Chapter 7

Having quietly slipped away from the tea gathering, Lalita had entered Shekhar’s room, drawn a trunk beneath the bright gaslight, and was carefully folding and packing his woollen clothes. When she looked up and saw Shekhar step inside, she stared into his face, struck mute with fear and astonishment.

Like a man emerging from court after losing his every earthly possession, altered beyond recognition between morning and evening, Shekhar seemed in the space of a single hour to have become someone Lalita could barely recognize. It was as though someone had carved upon his face all the marks of total ruin.

"What are you doing, Lalita?" Shekhar asked in a dry voice.

Leaving his question unanswered, Lalita moved closer, took one of his hands in both of hers, and asked, on the verge of tears, "What has happened, Shekharda?"

"Why, nothing at all," Shekhar said, forcing a brief smile. The touch of her hands restored a flicker of life to his countenance. Sinking onto a nearby chair, he repeated his question, "What is it that you are up to?"

"I had forgotten to pack the heavy overcoat for you," Lalita replied. "I came to put it in."

Shekhar listened silently. Having somewhat composed herself, Lalita continued, "Last time, you suffered so much in the train. You had several overcoats, to be sure, but not a single really thick one. That is why, as soon as you returned, I gave your measurements to the shop and had this made." With these words, she lifted a heavy overcoat and set it down beside him.

Feeling the fabric with his hand, Shekhar said, "Why, you never mentioned it to me."

Lalita smiled and said, "You are such a babu—had I told you, would you ever have let me order so thick a coat? That is why I kept quiet, had it tailored, and put it away." Returning it to its place inside, she added, "It is right at the top, so you will find it the moment you open the trunk. Don't forget to put it on when it grows cold."

"Very well," Shekhar said. He gazed at her without blinking for a moment, then suddenly burst out, "No, such a thing is impossible."

"What is impossible? Will you not wear it?"

"No, not that," Shekhar said hastily. "That is something else. Tell me, Lalita, do you know if Mother's things have been packed?"

"Yes, I know—I packed them all myself this afternoon," Lalita replied, checking every item once more before locking the trunk.

Shekhar looked at her silently for a moment and then asked softly, "Tell me, Lalita, what will become of me next year?"

Lalita raised her eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Why? That I alone can feel, my friend," Shekhar said, but catching himself, he forced a semblance of cheerfulness onto his grim face to cover his slip. "At any rate, before you leave for another household, make sure to show me where everything is kept—otherwise, when I need something, I shall never be able to find a thing."

"Oh, stop it!" Lalita said crossly.

Shekhar finally laughed and said, "'Stop it,' yes, I know—but what truly will become of me? I have refined tastes to the tune of sixteen annas, but not a single shell's worth of practical skill. A servant cannot handle these things either. From now on, I see I must live like your uncle—owning nothing more than a single cloth and a shawl—and let happen what will."

Lalita tossed the ring of keys onto the floor and fled the room.

Shekhar called out after her, "Come by tomorrow morning!"

Lalita paid no heed and hurried down the stairs to the lower floor. Reaching her own house, she found Annakali sitting in a corner of the moonlit terrace, weaving garlands from a heap of marigolds. Lalita went over, sat beside her, and asked, "What are you doing sitting out here in the cold dew, Kali?"

Without looking up, Kali replied, "Weaving garlands—my daughter is getting married tonight."

"Why, you never told me!"

"It wasn't fixed, Sejdi. But just now Father consulted the almanac and said there isn't another auspicious day left this month. The girl has grown up; I can keep her no longer, so I am marrying her off as best I can. Sejdi, won't you give me two rupees so I can send for some sweets?"

Lalita laughed. "It's always 'Sejdi' when it comes to money! Go on, it's under my pillow—take it. Tell me, Kali, can a wedding take place with marigolds?"

Kali replied solemnly, "It can. If no other flowers are to be had, it can. I have married off so many daughters, Sejdi! I know all about it." With that, she went downstairs to order the refreshments.

Lalita sat there in her place and began weaving the garland.

A short while later, Kali returned and said, "Everyone else has been invited, except Shekharda. Let me go tell him, or he will be hurt." And she ran off to the neighbouring house.

Kali was a seasoned little housewife; she managed everything with thorough order. Coming back downstairs after giving Shekharda the news, she said, "He asked for a garland. Why don't you go, Sejdi—take it to him quickly! Meanwhile, I'll set things up here—the auspicious hour has begun, there's no time to lose."

Lalita shook her head. "I cannot, Kali. You go and give it to him."

"All right, I'm going. Give me that large one," Kali said, holding out her hand.

Lalita was about to hand it to her, but stopped short upon a thought and said, "Very well, I shall go and give it myself."

Kali said with gravity, "Do that then, Sejdi. I have so much to do—not even a moment to die."

At the expression on her face and the tone of her words, Lalita burst out laughing. "A proper little old woman!" she chuckled, taking the garland and setting off. Reaching his door, she saw Shekhar absorbed in writing a letter. She opened the door and stood behind him, yet Shekhar remained unaware of her presence. Standing quietly for a moment, with the playful intention of startling him, she carefully slipped the garland over Shekhar's head and down onto his neck, then dropped down behind his chair.

Shekhar startled at first and cried, "Hey, Kali!" But turning his head the next instant and seeing who it was, he turned exceedingly grave and said, "What have you done, Lalita!"

Rising to her feet, Lalita felt a tremor of alarm at the expression on Shekhar's face. "Why, what is it?" she asked.

Maintaining his utmost solemnity, Shekhar said, "Do you not know? Go and ask Kali what it signifies when a garland is placed around someone's neck on a night like this."

Now Lalita understood. In the twinkling of an eye, her entire face flushed crimson with overwhelming shame. "No—never, never!" she gasped, and fled precipitately from the room.

