57

It was the afternoon. Sucharita was making ready to go to Pareshbabu’s when the bearer came and announced that a gentleman had called.

“Which gentleman? Binoy-babu?”

The bearer said, “No, a very fair-complexioned, tall gentleman.”

Sucharita started and said, “Bring the gentleman up to the sitting room.”

Until this moment Sucharita had given no thought at all to what she was wearing or how she had put it on. Now, standing before the mirror, she found the sari altogether to her dissatisfaction. There was no time to change it. With trembling hands she adjusted her dress and her hair here and there as best she could, and entered the room with a fluttering heart. She had forgotten entirely that Gora’s writings lay spread upon her table. And there was Gora, seated in a chair directly before that very table. The books lay there shamelessly, right before Gora’s eyes — there was no means whatsoever of covering or moving them.

“Madam has been wanting to meet you for a long time and will be very anxious to see you — let me go and inform her” — saying this, Sucharita entered the room and immediately went out again. She could not summon the courage to speak with Gora alone.

After a little while Sucharita returned with Harimohini in tow. For some time past, Harimohini had been hearing from Binoy of Gora’s beliefs, his dedication, and the story of his life. Fairly often, at her request, Sucharita had read aloud to her from Gora’s writings during the midday hours. Though she could not comprehend all that she heard, and it tended rather to induce sleep in her, she could at least gather broadly that Gora was fighting on behalf of scripture and established custom against the lawlessness of the present age. What could be more astonishing, or more admirable, in a modern English-educated young man! When she had first encountered Binoy in the Brahmo household, Binoy had satisfied her well enough. But as familiarity with him gradually set in, and she began to see him daily in her own home, the lapses in his observance began to grate upon her more and more. It was precisely because she had placed so much reliance upon Binoy that her disillusionment with him grew daily. For this reason she had been waiting for Gora with intense anticipation.

The moment Harimohini cast her eyes upon Gora she was utterly amazed. Here indeed was a true Brahmin! Like the fire of the sacrificial altar itself. Like Mahadeva in his luminous white form. So deep a sense of devotion arose in her that when Gora prostrated himself before her in reverence, she felt abashed to accept his salutation.

Harimohini said, “I have heard so much about you, my son! So you are Gaur? Gaur indeed! That song from the kirtan I have heard —

“With the nectar of the moon mingled with sandalwood, who has polished the body of Gora —”

“Today I have seen it with my own eyes. I often wonder what heart it was that put you in prison.”

Gora laughed and said, “Had you been the magistrate, the prison would have become a dwelling for mice and bats.”

Harimohini said, “No, son, is there any shortage of thieves and scoundrels in the world? Did the magistrate have no eyes? It is plain at a single glance that you are no ordinary man, that you are a man of God. Does a prison exist merely in order to imprison people in it! Good heavens! What manner of justice is this!”

Gora said, “The magistrate keeps his eyes fixed upon the book of laws, lest looking upon a man’s face he catch a glimpse of God’s image. Otherwise, could he sleep at night or relish his food, having visited upon men the whip, the prison, transportation, and the gallows?”

Harimohini said, “Whenever I find a moment free, I have Radhararani read your books to me. All this time I have been hoping that some day I might hear these fine words from your own lips. I am an ignorant woman, and one who has known great sorrow — I understand not all of it, nor can I attend to all of it. But, son, I have become firmly convinced that from you I shall receive some wisdom.”

Gora received this without protest or contradiction, and kept his silence.

Harimohini said, “Son, you must eat something before you go. It has been a long time since I have fed a Brahmin’s son such as you. Take a morsel of whatever there is today, and count another day as my formal invitation to dine at my home.”

When Harimohini went in to make arrangements for refreshment, Sucharita’s heart began to heave within her.

Gora began at once. “Did Binoy come here today?”

Sucharita said, “Yes.”

Gora said, “I have not met Binoy since then, but I know why he came.”

