived
+to be his duty. He was a man of strict principles.
+
+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.
+
+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 _zemindar_ 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 _zemindar_ 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 endowments, and the
+preservation of our property and the keeping up of our position will be
+rendered very difficult.'
+
+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.'
+
+
+II
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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 _zemindar_, by
+representing to him her woe and misery.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The poor old widow tried her best to pacify her son. 'It is no good
+fighting with the _zemindar_,' 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.'
+
+'Oh, mother!' protested Asimuddin. 'What do you know of these
+matters, pray?'
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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 good
+woman?' he condescended to say. 'If you have any representations
+to make, send your son to me.'
+
+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.
+
+
+III
+
+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.
+
+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 _Asadh_. _Hilsa_ fish were seen in large quantities
+also. The sky was cloudy. Many of the stall-holders, apprehending a
+downpour, had stretched a piece of cloth overhead, across bamboo
+poles put up for the purpose.
+
+Asimuddin had come too--but he had not a copper with him. No
+shopkeepers allowed him credit nowadays. He therefore had brought a
+brass _thali_[22] and a _dao_[23] with him. These he would pawn,
+and then buy what he needed.
+
+  [22] _Thali_: plate.
+
+  [23] _Dao_: knife.
+
+Towards evening, Bipin Babu was out for a walk attended by two or
+three retainers armed with _lathis_.[24] 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 _dao_ 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.
+
+  [24] _Lathis_: stick.
+
+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 _badmash_,' Bipin chuckled; 'I
+have got him at last.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+IV
+
+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 _zemindar_ of Jhikrakota
+appear in the witness-box, but Bipin did not mind.
+
+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 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.
+
+When the time for the case to be called drew near, a _chaprassi_ 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.
+
+Outside he saw his old father a little way off, standing under a
+_banian_ tree, barefooted and wrapped in a piece of _namabali_.[25]
+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.
+
+  [25] A garment with the name of Krishna printed over it.
+
+Bipin, hampered by his close-fitting trousers and his flowing
+_chapkan_, 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.
+
+'No, thank you,' Krishna Gopal replied, 'I will tell you here what
+I have got to say.'
+
+A curious crowd had gathered by this time. Bipin's attendants pushed
+them back.
+
+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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'What would you gain by knowing it, my boy?'
+
+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?'
+
+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.'
+
+'What?' exclaimed Bipin in painful surprise. 'From a Musalman's
+womb?'
+
+'Even so, my son,' was the calm reply.
+
+Bipin stood there for some time in mute astonishment. Then he found
+words to say: 'Come home, father; we will talk about it afterwards.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The Deputy Magistrate and Bipin were friends, 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.
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+THE ELDER SISTER
+
+
+I
+
+Having 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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+So it happened that after so many long years, 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.
+
+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 had enough to support
+them in a village with royal state.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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, to worry herself and others, day and night, with her
+petulant humours.
+
+But in a short time the child's mother died. Before her death, she
+committed her infant son to her daughter's care.
+
+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 _jiji_ and _jijima_, 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.
+
+
+II
+
+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 as possible. When after much trouble he got leave and arrived,
+Kaliprasanna's last hour had come.
+
+Before he died Kaliprasanna entrusted Joygopal with the charge of his
+son, and left a quarter of his estate to his daughter.
+
+So Joygopal gave up his appointment, and came home to look after his
+property.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Of this reunion, however, Joygopal felt differently. When they were
+constantly together 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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, and in a voice of pleading love, with
+such endearments as 'my gold, my treasure, my jewel,' lull him to
+sleep.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The hidden clash of a silent conflict like this is far harder to bear
+than an open quarrel.
+
+
+III
+
+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.
+
+With his sister's care and nursing, Nilmani passed the period of
+danger, and arrived at his sixth year.
+
+In the month of Kartik, on the _bhaiphoto_[26] day, Sasi had dressed
+Nilmani up as a little Babu, in coat and _chadar_ and red-bordered
+_dhoti_, and was giving him the 'brother's mark,' when her outspoken
+neighbour Tara came in and, for one reason or another, began a quarrel.
+
+  [26] 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.
+
+''Tis no use,' cried she, 'giving the "brother's mark" with so
+much show and ruining the brother in secret.'
+
+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 _taluk_ Hasilpur to fall into arrears and purchase it
+himself in secret, if I had had the least inkling about it.'
+
+'Won't you sue then?' asked Sasi in astonishment.
+
+'Sue one's cousin!' said Joygopal. 'Besides, it would be useless,
+a simple waste of money.'
+
+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 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 _Lat
+Saheb_,[27] nay, write to the Maharani herself, to save her brother's
+property. The Maharani would surely not allow Nilmani's _taluk_[28]
+of Hasilpur, with an income of seven hundred and fifty-eight rupees a
+year, to be sold.
