Gora

by Rabindranath Tagore

  ‘Episodes end once they have occurred, but character remains, after all. That is why even past events must be discussed. What Lalita has done today could never have been possible had she not always been pampered by you. How much you have harmed her will become apparent when you hear all about today’s happening.’

  Sensing a slight rocking movement at the back of his chowki, Poreshbabu quickly drew Lalita to his side and grasping her hand, he said with a faint smile:

  ‘Panubabu, you will realize in due course that affection, too, is necessary for one’s children’s upbringing.’

  Putting her arm round her father’s neck, Lalita bent to whisper in his ear:

  ‘Baba, your water is growing cold. Please go and have your bath.’

  ‘I’ll go a little later,’ said Poreshbabu in an undertone, glancing at Haran. ‘It’s not so late.’

  ‘No, Baba, please have your bath,’ insisted Lalita tenderly. ‘Meanwhile, we shall keep Panubabu company.’

  After Poreshbabu had left the room Lalita firmly occupied a chowki and fixing her gaze on Haranbabu’s face, she accused him: ‘You think you have the right to say anything to anybody!’

  Sucharita knew Lalita well. On any other day, the sight of Lalita in her present mood would have secretly aroused her anxiety. But today, she remained on her chowki by the window, staring silently at the open page of a book. By nature and habit, Sucharita was always self-restrained. In the last few days, the more she had felt the accumulated pain of all sorts of afflictions, the quieter she had become. Today, the burden of this silence had become intolerable, so when Lalita took it upon herself to express her views to Haran, it was as if the torrent imprisoned in Sucharita’s heart found an opportunity for release.

  ‘Do you think you know better than Baba what his duties towards us should be!’ Lalita erupted. ‘Are you sole Headmaster of the entire Brahmo Samaj!’

  At first Haranbabu was stunned at such arrogance in Lalita. He was about to offer a very harsh reply when she interrupted:

  ‘We have endured your superior airs all these days with great patience, but if you try to surpass Baba as well, nobody in this house will tolerate you—not even our bearer.’

  ‘Lalita, you …’ Haranbabu began to expostulate.

  ‘Silence!’ Lalita interrupted sharply. ‘We have been hearing you at length, now listen to what I have to say. If you don’t believe me, please ask Sucharita: my Baba is far more noble than you imagine yourself to be. Now you may give us all the advice you wish to offer.’

  Haranbabu’s face darkened. ‘Sucharita!’ he cried, rising from his chowki.

  Sucharita looked up from her book.

  ‘Can Lalita be allowed to insult me before your very eyes!’ said Haranbabu.

  ‘It is not her aim to insult you,’ answered Sucharita calmly. ‘Lalita wants to say that you should treat Baba with due respect. We don’t know anyone more worthy of respect than he.’

  For a moment it seemed as if Haranbabu would leave at once, but he did not rise. He remained seated, his face very grave. The more he realized that he was gradually losing respect in this house, the harder he tried to establish his claim. He was becoming unmindful of the fact that the tighter one grasps a worn-out crutch, the faster it tends to crumble. Observing Haranbabu’s solemn, offended silence, Lalita arose and went up to Sucharita. She began to chat with her in a low voice as if nothing serious had happened. Meanwhile, Satish came into the room.

  ‘Borodidi, come with me,’ he said, tugging at Sucharita’s hand.

  ‘Where must we go?’ asked Sucharita.

  ‘Just come with me, I’ll show you something. Lalitadidi, you haven’t told her have you?’

  ‘No,’ replied Lalita.

  Lalita had promised Satish not to disclose his mashi’s presence to Sucharita. She had kept her word. But Sucharita could not abandon their guest.

  ‘I’ll come in a little while, bakhtiar,’ she said. ‘Let Baba join us after his bath.’

  Satish began to fret. If it had been within his power to somehow make Haranbabu disappear, he would have left no stone unturned. Being in awe of Haranbabu, he could not say anything to him. Haranbabu had not maintained any form of contact with Satish, apart from occasionally trying to mend his nature.

  As soon as Poreshbabu appeared after his bath, Satish dragged his two sisters away.

  ‘About that proposal concerning Sucharita,’ declared Haranbabu, ‘I wish to delay no further. I would like the ceremony to take place next Sunday itself.’

