‘Ma, this has proved a boon for me. This is what I needed. It does not hurt me at all; rather, it brings me joy.’
‘Mashi,’ said Sucharita, ‘if I don’t accept food or water from members of other castes, will you let me attend upon you?’
‘Why, ma,’ expostulated Harimohini, ‘please follow the dharma you believe in. There is no need for you to change track on my account. It is a source of joy to me that I have been allowed this proximity to you, to hold you close, to see you everyday. Poreshbabu is your guru, and like a father to you. Follow the path he has shown you, and for that alone, the Almighty will bless you.’
Harimohini began to endure all the torment inflicted upon her by Borodasundari as if she was totally unaware of it. In answer to Poreshbabu’s daily queries—‘How are you? I hope you are not finding things inconvenient?’—she would reply: ‘I am very happy.’
But Sucharita was wounded every moment by Borodasundari’s unjust behaviour. She was not a girl to complain, and in particular, could never bring herself to speak to Poreshbabu about Borodasundari’s conduct. She began to endure everything in silence, too shy to express any unhappiness at this state of affairs. As a result Sucharita gradually drew very close to her mashi. Despite her mashi’s repeated remonstrations, she began to follow her aunt’s dietary habits completely. Ultimately, observing Sucharita’s discomfort, Harimohini was obliged to resume her interest in culinary matters.
‘Mashi,’ said Sucharita, ‘I’ll live exactly as you advise me, but I shall personally draw water for your use. I shan’t stop that on any account.’
‘Don’t mind, ma’ Harimohini pleaded, ‘but the ritual food offering, my Thakur’s bhog,, is cooked in that water, after all.’
‘Mashi,’ argued Sucharita, ‘does your Thakur observe caste laws too? Can He also be tainted by sin? Does He also belong to some community?’
Finally, Harimohini had to concede to Sucharita’s dedication. She accepted Sucharita’s service completely. Imitating his didi, Satish, too, started insisting, ‘I’ll eat food cooked by mashi.’ In this way, the three of them formed a small, separate domestic unit in a corner of Poreshbabu’s house. Only Lalita remained as a bridge between the two household units. Borodasundari did not allow any of her other daughters to approach that part of the house, but she lacked the power to forbid Lalita.
~39~
Borodasundari began to invite her female Brahmo friends frequently to her home. Sometimes they would congregate on the terrace. With her natural provincial simplicity, Harimohini would offer these women her hospitality, but she did not fail to realize that they held her in contempt. In fact, Borodasundari would begin criticizing Hindu ritual practices even in Harimohini’s presence, and many ladies would join the attack with Harimohini as their special target. Clinging to her mashi’s side, Sucharita would silently endure all these onslaughts. She only seemed anxious to demonstrate that she belonged to her mashi’s party. On days when refreshments were offered, if invited to help herself, Sucharita would declare:
‘No, I don’t eat such things.’
‘What! Won’t you eat with all of us?’
‘No.’
‘Sucharita is now a staunch Hindu, don’t you know?’ Borodasundari would say. ‘Indeed she will refuse food that we have touched!’
‘Sucharita has also become a Hindu! What further blows will Time inflict on us, I wonder.’
‘Radharani, ma, please go ahead!’ Harimohini would plead in agitation. ‘Ma, please go and have something to eat!’
She found it very painful that because of her, Sucharita was suffering such taunts from members of her own community. But Sucharita remained unshakeable. One day, when a Brahmo girl, out of curiosity, was about to enter Harimohini’s room with her shoes on, Sucharita blocked her way, saying:
‘Don’t go into that room.’
‘Why not?’
‘Her Thakur is there.’
‘Thakur! You worship the Thakur every day, do you!’
‘Yes ma, I worship Him indeed,’ Harimohini asserted.
‘Do you feel any devotion for Thakur?’
‘Curse my misfortune! Could I attain devotion after all? If I had, I would indeed have been saved!’
Lalita was present on that occasion. Red-faced, she asked the questioner:
‘Do you feel any devotion for the One you worship?’
‘Wah, how strange, what would I feel but devotion?’
‘You feel no devotion at all,’ Lalita declared, vigorously shaking her head. ‘And what’s more, you’re not even aware that you feel no devotion.’
Harimohini struggled to ensure that Sucharita should not be alienated from her own group because of the rules she followed, but to no avail. Until now, Haranbabu and Borodasundari had secretly harboured a certain mutual hostility. In the present situation, the two of them found their stances very well matched. Borodasundari pronounced that, whatever others might say, if anyone had an eye to preserving the purity of Brahmo ideals, it was Panubabu. Haranbabu also declared to everyone that Borodasundari’s single-minded, sensitive awareness of the need to keep the Brahmo community untainted in all respects was a good example for every Brahmo housewife. His praise for her contained a special barb directed at Poreshbabu.
‘You have started taking prasad, food blessed by the deity, I hear,’ Haranbabu once asked Sucharita in Poreshbabu’s presence. Sucharita flushed, but pretending not to have heard this remark, she started rearranging the pens on the inkstand upon the table.
‘Panubabu, whatever we eat is blessed by the Lord, isn’t it?’ protested Poreshababu, casting a distressed glance at Sucharita’s face.
‘But Sucharita is all set to reject our Lord,’ Haranbabu pointed out.
‘Even if that were possible,’ Poreshbabu argued, ‘would making a fuss prevent it in any way?’
‘Must we not even try to haul ashore a person adrift on the tide?’ Haranbabu demanded.
‘If we all try to stone her on the head, that can’t be described as hauling her ashore,’ replied Poreshbabu. ‘Rest assured, Panubabu, I have observed Sucharita ever since she was little. Had she fallen into deep waters I would have known of it before all of you and I would not have remained indifferent.’