+
+  [27] The Viceroy.
+
+  [28] Land.
+
+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.
+
+Joygopal called in the village doctor. When Sasi asked for a better
+doctor, Joygopal said: 'Why, Matilal isn't a bad sort.'
+
+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.'
+
+Sasi lay with Nilmani in her lap, nor would 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The next day Joygopal arrived. Blazing with fury, he ordered his wife
+to return home with him at once.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Then you remain here, and don't come back to my house,' cried
+Joygopal indignantly.
+
+Sasi at length fired up. '_Your_ house! Why, 'tis my brother's!'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+But it was no good crying. Her brother had no one else besides herself
+in the world. Sasi 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.
+
+Husband and wife, after a second separation, met again for the second
+time! The decree of Prajapati![29]
+
+  [29] The Hindu god of marriage.
+
+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.
+
+
+IV
+
+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 _maidan_. 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 Nilmani
+in imperturbable curiosity serenely gazed at the Saheb.
+
+The Saheb was amused and came up and asked in Bengali: 'You read at
+the _pathsala_?'
+
+The boy silently nodded. 'What _pustaks_[30] do you read?' asked the
+Saheb.
+
+  [30] A literary word for books. The colloquial will be _boi_.
+
+As Nilmani did not understand the word _pustak_, he silently fixed his
+gaze on the Magistrate's face. Nilmani told his sister the story of
+his meeting the Magistrate with great enthusiasm.
+
+At noon, Joygopal, dressed in trousers, _chapkan_,[31] and
+_pagri_,[32] went to pay his salams to the Saheb. A crowd of suitors,
+_chaprasies_,[33] 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.
+
+  [31] A _chapkan_ is a long coat.
+
+  [32] Turban.
+
+  [33] Servants.
+
+At this moment, a woman, closely veiled, and accompanied by Nilmani,
+came straight up to the Magistrate. She said: 'Saheb, into your
+hands I 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.'
+
+The woman said: 'What I have to say I will say here.'
+
+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.
+
+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, '_Chup rao_,' and
+with the tip of his cane motioned to Joygopal to leave the chair and
+stand up.
+
+Joygopal, inwardly raging against Sasi, stood speechless. Nilmani
+nestled up close to his sister, and listened awe-struck.
+
+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 can return home with your brother without the
+least misgiving.'
+
+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.'
+
+'And what would you do?' queried the Saheb.
+
+'I will retire to my husband's house,' said Sasi; 'there is nothing
+to fear for me.'
+
+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.
+
+When Sasi was about to take her leave, the boy clutched her dress.
+'Don't be frightened, _baba_,--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!'
+
+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.
+
+Again in that old, ever-familiar house husband and wife met. The decree
+of Prajapati!
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+At parting, Sasi gave her word to her brother they would meet again.
+Where that word was kept none can tell.
+
+
+
+
+SUBHA
+
+
+When the girl was given the name of Subhashini,[34] who could have
+guessed that she would prove dumb? Her two elder sisters were
+Sukeshini[35] and Suhasini,[36] and for the sake of uniformity her
+father named his youngest girl Subhashini. She was called Subha for
+short.
+
+  [34] Sweetly speaking.
+
+  [35] Lovely-locked.
+
+  [36] Sweetly smiling.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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 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!'
+
+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,[37] but into Banikantha's family, and she knew no means of
+astonishing the Gosains' boy.
+
+  [37] The Lower World.
+
+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.
+
+Once upon a time, late on a night of full moon, 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.
+
+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.'
+
+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 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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+Using both eyes and ears _this_ 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.
+
+
+
+
+THE POSTMASTER
+
+
+The 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+At times he tried his hand at writing a verse or two. That the movement
+of the leaves and the 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 _Arabian Nights_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+When in the evening the smoke began to curl up from the village
+cow-sheds,[38] 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.'
+
+  [38] Smoky fires are lit in the cow-sheds to drive off mosquitoes.
+
+Ratan would sit outside waiting for this call, and, instead of coming
+in at once, would reply: 'Did you call me, sir?'
+
+'What are you doing?' the postmaster would ask.
+
+'I must be going to light the kitchen fire,' would be the answer.
+
+And the postmaster would say: 'Oh, let the kitchen fire be for awhile;
+light me my pipe first.'
+
+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 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.
+
+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,[39] 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.
+
+  [39] Family servants call the master and mistress father and mother
+  and the children elder brothers and sisters.
+
+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 persistent
+bird went on all the afternoon repeating the burden of its one
+complaint in Nature's audience chamber.
+
+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.
+
+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?'[40] 'I was thinking,' said the
+postmaster, 'of teaching you to read,' and then for the rest of
+the afternoon he taught her the alphabet.
