62

Harimohini asked, “Radharani, why did you eat nothing last night?”

Sucharita said in surprise, “Why, I did eat.”

Harimohini pointed to the covered food and said, “Where did you eat? There it lies, untouched.”

Then Sucharita understood: the thought of eating had not entered her mind the previous night.

Harimohini said in a harsh tone, “These are not good things. From all I know of your Pareshbabu, I do not believe he is fond of such extravagance — the sight of him brings calm to the mind. If he were to learn all about your conduct of late, what do you suppose he would say?”

The target of Harimohini’s words was not lost upon Sucharita. For one brief moment she had felt a contraction within herself. That her relation with Gora might be held equivalent to the most ordinary relation between man and woman, and that so vulgar an aspersion might thus be cast upon them — this she had never conceived of. It was for this reason that Harimohini’s oblique remark made her flinch. But the very next instant she set down her work, sat up straight, and raised her eyes to meet Harimohini’s face.

In that moment she resolved that she would carry no shame before anyone regarding Gora, and she said, “Aunt, you know that Gaurimohanbabu came yesterday. The subject of our conversation took so strong a hold of my mind that I forgot altogether about eating. Had you been here, you would have heard much worth hearing.”

The kind of talk Harimohini wished to hear was not exactly talk of Gora. It was the talk of devotion that she longed for; talk of devotion did not ring from Gora’s lips with the same simple and sweet resonance. Before Gora there always seemed to be an adversary; against that adversary Gora was perpetually locked in combat. With those who would not believe, he sought to make them believe — but what had he to say to one who already believed? The very things that stirred Gora’s excitement left Harimohini entirely unmoved. If the Brahmo Samaj people chose to remain with their own views rather than merge with Hindu society, she felt no real vexation; she was content so long as no rupture came between herself and her dear ones. Conversing with Gora had thus brought not a particle of nourishment to her heart. And now, when Harimohini perceived that it was Gora who had taken possession of Sucharita’s mind, his talk and his ways became even more disagreeable to her. Sucharita was completely independent in all financial matters, and in opinion, belief, and conduct she was thoroughly self-directed — for this reason Harimohini had never been able to claim her wholly from any quarter, yet Sucharita was, in the last years of Harimohini’s life, her one and only support. For this very reason, any claim upon Sucharita by anyone other than Pareshbabu threw Harimohini into a state of utter agitation. Harimohini began to feel increasingly that everything about Gora was artifice, that the true aim of his mind was to attract Sucharita’s heart by some contrivance or other. She even began to imagine that Gora harboured a primary covetousness toward the property that Sucharita possessed in her own right. Harimohini decided that Gora was her chief enemy, and girded herself inwardly to stand against him.

There had been no reason, no occasion, for Gora to go to Sucharita’s house that day. But hesitation was, in Gora’s nature, a thing altogether rare. When he set himself to anything, he gave it no further thought. He went forward as straight as an arrow.

That morning, when Gora arrived and made his way to Sucharita’s room, Harimohini was engaged in her worship. Sucharita was in her sitting room, tidying and arranging the books, notebooks, and papers scattered on the table, when Satish came and announced that Gourababu had arrived. Sucharita felt no particular surprise. It was as though she had expected that Gora would come today.

Gora sat down in the chair and said, “So in the end Binoy has forsaken us.”

Sucharita said, “Why, why should he forsake anyone — he has not joined the Brahmo Samaj.”

Gora said, “Had he gone over to the Brahmo Samaj he would have remained closer to us than he is now. It is precisely because he still clings to Hindu society that he afflicts it most grievously. It would have been better for our society had he released it entirely from his grasp.”

Sucharita felt a keen anguish within herself and said, “Why do you see society as something so utterly exclusive? Is it natural for you to place such enormous faith in society? Or is it rather that you apply a considerable force upon yourself to do so?”

Gora said, “In the present situation, applying this force is precisely what is natural. When the ground beneath one’s feet begins to tremble, one must press one’s feet down harder with every step. Because the opposition all around us is so great, a certain excess shows itself in our words and conduct. That is not unnatural.”

