‘Indeed, that is a must. We must seek their consent, for sure. With your khuromoshai still alive, nothing can be decided against the wishes of your father’s elder brother.’
Emptying the contents of the second sachet of paan from his pocket, Mahim took his leave, his manner indicating that the matter was all but clinched.
A few days earlier, Anandamoyi had indirectly hinted at a match between Shashimukhi and Binoy. But Binoy had paid no attention. Even now, it was not as if the proposal struck him as apposite, but at least the matter registered somewhere in his consciousness. Binoy felt that if this marriage were to take place, Gora could never spurn him for relying too much on matters of the heart. So far, he had always derided the idea of a love-marriage as an anglicized fetish, hence marrying Shashimukhi did not seem an impossible prospect. Meanwhile, he was pleased only that he now had a pretext to consult Gora regarding Mahim’s proposal. Binoy desired some persuasion from Gora. If he did not readily consent to Mahim’s proposal, he had no doubt that Mahim would try to get Gora to convince him. Thinking of these things, Binoy’s lethargy evaporated. He set out at once for Gora’s house, with his chador draped over his shoulder. He had walked only a short distance before he heard someone call out from behind:
‘Binoybabu!’ Turning around, he saw Satish. Binoy reentered his house, accompanied by Satish
‘Guess what’s inside!’ From his pocket, Satish produced a handkerchief knotted into a bundle.
Naming several impossible things, such as a skull or a puppy, Binoy was admonished by Satish’s wagging finger. Satish then proceeded to undo the handkerchief, from which he produced four or five blackened fruits.
‘Do you know what these are?’ he asked.
Binoy attempted some random guesses. When he finally gave up, Satish told him that the fruits were a gift from an uncle in Rangoon to his mother, who in turn had sent five of them as a present for Binoybabu.
Mangosteens from Myanmar were not easily available in Kolkata then. Hence, feeling the fruits, Binoy asked:
‘Satishbabu, how are these to be eaten?’
‘Watch out! You’d better not bite into them,’ laughed Satish, scornful of Binoy’s ignorance. ‘You’re supposed to pare them with a knife.’
Satish himself had just been derided by his relatives for his futile attempts at biting into these fruits. So, he dispelled his agony by laughing knowledgably at Binoy’s lack of experience. Subsequently, after these two friends of unequal age had exchanged some banter, Satish declared:
‘Binoybabu, Ma says you must drop by if you have the time today—it’s Leela’s birthday!’
‘I have no time today, bhai. I’m going elsewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘To my friend’s place.’
‘That friend of yours?’
‘Yes.’
That Binoy could visit other friends’ houses but not their own seemed irrational to Satish, who had taken a particular dislike to this friend of Binoy’s. He seemed harsher than a school headmaster; nobody was likely to earn any glory from playing the organ to him. That Binoy should feel the slightest need to visit such people was not to Satish’s liking, at all.
‘No, Binoybabu, you must come to our house,’ he insisted.
Binoy had boasted to himself that he would go to Gora’s house even if Poreshbabu invited him. He had decided that he would not hurt his friend’s sentiments, that he would respect his friendship with Gora above all else. But it did not take him long to succumb. With a mind full of doubts and a heart full of objections, he ultimately allowed the boy to lead him by the hand towards House Number 78, as before. It was impossible for Binoy to ignore the sense of kinship expressed in the sharing of rare Myanmar fruits thoughtfully sent to him.
Approaching Poreshbabu’s house, Binoy saw Panubabu emerge from within, accompanied by some unknown people. They had been invited to Leela’s birthday lunch. Panubabu walked past Binoy, as if he had not noticed him at all. Entering the house, Binoy was greeted with sounds of laughter and running feet. Sudhir had stolen Labanya’s keys; not only that, he was threatening devilishly to divulge to the vulgar world the comic details of the would-be-poetess’ writings in the notebook within her drawer. The two sides were locked in battle when Binoy entered the arena. Seeing him, Labanya’s group vanished at once. Satish ran after them, to take part in their merriment.