+
+  [40] Dada = elder brother.
+
+Thus, in a very short time, Ratan had got as far as the double
+consonants.
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+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. 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?'
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+The postmaster said: 'I am going away to-morrow, Ratan.'
+
+'Where are you going, Dada?'
+
+'I am going home.'
+
+'When will you come back?'
+
+'I am not coming back.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+The postmaster laughed. 'What an idea!' said he; but he did not think
+it necessary to explain to the girl wherein lay the absurdity.
+
+That whole night, in her waking and in her dreams, the postmaster's
+laughing reply haunted her--'What an idea!'
+
+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!
+
+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.'
+
+The postmaster was dumbfounded. He had never seen Ratan like this
+before.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 current, and already the
+village was left behind, and its outlying burning-ground came in sight.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+THE RIVER STAIRS
+
+
+If 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.
+
+The month of _Ashwin_ (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 _kachu_
+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 _bâbla_ 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.
+
+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
+arrived in twos and threes to draw water. I knew this was the time of
+Kusum's coming to the bathing-stairs.
+
+But that morning I missed her. Bhuban and Swarno mourned at the
+_ghât_.[41] 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.
+
+  [41] Bathing-place.
+
+In time she almost faded out of my mind. A year passed. The women at
+the _ghât_ 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.
+
+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 remained, and she too,
+they said, would be wed in December next.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The crowd increased day by day. The Sanyasi's fame rapidly spread among
+the womenkind. One day he would recite the _Bhágbat_, another day he
+would expound the _Gita_, or hold forth upon a holy book in the temple.
+Some sought him for counsel, some for spells, some for medicines.
+
+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 _bâbla_ 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.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+One evening, as the full moon arose, Kusum came and sat upon my last
+step above the water, and cast her shadow upon me.
+
+There was no other at the _ghât_ just then. The 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 _chhatim_ boughs. Near the houses the loud clamour
+of the jackals rose and sank into silence.
+
+Slowly the Sanyasi came out of the temple. Descending a few steps of
+the _ghât_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+He gave her blessing and asked: 'Who are you?'
+
+She replied: 'I am called Kusum.'
+
+No other word was spoken that night. Kusum 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.
+
+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 _puja_, and
+drawing water from the Ganges to wash the temple floor.
+
+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.
+
+Just then I began to miss Kusum. For some time she had given up
+visiting the temple, the _ghât_, or the Sanyasi.
+
+What happened next I do not know, but after a while the two met
+together on my steps one evening.
+
+With downcast looks, Kusum asked: 'Master, did you send for me?'
+
+'Yes, why do I not see you? Why have you grown neglectful of late in
+serving the gods?'
+
+She kept silent.
+
+'Tell me your thoughts without reserve.'
+
+Half averting her face, she replied: 'I am a sinner, Master, and hence
+I have failed in the worship.'
+
+The Sanyasi said: 'Kusum, I know there is unrest in your heart.'
+
+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.
+
+He moved a little away, and said: 'Tell me what you have in your
+heart, and I shall show you the way to peace.'
+
+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. 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!'
+
+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.
+
+Her speech done, the Sanyasi said:
+
+'You must tell me whom you saw in your dream.'
+
+With folded hands, she entreated: 'I cannot.'
+
+He insisted: 'You must tell me who he was.'
+
+Wringing her hands she asked: 'Must I tell it?'
+
+He replied: 'Yes, you must.'
+
+Then crying, 'You are he, Master!' she fell on her face on my stony
+bosom, and sobbed.
+
+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. _You_ must forget me.'
+
+Kusum replied in a low voice: 'It will be so, Master.'
+
+The Sanyasi said: 'I take my leave.'
+
+Without a word more Kusum bowed to him, and placed the dust of his feet
+on her head. He left the place.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTAWAY
+
+
+Towards 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+The wife, Kiran, was saying: 'I have quite recovered already. It will
+not, cannot possibly, do me any harm to go home now.'
+
+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.
+
+Sharat said: 'The doctor thinks you should stop here a few days
+longer.'
+
+Kiran replied: 'Your doctor knows everything!'
+
+'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.'
+
+'And at this moment I suppose every one in this place is perfectly
+well!'
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+It was hard to tell Nilkanta's age. If it was about fourteen or
+fifteen, then his face was too old 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.
+
+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 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 _champak_ 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 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.
+
+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--
+
+    Twice-born[42] bird! ah! wherefore stirred
+      To wrong our royal lady?
+    Goose, ah! say why wilt thou slay
+      Her in forest shady?[43]
+
+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.
+
+  [42] Once in the egg, and again once out of the egg.
+
+  [43] See note on Damaynti.
+
+When with evening the child of want lies down, dirty and hungry, in
+his squalid home, and hears 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.
+
+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.
