20

Mahim said nothing to Gora that day, but went to his room the following morning. He had supposed it would take a great deal of wrangling to bring Gora round again. But no sooner had he arrived and announced that Binoy had come the previous afternoon and given his firm word in the matter of the marriage, and had asked that Gora be consulted about the betrothal ceremony, than Gora at once expressed his assent, saying, “Very well then, let the betrothal take place.”

Mahim looked at him in astonishment. “Now you say ‘very well.’ You won’t raise fresh objections later, I trust?”

Gora replied, “I did not obstruct you by force — I obstructed you by entreaty.”

Mahim said: “Therefore my one prayer to you is this — neither obstruct nor entreat. I have no use for Narayani’s army on the side of the Kauravas, nor do I see any need for Narayan himself on the side of the Pandavas. Whatever I can manage alone is best — I made a mistake — I did not know beforehand that your help too could be so contrary. In any case, you do wish the thing to come about, do you not?”

Gora said: “Yes, I do wish it.”

Mahim said: “Then let the wish remain — but there is no need for any effort.”

Gora did indeed get angry, and it was equally true that in anger he was capable of anything — yet it was not in his nature to nurse that anger and thereby ruin his own resolve. He wanted to bind Binoy to himself by whatever means necessary; this was no time for wounded pride. Reflecting that it was precisely the aftermath of yesterday’s quarrel which had settled the matter of the marriage — that Binoy’s very rebellion had strengthened Binoy’s bonds — Gora was inwardly pleased at the turn of events. He did not delay for a moment in restoring with Binoy their eternal and natural friendship. Yet this time there had come about a slight deviation from the perfect ease that had hitherto existed between the two.

Gora now understood that it would be difficult to hold Binoy at a distance — the place of danger was precisely where he needed to stand guard. He thought to himself: if I visit Pareshbabu’s house regularly, I shall be able to keep Binoy properly within the fold.

That very day — that is to say, the afternoon following the quarrel — Gora presented himself at Binoy’s lodgings. Binoy had not in the least expected that Gora would come that day. And so he was as delighted as he was astonished.

What was still more remarkable was that Gora himself brought up the subject of Pareshbabu’s daughters — and yet there was not the slightest hostility in his manner. It did not require much effort to excite Binoy on this topic.

Binoy now began to recount to Gora in detail all the conversations he had had with Sucharita. He told him how Sucharita herself raised such subjects with particular eagerness, and however much she might argue, she was quietly and gradually conceding ground in the hidden recesses of her mind — and with this, Binoy tried to hearten Gora.

As he talked, Binoy said: “When I was telling her about how Nanda’s mother had brought in a sorcerer and had done away with Nanda, and what you had said about it, she declared: ‘You think that by confining women indoors and leaving them to cook and clean and sweep, all their duties are discharged. On the one hand you shrink their minds in this fashion, and then when they call in spirit-exorcists you still will not cease to be angry. Those whose entire world consists of two or three families can never become fully human — and if they do not become fully human, they will inevitably drag men down with their own degradation, wrecking and stunting all the great work of men, and will take their revenge for their own misery. You have fashioned Nanda’s mother thus and hemmed her in so completely that even if you now earnestly wished to give her sound sense, you could never reach her.’ I tried hard to argue against this, but I confess, Gora, that since in my own mind I agreed with her, I could not argue with any force. One can still hold a discussion with her, but with Lalita I dare not argue at all. When Lalita raised her brows and said: ‘You think you will do the work of the world, and we will do your work! That cannot be. Either we too shall drive the world’s business forward, or we shall be a burden upon it. If we are a burden, you will then say in anger: leave women behind on the road! But if you permit women also to go forward, whether on the road or in the home there is no need to leave women behind’ — I had nothing to say and fell silent. Lalita does not speak readily, but when she does, one must answer with great care. Say what you will, Gora, I too have come to believe most strongly that if our women remain cramped like the bound feet of Chinese women, no work of ours will advance.”

Gora said: “I have never in my life argued that women should not be educated.”

Binoy said: “And you think reading the Charupath, Third Part, constitutes an education?”

Gora said: “Very well, from now on we shall start them on Vinayabodh, First Part.”