  ‘I have no objection,’ replied Poreshbabu, ‘provided Sucharita agrees.’

  ‘But we have already taken her consent.’

  ‘Well then, the matter is decided.’

  ~35~

  That day, after parting from Lalita, Binoy was haunted by a doubt that pierced his heart like a thorn. He began to think:

  ‘I have been visiting Poreshbabu’s house regularly without knowing for sure whether anyone likes or dislikes my going there. Perhaps that is not correct. Perhaps I have tested their patience frequently and at odd times. I don’t know the ways of their culture, or the extent of my rights of access in this house. Maybe I am stupidly entering spaces forbidden to anyone but relatives.’

  Considering these things it seemed to Binoy that Lalita may have seen something in his expression today that had affronted her. Until now, Binoy’s own feelings for Lalita had not been clear to him. Today, they were no secret. He could not fathom how to handle these new revelations of his heart’s inner state. A thousand times, he debated its links with the external realm, its relations with the world, whether it meant dishonour for Lalita or a betrayal of Poreshbabu. He felt like sinking into the earth, imagining that Lalita was angry at having caught him out. It became impossible for Binoy to go to Poreshbabu’s house. The emptiness of his own house also weighed upon him. Early the next morning, he went to Anandamoyi.

  ‘Ma, I’ll stay with you for a few days,’ he announced.

  At heart, he also meant to console Anandamoyi to assuage her grief at separation from Gora. Realizing this, Anandamoyi’s heart melted. Without a word, she stroked Binoy affectionately. Binoy made all sorts of demands upon her affection, concerning his meals and the attention he required. He quarreled with her on the false pretext that he was not being looked after properly there. With his diverting chatter he constantly tried to keep both Anandamoyi and himself distracted. In the evening, when it was hard to contain his emotions, he would pester her, dragging her away from all her housework to the mat spread on the veranda before the room. He would make her narrate stories about her childhood in her parents’ house, stories about the days when she was an infant, extremely popular with the residential students at her grandfather’s tol—his Sanskrit school—a special cause for anxiety for her widowed mother because as a fatherless girl, she was indulged by everyone in every way.

  ‘Ma, I feel surprised to imagine a time when you were not our mother,’ Binoy declared. ‘I think the students at the tol saw you as a tiny mother, ever so small. As if it was you who had assumed the responsibility of bringing up Dadamoshai.’

  One evening, placing his head upon Anandamoyi’s outstretched legs upon the mat, Binoy said: ‘Ma, I feel like returning all my learning and intellect to the Maker and to seek shelter in your lap as an infant. I wish there would be nothing in the world for me but you alone.’

  Binoy’s voice expressed such emotional fatigue that Anandamoyi was both moved and surprised. Shifting closer, she began to gently stroke his head. After a long silence she asked:

  ‘Binu, is all well with Poreshbabu’s household?’

  Her question startled Binoy, making him suddenly embarrassed. ‘There is no hiding anything from Ma,’ he thought, ‘she knows the secrets of my soul.’

  ‘Yes indeed, they are all well,’ he faltered.

  ‘I really want to become acquainted with Poreshbabu’s daughters. After all, Gora was not favourably disposed towards them at first, but since they have now won hi
m over as well, they must be out of the ordinary.’

  ‘I, too, have often wanted to introduce you to Poreshbabu’s daughters somehow,’ Binoy responded enthusiastically. ‘I never proposed it lest Gora take offence.’

  ‘What is the eldest daughter’s name?’ Anandamoyi wanted to know.

  As introductions proceeded through such questions and answers, Binoy tried to abridge the discussion when Lalita’s name came up. But Anandamoyi would brook no obstacle.

  ‘Lalita is very intelligent, I am told,’ she observed, privately amused.

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Why, you did.’

