Chapter 6

Nabin Roy counted out every single copper and pie of principal and interest, handed back the deed of mortgage, and said, "So tell me, who gave you the money?"

Gurucharan replied humbly, "Do not ask me that, Dada; I am forbidden to say."

Nabin was not in the least pleased to receive his money back; he had neither expected nor desired it. On the contrary, he had already envisioned pulling down the house and erecting a grand new mansion in its place. Sarcastic, he remarked, "Well, of course it's forbidden now! My dear brother, the fault is not yours, but mine. Mine, for asking for the money back—why else do they call this the Dark Age of Kali!"

Gurucharan felt deeply wounded and said, "What are you saying, Dada! I have repaid the debt of your money, but I can never repay the debt of your kindness."

Nabin chuckled. He was a seasoned man of affairs; had he believed such sentiments, he could never have amassed such wealth selling molasses. He said, "If you truly felt that way, my friend, you wouldn't have cleared it off like this. Granted, I asked for the money once, but that was only on account of your sister-in-law's illness, not for myself—tell me, at what rate of interest did you mortgage the house?"

Gurucharan shook his head and said, "I haven't mortgaged it—nor was there any talk of interest."

Nabin refused to believe him. "What are you saying—with empty hands?"

"Yes, Dada, it is practically so. The boy is exceedingly noble, a most compassionate soul."

"The boy? Which boy?"

Gurucharan did not answer this question; he remained silent. Even what he had let slip was more than he ought to have said.

Nabin understood his mind and said with a sly smile, "When you are forbidden, let it be. But having seen a great deal of the world, let me warn you this much, brother—whoever he may be, let him not land you in a scrape in the end by doing so much good."

Gurucharan offered no reply to this; bowing respectfully, document in hand, he returned home.

Almost every year around this time, Bhubaneswari went away to the Up-country for a change of air. She suffered from indigestion, and this did her good. Her ailment was not severe; Nabin had merely exaggerated it to Gurucharan the other day to serve his own ends. At any rate, preparations for the journey were under way.

That morning, Shekhar was packing his essential belongings and elegant knick-knacks into a leather trunk.

Annakali entered the room and asked, "Shekhar-da, you're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

Shekhar looked up from his trunk and said, "Kali, go call your Sejdi—tell her to bring along whatever she wants to take, while there's time." Shekhar took it for granted that Lalita would accompany his mother as she did every year.

Kali shook her head and said, "Sejdi isn't going this time!"

"Why isn't she going?"

Kali said, "Why, how can she go! She's to be married in Magh or Phalgun—Father is out looking for a groom."

Shekhar stared in motionless, unblinking silence.

Kali whispered with all the eagerness of what she had overheard inside the house: "Girin-babu said no matter how much it costs, we must have a fine match. Father isn't going to the office today either; after meals he'll go off somewhere to look at a groom, and Girin-babu is going with him."

Shekhar listened in silence, and a glimmer of understanding came to him as to why Lalita no longer wished to come over.

Kali went on, "Girin-babu is such a good man, Shekhar-da. When Mejdi was married, our house was mortgaged to Uncle, and Father said that in another two or three months we'd all have been begging in the streets—so Girin-babu gave the money. Yesterday Father returned all the money to Uncle. Sejdi was saying we have nothing to fear anymore—isn't that true, Shekhar-da?"

In reply, Shekhar could say nothing; he kept gazing at her just as before.

Kali asked, "What are you thinking about, Shekhar-da?"

Only now did Shekhar break out of his daze. He blurted out hurriedly, "Nothing at all. Kali, go call your Sejdi quickly—tell her I'm calling for her, go run!"

Kali ran off.

Shekhar remained seated, his gaze fixed on the open trunk. What he needed and what he did not need all blurred together before his eyes.

Hearing the summons, Lalita came upstairs. Peering first through the gap in the window, she saw her Shekhar-da sitting motionless on the floor, gazing steadfastly at the ground. She had never seen such an expression on his face before. Lalita was astonished, even frightened. As she stepped slowly nearer and stood there, Shekhar started up in flustered haste, saying, "Come in."

Lalita asked softly, "Did you call me?"