That day the two friends went round and round the subject, talking of nothing but Pareshbabu’s daughters until the night came on.

On his way home alone, Gora turned all these thoughts over in his mind, and when he lay down on his bed at home, he could not drive away thoughts of Pareshbabu’s daughters until sleep overtook him. Such a preoccupation had never entered his life before; he had never so much as given a thought to women. That this too was among the serious matters of the world — Binoy had now made that plain to him. It could not be dismissed; he would have to either come to terms with it or do battle with it.

The following day, when Binoy said to him, “Do come to Pareshbabu’s house once — you have not been there in a long while — he asks after you quite often,” Gora consented without the least objection. Not merely consented — his mind was no longer as indifferent as it had been before. At first Gora had been entirely unconcerned about the existence of Sucharita and Pareshbabu’s daughters; then a contemptuous aversion had grown in him towards them; now a curiosity had been stirred in him. A particular eagerness had arisen in his mind to know what it was that drew Binoy’s heart so powerfully.

By the time both of them arrived at Pareshbabu’s house, evening had fallen. In the upstairs room, an oil lamp had been lit, and Haran was reading aloud to Pareshbabu from something he had written in English. In truth, Pareshbabu was in this instance merely a pretext — Haran’s real purpose was to be heard by Sucharita. Sucharita sat quietly at the far end of the table, holding a palm-leaf fan before her face to shield her eyes from the light. Out of her natural sense of duty she was making an earnest effort to follow the essay, but again and again her mind kept straying elsewhere.

At that moment a servant came in to announce the arrival of Gora and Binoy, and Sucharita started abruptly. She was on the point of rising from her chair and leaving when Pareshbabu said, “Radhe, where are you going? It is none other than our Binoy and Gaur who have come.”

Sucharita shrank back and sat down again. She felt relieved that Haran’s lengthy reading of the English composition had been interrupted; and it was not as though the news of Gora’s arrival caused no stir in her — yet the prospect of Gora coming in before Haranbabu filled her with a great unease and constraint. She feared a quarrel might arise between the two — or whether that was truly the reason, it was difficult to say.

The very sound of Gaur’s name caused something within Haranbabu to turn sharply inward and withdraw. He managed somehow to return Gaur’s salutation and then sat on in grave silence. The moment Gora caught sight of Haran, his combative instinct rose up fully armed.

Baradasundari had gone out with her three daughters to a social engagement; it had been agreed that Pareshbabu would come and fetch them back at evening. His time to leave had arrived. Just at that moment Gora and Binoy appeared, and he was delayed. Knowing, however, that it would not do to tarry any longer, he whispered to Haran and Sucharita: “Keep these gentlemen company for a little while — I shall return as quickly as I can.”

Before long, a fierce argument broke out between Gora and Haranbabu. The subject of the dispute was this: Pareshbabu’s family had made the acquaintance of a Magistrate named Brownlow, of a district not far from Calcutta, during their time in Dacca. The Magistrate and his wife showed particular favour to Pareshbabu’s womenfolk because they were in the habit of going out of the inner apartments. The Magistrate was accustomed to holding an agricultural exhibition each year on his birthday. On a recent occasion, when Baradasundari called upon Mrs. Brownlow and mentioned her daughters’ particular proficiency in English poetry and literature, the Memsahib had suddenly suggested: “The Lieutenant Governor and his wife will be attending the fair this year — it would be most charming if your daughters were to perform a small English verse-play before them.” Baradasundari had been greatly excited by this proposal. She had that very day taken the girls to a friend’s house for a rehearsal. When Gora was asked whether it was likely he could be present at the fair, he had replied in the negative with somewhat unnecessary vehemence. The conversation then turned into a full-scale dispute between the two sides on the relations between English and Bengali people in this country, and the obstacles to social intercourse between them.

Haran said: “The fault lies with the Bengalis. We have so many superstitions and evil customs that we are not even worthy to associate with the English.”

Gora replied: “If that be true, then to go about eagerly craving association with the English despite our unworthiness is a disgrace to us.”

Haran said: “But those who have made themselves worthy receive ample respect from the English — as do all the people of this household.”