Gora paused a moment; Sucharita too remained silent.

Gora said, “You are endeavouring to give Binoy in marriage according to the Brahmo rite. Is this well done?”

This jab swept away all the heaviness of shyness and constraint from Sucharita’s mind in an instant. She raised her eyes to Gora’s face and said, “Is it your expectation that I should not regard a Brahmo marriage as a worthy act?”

Gora said, “Be certain of this — I harbour no petty expectations of you whatsoever. The Brahmo community may expect of its own people only so much as is usual; from you I expect a great deal more than that. I say with full conviction that you are not of the order of those coolie-foremen whose sole task is to swell the numbers of a faction. My wish is that you yourself may come to understand yourself rightly. Do not, misled by the words of others, think of yourself as small. You are not merely a member of some sect — this truth you must come to perceive clearly and fully from within your own heart.”

Sucharita roused all the forces of her mind, steadied herself, and sat erect. She said, “Are you not also a member of some faction?”

Gora said, “I am a Hindu. And Hinduism is not a faction. Hinduism is a nation. So vast is this nation that no definition can bound and express what constitutes its nationhood. As the ocean is not a single wave, so Hinduism is not a faction.”

Sucharita said, “If Hinduism is not a faction, why does it engage in factional strife?”

Gora said, “When one strikes a man, why does he resist? Because he has life. Only a stone endures every blow in silence.”

Sucharita said, “What I hold to be religion, if Hinduism regards as a blow against itself, what do you counsel me to do in that case?”

Gora said, “Then I shall say to you: when what you consider your duty is a painful blow to so immense and august an entity as the Hindu nation, you must think very carefully whether there is not some error in yourself, some blindness — whether you have truly considered the matter from every side and in every way. It is not right to embark upon so great a disturbance merely by taking on trust, out of habit or indolence, the prejudices of a sectarian following. When a mouse gnaws at the hull of a ship, it acts from its own convenience and impulse — it does not see that by making a hole in so great a vessel of shelter, the harm to everyone far outweighs the little gain to itself. In the same way you too must ask yourself whether you are thinking only of your own little group, or of all human beings. Do you know how vast a thing it is when one says ‘all human beings’? How many different natures, how many different impulses, how many different needs? Not all people stand in one place upon one path — before one lies a mountain, before another the sea, before another the open plain. And yet none may stand still — all must move forward. Do you wish to impose upon all people the disciplines of your community alone? Do you wish to shut your eyes and imagine that there is no diversity among human beings — that everyone is born into the world for the sole purpose of enrolling their name in the Brahmo Samaj’s register? Those predatory peoples who conquer every nation upon earth by force of arms and imagine that extending their sole dominion is the world’s only good — who in their proud might refuse to acknowledge that the distinct character of other peoples is a manifold and precious gift to the welfare of all the world, and who spread nothing but servitude across the earth — where does your difference from them lie?”

For a moment Sucharita forgot all her arguments and reasoning. The deep, thunderous voice of Gora stirred her entire being with a strange and overwhelming power. Sucharita ceased to remember that Gora was arguing about any particular matter — what remained alive within her was simply this truth: that Gora was speaking.

Gora said, “It was not your Samaj that created the two hundred million people of India. By what right do you presume to determine what path is suited to these two hundred million people, what beliefs and what observances will nourish and give strength to all of them — and seek by this impossible ambition to level so vast an India into a uniform flatness? The greater the resistance you encounter in this unachievable endeavour, the more your anger and contempt for the country grows — the more you make strangers and objects of scorn of those very people you wish to benefit. And yet you claim to worship the same God who has created humanity in all its magnificent diversity and wills it to remain diverse. If you truly acknowledge Him, why can you not see His ordinance clearly? Why, in the pride of your own intellect and your faction’s vanity, do you not receive its full meaning?”