Sucharita said, “Why do you consider the opposition around you, from first to last, wholly unjust and unnecessary? If society obstruct the movement of time, society must inevitably receive its blows.”

Gora said, “The movement of time is like the waves of water — it keeps eroding the shore. But I do not believe it is the shore’s duty to accept that erosion. Do not think I make no judgment of society’s goods and evils. Such judgment is so simple that even a boy of sixteen in these times has set himself up as a judge. But what is difficult is to see the whole thing whole, with reverent eyes.”

Sucharita said, “Does reverence bring us only truth? Does it not lead us to embrace falsehood as well, without discernment? Let me ask you something: can we revere idolatry also? Do you truly believe all these things to be true?”

Gora was silent for a brief moment, then said, “I shall endeavour to tell you what is precisely true. From the outset I have taken these things as true. Merely because they conflict with European prejudice, and merely because a number of exceedingly cheap arguments can be levelled against them, I have not been hasty in dismissing them. I have no particular spiritual discipline of my own in matters of religion — but that image-worship and idolatry are one and the same, that in the worship of images there is not a supreme culmination of the truth of devotion — this I cannot repeat eyes-shut like a mechanical recitation. In art, in literature, even in science and history, the faculty of imagination has its place; that in religion alone it has no function — this I shall not concede. It is in religion that all the faculties of man find their ultimate expression. In our country’s image-worship, the endeavour to unite imagination with knowledge and devotion — has it not, through this very union, made our country’s religion a fuller and more complete truth in the eyes of man than those of other lands?”

Sucharita said, “But there was image-worship in Greece and Rome as well.”

Gora said, “In their images the imagination sheltered more in the sense of beauty than in knowledge and devotion. In our country, imagination is deeply interwoven with knowledge and devotion. Whether you speak of Krishna and Radha, or of Shiva and Parvati — these are not merely the objects of historical worship; within them lies the form of man’s eternal wisdom. It is for this very reason that the devotion of Ramprasad and of Chaitanya has found its expression through these images. Has the history of Greece or Rome ever produced so complete a revelation of devotion?”

Sucharita said, “Do you not at all admit any change in religion and society accompanying the change of times?”

Gora said, “Why should I not? But change cannot be madness. The change in man occurs along the path of humanity — a child grows gradually into an old man, but a man does not suddenly become a dog or a cat. The change of India must come along India’s path; to suddenly take the road of English history would render the whole from beginning to end futile and empty. The strength of the country, the wealth of the country — these are stored up within the country itself, and it is to make you understand this that I have consecrated my life. Do you follow what I am saying?”

Sucharita said, “Yes, I follow. But I have never heard or thought of such things before. It is as when one arrives in a new place — even the most obvious things take time to become familiar. Perhaps because I am a woman, the realisation does not come to me with full force.”

Gora said at once, “Not at all. I know many men — I have carried on these discussions with them over many years — and they sit in undoubting certainty that they have understood perfectly. But I tell you with confidence: of what you see today before your mind’s eye, not one of them has seen a single particle. There is in you a depth of vision, and I felt this the moment I saw you. That is precisely why I have come to you with all that has lived in my heart through all these years — I have spread open my entire life before you, without the least constraint.”

Sucharita said, “When you speak to me so, I feel a great restlessness rise within me. What it is you expect from me, what I am able to give you, what work I am to do, what form the awakening of feeling within me shall take — none of this can I discern. My constant fear is that the trust you have placed in me may one day be found, before you, to have been entirely mistaken.”

Gora said in his deep, grave voice, “There is no mistake there. I shall show you what great strength lies within you. Harbour no anxiety whatever — the responsibility of bringing forth your capability rests with me; put your trust in me.”

Sucharita said nothing, but it was made known in silence that nothing of trust remained for her to bestow — it was already given. Gora too remained silent, and for a long while no sound was heard in the room. Outside, in the lane, a vendor of old vessels passed before the door, calling out his wares, his brass pots clanging and chiming as he went.