Gora said: “Where the respect shown to one person throws the disrespect shown to all the rest into sharper relief, I count such respect as an insult.”

Before long Haranbabu grew exceedingly wrathful, and Gora went on piercing him at intervals with barbed words.

While the argument thus proceeded between the two sides, Sucharita sat at the end of the table and, from behind the shelter of her fan, gazed fixedly at Gora. The words being exchanged did reach her ears, yet her mind was not upon them. Had Sucharita been conscious that she was gazing at Gora with unwavering eyes, she would have been ashamed; but it was as though she had forgotten herself entirely in that steady regard. Gora sat leaning forward, his two strong arms resting on the table; the lamplight fell upon his broad white forehead; contemptuous smiles and disdainful frowns rippled across his face by turns; in every expression that played upon his features there was a dignity of self-respect that made itself felt; what he was saying was plainly not mere momentary debate or lamentation — every word had been shaped beyond all doubt through long years of thought and conduct, and there was in it no shadow of hesitation, weakness, or improvisation — this declared itself not merely in the tone of his voice but seemed to be manifest with great firmness in his face and in his entire bearing. Sucharita watched him in wonder. For the first time in her life, after so many years, she seemed to see in some one a distinct person, a distinct man. She could no longer see him as one among many others. Before this Gora, Haranbabu appeared to shrink to insignificance. His physical form and the cast of his face, his manners and gestures and bearing, even his coat and the shawl he wore, seemed to mock him. For so long, through her repeated conversations with Binoy about Gora, Sucharita had thought of him as a remarkable man belonging to a particular party holding particular views, and had imagined that through him some particular benefit to the country might be achieved — that was all she had conceived. Today, gazing steadily at his face, she seemed to see Gora apart from all parties, all opinions, all purposes — simply and solely as Gora. As the ocean, beholding the moon, overflows without purpose, beyond all use and necessity, so Sucharita’s heart today, forgetting everything — all her reason and conditioning, her entire life — seemed to surge upward on every side. What is a human being, what is the human soul — this Sucharita seemed to see for the first time; and in that extraordinary experience she forgot her own existence entirely.

Haranbabu had observed this absorbed state of Sucharita. It caused the arguments he was making to lose their force. At last, growing quite restless, he rose from his seat and, addressing Sucharita with an intimacy befitting a close relative, said: “Sucharita, come into this room a moment — I have something to say to you.”

Sucharita started violently, as though she had been struck. It was not that, given the nature of their relationship, Haranbabu was incapable of addressing her in such fashion. At any other time she would not have thought anything of it; but today, before Gora and Binoy, she felt herself humiliated. Gora had looked at her face in a certain way, and because of that she could not forgive Haranbabu. At first she sat still, as though she had heard nothing. Then Haranbabu, with a note of irritation in his voice, said: “Do you hear me, Sucharita? I have something to say — you must come into this room.”

Without looking up at him, Sucharita said: “Let it be for now — let Father come, and then we shall see.”

Binoy rose and said: “We had better be going.”

Sucharita said quickly: “No, Binoybabu, please do not rise. Father asked you to stay. He will be here presently.” There was a tone of desperate entreaty in her voice — as though it had been proposed to leave a doe in the hands of a hunter.

“I can remain no longer — I shall take my leave then,” said Haranbabu, and walked rapidly out of the room. The moment he stepped outside in his anger, remorse overtook him, but by then he could find no pretext for returning.