Shekhar called after her, "Don't go, Lalita—listen to me! I have something important to discuss—"

Shekhar's call reached her ears, but who was there to listen? Nowhere could she bring herself to stop; running straight into her own room, she threw herself onto the bed and closed her eyes tight.

For the past five or six years she had grown up in close intimacy with Shekhar, but never in all those years had she heard such words from him. In the first place, Shekhar, naturally grave, never teased her; and even if he did, she could never have imagined that so deeply embarrassing a jest could pass his lips. Shrinking with shame, she lay there for some twenty minutes before sitting up. Yet, in her heart, she held Shekhar in awe; he had called her back saying he had something important to discuss, and so, sitting up, Lalita pondered whether she ought to return. Just then, the voice of the maid from the next house resounded: "Where are you, Lalitadi? Chhotobabu is calling for you now!"

Lalita came out and said softly, "I am coming; off you go." Stepping upstairs, she parted the door a fraction and saw Shekhar still writing his letter. Standing silently for a while, she asked softly, "Why did you call?"

Without stopping his writing, Shekhar said, "Come closer, I tell you."

"No—say what you must from there."

Smiling to himself, Shekhar said, "Tell me, what is this deed you went and performed so suddenly?"

Lalita said crossly, "Oh, stop it—again!"

Turning his head, Shekhar said, "What fault is it of mine? It was you, after all, who came and did it—"

"I did nothing of the sort! Give it back to me."

Shekhar said, "That is precisely why I sent for you, Lalita. Come closer, and I shall return it. You left the ritual half-done—come over here, and let me complete it."

Remaining silent behind the door for a moment, Lalita said, "I tell you truly, if you make such jokes, I shall never come before you again. I am asking you—give it back!"

Turning back to the table, Shekhar picked up the garland and said, "Come take it."

"Toss it to me from there!"

Shekhar shook his head. "Unless you come close, you shall not have it."

"Then I have no need of it!" Lalita said, leaving in a huff.

Shekhar called out loudly, "But remember—it remains half-done!"

"Let it remain!" Lalita snapped, truly angry as she walked away.

She left, yet she did not go downstairs. Going to the far corner of the open eastern terrace, she stood quietly, holding onto the railing. The moon had risen into the sky before her, inundating everything in the pale luminescence of a winter night. Above stretched the clear, immaculate blue of the sky. Casting a single glance toward Shekhar’s room, she raised her face upwards. Now her eyes burned, filling with tears born of shame and wounded pride. She was not so young that she could not fully fathom the import of such words; why then subject her to so cruel a mockery? She was old enough to know how insignificant, how low her station was. She knew full well that it was only because she was an orphan and helpless that everyone treated her with affection and care—Shekhar as well as his mother. She had no one to call her own, and precisely because no real responsibility for her rested on anyone, Girindra, an absolute stranger, could raise the prospect of coming to her rescue.

Closing her eyes, Lalita reflected in her heart: in the society of Calcutta, how far beneath Shekhar’s family was her uncle’s standing—and she was merely a burden dependent on that very uncle. Meanwhile, negotiations for Shekhar’s marriage were underway in a family of equal status; whether sooner or later, his marriage would inevitably take place there one day. She had even overheard from Shekhar’s mother the discussions about how substantial a dowry Nabin Roy expected to extract on the occasion of this marriage.

Why then had Shekharda suddenly subjected her to such an insult today? As Lalita stood lost in her thoughts, staring vacantly ahead, she turned in sudden astonishment to find Shekhar standing there, smiling silently. In the selfsame manner in which she had earlier placed the garland around Shekhar's neck, that very marigold garland had found its way back around her own. Her throat choked with tears, yet forcing her cracked voice, she said, "Why did you do such a thing?"

"Why did you do it?"

"I did nothing!" she said, raising her hand to rip the garland off and tear it to pieces, but looking suddenly into Shekhar's eyes, she stopped short. She dared not tear it off now, but weeping, she said, "Only because I have no one in the world do you humiliate me so!"

Shekhar, who had been smiling softly until now, was taken aback by Lalita's words. This was no childish talk! He said, "Am I humiliating you, or are you humiliating me?"

Wiping her eyes, Lalita asked fearfully, "When did I ever humiliate you?"

Shekhar remained silent for a moment, then said calmly, "If you reflect a little now, you will understand. Lately, you were carrying things altogether too far, Lalita; before leaving for foreign parts, I put a stop to it." With that, he fell silent.

Lalita offered no reply, but stood with her head bowed. Under the full moon's glow, the two remained wrapped in stillness. Only from below came the frequent, joyous sound of conch shells blowing for the wedding of Kali’s daughter.

After a period of silence, Shekhar said, "Do not stand out in the cold dew any longer. Go downstairs."

"I am going," Lalita said. Then, at long last, she bowed down to touch his feet in reverence, rose to her feet, and asked softly, "Tell me what I am to do before you leave."

Shekhar smiled. He hesitated for a fleeting moment, then extended both arms, drew her to his chest, and leaning down, touched his lips to hers. "Nothing needs to be told to you, Lalita," he said. "From this day forth, you will understand of your own accord."

A thrill ran through Lalita's entire body, and she trembled.

Stepping back, she asked, "Did you do this merely because I happened to slip that garland over your neck so suddenly?"

Shekhar smiled and shook his head. "No. I have been thinking of it for a long time, but could never come to a resolve. Today I resolved it—for today I realized beyond a doubt that I cannot live without you."

Lalita said, "But if your father hears of this, he will be terribly angered, and if Mother hears, she will be grief-stricken—this cannot be, She—"

"It is true Father will be angry if he hears, but Mother will be overjoyed. Be that as it may, what is done is done—now neither can you undo it, nor can I. Go downstairs now, and pay your respects to Mother."