+
+Shortly after the advent of Nilkanta, Sharat's younger brother, Satish,
+came to spend his college 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.[44]
+
+  [44] 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.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+One day Kiran, desiring to entertain Satish, 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+But Satish was much annoyed at the blubbering 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.[45]
+And he has evidently discovered that there is nothing like a tear
+or two to soften your heart.'
+
+  [45] A reference to a folk-story of a saint who turned a pet mouse
+  into a tiger.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+    Twice-born bird, ah! wherefore stirred
+      To wrong our royal lady?
+
+and the usual war of words would break out between her and her
+brother-in-law.
+
+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 Damaynti.'[46]
+
+  [46] To find Satish a wife.
+
+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.
+
+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 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.
+
+But Kiran said determinedly: 'Never.'
+
+Sharat wanted to cross-examine the boy, but his wife refused to allow
+it.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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
+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!
+
+Kiran, with flushed face, sat down helplessly with the inkstand in her
+hand, puzzled and wondering.
+
+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 she was in taking him for a thief; how
+could he bear the thought that she had tried to spy on him?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She had the box brought up to her own room; and taking out the inkstand
+alone, threw it into the river.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+SAVED
+
+
+Gouri 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 got rid of forthwith. The high-spirited Gouri greatly
+resented this, but her resentment only made her husband's behaviour
+still stranger.
+
+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.
+
+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 _Gita_ to her. All
+the wasted love and affection of her woman's heart was poured out in
+reverence at the feet of her Guru.
+
+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
+suspicion against him, his jealousy ate its way into his heart like a
+hidden cancer.
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+In a white heat of passion at this last outrage, Gouri got the door
+open somehow, and left the house.
+
+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.
+
+'You here?' questioned her Guru in surprise.
+
+'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.'
+
+With a stern rebuke, Paramananda sent Gouri back home. But I wonder
+whether he ever again took up the snapped thread of his reading.
+
+Paresh, finding the door open, on his return home, asked: 'Who has
+been here?'
+
+'No one!' his wife replied. '_I_ have been to the house of my Guru.'
+
+'Why?' asked Paresh, pale and red by turns.
+
+'Because I wanted to.'
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.'
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+The doctor said it was a case of apoplexy. The patient had died before
+his arrival.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+The Guru called: 'Gouri.'
+
+'I am coming,' she replied.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+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 _sati_, a loyalty rare indeed in
+these degenerate days.
+
+
+
+
+MY FAIR NEIGHBOUR
+
+
+My 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 _sephali_-blossom, untimely fallen
+to earth. Too radiant and holy for the flower-decked marriage-bed,
+she had been dedicated to Heaven.
+
+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.
+
+It happened curiously that just at this time my friend Nabin was
+afflicted with a madness of 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.
+
+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?'
+
+Nabin laughed, as he replied: 'That I have not yet discovered!'
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+Poet-like, I would reply: 'They come from my imagination; for, as you
+know, truth is silent, and it is imagination only which waxes
+eloquent. Reality represses the flow of feeling like a rock;
+imagination cuts out a path for itself.'
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+Nabin in his lucid moments would say: 'But these are yours! Let me
+publish them over your name.'
+
+'Nonsense!' I would reply. 'They are yours, my dear fellow; I have
+only added a touch or two here and there.'
+
+And Nabin gradually came to believe it.
+
+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 clarify all that was turbulent and unworthy in my emotions.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.[47] Would not the mere possibility of remarriage destroy
+its divine beauty?'
+
+  [47] The eleventh day of the moon is a day of fasting and penance.
+
+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.'
+
+I had an impression that the conversion of Nabin would be a difficult
+matter, so perhaps I 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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _my_ poems,
+used to appear had reached the fair one's hands; and the poems had
+not been ineffective.
+
+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 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Take it at once,' said I.
+
+'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!'
+
+'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.'
+
+If my heart had been an iron boiler it would have burst. 'So she has
+no objection to remarriage?' I simply asked.
+
+'Not at the present moment,' replied Nabin with a smile.
+
+'And was it the poems alone which wrought the magic change?'
+
+'Well, my poems were not so bad, you know,' said Nabin, 'were they?'
+
+I swore mentally.
+
+But at whom was I to swear? At him? At myself? At Providence? All the
+same, I swore.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+_Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh._
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Note:
+
+    The following is a list of corrections made to the original. The first
+    line is the original line, the second the corrected one.
+
+  I bothered my brother about it so much that he at once ordered all the
+  'I bothered my brother about it so much that he at once ordered all the
+
+
+  'I am not coming back.
+  'I am not coming back.'
+
+  has flown off to look for your Damaynti."[46]
+  has flown off to look for your Damaynti.'[46]
+
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Mashi and Other Stories, by Rabindranath Tagore
+
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