After Haranbabu’s departure, Sucharita sat with her face flushed and bowed in some deep shame she could not name, not knowing what to do or what to say — and it was at that moment that Gora had the opportunity to look at her face carefully. Where was the arrogance, the forwardness, that he had imagined to be the hallmark of educated women? There was not the faintest trace of it in Sucharita’s countenance. That her face shone with intelligence was beyond doubt, but how beautifully and gently it was softened today by modesty and bashfulness! How delicate were the lines of her face! Above her brows the forehead was as clear and translucent as a patch of autumnal sky. Her lips were silent, yet in the space between those lips there seemed to rest the sweetness of unuttered words, like a tender bud. Never before had Gora properly looked at the dress and adornment of a young woman, and without looking he had held them in a certain contempt — but today the particular way in which Sucharita had draped her sari struck him as specially pleasing. One of Sucharita’s hands lay upon the table — and from the gathered edge of her sleeve her hand seemed to Gora today like a gentle and auspicious message from a tender heart. In the lamp-lit quiet of the evening, the entire room around Sucharita — its light, the pictures on its walls, its furnishings and their neatness — seemed to assume a particular, complete, and unified form. That it was a home, that it was adorned with the care and affection and beauty of a woman skilled in its keeping, that it was so much more than mere walls and beams and a ceiling — all this became vivid to Gora in a single moment. He felt within the air around him a living presence; from all sides a tide of feeling came to beat against his heart, an intensity of something seemed to close in around him. He had never known such an experience in his life. Moment by moment, from the strand of hair fallen upon Sucharita’s forehead to the border of her sari at her feet, everything became intensely real and intensely particular. At once, in their entirety and in each separate part, Sucharita and every detail of Sucharita drew his gaze.

For a little while, no one could say anything, and all of them sat somewhat awkward and constrained. Then Binoy, turning towards Sucharita, began with “The other day we were speaking” — and so introduced a topic.

He said: “I have already told you — there was a time in my life when I was convinced that there was nothing to hope for, for our country or our society — that forever we would live like minors, with the English appointed as our guardians — that wherever anything stood as it was, it would continue to stand so — that against the overwhelming power of the English and the immense inertia of society, we had no recourse whatsoever. This is the state of mind of the great majority of our countrymen. In such circumstances a man either attends only to his own interests or drifts along in indifference. It is for this very reason that the middle classes of our country think of nothing beyond advancement in government service, and the wealthy classes feel their life fulfilled if they obtain a government title — our journey through life runs its course for a short stretch and then, that is all, it stops dead — and so the thought of distant purposes does not even enter our heads, and we consider the laying in of provisions for such a journey quite unnecessary. I too had at one time resolved to make Gora’s father my patron and find myself a government post. At that point Gora told me — no, government service is something you can on no account undertake.”

Seeing a faint look of surprise cross Sucharita’s face at these words, Gora said: “Do not think I am saying this out of anger towards the government. Those who work for the government take a kind of pride in the government’s power, counting it their own power, and become a class apart from the people of their own country — and the longer this goes on, the more this tendency grows. I know of a relative of mine who was a Deputy Magistrate of the old school — he has now retired from service and lives at home. A District Magistrate had once asked him: Babu, why do so many people get acquitted in your court? He had replied: Sahib, there is one reason for it; those you send to gaol are, for you, no better than dogs and cats, while those I send to gaol happen to be my brothers. There were deputies who could speak so greatly in those days, and English magistrates who could hear such words were not lacking either. But as time goes on, the trappings of office become the ornaments of one’s very body, and to the Deputies of today the people of their country are steadily becoming dogs and cats, and as their official rank rises their own descent continues, until even the consciousness of this decline has left them. To lean upon another’s shoulder, to look down upon one’s own people, and then inevitably through that very looking-down to do them injustice — no good can come of this.”

Saying this, Gora struck the table with his fist; the oil lamp trembled. Binoy said: “Gora, this table is not the government’s, and this lamp belongs to Pareshbabu’s household.”

On hearing this Gora burst into loud laughter. The great sound of his laughter filled the entire house. That Gora, upon hearing a jest, could laugh with such abundance and spontaneity as a child — this astonished Sucharita and filled her heart with a great joy. She had not known that those who think great thoughts could laugh so freely and fully.

Gora talked of many things that evening. Although Sucharita remained silent, Gora found such an air of assent in her expression that his heart swelled with eagerness. At last, addressing himself to Sucharita in particular, he said: “Look here, remember one thing — if we hold the mistaken notion that since the English have become dominant we too cannot become strong without becoming precisely like the English, then that impossible thing will never come to pass, and in endless imitation we shall fall between two stools. Know this for certain: India has a particular nature, a particular strength, a particular truth, and it is through the full unfolding of that very thing that India will be fulfilled and India will be saved. If we have read the history of England and not learned this from it, we have learned everything wrongly. My appeal to you is this: enter into India, take your stand at the very heart of all its good and all its ill — if there is corruption, correct it from within; but look upon it, understand it, reflect upon it, turn your face towards it, become one with it — standing against it, initiated from childhood to the marrow of your bones in Christian reform from the outside, you will not be able to understand it at all, you will only go on striking it blow after blow, and you will be of no use to it whatsoever.”