Harimohini had concluded her ritual worship and was on her way to the kitchen. It had not entered her mind that anyone was present in Sucharita’s silent room — but glancing in suddenly, she saw Sucharita and Gora sitting in silence, deep in thought, without even the exchange of polite conversation between them. In that single moment, the flame of her wrath rose like a bolt of lightning to the very crown of her head. Composing herself, she stood in the doorway and called out, “Radharani!”

When Sucharita rose and came to her, Harimohini said in a low voice, “Today is Ekadashi, and I am not well — go to the kitchen and light the stove; I shall sit with Gourababu a little while.”

Sucharita, seeing the look upon her aunt’s face, went to the kitchen with an uneasy heart. As Harimohini entered the room, Gora bowed before her. She sat down in the chair without a word. After sitting in tight-lipped silence for some moments she said, “You are not a Brahmo, are you, my son?”

Gora said, “No.”

Harimohini said, “Do you not respect our Hindu society?”

Gora said, “Indeed I do.”

Harimohini said, “Then what manner of conduct is this of yours?”

Unable to comprehend the nature of Harimohini’s complaint, Gora fell silent and remained gazing at her face.

Harimohini said, “Radharani is of age, and you are no relation of hers — what need is there for so much conversation between you? She is a woman; she must attend to the household — what cause has she to remain in the midst of all this talk? It draws her mind away to other things. You are a learned man; the whole country praises you — but has any of this ever existed in our land, and in which scripture is it written?”

Gora received a sudden and tremendous blow. That any quarter whatsoever could raise such an objection concerning Sucharita had never once occurred to him. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “She belongs to the Brahmo Samaj; I have always seen her mixing freely with everyone in this manner, and so it did not strike me as anything out of the ordinary.”

Harimohini said, “Very well, let her be in the Brahmo Samaj — but you yourself never speak well of such things. So many people are having their eyes opened by your words, and if your own conduct is like this, why should anyone heed you? You went on speaking with her till past midnight yesterday, and even then your talk was not done — and here you are again, early this very morning! From morning onwards today she has been to neither the storeroom nor the kitchen; on this eleventh-day fast she did not even think to give me a little assistance — what sort of education is she receiving! In your own household there are girls too — have you suspended all their duties to give them this kind of education, or do you approve when someone else does it?”

Gora had no answer to offer to any of this. He said only, “It did not occur to me to think anything of it, since she has been raised in this manner of education.”

Harimohini said, “Whatever education she may have received — as long as she is under my roof and I am alive, this shall not continue. I have brought her a long way back. Even when she was living at Pareshbabu’s house and had begun to associate with me, there arose a rumour that she was turning Hindu. Then she came to this house, and I know not what manner of conversations began between her and your Binoy, and everything was reversed again. He is now going off to be married in a Brahmo household. Let him go! With great difficulty I have managed to send Binoy away. After that, a certain Haranbabu used to come; whenever he appeared, I would take Radharani upstairs to my own room, and he found no further welcome. In this way, after much suffering, her mind seems to have been turning again of late. When she first came to this house she had begun eating food touched by all and sundry; yesterday I saw that she has stopped that. Yesterday she fetched her own rice from the kitchen herself, and forbade the bearer to bring water. Now, my friend, I beg you with folded hands — do not ruin her any further. Of all who were mine in this world, all have died and gone, and she alone remains to me; and for her too, there is no one truly her own except me. Leave her be. In their household there are many more girls of good standing — there is Labanya, there is Leela, they too are intelligent and educated; if you have anything to say, go to them — no one shall prevent you.”

Gora sat utterly stupefied. After remaining silent for a while, Harimohini spoke again: “Think on it — she will have to be given in marriage, she is well past the proper age. Do you mean to say she will remain a spinster forever? A woman must fulfil the dharma of the household.”

As a general proposition Gora had no doubt on this score — it was his own view as well. But he had never, even in his own mind, applied this view to Sucharita. The image of Sucharita as a housewife, occupied with domestic duties in the inner quarters of some household, simply never arose in his mind. It was as though Sucharita would remain always exactly as she was today, forever the same.

Gora asked, “Have you given any thought to your niece’s marriage?”

Harimohini said, “Think on it I must — if not I, then who else will?”

Gora asked, “Could she be married within Hindu society?”