Seeing that Sucharita was listening to Gora’s words in silence without making the least effort to reply, compassion stirred within Gora. He paused a moment, lowered his voice, and said, “Perhaps my words sound harsh to you, but do not harbour any resentment toward me as though I were your adversary. Had I thought of you as an adversary I would have said nothing at all. It is because I see a naturally generous and noble power in your mind being confined and diminished within a sect that I feel distressed.”

Sucharita’s face grew flushed; she said, “No, no, please do not trouble yourself on my account. Do go on — I am trying to understand.”

Gora said, “I have nothing more to add — look upon India with your natural understanding and your natural heart, and love her. If you regard the people of India as non-Brahmos, you will see them in a distorted light and you will despise them — you will continually misread them — and from that vantage you will never see them whole. God created these people as human beings; they think in many different ways, they live in many different ways, their faiths and their customs are manifold — yet at the foundation of it all lies a common humanity; within all of it there is something that is mine, something that belongs to this India of mine; and if one casts a truly clear-sighted gaze upon it, piercing through all its smallness and imperfection, a marvellous and sublime essence falls upon the eye — the long striving of many ages lies hidden therein, one can see that the fire of sacrificial altars burning through countless ages still glows within the ashes, and that this fire will one day rise above its narrow time and place and kindle its flame at the heart of the world — of that there is not the slightest doubt. The people of this India have spoken great words for ages upon ages and have done great deeds; to imagine that all of that has become utterly false is an irreverence toward truth — that indeed is true atheism.”

Sucharita had been listening with her face lowered. She raised it and said, “What do you ask me to do?”

Gora said, “I ask nothing more — I only say that you must try to understand this one thing: that Hinduism, like a mother, has striven to open its arms to people of many temperaments and many persuasions; that is to say, Hinduism alone in the world has acknowledged the human being as a human being, and has not reckoned him merely as a member of a faction. Hinduism honours the unlearned and honours the learned alike; it does not recognise only a single form of knowledge, but recognises knowledge in all its manifold manifestations. Christians do not wish to acknowledge variety; they say on one side is Christianity and on the other eternal perdition, with no diversity between them. It is precisely from those Christians that we have taken our lesson, and that is why we feel ashamed of Hinduism’s variety. We fail to see that it is through this very variety that Hinduism strives to perceive the One. Unless we shake off from every side of our minds the crust of this Christian education and attain liberation, we shall not come to know the truth of Hinduism and become worthy of its glory.”

Sucharita was not merely hearing Gora’s words — she seemed to see them made visible before her. The meditative gaze fixed upon the distant future that lived within Gora’s eyes, that gaze and those words appeared to Sucharita as one and the same thing. Forgetting her shyness, forgetting herself, fired with the ardour of his thought, Sucharita raised her eyes and gazed steadily at Gora’s face. In that face she saw a power — the kind of power that seems, through sheer force of will, to bring the great resolves of the world into being. Sucharita had listened to much intellectual discussion in the company of many learned and wise men of her society, but this from Gora was no discussion — this was something closer to creation. It was so immediate a thing that it seized hold of body and mind all at once. Today Sucharita was beholding Indra the Thunderer — as his words struck her ears with deep resonance and made the doors of her breast tremble, so too a sharp lightning-flash danced through her blood again and again. The power to see clearly where and to what degree her own views accorded or differed from Gora’s no longer remained in Sucharita.

At that moment Satish entered the room. He was afraid of Gora — so he kept out of his way and pressed close to his elder sister’s side and said in a low voice, “Panubābu has come.” Sucharita started as if someone had struck her. She felt as though she could only be at peace if she could push this arrival of Panubābu away, shunt it aside, smother it, and make it disappear altogether. Thinking that Gora had not heard Satish’s soft voice, Sucharita rose quickly and went downstairs. She went straight down, presented herself before Hārānbābu, and at once said, “Please forgive me — today it will not be convenient to talk with you.”

Hārānbābu asked, “Why will it not be convenient?”

Without answering his question, Sucharita said, “If you come to Father’s tomorrow morning, we shall be able to meet.”