After a while, Sucharita came in. ‘Ma has requested you to wait awhile,’ she said. ‘She’ll join you in a few moments. Baba has gone to Anathbabu’s; he won’t be long, either.’
To quell Binoy’s awkwardness, Sucharita spoke of Gora. ‘I don’t suppose he’d ever visit us again!’ she smiled.
‘Why not?’
‘He must have been surprised that we appear before male company. He probably can’t respect women if he sees them in any situation but a domestic one.’
Binoy found this hard to refute. He would have liked to contradict it, but how could he lie?
‘It is Gora’s belief that unless completely absorbed in housework, women lose their devotion to duty,’ he replied.
‘Then why not let men and women carve up the world into private and public spaces, once and for all?’ demanded Sucharita. ‘Perhaps it’s because men have access into private areas that they fail in their public duties? Do you also subscribe to your friend’s views?’
So far, Binoy had indeed supported Gora’s views regarding rules for women. He had even published newspaper articles on the subject. But now, he found it hard to declare these views his own.
‘In these matters, we are slaves of custom,’ he insisted. ‘That’s why the sight of women venturing out in public makes us uneasy. We merely try to prove by forceful argument that it offends us as something improper, a violation of duty. The argument here is merely a pretext; it’s the convention that is real.’
‘Such conventions seem firmly ingrained in your friend’s mind,’ Sucharita observed.
‘So it may seem momentarily, if viewed from outside,’ Binoy replied. ‘But please bear in mind that if he clings to the traditions of our country, it’s not because he thinks them the best. It’s because we were ready to dismiss all our land’s customs out of a blind disrespect for our country, that he has taken it upon himself to stem the tide. He says we must first possess and understand our nation as a whole, through respect and love. Subsequently, the process of reform will begin automatically from within, according to the natural rules of health.’
‘If it was automatic, why didn’t it happen in all these years?’ Sucharita asked.
‘It didn’t happen because until now, we were unable to perceive our nation or our community as a unified whole. We may not have disrespected our own race then, but we showed them no respect either. In other words, we ignored them, hence their power was not aroused. The patient was neglected once, denied any treatment or medication. Now, he has been taken to the hospital indeed, but apart from amputating his limbs one by one, the doctor is too disdainful to patiently prescribe a long-term course of treatment based on nursing. Now another doctor, this friend of mine, insists: ‘I cannot bear to allow my close relative to be utterly destroyed by such treatment. I shall stop these surgical procedures, and by means of a suitably wholesome diet, arouse the life-spirit within the patient’s soul. Subsequently, the patient will be able to withstand surgery, or even recover without such procedures.’ According to Gora, profound respect is the most potent diet for our nation’s present predicament. It is lack of such respect that prevents us from a unified vision of our country, and it is due to lack of such awareness that all our attempts at redressal prove counterproductive. Without loving our nation, we can’t have the patience to understand it properly. And without understanding it properly, we cannot benefit the country, despite all our good intentions.’
Unobtrusively, with her probing comments, Sucharita ensured that the discussion about Gora continued. Binoy also presented his defense of Gora in the best manner possible. He had never argued so cogently and with such vivid
examples; it is doubtful whether Gora himself could have declared his own views with such clarity and brilliance. Exhilarated by his own cleverness and powers of expression, Binoy began to enjoy himself, and his face glowed with pleasure.
‘Atmanam biddhi: know thyself, the scriptures say,’ he argued. ‘There is no other path to liberation. My friend Gora is Bharatvarsha’s self-awareness incarnate, I tell you. I cannot take him for an ordinary man. While all our minds are scattered in the external realm, seduced by the petty lure of novelty, this man alone stands firm amidst all this frenzy, chanting in his leonine voice that same ancient mantra: atmanam biddhi.’
This discussion could have lasted much longer, and Sucharita too, was listening avidly, but suddenly, from the adjacent room, Satish began to recite in a loud voice:
Say not in sorrow, without pausing to reflect,
That the world’s an illusion, and life but a dream.