Harimohini said, “The effort must certainly be made. If she causes no further trouble and conducts herself properly, I shall be able to manage it well enough. I have settled everything in my mind; for so long, given the way things stood with her, I did not dare venture anything. But these last two days I see her spirit softening, and so I feel some hope.”

Gora thought it best not to inquire further on the matter, yet he could not restrain himself; he asked, “Have you settled upon any particular bridegroom in your mind?”

Harimohini said, “That I have. The bridegroom is quite suitable — Kailas, my younger brother-in-law. His wife passed away some time ago, and he has been waiting all this while because he had not found a girl of sufficient merit; otherwise, would a man of his standing go unmatched so long? He will be a fine match for Radharani.”

The more keenly the needle of pain pricked Gora inwardly, the more insistently he pressed his questions about Kailas.

Among Harimohini’s brothers-in-law, Kailas alone had, through his own particular diligence, advanced a certain distance in learning — how far precisely, Harimohini could not say. Within the family he had the reputation of a scholar. When a petition was to be submitted against the village postmaster at the district headquarters, it was Kailas who had composed the whole of it in such remarkable English that a senior official from the Post Office had himself come and conducted an inquiry. By this, all the villagers had marvelled at Kailas’s abilities. Despite so much learning, not the slightest diminution had occurred in Kailas’s fidelity to custom and religious observance.

When the full account of Kailas had been told, Gora rose to his feet, made his salutation to Harimohini, and without a word departed from the room.

As Gora was descending the stairs into the courtyard, Sucharita was engaged in her work in the kitchen at the far end of the yard. Hearing the sound of his footsteps, she came and stood near the doorway. Gora passed out without casting a glance in any direction. Sucharita drew a long breath and returned to her work in the kitchen.

As Gora neared the turning of the lane, he came face to face with Haranbabu. Haranbabu smiled slightly and said, “So early in the morning!”

Gora made no reply. Haranbabu smiled again and asked, “You had been there, I suppose? Sucharita is at home, I trust?”

Gora said, “Yes.” And with that he strode away at a rapid pace.

Haranbabu went straight into Sucharita’s house and, through the open door of the kitchen, caught sight of her; Sucharita had no way of escape, and her aunt was not near at hand.

Haranbabu asked, “I met Gaurmohanbabu just this moment. He had been here all this while, I suppose?”

Without making any reply to this, Sucharita suddenly became very busily occupied with the pots and pans, as though she had not a moment even to breathe. But Haranbabu was not to be deterred. Standing outside the room in the courtyard, he launched into conversation. Harimohini came to the head of the stairs and coughed two or three times, but to no effect whatsoever. Harimohini could have come out and confronted Haranbabu directly, but she was quite certain that once she appeared before him, neither she nor Sucharita would be able to find any refuge in that house from the indomitable zeal of this energetic young man. For this reason, at even the shadow of Haranbabu she would draw her veil down to such a degree as would have been considered excessive even in the days of her young womanhood.

Haranbabu said, “Sucharita, tell me — which direction are you heading in? Where will you arrive? Perhaps you have heard that Lalita and Binoybabu are to be married according to Hindu rites? Do you know who is responsible for this?”

Receiving no answer from Sucharita, Haranbabu lowered his voice and said with gravity, “You are responsible.”

Haranbabu had imagined that Sucharita would not be able to withstand the blow of so grave and weighty an accusation. But seeing her continue her work without uttering a word, he made his voice still more solemn, extended his forefinger towards her and, his voice trembling, said, “Sucharita, I say it again — you are responsible. Can you place your right hand upon your heart and say that you will not be found guilty before the Brahmo Samaj for this?”

Sucharita quietly placed the pan of oil upon the stove, and the oil began to splutter and sizzle.

