51

Sucharita, catching sight of Anandamayi unexpectedly, exclaimed in astonishment, “Why, I was just now preparing to come to you!”

Anandamayi smiled and said, “I did not know you were getting ready to come — but the very news for which you were preparing, that news reached me and I could not remain where I was; I came at once.”

Sucharita was struck with wonder to hear that Anandamayi had received the news. Anandamayi said, “My dear, I know Binoy as I would my own son. Through that very Binoy I have come to know all of you — and even before I had truly come to know you I had blessed you so many times in my heart. To hear that some wrong is being done to you — how could I remain still? Whether I am capable of being of any use to you I cannot say — but my heart was restless, and so I came running to you. My dear, has Binoy done any wrong?”

Sucharita said, “Not in the slightest. For the agitation that has arisen over this matter, it is Lalita herself who is responsible. Binoybabu could never have imagined that Lalita would suddenly board the steamer without a word to anyone. People are speaking as though there had been a secret understanding between the two of them. And Lalita is such a spirited girl — it is quite out of the question for her to offer any protest, or to explain in any way what had actually taken place.”

Anandamayi said, “Something must be done about this. Ever since hearing all this, Binoy has had no peace of mind whatsoever — he has settled it in his own mind that he himself is the guilty one.”

Sucharita lowered her slightly flushed face and said, “Well then — what do you think Binoybabu—”

Without allowing the embarrassed Sucharita to finish her question, Anandamayi said, “Listen, my dear — I tell you plainly: whatever you ask Binoy to do for Lalita’s sake, he will do it. I have known him since childhood. Once he has given himself over completely, he can hold nothing back for himself. That is precisely why I must live in a state of some apprehension — lest his heart be drawn towards a place from which there is no hope of his returning.”

A weight lifted from Sucharita’s heart. She said, “For Lalita’s consent you need not worry in the least — I know her heart. But would Binoybabu be willing to leave his community?”

Anandamayi said, “Society may perhaps cast him out — but why should he go out of his way to renounce society of his own accord? Is there any necessity for that?”

Sucharita said, “What are you saying, Mother? Will Binoybabu, while remaining within Hindu society, marry a girl from a Brahmo household?”

Anandamayi said, “If he is willing to do so, what objection could you have?”

Sucharita found herself in considerable difficulty; she said, “I cannot see how that would be possible.”

Anandamayi said, “To me it seems quite simple, my dear! Look — the customs followed in my household are customs I cannot follow myself; many people therefore call me a Christian. At the time of rites and observances I deliberately keep apart. You will laugh when I tell you this — Gora will not drink water in my house. And yet I cannot say on that account that this is not my house, that this is not my community. I cannot say it. Taking all the reproach and censure upon my head, I remain within this house, within this community. And it does not hinder me much. If it should hinder me so greatly that I can no longer go on, then I shall take whatever path God shows me. But to the very last I shall call what is mine, my own — if they will not acknowledge me, that is for them to reckon with.”

The matter was still not entirely clear to Sucharita; she said, “But, you see, the principles of the Brahmo Samaj — if Binoybabu were to—”

Anandamayi said, “His beliefs are of the same nature. The principles of the Brahmo Samaj are not some outlandish doctrine. The teachings that appear in your publications — he reads them aloud to me quite often — and I cannot discern any essential difference.”

At that moment Lalita entered the room calling out ‘Suchididhi,’ and the instant she saw Anandamayi she flushed crimson with embarrassment. From Sucharita’s face she understood at once that it was she herself who had been the subject of conversation all this while. She would have escaped from the room if she could, but by then there was no longer any means of escape.

Anandamayi called out, “Come, Lalita — come, my dear.”

And saying so, she took Lalita by the hand and drew her a little closer to herself as she seated her, as though Lalita had become someone particularly her own.

Continuing from what she had said before, Anandamayi spoke to Sucharita: “Look, my child, the hardest thing in this world is to unite the good with the bad — and yet even that is happening here on earth — and through that too, life goes on in happiness and sorrow — it does not always end badly; it turns out well too. If even this is possible, then I simply cannot understand why two people should fail to come together merely over a small difference of opinion. Is the true union between people a matter of opinion?”

Sucharita sat with her face cast down in silence. Anandamayi said, “Will not even your Brahmo Samaj allow person to come together with person? Those whom God has united within, will your society keep separated from without? My child, is there nowhere a society that does not heed small differences but unites all in the great common bond? Must humanity forever quarrel thus with God? Has society come into being for this purpose alone?”

Was it solely for the purpose of removing the obstacle to Binoy’s marriage with Lalita that Anandamayi had engaged in this discussion with such heartfelt earnestness? Sensing in Sucharita’s mind a certain hesitation on this matter, and feeling her whole being rise up to dispel that hesitation — was there not another purpose in this as well? If Sucharita remained entangled in such prejudices, things could not possibly go on. If it were decided that no marriage could take place unless Binoy became a Brahmo, then the hope that Anandamayi had been quietly building up through these days — even amidst great sorrow — would be reduced to dust. That very day Binoy had put this question to her; he had said, “Mother, will I need to enrol in the Brahmo Samaj? Shall I accept that as well?”

Anandamayi had replied, “No, no — I see no need for that.”

Binoy said, “And if they should press the matter?”

After remaining silent for a long while, Anandamayi had said, “No — pressing will not avail here.”

Sucharita did not join in Anandamayi’s discussion; she remained silent. Anandamayi understood that Sucharita’s heart had not yet given its assent.

Anandamayi turned the matter over in her mind: “It was only through my affection for Gora that my heart broke free of all the prejudices of society. Can it be, then, that Sucharita’s heart has not been drawn towards Gora? Had it been so, this small matter would not have loomed so very large.”

Anandamayi’s spirits fell somewhat. Only a day or two remained before Gora would be released from prison. She had been thinking that a field of happiness was being made ready for him. This time, by whatever means, Gora would have to be tethered — otherwise there was no telling what danger he might fall into. But tethering Gora was no task for an ordinary woman. On the other hand, it would be wrong to arrange Gora’s marriage with any girl from Hindu society — and for that reason she had for so long refused outright the petitions of various fathers burdened with unmarriageable daughters. Gora said he would not marry — and that she, his mother, had never once objected surprised everyone. Recently, on observing a sign or two in Gora, she had felt quietly elated within herself. And so Sucharita’s silent opposition struck her as a blow. Yet she was not one to give up the helm easily; she said to herself, “Very well — let us see.”