Poor Satish never got to display his learning before visitors to the house. Even Leela could arouse the audience with her recitation of English verse, but Borodasundari never sent for Satish. Yet Leela and Satish were great rivals in every matter. It was Satish’s foremost pleasure to somehow demolish Leela’s pride. The previous day, Leela’s talents had been tested in Binoy’s presence. Uninvited there, Satish could have made no attempt to outshine her. Even if he had tried, Borodasundari would have quelled him immediately. Today, therefore, he made a show of reciting loudly from the next room, as if to himself. Hearing him, Sucharita could not refrain from mirth.
At this point, Leela came in, tossing her braids. Throwing her arms around Sucharita’s neck, she whispered something in her ear. Satish rushed in, close on her heels.
‘Tell me, Leela, what does “monojog” mean?’ he asked her, referring to the Bengali word for ‘attentiveness’.
‘I shan’t tell you!’ Leela replied.
‘Ish! Not tell me indeed! Admit you don’t know what it means!’
‘You tell us what “monojog” means, then,’ laughed Binoy, drawing Satish close.
‘“Monojog” means “mononibesh,”’ answered Satish proudly, head held high.
‘And what is “mononibesh?”’ Sucharita wanted to know.
Could anyone but a family member cause such embarrassment? Satish bounded out of the room as if he had not heard the question at all.
Today, Binoy had firmly resolved to leave early from Poreshbabu’s house to go across to Gora’s. Talking about Gora deepened his enthusiasm about visiting him. Hearing the clock strike four, he therefore rose quickly from his chowki.
‘Must you leave now?’ pleaded Sucharita. ‘Ma is preparing some snacks for you. Can’t you go a little later?’
For Binoy this was not a question, but an order. He at once resumed his place on the chowki.
‘Didi, the snacks are ready,’ announced Labanya, entering the room, all dressed up, in colourful silk. ‘Ma wants us to go up to the terrace.’
On the terrace, Binoy had to accept the refreshments. Borodasundari began to recount the life-stories of all her offspring. Lalita dragged Sucharita indoors. On a chowki, Labanya bent her head over a piece of knitting. Somebody had once told her that when she knitted, the play of her delicate fingers was an exquisite sight; ever since, she had grown used to knitting unnecessarily in the presence of others.
Poresh arrived. It grew dark. As this was Sunday, they were supposed to go to the prayer-temple.
‘Would you object to visiting the Samaj in our company?’ Borodasundari asked Binoy.
After this, there could be no ifs and buts. They went to the prayer hall, all of them, in two carriages. On the way back, as they mounted the carriages, Sucharita suddenly remarked, in a startled voice:
‘Look, there goes Gourmohanbabu!’
There was no doubting that Gora had spotted their group. But he hastened away as if he had not seen them at all. Gora’s arrogant uncivility made Binoy cringe in shame before Poreshbabu’s family. But privately, he clearly realized that it was the sight of Binoy in the group that had prompted Gora to rush away in such a hostile manner. The glow of pleasure in his heart was utterly extinguished. Sucharita instantly sensed Binoy’s mood and its cause. She was again incensed at Gora for misjudging a friend like Binoy, and his unwarranted disrespect for Brahmos. She wished with all her heart that Gora could somehow be vanquished.
~14~
When Gora sat down to his meal at midday, Anandamoyi gently broached the subject:
‘Binoy came by this morning. Didn’t you meet him?’
‘Yes, I did,’ answered Gora, without looking up.
‘I asked him to wait but he left, looking rather preoccupied,’ resumed Anandamoyi, after a long pause.
Gora made no reply.
‘Something has hurt him very deeply,’ Anandamoyi asserted. ‘I’ve never seen him like this before. I am extremely upset.’
Gora continued to eat in silence. Because she was so fond of him, Anandamoyi was also secretly a little in awe of him. If he did not confide in her, she never pestered him about anything. On any other occasion, she would have desisted at this point. But now, because her heart was aching for Binoy, she persisted:
‘Look Gora, let me tell you something. Please don’t mind. Ishwar has created innumerable human beings, but he has not made just one path for everyone to follow. Because Binoy loves you with his heart and soul, he tolerates whatever you inflict on him. But if you insist that he must follow your path alone, it will not bode well.’
‘Ma, please bring me some more milk,’ was Gora’s reply.