Haran continued, “It is you who brought Binoybabu and Gaurmohanbabu into your home, and you who gave them such encouragement that today these two have grown greater in your esteem than all the respected friends of your Brahmo Samaj. And you can see the result of that. Did I not warn you again and again from the very beginning? And what has happened today? Who will now restrain Lalita? You think the danger has passed with Lalita’s downfall. It has not. I have come today to give you a warning. Now it is your turn. Today you are no doubt repenting inwardly over Lalita’s misfortune, but the day is not far off when, in your own ruin, you will not even feel a twinge of repentance. But, Sucharita, there is still time to turn back. Think for a moment — with what noble and lofty hopes did the two of us once come together — how bright our duty in life shone before us, how generously the future of the Brahmo Samaj was spread out — how many resolves we had made, and what sustenance we gathered day by day! Do you think all that is lost? Never. That field of our hopes stands ready even now, just as it was. Turn your face and only look. Come back.”

At that moment a great quantity of vegetables was sizzling and hissing in the boiling oil, and Sucharita was stirring it properly with the spatula; when Haranbabu fell silent, waiting to learn the effect of his appeal, Sucharita lifted the pan from the fire, set it down below, turned her face, and said in a firm voice, “I am a Hindu.”

Haranbabu was completely taken aback and said, “You are a Hindu.”

Sucharita said, “Yes, I am a Hindu.”

And saying so, she placed the pan back upon the fire and resumed vigorously plying the spatula.

After a moment’s recovery from the shock, Haranbabu said in a sharp voice, “So Gaurmohanbabu has been initiating you, with no thought of morning or evening?”

Without turning her face, Sucharita said, “Yes, it is from him that I have received my initiation; he is my guru.”

There had been a time when Haranbabu had counted himself Sucharita’s guru. Had he heard today from Sucharita that she loved Gora, it would not have pained him so keenly; but that Gora had wrested from him his claim as her spiritual guide — to hear this from Sucharita’s own lips pierced him like an arrow.

He said, “However great a man your guru may be — do you think Hindu society will accept you?”

Sucharita said, “That I do not know; I know nothing of society. I know only that I am a Hindu.”

Haranbabu said, “Do you know that merely by remaining unmarried all this while, you have already lost your caste standing in Hindu society?”

Sucharita said, “Do not trouble yourself needlessly with that matter — but I tell you plainly, I am a Hindu.”

Haranbabu said, “So you have surrendered at the feet of your new guru even the religious instruction you received from Pareshbabu!”

Sucharita said, “My inner witness knows the nature of my faith — on that I wish to hold no discussion with anyone. But know this: I am a Hindu.”

Then, quite overcome with impatience, Haranbabu burst out, “However great a Hindu you may make yourself — it will avail you nothing; that too I tell you plainly. Gaurmohanbabu is not like Binoybabu — you may shout yourself hoarse proclaiming your Hinduism until your very death, but do not entertain the hope that Gaurbabu will accept you. It is an easy matter to play the guru with a disciple, but do not dream even in sleep that he will take you home and make a life with you.”

Forgetting all her cooking, Sucharita whirled around with lightning swiftness and said, “What is this you are saying!”

Haranbabu said, “I am saying that Gaurmohanbabu will never marry you.”

Sucharita, her eyes blazing, said, “Marriage? Did I not tell you — he is my guru?”

Haranbabu said, “That you did say. But what you did not say — that too we are capable of understanding.”

Sucharita said, “Leave this place. Do not insult me. I tell you now, this very day — from this day forward I shall not appear before you again.”

Haranbabu said, “How will you appear, tell me. Now you are a woman in purdah! A Hindu woman! One who shuns the sun! The measure of Pareshbabu’s sin is now full. Let him reap the fruits of his deeds in his old age. As for us — we take our leave.”

Sucharita slammed the kitchen door shut, sank down upon the floor, stuffed the end of her sari into her mouth and with all her strength suppressed the sound of the sobs that welled up within her. Haranbabu departed, his face dark with mortification.

Harimohini had heard every word of the exchange between the two. What she had heard from Sucharita’s own lips today surpassed all her expectations. Her breast swelled with feeling, and she said, “Will it not happen? Can all my devoted worship of my Gopivallabha truly come to nothing?”

Harimohini went at once to her prayer room and, prostrating herself full length upon the floor, made her obeisance to her deity, vowing to increase the offerings of food from that day forward. All these years her worship had rested in a quiet calm, a solace in grief; now, taking on the nature of an instrument of personal desire, it suddenly became fierce, feverish, and hungry.