73

The assembly for the penance was to convene the next day; it had been settled that from this very night Gora would go and stay at the garden house. He was about to make ready for departure when Harimohini arrived unexpectedly. The sight of her gave Gora no pleasure. He said, “You have come — I must go out at once — Mother has not been home for several days either. If you have need of her, then —”

Harimohini said, “No, my child, I have come to you — you must sit with me for a little while — it will not take long.”

Gora sat down. Harimohini brought up the subject of Sucharita. She said that through Gora’s teaching Sucharita had improved greatly. So much so that she no longer accepted water touched by just anyone’s hand, and in every respect she had acquired right understanding — “Child, was my anxiety for her any small thing! How much good you have done me by bringing her to the right path — I cannot tell you in a single breath. May God make you a king of kings. May you bring home a worthy, auspicious bride from a good family befitting your lineage — may your home be radiant, may you be blessed with wealth and sons.”

Then she raised another matter: Sucharita was of age; it was no longer proper to delay her marriage for even a moment; had she been in a Hindu household, her lap would by now have been filled with children. Harimohini was certain Gora would agree with her that such delay in marriage was a great transgression. Having endured unbearable anxiety over Sucharita’s marriage for a long time, and having at last prevailed upon her brother-in-law Kailas by much pleading and persuasion, she had brought him to Calcutta. All the grave obstacles she had dreaded had, by the grace of God, been removed. Everything was settled — the groom’s side would not accept so much as a single paisa in dowry, and would raise no objection to Sucharita’s past history — Harimohini had managed all this through particular skill — and then, as people would be astonished to hear, Sucharita had suddenly turned stubborn. What was in her mind Harimohini did not know; whether someone had put ideas into her head, whether her heart had turned toward someone else — God alone knew.

“But, my boy, let me speak plainly — that girl is not worthy of you. If she were married in some village nobody would know her history; she would manage well enough. But you live in the city — if you married her you would not be able to show your face to city people.”

Gora rose in anger and said, “What is this you are saying! Who told you that I have gone to reach any understanding with her with a view to marriage!”

Harimohini said, “How should I know, my child! It has appeared in the papers — hearing of it I am dying of shame.”

Gora understood that Haran Babu, or someone of his party, had been discussing this in print. Gora clenched his fist and said, “It is a lie!”

Harimohini, startled by the roar of his voice, said, “That is what I thought too. Now you must grant me one request. Come with me to Radhararani’s.”

Gora asked, “Why?”

Harimohini said, “You will speak to her and make her understand.”

Gora’s heart, seizing upon this occasion, instantly roused itself to go to Sucharita. His inner voice said: “Come, let us go and see her this one last time. Tomorrow is your penance — from that day forward you are an ascetic. Only this night remains — and within it, only a very brief moment. No wrong can come of it. And if there be any wrong, tomorrow it shall all be burnt to ash.”

After remaining silent for a moment Gora asked, “Tell me — what is it that I must make her understand?”

Nothing more than this — that according to Hindu ideals it was the duty of a grown woman like Sucharita to marry without delay, and that to find in Hindu society a worthy match such as Kailas was an inconceivable good fortune for a girl in Sucharita’s position.

The words pierced Gora’s breast like an arrow. Recalling the man he had seen near the gate of Sucharita’s house, Gora was stung as by a scorpion’s bite. The thought that that man should possess Sucharita was intolerable even to imagine. His heart thundered within him: “No — this can never be!”

A union between Sucharita and any other man was impossible. The still, profound heart of Sucharita — full to the brim with depth of intellect and feeling — had never revealed itself in quite this manner before any second person on earth save Gora, and it could never so reveal itself to anyone else. Was it not wonderful? Was it not extraordinary? In the innermost chamber of that sanctuary of mystery, what an ineffable presence had been glimpsed! How rarely does one see a human being in such a manner, and how few does one so see! It was by providential union that he who had beheld Sucharita in such profound and true reality, who had felt her with the whole of his nature, had truly possessed her. How could anyone else ever possess her again?

Harimohini said, “Can Radhararani remain an old maid for the rest of her days! Was there ever such a thing!”

That too was true. And yet tomorrow Gora was going to perform his penance. After that he would be fully purified and become a Brahmin. Then could Sucharita remain unwed for the rest of her life? Who had the right to lay upon her so crushing a burden for her entire life? What greater burden could there be for a woman?

Harimohini went on talking at length. None of it reached Gora’s ears. He was thinking: “Father has gone to such lengths to forbid me this penance — can his prohibition carry no weight at all? The life I am imagining for myself may be nothing but imagination; it may not be natural to me. Carrying that artificial burden I shall become crippled. Under its unceasing weight I shall not be able to accomplish any task of life with ease. And here I see — a desire that fills and occupies the whole heart. Where am I to put this stone that it may be moved aside? How does Father know that within me I am not a Brahmin, I am not an ascetic — and that is why he has forbidden me so forcefully.”

Gora thought: “Let me go to him. This very evening, this very moment, I shall press him and ask what it is he has seen in me. Why did he say that the path of penance is closed even to me? If he can make it clear, I shall be free of that direction — free.”

Gora said to Harimohini, “Please wait a moment — I shall return directly.”

Gora went quickly toward his father’s quarters. It seemed to him that Krishnadayal possessed some knowledge that could grant him release even now.

The door of the meditation-chamber was bolted. He knocked once or twice — it did not open; no one answered either. From within came the smell of incense and dhuno. Today, with the mendicant, Krishnadayal was practising a profoundly secret and exceedingly difficult discipline of yoga, all doors shut — tonight no one had the right to enter that quarter.