Chapter 1

When the deadly dart of Saktishel pierced Lakshmana's chest, his countenance must surely have been a dreadful sight; yet Gurucharan’s face looked, if anything, even worse when word arrived early that morning from the inner apartments that his wife had just safely delivered their fifth daughter.

Gurucharan was a bank clerk on a salary of sixty rupees a month. Consequently, his frame was as lean and emaciated as a hackney-carriage horse, and his features wore the same expression of weary, detached apathy. Even so, at this terrifying piece of glad tidings, the hookah remained motionless in his grip, and he slumped back against his frayed ancestral bolster, lacking even the strength to heave a sigh.

The bearer of these glad tidings was his third daughter, ten-year-old Annakali. "Father," she said, "won't you come and look?"

Gurucharan looked at his daughter's face and said, "Child, fetch me a glass of water to drink."

The girl went to fetch the water. No sooner had she gone than Gurucharan’s mind turned first to the sundry expenses of the lying-in chamber. Next, just as third-class passengers at a crowded railway station, the moment the train arrives and the doors open, come stampeding frantically with their bundles, trampling over everyone in their path, so a clamorous horde of anxieties came rushing into his brain. He remembered that last year, for his second daughter’s auspicious wedding, this two-storey family house in Bowbazar had been mortgaged, and six months of interest remained unpaid. Durga Puja was barely a month away—festival gifts would have to be sent to his second daughter's in-laws. At the office yesterday, the debits and credits had not balanced even by eight at night, and today the accounts had to be dispatched to England by noon. Yesterday the Senior Sahib had issued an order that no one dressed in soiled clothes might enter the office on pain of a fine, yet the washerman had been nowhere to be found since last week, having seemingly vanished with half the household's clothing. Gurucharan could no longer even remain propped up; holding his hookah high, he sank back completely. In his heart he prayed, Lord, so many people die every day in this city of Calcutta, crushed under carriages and horses—are they so much guiltier before Thy feet than I? Merciful Father, if only, by Thy grace, a heavy motor-car were to run over my chest!

Annakali brought the water and said, "Father, get up, I have brought the water."

Gurucharan sat up, drank it down in a single breath, and said, "Ah! Go on, child, take the glass away."

Once she had left, Gurucharan lay down again.

Lalita entered the room and said, "Mama, I've brought tea. Get up."

At the mention of tea, Gurucharan sat up once more. Looking into Lalita's face, half his agony seemed to subside. He said, "You've been awake all night, my child. Come, sit beside me for a moment."

Lalita sat down close to him with a shy smile and said, "I didn't stay awake at night, Mama."

No one in this world understood better than she the deep, hidden anguish in the heart of this worn, overburdened, prematurely aged uncle.

Gurucharan said, "Never mind that, come, sit close to me."

As Lalita came and sat near him, Gurucharan placed his hand on her head and suddenly burst out, "If only I could give this precious girl of mine into a king’s household, only then would I feel I had accomplished something."

Lalita bent her head and began pouring the tea. He continued, "Yes, my child, coming into your poor uncle's home, you have to toil day and night, don't you?"

Lalita shook her head and said, "Why should I have to toil day and night, Mama? Everyone works, and so do I."

Now Gurucharan smiled. As he sipped his tea, he asked, "Well, Lalita, what is to be done about the cooking today, my girl?"

Lalita raised her face and said, "Why, Mama, I shall cook!"

Gurucharan expressed surprise and asked, "How will you cook, child? Do you know how to cook?"

"I do, Mama. I have learnt everything from Mamima."

Gurucharan lowered his cup of tea and asked, "Is that true?"

"It is true! Mamima shows me what to do—I've cooked so many times." Saying this, she lowered her head.

Placing his hand upon her bowed head, Gurucharan blessed her in silence. One heavy anxiety fell away from his mind.

This room opened directly onto the lane. As he was drinking his tea, Gurucharan’s gaze happened to fall outside the window, and he called out loudly, "Is that Shekhar? Listen, listen!"

A tall, robust, handsome young man entered the room.

Gurucharan said, "Sit down. I suppose you've heard about your aunt's business this morning?"

Shekhar smiled faintly and said, "What business—that a girl has been born, is that it?"

Gurucharan sighed and said, "You may well say 'is that it', but what 'it' truly means, only I know!"

Shekhar said, "Do not talk like that, Kaka; if Aunt hears, she will be deeply hurt. Besides, whomever God sends ought to be welcomed with affection and joy."

Gurucharan remained silent for a moment and then said, "One ought to welcome them with joy—I know that too! But my boy, God Himself does not deal justly. I am a poor man; why so many in my home? Even this small house is mortgaged to your father—let it be, I do not grieve over that, Shekhar. But look right here before your eyes, my boy—here is my Lalita, an orphaned golden doll who belongs nowhere if not in a king’s palace."

"Tell me, how can I find the heart to hand her over to just anyone? The Kohinoor that shines in a king's crown—even if you piled up heaps of such Kohinoors to weigh against this daughter of mine, it would not equal her worth. But who will understand that? For lack of money, I shall have to give away even such a jewel for nothing. Tell me, my boy, what kind of spear will pierce my chest when that time comes? She is thirteen years old now, yet I do not have thirteen pice in my hand even to settle a match."

Gurucharan's eyes filled with tears. Shekhar remained silent.

Gurucharan spoke again, "Shekharnath, see, my boy, if among your friends you can make some arrangement for this girl. Nowadays, I hear, many young men do not care about money, but choose a girl simply by looking at her. If by some chance such a match could be found, Shekhar, then I tell you, by my blessings you shall be a king. What more can I say, my boy? In this neighbourhood, I live under your family’s shelter; your father looks upon me as his own younger brother."

Shekhar nodded and said, "Very well, I shall see to it."

Gurucharan said, "Do not forget, my boy; mind you see to it. Lalita has been brought up learning her studies from you since she was eight years old; you can see for yourself how intelligent she is, how gentle and well-mannered. A mere slip of a girl, and from today she alone will do all our cooking and serving—everything rests upon her shoulders now."

At that moment Lalita raised her eyes just once and immediately lowered them again, the corners of her lips barely softening into a faint smile. Gurucharan sighed and said, "Did her father earn any small sum in his time? Yet he gave everything away in charity in such a manner that he left nothing behind, not even for this one daughter."

Shekhar remained silent. Gurucharan himself spoke up once more, "And yet, how can I say he left nothing? All the relief he brought to the suffering of so many people—the full virtue of those deeds he has passed on to this daughter of mine; otherwise, how could a girl so young be such a mother Annapurna to us all? Tell me yourself, Shekhar, is it not true?"

Shekhar smiled, but did not reply.

As he prepared to leave, Gurucharan asked, "Where are you off to so early in the morning?"

Shekhar replied, "To a barrister's house—there is a case." As he stood up, Gurucharan reminded him once more, "Keep my request in mind, my boy! She may be a little dark-complexioned, but such features, such a smile, such compassion and kindness—search the whole world over, and you will not find the like."

Shekhar nodded and stepped out with a smile on his face. This young man was about twenty-five or twenty-six. Having passed his Master of Arts degree, he had been serving an apprenticeship until last year, when he qualified as an attorney. His father, Nabin Roy, having made a fortune of lakhs in the molasses trade, had retired from business a few years ago and now conducted money-lending from home. His elder son, Avinash, was a pleader, and the younger son was this Shekharnath.

His grand three-storey house towered over the neighbourhood, and because one of its open roofs joined with Gurucharan’s roof, a deep intimacy had grown between the two families. The women of the household used this very passage to come and go.