Gora said ‘my appeal,’ yet this was no mere appeal — it was more like a command. There was such tremendous force in the words that they did not wait upon another’s consent. Sucharita bowed her head and listened to everything. That Gora should address her particularly with such fierce earnestness and speak these words created a stir within Sucharita’s heart. What that stir was, there was no leisure at that moment to examine. She had never in her life, for so much as a single instant, thought of India as a great and ancient reality. But now, listening to Gora’s powerful voice, she felt as though she had suddenly grasped in some vivid way this truth — that this reality holds within its claim both the far past and the distant future, and has been quietly weaving a particular coloured thread in a particular fashion into the vast web of human destiny; how fine that thread is, how intricate, and how profoundly it is connected with purposes far beyond — all this seemed to break upon Sucharita in a rush. That the life of every Indian is encompassed and claimed by so vast a reality — if one does not consciously feel this, how very small one becomes and how blind to all that surrounds one — this too seemed to reveal itself to Sucharita in an instant. And in the impulse of that sudden illumination of her spirit, she set aside all her reticence and with the most natural and unaffected simplicity said: “I have never thought of the country in this way — so largely, so truly. But let me ask one thing: what is the relation of religion to the country? Is not religion beyond the country?”

To Gora’s ears, this question in Sucharita’s gentle voice sounded wonderfully sweet. In the two large eyes of Sucharita the question appeared sweeter still. Gora said: “That which is beyond the country, that which is so much greater than the country — it is through the country that it finds expression. God thus reveals His own infinite nature in endlessly diverse forms. Those who say that truth is one, and therefore only one religion is true, only one form of religion is true — they accept the truth that truth is one, but refuse to accept the truth that truth is without end. The Infinite-One reveals Itself in the infinite many — this is the very play we see in the world. It is for this reason that the diversity of religious thought makes the King of Religion apprehensible from many sides. I say to you with certainty: through the open window of India you will be able to see the sun — for that there is no need to cross the seas and sit at the window of a Christian church.”

Sucharita said: “You mean to say that India’s religious system leads one towards God by a particular path. What is the nature of that particularity?”

Gora said: “It is simply this: the Brahman who is without attribute is revealed in the world of attributes. But the attributes of His are without end. Water is His attribute, earth is His attribute, air is His attribute, fire is His attribute, life is His attribute, intellect and love are all His attributes — count as one may, nowhere can one reach His end — it is this that makes science dizzy. He who is without form has no end to His forms — the infinite flow of great and small, gross and subtle, is His being. He who is infinite in attribute is the attributeless; He who is infinite in form is the formless. In other countries, God has been sought, in greater or lesser degree, to be confined within one single attribute — in India too there is the effort to see God within the particular, yet India does not regard that particular as the sole and final truth. No devotee in India has ever denied that God infinitely transcends even that particular.”

Sucharita said: “The man of wisdom does not deny it — but the ignorant?”

Gora said: “I have already said: the ignorant will distort every truth in every land.”

Sucharita said: “But has not that distortion in our country gone rather further than in others?”

Gora said: “That may well be. But the reason is that because India wishes fully to acknowledge both dimensions of religion — the gross and the subtle, the inner and the outer, the body and the soul — those who cannot grasp the subtle take only the gross, and through ignorance bring about all manner of strange corruption within it. Yet India’s extraordinary, varied, and vast endeavour to realise in body and mind and action Him who is true in form and true in the formless, true in the gross and true in the subtle, true in meditation and true in direct perception — if we foolishly disrespect that endeavour and accept in its place some narrow, arid, incomplete religion compounded of the scepticism and the theism of eighteenth-century Europe, declaring it the one true religion — this cannot be. What I am saying, you will not be able fully to grasp because of the impressions formed in you from childhood — you will think this man has learned English yet his education has borne no fruit; but if ever you come to feel a true regard for India’s real nature and real striving, and if you can enter into the deep interior of that expression through which India — despite a thousand obstacles and corruptions — is manifesting itself, then — then, what more shall I say — you will regain your Indian nature and your Indian strength and will attain liberation.”

