Chapter Five

The road by which Jagatsingh had returned from the Bishnupur country to Jahanabad may still be traced to this day. A little to the south of it lies the village of Mandaran. Mandaran is now a small village, but in those days it was a well-appointed town. The ladies whom Jagatsingh had encountered within the temple departed from that shrine and proceeded in the direction of this village.

At Gar Mandaran there were several ancient forts — indeed it is likely that the place takes its name from those very strongholds. Through the town flowed the Amodar river; at one point the river's course bent so sharply that it enclosed on two sides a triangular piece of ground; on the third side there was a moat dug by human hands; and at the foremost angle of this triangle, where the river began its winding course, a great fortress rose from the water into the sky. The edifice was built of black stone from base to summit; on two sides the strong current of the river smote the foundations of the fort. Even today the traveller who visits the village of Gar Mandaran may behold the vast mound of this all-but-impassable fortress; only the lower portion of the fort now remains, the superstructure having been ground to dust by the relentless touch of time; upon it tamarind, madhavi and other trees and creepers have grown into a forest, sheltering many serpents, bears, and other wild beasts. Across the river there were several other forts.

Ismail Ghazi, the renowned general of Hussain Shah, ornament of the Pathan kings of Bengal, built this fortress. But in the course of time a Hindu soldier named Jayadharsingh received it as a jagir. At the present time one Birendrasingh, a descendant of Jayadharsingh, dwelt here.

In his younger days Birendrasingh had been at variance with his father. Birendrasingh was by nature proud and headstrong, and seldom obeyed his father's commands, so that father and son were ever at strife and contention. With a view to his son's marriage, the old landlord had arranged a match with the daughter of another landlord of his own caste living nearby. The girl's father was without a son, and hence this marriage offered the prospect of an increase to Birendra's estate; the girl was comely besides — so that the old man thought the match altogether desirable, and set about making preparations for the wedding. But Birendra, showing no regard for this match, secretly married the daughter of a poor widow living in his own village — a woman who had neither husband nor son — and then refused to marry again. The old man, overcome with rage, turned his son out of doors; the young man, expelled from his father's house, set out for Delhi with the intention of taking up the profession of arms. His wife was at that time with child, and he could not take her with him; she remained in her mother's cottage.

Meanwhile, after the son had gone abroad, grief at the separation began to work upon the old landlord's heart; overcome with regret for what was past, he made every effort to obtain news of his son, but was unable to succeed. Finding he could not bring his son back, he brought his daughter-in-law in his son's place from the poor woman's house to his own home with all affection. In due course Birendrasingh's wife gave birth to a daughter. Some time afterwards the mother of the child departed this world.

Birendra, having arrived at Delhi, entered the service of the Rajput troops who obeyed the Mughal emperor, and within a short time rose to high rank by his own merit. After several years, having amassed wealth and honour, Birendrasingh received news of his father's death. He now thought that further wandering abroad or a life of dependence was unnecessary, and returned home. With Birendra came many companions from Delhi. Among these there was a serving-woman and also a holy man of the Paramahansa order. Both these persons will be required in the course of this narrative. The serving-woman's name was Bimala; the Paramahansa's name was Abhiram Swami.

Bimala was employed within the household in domestic duties, and particularly in the nurture and care of Birendrasingh's daughter; beyond this no other cause for her residence within the fort was apparent, and I am therefore obliged to call her a maidservant — yet in Bimala there was nothing of the maidservant. As the mistress of the house commanded respect, so did Bimala command almost equal respect among the people of the fortress; all the household was subject to her. One glance at her face was enough to tell that Bimala had been a woman of surpassing beauty in her youth. Even at her present age, the lustre of that beauty lingered like the light of the moon after dawn. Gajapati Vidyadiggaj, a disciple of Abhiram Swami — whatever his attainments in the science of rhetoric, he had a very strong thirst for displaying wit — once remarked upon seeing Bimala: "The nurse is like clarified butter in a jar; the cooler the fire of Madan grows, the more solid the substance becomes." It should be noted here that from the day Gajapati Vidyadiggaj ventured this witticism, they gave him the title of Rasikaraja Rasoupadhyay.

Apart from gesture and bearing, Bimala's refinement and conversational brilliance were so remarkable as to be impossible in a common serving-woman. Many were those who said that Bimala had for long years been an inmate of the Mughal emperor's zenana. Whether this was truth or falsehood, Bimala alone knew; but she never once touched upon the subject.

Was Bimala a widow or a woman with a living husband? Who could say? She wore ornaments; she did not observe the Ekadashi fast. In all her conduct she bore herself as a married woman.

The deep and heartfelt affection which Bimala bore towards Tilottama, the daughter of the fortress, has already been shown within the scene at the temple. Tilottama, for her part, was equally attached to Bimala.

Abhiram Swami, the other companion who had come with Birendrasingh, did not always remain within the fortress. From time to time he would go forth upon his wanderings. A month or two at Gar Mandaran, a month or two journeying abroad — so did he pass his days. It was the general belief among the inhabitants of the fortress and others that Abhiram Swami was Birendrasingh's initiation-preceptor; and the manner in which Birendrasingh honoured and regarded him made this appear very probable. So much so, indeed, that Birendra would undertake no worldly affair without the counsel of Abhiram Swami, and the counsel given by the preceptor proved almost invariably successful. In truth Abhiram Swami was a man of wide experience and keen intellect; he had moreover, by the discipline of his holy vow, accustomed himself to govern his passions in the greater part of worldly affairs; he was able to suppress anger and agitation as occasion required, and to reflect upon matters with a tranquil mind. Is it any wonder, then, that his counsel should prove more fruitful than the designs of the impatient and arrogant Birendrasingh?

Besides Bimala and Abhiram Swami, a maidservant named Ashmani had also come with Birendrasingh.