  There was a time when Binoy had felt no self-consciousness about Lalita. He had completely forgotten that in that unattached state, he had freely discussed Lalita’s sharpness of intellect with Anandamoyi. Like a skilled oarsman Anandamoyi steered the conversation about Lalita past all obstacles so that almost all the significant details about the history of her acquaintance with Binoy were revealed. Now he even blurted out the fact that Lalita, anguished at Gora’s prison sentence, had escaped alone with Binoy on the steamer. As he spoke, his animation increased; the dejection that had oppressed him in the evening evaporated without trace. He began to feel now that to get to know an extraordinary person like Lalita and to be able to speak of her in such terms was itself a great boon for him. When dinner was announced and the conversation ended, Binoy seemed to suddenly awaken from a dream, realizing that he had recounted to Anandamoyi all the secrets of his heart. Such was Anandamoyi’s manner of listening to everything and accepting it, that Binoy did not even feel any cause for embarrassment. Up until today he had nothing to hide from Ma, confiding in her about the most trifling of things. But ever since he was introduced to Poreshbabu’s family, a sort of communication block had appeared that was not healthy for Binoy. Now, sensing that his secret feelings for Lalita had been completely disclosed to the subtly perceptive Anandamoyi, Binoy felt overjoyed. Had he been unable to offer up this development in his life to his mother, in all its entirety, it would never have become pure and transparent. It would have continued to taint his thoughts like an inkblot.

  At night Anandamoyi had reflected upon this matter for a long time. Thinking that a solution to the increasingly complex problem in Gora’s life could be found in Porershbabu’s household itself, she began to feel that she must meet the girls once, by any means.

  ~36~

  Mahim and his family had been proceeding on the assumption that Shashimukhi’s marriage to Binoy was more or less fixed. In fact, Shashimukhi would not even approach Binoy. Binoy was barely acquainted with Shashimukhi’s mother. Not that she was shy, exactly, but she was abnormally secretive. The door to her room was often closed. Her husband apart, everything else in her life was kept under lock and key. The husband did not enjoy much access either: under his wife’s discipline, his movements were clearly charted and his sphere of activity was extremely limited. Owing to this natural tendency to circumscribe everything, Shashimukhi’s mother Lakshmimoni, had complete control over her own world; entry for outsiders and exit for insiders was not unrestricted. In fact even Gora did not receive much encouragement in Lakshmimoni’s domain. In the administration of this kingdom there were no dichotomies. For the lawmaker here was Lakshmimoni and from the lower court to the highest court of appeal, she alone was all in all. Not only were the executive and the judiciary unsegregated, but the legislative was also combined with them. In his conduct towards outsiders, Mahim seemed very firm indeed, but within Lakshmimoni’s territory, he had no power to exercise his own wishes. Not even in trivial matters.

  Lakshmimoni had seen Binoy from behind the screen, and liked him as well. Since childhood, Mahim had regularly seen Binoy as Gora’s friend; it was due to such excessive familiarity that he had been unable to think of Binoy as his daughter’s suitor. When Lakshmimoni drew his attention towards Binoy, his respect for his wife’s intelligence increased. Lakshmimoni firmly resolved that it was Binoy her daughter would marry. She impressed upon her husband a major advantage in this proposal: Binoy could not claim any dowry from them. For a few days, even when he found Binoy at home, Mahim had been unable to raise the subject of the marriage. He desisted because Binoy was dejected about Gora’s imprisonment.

  Today was a Sunday. The lady of the house did not allow Mahim to complete his weekly daytime siesta. Binoy was reading aloud to Anandamoyi from Bankim’s newly published Bangadarshan. Casket of paan in hand, Mahim approached them and slowly lowered himself onto the wooden taktaposh. First offering Binoy a paan, he expressed his annoyance at Gora’s reckless stupidity. Then, in the process of discussing how much time remained for Gora’s release, he very suddenly remembered that the month of Agrahayan was almost half over already.

  ‘Binoy,’ he said, ‘It’s impractical of you to say that Agrahayan weddings are forbidden in your family. As it is the holy books and almanacs are full of restrictions; to add to that, if you keep inventing family shastras as well, how will we preserve our family line?’

  ‘Binoy has been seeing Shashimukhi ever since she was very tiny,’ Anandamoyi interrupted, observing that Binoy was in difficulty. ‘The idea of marrying her does not appeal to him, hence this pretext about Agrahayan.’

  ‘He could have told us right at the outset,’ complained Mahim.

  ‘It takes time even to know one’s own mind, after all,’ Anandamoyi replied. ‘Is there any shortage of suitors, Mahim? Let Gora come back. He knows many nice young men. He will be able to fix up a match.’