The conversation ended there. Meal over, Anandamoyi sewed in silence on her bed. After a futile attempt to draw her into a discussion of a particular servant’s bad conduct, Lachhmia lay down on the floor and went to sleep.
Gora spent a long time over his correspondence. Amidst all his work, Gora listened for Binoy’s footsteps, thinking it impossible that his friend would fail to come and pacify him, after having received a clear signal that morning that Gora was angry with him. The hours passed by, but Binoy did not come. Laying down his pen, Gora was about to rise from his desk when Mahim entered the room.
‘What are your thoughts on Shashimukhi’s marriage, Gora?’ he asked as soon as he was seated.
Never having given the matter a single thought, Gora was forced to maintain a guilty silence. Highlighting the exorbitant price of bridegrooms in the marriage market and his own insolvency, Mahim begged Gora for a solution. When Gora failed to come up with a suggestion, Mahim sought to rescue him from his dilemma by proposing Binoy’s name. Such a roundabout approach was not necessary, but whatever he might say, Mahim was privately afraid of Gora. Gora had never dreamt that Binoy’s name could be mentioned in such a context. He and Binoy had resolved to remain bachelors, devoting their lives to the service of the nation.
‘Why should Binoy marry?’ Gora therefore expostulated.
‘Is this what your Hindu beliefs are worth! For all your tikis and tilaks, your English ways are ingrained in your very bones. Are you aware that our holy shastras define marriage as an essential ritual for a Brahman boy?’
Mahim neither violated traditional customs like modern youths of today, nor cared much for the scriptures either. He considered dining in hotels to be excessively bold, but he also did not consider it normal to constantly dabble in the shastras like Gora. But one must adopt the customs of the land one’s in, as the saying goes. With Gora, he was forced to use the shastras as a pretext.
Even a couple of days earlier, Gora would have dismissed this proposal out of hand. But today, the matter did not strike him as utterly dispensable. The proposal at least provided an excuse for going immediately to Binoy’s house.
‘Very well, let me find out what Binoy feels about this,’ he agreed ultimately.
‘There is nothing to find out. He can never reject a suggestion from you. The matter is virtually settled. A word from you is all that’s needed.’
That very evening, though it was lat
e, Gora arrived at Binoy’s house. Storming into his friend’s room, he found it empty. He summoned the bearer, who informed him that Babu had gone to House Number 78. Gora’s spirits drooped. Binoy, for whom Gora had fretted all day, now did not even have the time to remember his friend! Gora might fret and fume, but it would not disturb Binoy’s peace of mind at all!
Gora’s soul rose in bitterness against Poreshbabu’s family and the Brahmo Samaj. He rushed to Poreshbabu’s house, a tremendous rebellion surging in his heart. He wanted to raise issues that would torment this Brahmo family, and make Binoy uncomfortable as well. Reaching Poreshbabu’s place, he was told that no-one was home. They had all gone to the prayer hall. For a moment, he doubted that Binoy may have accompanied them. Perhaps, at this very moment, he had gone to Gora’s house.
He could not restrain himself. Gora rushed to the prayer-temple at his usual stormy speed. At the entrance, he saw Binoy following Borodasundari into their carriage. In public, he was shamelessly entering a carriage in the company of women from another family! Fool that he was! To let himself be ensnared like this, in serpent-coils! So quickly! So easily! Friendship was no longer worthy of respect, then. Gora rushed away from the scene. And from the darkness of the carriage, Binoy gazed silently at the street.
Imagining that the Acharya’s advice was taking effect on his mind, Borodasundari did not utter a word.
~15~
Back home, Gora paced up and down the terrace at night. He was angry with himself. Why had he wasted his Sunday in this fashion? He was not born into this world to get embroiled in one person’s love affairs at the expense of all his other duties! To try holding Binoy back from the path he had taken would be a waste of time, and a painful experience as well. So, from now on, he must exclude Binoy from his life. Giving up his only friend, Gora would prove his faith true. With this resolve, Gora gestured violently with his arms, as if pushing away his association with Binoy.
At this moment, Mahim appeared on the terrace, panting.
Gora Page 10
