Chapter Eleven

Meanwhile, according to Bimala's signal, Ashmani had come outside the house and was waiting. Bimala came and said to her, "Ashmani, I have something particular and secret to say to thee."

Ashmani said, "Seeing this dress and adornment, I too was wondering — what is afoot today?"

Bimala said, "Tonight I must go some considerable distance on a certain business. I cannot go alone at this hour of the night; there is no one I can trust to take with me save thee; thou must come with me."

Ashmani asked, "Where art thou going?"

Bimala said, "Ashmani — thou didst not use to ask so many questions in the old days."

Ashmani was somewhat abashed and said, "Then wait a little while and let me finish some work."

Bimala said, "There is one thing more. Suppose — just suppose — that thou wert to meet someone tonight whom thou knewest long ago. Would such a person recognise thee?"

Ashmani stared in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"Suppose thou wert to meet Prince Jagatsingh?"

Ashmani was silent for a long while; then spoke in a voice thick with emotion: "Will such a day truly come?"

Bimala said, "It is possible."

Ashmani said, "The Prince would recognise me, certainly."

Bimala said, "Then thou canst not go — and I must find someone else — yet I cannot go alone."

Ashmani said, "Oh, how greatly I long to see the Prince!"

Bimala said, "Keep thy longings to thy heart. What am I to do now?"

Bimala fell into thought. Ashmani suddenly pressed her cloth to her mouth and began to laugh.

Bimala said, "Devil take thee — why art thou laughing to thyself for no reason?"

Ashmani said, "I was just thinking to myself — what if I sent my golden darling Diggajaka along with thee?"

Bimala laughed with sudden delight and said, "That is just the thing — I shall take the great wit himself with me!"

Ashmani exclaimed in astonishment, "What — I was only jesting!"

Bimala said, "No jest at all — I have no mistrust of the foolish Brahmin. The blind man knows neither day nor night; he will understand nothing of what passes, so there is no danger in him. Though the Brahmin may not wish to come."

Ashmani laughed and said, "Leave that to me. I shall bring him round and fetch him out. Wait thou at the gate a little while."

So saying, Ashmani went off laughing toward a small cottage within the fort.

Gajapati Bidyadiggaj had already been introduced once to the reader. The reason for Bimala's calling him by the title Rasikraj — the King of Wits — is also known to the reader. That eminent personage was master of this cottage. In height Diggaj Mahashay would have measured a fraction over five and a half feet; in breadth, scarcely more than half a cubit and three fingers. His two legs from hip to ground, if measured, would have come to four cubits and fourteen-sixteenths; in girth they resembled two sticks of firewood. In colour he was the ink of an inkpot — it seemed as though Fire, mistaking those two legs for sticks of wood, had set about devouring them, and finding no sustenance in them whatsoever, had given up half-way through and left them half charcoal. Diggaj Mahashay stooped a little under the weight of his great height; among his features the nose was conspicuous; and whatever flesh was lacking in the rest of his person seemed to have been remedied there. The top of his head was shaved impudently close; what hair had been left stood short and stiff, so that a hand passed over them would have met needles at every touch. The whole arrangement of his gourd-like head was, one must confess, rather imposing.

Gajapati had not won the title of Bidyadiggaj for nothing. His understanding was exceedingly sharp. In youth he had entered the tol and commenced the study of grammar; after seven and a half months the aphorism beginning "Saharney Rgha" was committed to memory together with its gloss. By the good offices of Bhattacharya Mahashay, and helped along by the collective chanting of a dozen other students, he completed the Shabdakanda in fifteen years. Before proceeding to the next Kanda, the Adhyapak thought to himself: "Let me see — what does this Kanda amount to?" He put a question to his pupil: "Tell me, my boy — what do you get when you add the suffix am to the word Rama?" The student thought deeply and at length replied: "Ramakanta." The Adhyapak said: "My son, your education is complete. Go home now; your study here is finished; I have no further learning to bestow upon you."

Gajapati drew himself up with considerable pride and said, "I have one petition — my title?"

The Adhyapak said: "My son, given the learning you have acquired, you require no new title. Take the title of Bidyadiggaj — the Elephant among the Learned."

Diggaj, his heart filled with joy, made obeisance at his teacher's feet and set off for home.

Arriving at home, the scholar Diggaj reflected inwardly: "Well, I am now accomplished in grammar and the rest. I ought now to read a little of the Smriti. I am told that Abhiram Swami is a great Pandit; there is no one else capable of teaching me — so it is proper that I go to him and acquire some Smriti learning." So resolving, Diggaj took up residence within the fort. Abhiram Swami taught many; he was not ill-disposed toward anyone. Whether Diggaj learned anything or not, Abhiram Swami went on giving him lessons.

Gajapati Thakur was not only a grammarian and a Smarta: he had some slight pretension to rhetoric, some slight pretension to wit — and it was the butter-jar that best illustrated his acquaintance with the last. His displays of wit fell rather heavily upon Ashmani, and those attentions were not without a deeper purpose. Gajapati thought to himself: "For one of my station, Bengal offers only sport and dalliance; this is my Vrindavan, and Ashmani is my Radhika." Ashmani too had her roguish side — finding her Madanmohan, she took full measure of the pleasure of keeping a pet monkey. Bimala had likewise caught wind of it and would occasionally come to watch the monkey dance. Diggaj thought to himself: "Here is my Chandravali arrived as well — and why not? After all the butter-jars I have emptied! Fortunately Bimala does not know — that was something I merely heard."