  ‘Hm!’ said Mahim, his face like thunder. After a short silence, he said, ‘Ma, if you had not discouraged Binoy he would not have objected to this proposal.’

  Flustered, Binoy was about to speak, but Anandamoyi interrupted: ‘Well, truth be told Mahim, I couldn’t bring myself to encourage him. Binoy is young. He might have unwittingly taken a step that would have ultimately led to no good.’

  Shielding Binoy, Anandamoyi bore the brunt of Mahim’s rage. Realizing this, Binoy was ashamed at his own feebleness. As he was about to clearly announce his rejection of the proposal, Mahim left the room without waiting any longer, telling himself that a stepmother can never truly belong.

  Anandamoyi was aware that Mahim was capable of such thoughts, and that as a stepmother she would always be listed as a criminal in the world’s law-court. But it was never her habit to let other people’s opinion determine her actions. From the day she had adopted Gora she had made herself independent of the ways of the world and the views of other people. Since then, indeed, she had adopted ways that invited public blame. The concealment of a certain fact constantly tormented her at the very core of her being, but it was the blame heaped upon her by society that offered her some relief from that pain. When people called her a Khristan she would clasp Gora in her lap and declare: ‘God knows being called a Khristan does not condemn me.’ So, gradually, it had become part of her nature to detach her conduct from public opinion in every respect. Even if Mahim secretly or openly humiliated her for this by calling her a stepmother, she would not be diverted from her chosen path.

  ‘Binu, you haven’t gone to Poreshbabu’s house in a long time,’ Anandamoyi remarked.

  ‘A long time, how is that?’ asked Binoy.

  ‘You haven’t gone there even once since you returned on the steamer.’

  That was not long ago. But Binoy knew that his visits to Poreshababu’s house had once been so frequent that even Anandamoyi had scarcely got a glimpse of him. By that measure, he had not visited Poreshbabu’s house for many days, and it had indeed become noticeable. Shredding a thread pulled from the end of his dhoti, Binoy remained silent.

  ‘Maji, kahanse mayilog aya,’ the bearer came and announced in Hindi at this point. ‘Ma, some ladies have come to see you.’

  Binoy quickly rose to his feet. While he was trying to ascertain who had come and from where, Sucharita and Lalita entered the room. Binoy did not get a chance to leave the room. He stood there, stupefied. Bo
th girls touched Anandamoyi’s feet in a pranam. Lalita scarcely looked at Binoy. Sucharita greeted him with a namaskar.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘We have come from Poreshbabu’s house,’ she added, addressing Anandamoyi.

  Receiving them warmly, Anandamoyi said, ‘Such introductions are not required. I have not seen the two of you before, ma, but I consider you members of my own household.’

  In no time, their conversation grew warm and animated. Observing Binoy’s silence Sucharita tried to draw him into the discussion.

  ‘Why haven’t you come for so many days?’ she asked him in a low voice.

  ‘I am afraid of losing your affection from troubling all of you too frequently,’ said Binoy, casting a glance at Lalita.

  ‘Don’t you know that affection also waits to be troubled again and again?’ asked Sucharita with a faint smile.

  ‘He knows it only too well, ma!’ Anandamoyi assured her. ‘What can I tell you—with all his whims and fancies, it’s a miracle if I get any time to myself all day.’ As she spoke, she looked tenderly at Binoy.

  ‘The Almighty Ishwar has granted you patience,’ retorted Binoy. ‘He is using me to test it.’

  ‘Do you hear that, bhai Lalita?’ demanded Sucharita, nudging Lalita. ‘Our own test is over, it seems. We couldn’t pass the test, I suppose?’

  ‘Now our Binu is putting his own patience to the test,’ smiled Anandamoyi, observing that Lalita showed no reaction to this banter. ‘Indeed, you have no idea of his high regard for all of you. In the evenings, you are the sole topic of conversation. And he melts at the very mention of Poreshbabu’s name.’ Anandamoyi kept her eyes on Lalita’s face. Making a supreme effort to meet her gaze, Lalita flushed for no reason at all.

  ‘He has sprung to your father’s defence against so many people!’ Anandamoyi continued. ‘The members of his community are on the verge of declaring him an outcaste for becoming a Brahmo. Truly, Binu my boy, such impatience won’t do. I see no reason to be ashamed about it either. Ma, what do you say?’