Hārānbābu said, “Is there a guest in your house today, I suppose?”

Evading this question as well, Sucharita said, “I shall not have leisure today — please be so good as to forgive me today.”

Hārānbābu said, “But from the street I heard the voice of Gauramohanbābu — he is here, I take it?”

This question Sucharita could no longer evade; her face reddening, she said, “Yes, he is.”

Hārānbābu said, “Good — I had something to say to him as well. If you have some pressing matter of your own to attend to, I shall spend the time in conversation with Gauramohanbābu.”

Saying this, without waiting for any sign of assent from Sucharita, he began to climb the stairs. Sucharita, without paying the slightest heed to Hārānbābu at her side, entered the room and said to Gora, “Māsi has gone to prepare refreshments for you — let me go and look in on her for a moment.” With these words she went out with quick steps, and Hārānbābu, with a grave face, took possession of a chair and sat down.

Hārānbābu said, “You look rather thin, it seems.”

Gora said, “Yes, indeed — I have been undergoing treatment for thinness these past few days.”

Hārānbābu said, softening his voice, “Yes, to be sure — you must have suffered greatly.”

Gora said, “No more than one might expect.”

Hārānbābu said, “There is a matter concerning Binoybābu that I wish to discuss with you. You have perhaps heard that he has made arrangements to be initiated into the Brahmo Samaj this coming Sunday.”

Gora said, “No, I had not heard.”

Hārānbābu asked, “Have you any objection to it?”

Gora said, “Binoy has not asked for my consent.”

Hārānbābu said, “Do you believe that Binoybābu is prepared to receive this initiation with genuine conviction?”

Gora said, “Now that he has consented to be initiated, this question of yours is entirely unnecessary.”

Hārānbābu said, “When desire grows powerful, we have no leisure to examine what we believe and what we do not. You know human nature, surely.”

Gora said, “No. I do not engage in unnecessary reflection on human nature.”

Hārānbābu said, “You and I differ in opinion and in society, yet I respect you. I know with certainty that your convictions, whether true or false, cannot be shaken by any temptation. But —”

Gora interrupted him and said, “That little portion of respect you have preserved for me — of what such great worth is it, that to be deprived of it would be a serious loss for Binoy? There is certainly good and evil in the world, but if you choose to measure their worth by your own esteem and contempt, by all means do so — only do not ask the people of the world to accept your measure.”

Hārānbābu said, “Very well, that dispute need not be resolved today. But I am asking you — will you not stand in the way of Binoy’s attempt to marry into Pareshbābu’s household?”

Gora flushed and said, “Hārānbābu, can I discuss all these matters concerning Binoy with you? Since you are at all times so occupied with the study of human nature, you ought also to have understood that Binoy is my friend — and he is not your friend.”

Hārānbābu said, “It is because this affair has a connection with the Brahmo Samaj that I raised the subject — otherwise —”

Gora said, “But I am no member of the Brahmo Samaj — what value can your anxiety hold for me?”

Just then Sucharita entered the room. Hārānbābu said to her, “Sucharita, I have something particular to say to you.”

There was no real need to say even that much. Hārānbābu had made the remark of his own accord, in order to display before Gora a particular intimacy with Sucharita. Sucharita made no reply whatsoever — Gora sat unmoved in his seat and showed not the least sign of rising to afford Hārānbābu the opportunity for private conversation.

Hārānbābu said, “Sucharita, come along to the other room for a moment — let me have a word with you.”

Without answering him, Sucharita turned toward Gora and asked, “Is your mother well?”

Gora said, “I have never yet known her to be unwell.”

Sucharita said, “I have seen for myself how effortlessly she maintains her wellbeing.”

She was recalling the time she had seen Ānandamayī during Gora’s imprisonment.

Just then Hārānbābu suddenly reached up and took down a book from the shelf, opened it, first looked at the author’s name, and then began to leaf through it here and there, running his eyes over the pages.