Seeing that Sucharita had been silent for a long while, Gora said: “Do not think of me as a bigot. Those who are bigoted about Hinduism — particularly those who have suddenly and recently become bigoted — do not take what I say in the way they speak. In India’s many forms of expression and diverse strivings I have perceived a deep and great unity, and with the joy of that unity I am beside myself. It is out of the joy of that unity that I feel not the slightest reluctance to go and sit in the dust alongside those who are most ignorant in India. India’s voice — some understand it, some do not — let that be — I am one with all of India, all of them are my own — in each one of them the timeless India is at work in its hidden manifestation, of this I have not the least doubt.”

These words, spoken in Gora’s powerful voice, seemed to vibrate through the walls of the room, through the table, through all the furniture.

All of this was not something Sucharita could understand very clearly — yet even the first faint stirring of a new feeling carries tremendous force. That life is not after all confined within four walls or within a single community — this realisation seemed to press upon Sucharita with growing weight.

Just then, from near the staircase, came the sound of rapid footsteps mingled with women’s laughter. Pareshbabu had returned with Baradasundari and the daughters. Sudhir was tormenting the girls with something as they came up the stairs, and this was the source of the laughter.

Labanya, Lalita, and Satish had no sooner entered the room and caught sight of Gora than they composed themselves and stood still. Labanya left the room; Satish stood beside Binoy’s chair and began whispering confidences in his ear. Lalita drew a chair behind Sucharita, almost disappearing in her shadow.

Paresh came in and said: “I have been very long in returning. I suppose Panubabu has left?”

Sucharita made no answer to this; Binoy said: “Yes, he was unable to stay.”

Gora rose and said: “We too shall take our leave today.”

And with that he made a low bow to Pareshbabu.

Pareshbabu said: “I have had no opportunity to talk with you today. My dear boy, come whenever you are at leisure.”

Gora and Binoy were on the point of leaving the room when Baradasundari arrived. Both of them saluted her. She said: “Are you leaving already?”

Gora said: “Yes.”

Baradasundari said to Binoy: “But Binoybabu, you cannot go — you must stay and dine with us today. I have something to discuss with you.”

Satish jumped up and caught Binoy by the hand, saying: “Yes, Maa, don’t let Binoybabu go — he shall stay with me tonight.”

Seeing that Binoy was somewhat embarrassed and at a loss for a reply, Baradasundari said to Gora: “Do you need to take Binoybabu with you? Have you any need of him?”

Gora said: “Not at all. Binoy, do stay — I shall be off.”

And with that Gora walked away at a rapid pace.

The moment Baradasundari obtained Gora’s consent for Binoy to remain, Binoy could not help glancing at Lalita’s face. Lalita pressed her lips together to hide a smile, and looked away.

Binoy could neither quarrel with Lalita over this little smile and taunt, nor could he deny that it pricked him like a thorn. No sooner had Binoy come in and sat down than Lalita said: “Binoybabu, you would have done better to flee today.”

Binoy said: “Why?”

Lalita said: “Mother is scheming to put you in a predicament. There is one person short for the play to be performed at the Magistrate’s fair — Mother has fixed upon you.”

Binoy said in agitation: “Good heavens! That is quite impossible for me.”

Lalita laughed and said: “I told Mother as much beforehand. Your friend will never allow you to take part in this performance.”

Stung by the jab, Binoy said: “Leave my friend out of this. I have never in my life acted in anything — why me of all people?”

Lalita said: “And I suppose we have been performing through birth after birth?”

At that moment Baradasundari came in and sat down in the room. Lalita said: “Mother, you are calling Binoybabu for the performance in vain. If you can first persuade his friend, then —”

Binoy said in distress: “Whether or not my friend agrees is not even the question here. One cannot simply act in a play — I simply have no talent for it.”

Baradasundari said, “Do not worry on that account — we shall teach you and set you right. If little girls can manage it, surely you can too!”

There remained no further means of escape for Binoy.