"Yes," Shekhar said, remaining still for a moment before adding, "I am taking Mother to the West on tomorrow morning's train. It may be a long time before I return this time. Take these keys—your spending money is inside that chest of drawers."

Every time, Lalita went with them. On the last occasion, with what joy had she packed their belongings for this trip! Today Shekhar-da was doing it all alone; the moment her eyes fell upon the open trunk, Lalita remembered.

Shekhar turned his face away from her, cleared his throat with a slight cough, and said, "Take care of yourself—and if you need anything in particular, get my address from Brother and write to me."

After this, both remained silent. Lalita shrank back in blushing shame, thinking that Shekhar now knew she would not be coming along this time, and had perhaps heard the reason why as well.

Suddenly Shekhar said, "Well, you may go now. I have to pack these things. It's getting late, and I must drop by the office today."

Lalita knelt before the open trunk and said, "Go take your bath; I will pack for you."

"That would be very helpful then," Shekhar said, tossing the ring of keys down beside Lalita. Stepping out of the room, he paused abruptly and said, "You haven't forgotten what things I need, have you?"

Lalita bowed her head and began examining the items in the trunk, making no reply to his question.

Shekhar went downstairs and asked his mother, learning that everything Kali had said was true. That Gurucharan had repaid the debt was true. That active efforts were being made to settle Lalita's marriage was also true. Asking nothing further, he went off to take his bath.

Two hours later, having finished his bath and meal, he entered his room to dress for office, only to be genuinely astonished.

In all these two hours, Lalita had done nothing; she sat in silent stillness, her head resting on one edge of the trunk. Startled by the sound of Shekhar's footsteps, she raised her head only to drop it instantly. Her eyes were as crimson as hibiscus blossoms.

Yet Shekhar feigned not to notice. As he put on his office clothes, he said casually, "Never mind now, Lalita; come by in the afternoon and pack." With that, he left for the office. He had correctly understood the reason behind Lalita's reddened eyes, but did not dare speak another word until he had pondered the matter from every angle.

That afternoon, coming to serve tea to her uncle and the guest, Lalita suddenly froze in awkward self-consciousness. Today Shekhar was sitting there. He had come to take leave of Gurucharan-babu.

Lalita kept her head bowed as she prepared two bowls of tea and placed them before Girin and her uncle, whereupon Girin asked, "Didn't you give Shekhar-babu any tea, Lalita?"

Without raising her eyes, Lalita said softly, "Shekhar-da does not drink tea."

Girin said no more; Lalita's own words came back to his mind. Shekhar did not drink it himself, nor did he like others to drink it.

Lifting his bowl of tea, Gurucharan broached the subject of the suitor. Praising the young man lavishly—that he was studying for his B.A., and so forth—he concluded, "And yet our Girin doesn't approve of him. To be sure, the boy isn't particularly handsome, but what good is good looks to a man? Character and capability are quite enough."

Gurucharan would heave a sigh of relief if only the marriage could somehow be solemnized.

Shekhar had only just made Girin's slight acquaintance. Looking towards him with a faint smile, Shekhar asked, "Why doesn't Girin-babu approve? The young man is educated, well-off too—surely he's a good match."

Shekhar asked, to be sure, but he understood perfectly well why Girin did not approve, and why he never would in the future. Girin, however, could not answer the question all at once; his face flushed slightly. Shekhar noticed this too, got up to his feet, and said, "Uncle, tomorrow I leave for the West with Mother. Mind you don't forget to send us word at the right time."

Gurucharan said, "How could I, my son? You are everything to me. Besides, nothing can be done unless Lalita's mother is present. Isn't that so, Lalita, my child?" Turning his head with a smile, he asked, "When did she slip away?"

Shekhar said, "The moment the topic came up, she fled."

Gurucharan grew grave and said, "Of course she would—she's reached the age of discretion, after all." Then, letting out a soft sigh, he added, "My girl is like Lakshmi and Saraswati combined! It takes great good fortune to be blessed with such a daughter, Shekhar-nath!" As he uttered the words, so tender and sweet a shadow of deep affection fell across his gaunt, withered face that neither Girin nor Shekhar could help bowing to him in silent, heartfelt reverence.