Sucharita coloured deeply. Gora knew what the book was, and so inwardly he permitted himself a small smile.

Hārānbābu asked, “Gauramohanbābu, is this something you wrote in your boyhood?”

Gora smiled and said, “That boyhood is still continuing. Some creatures finish their boyhood in a very short time; in others it lasts rather longer.”

Sucharita rose from her chair and said, “Gauramohanbābu, your refreshments will be ready by now. Please come along to the other room. Māsi will not come out before Panubābu — she may be waiting for you.”

This last remark Sucharita made with the deliberate intent of wounding Hārānbābu. She had endured a great deal today and could not help returning something of it.

Gora rose. The undefeated Hārānbābu said, “Then I shall wait.”

Sucharita said, “Why wait to no purpose — there will be no opportunity today.”

But Hārānbābu did not rise. Sucharita and Gora went out of the room.

Seeing Gora in this house and noting Sucharita’s manner toward him, Hārānbābu’s mind rose up in arms. Was Sucharita to slip away from the Brahmo Samaj in this fashion? Was there no one to protect her? By whatever means necessary, this had to be prevented.

Hārānbābu pulled a sheet of paper toward him and sat down to write a letter to Sucharita. He had a number of fixed convictions. Among them was this: that when he administered a reproof in the name of truth, his forceful words could not fail of their effect. That words are not the only thing that exists, that there is a thing called the human mind — this he never thought to consider.

After taking his meal and spending a long time in conversation with Harimohini, when Gora came to Sucharita’s room to fetch his walking-stick, evening had begun to fall. A lamp was burning on Sucharita’s desk. Hārānbābu had already gone. A letter addressed to Sucharita lay on the table, impossible to miss upon entering the room.

At the sight of that letter something within Gora’s breast grew very hard. That the letter was in Hārānbābu’s hand admitted of no doubt. Gora had known that Hārānbābu had a particular claim upon Sucharita; he had not known that any breach had occurred in that claim. Today, when Satish had whispered in Sucharita’s ear the news of Hārānbābu’s arrival and she had started up and hurried downstairs, only to return shortly and bring him up herself — at that moment something had rung quite discordant in Gora’s mind. Afterwards, when Sucharita left Hārānbābu alone in the room and took Gora away to eat, that conduct had struck him as harsh, yet thinking that such bluntness may be permissible where intimacy exists, Gora had concluded it was but a mark of familiarity. Then upon seeing this letter lying on the table, Gora received a sharp jolt. A letter is a most mysterious object. Showing only a name on the outside and keeping everything else within, it has the power to torment a person quite without cause.

Gora looked at Sucharita’s face and said, “I shall come tomorrow.”

Sucharita, with eyes downcast, said, “Very well.”

Gora was on the point of taking his leave when he suddenly stopped and stood still and broke out: “Your place lies within the solar sphere of India — you are of my own country — that any comet should come and sweep you away with its tail into the void is something that can never, in any wise, come to pass. Wherever your true foundation lies, I shall establish you there firmly before I let go. They have persuaded you that your truth, your dharma, will abandon you in that place — I shall make it plain to you that your truth — your dharma — is not merely the opinion or the utterance of you alone or of two or three others; it is bound to all that surrounds it by the thread of countless lives — it cannot be uprooted from the forest at will and planted in a pot — if you wish to keep it radiant and living, if you wish to make it wholly and fully fruitful, then you must take your seat in the very place within the heart of that community of people where your place was determined long before you were born — you cannot by any means say, ‘I am no part of it, it is nothing to me.’ If you say that, your truth, your dharma, your strength will grow dim and pale as a shadow. God has sent you to a particular place; whatever that place may be, if your opinion drags you away from it, your opinion will thereby gain no victory — this I shall make you understand with certainty. I shall come tomorrow.”

With these words Gora went away. The air within the room seemed to tremble for a long while. Sucharita sat motionless as a statue, in perfect silence.