‘Sucharita is here,’ said Panubabu. ‘Why not ask her directly? She doesn’t accept food touched by all and sundry, we hear. Isn’t that true?’
‘Baba knows I don’t accept food touched by all and sundry,’ responded Sucharita, giving up her unwarranted interest in the inkpot. ‘If he could tolerate my behaviour, that is enough. If it displeases all of you, blame me as you please, but why torment Baba? Do you know how forgiving he is about your behaviour? Is this what he receives in return?’
Even Sucharita had learned how to talk back these days, marveled Haranbabu to himself.
Poreshbabu was a peace-loving man. He did not enjoy discussing himself or others at length. So far, he had not accepted a prominent position within any project of the Brahmo Samaj; he had led a secluded life, away from the public eye. Haranbabu took this for detachment and lack of enthusiasm on Poreshbabu’s part, and had even taken Poreshbabu to task for this.
‘Active and inactive: Ishwar has created substances of both categories,’ Poreshbabu had replied. ‘I happen to be utterly inactive. Ishwar will extract from me whatever service a person like me can render. It’s no use fretting over what’s not possible. I am sufficiently advanced in years; my strengths and deficiencies have already been identified. Now it’s fruitless to push and prod me.’
Haranbabu believed that he could enthuse even an indifferent heart, that he had the natural ability to push the lethargic towards the path of duty and soften with remorse the lives of the fallen. He was convinced that nobody could withstand for long his extremely powerful and single-mindedly benevolent desires. He held himself chief
ly responsible, in some way or other, for all positive changes in the personal character of members of his community. He had no doubt, either, that his invisible influence also had a secret effect. Up until now, whenever someone had specially praised Sucharita in his presence, he had acted as if the credit went entirely to him. Using advice, example and the reflected glory of his company, he had moulded Sucharita’s personality so as to present her to society as a living example of his own extraordinary influence. At the deplorable moral decline of this very same Sucharita, his pride in his own abilities remained undiminished. He laid the entire blame on Poreshbabu. People had always praised Poreshbabu, but Haranbabu had never joined them. He hoped everyone would now recognize this as evidence of the extent of his own sagacity.
A man like Haranbabu could tolerate all else, but if those he had especially guided to the moral path used their own judgement to adopt an independent course, he could never forgive such a crime. It was impossible for him to let them off easily; the more he found his advice disregarded, the more obstinate he became, repeatedly renewing his assaults. Like a machine that cannot stop until it winds down completely, he too could not restrain himself. Parroting the same words a thousand times to unwilling ears, he still did not want to give up.
This tormented Sucharita greatly, not on her own account, but on Poreshbabu’s. Poreshbabu had become the target of criticism among all members of the Brahmo Samaj. How could this distressing situation be overcome? On the other hand, Sucharita’s mashi was also growing daily more conscious that the humbler and more self-effacing she tried to be, the more she became a nuisance for this family. Sucharita was constantly haunted by her mashi’s intense shame and embarrassment. She could not think of any way out of this predicament. Meanwhile Borodasundari began to pester Poreshbabu to get Sucharita married off quickly.
‘We can’t take responsibility for Sucharita anymore,’ she argued. ‘She has now started following her own views. If her wedding is likely to be delayed, I’ll go away somewhere else with my daughters. Sucharita’s odd example is proving a source of great damage to the girls. You will regret this later, wait and see. Indeed, Lalita was not like this before. Now, when she does outrageous things randomly and willfully, obeying no one, who is at the root of the problem? Her escapade the other day, for which I am dying of shame, do you think Sucharita had no hand in that? I have never protested the fact that you have always loved Sucharita more than your own daughters, but I tell you plainly, we can’t let this continue any longer.’
Poreshbabu had grown worried, not about Sucharita, but about the discord within his family. He had no doubt that Borodasundari would make a huge fuss, now that she had found a pretext. The more fruitless her agitation, the more obdurate she would become. In the present circumstances, it might doubtless be better for Sucharita’s peace of mind as well, if her wedding could be quickly arranged.
‘If Panubabu can persuade Sucharita,’ he told Borodasundari, ‘I shall not oppose the marriage.’
‘How many times must she be persuaded?’ Borodasundari demanded. ‘You surprise me, I must say! And why all this persuasion? Where will her ladyship find a suitor like Panubabu, I ask you! Truth be told, whether you like it or not, Sucharita is not a bride worthy of Panubabu.’
‘I haven’t clearly understood Sucharita’s feelings for Panubabu,’ Poreshbabu observed. ‘So until they mutually clarify these things, I can’t interfere in any way.’
‘Haven’t understood! At last you admit it! That girl is not easy to understand. She’s different on the outside and different within!’
Borodasundari sent for Haranbabu.
That morning, the newspapers carried a critique of the current predicament of the Brahmo Samaj. The article targeted Poreshbabu’s family in such a way that even without names being mentioned the real object of the attack was quite apparent to everybody. And from the style, it was not difficult to identify the author. After scanning the paper, Sucharita was tearing it to shreds. Frenziedly she tore the pieces of paper, as if bent upon reducing them to atoms. At this moment, Haranbabu entered the room and pulled up a chair beside her. Sucharita did not look up even once. She continued shredding the paper as before.
‘Sucharita, I have a serious matter to discuss with you today,’ Haranbabu declared. ‘You must listen carefully to what I have to say.’
Sucharita went on tearing the paper. When it became impossible to shred it with her nails, she took scissors from her drawstring pouch and used them instead. Just then, Lalita came in.
‘Lalita,’ said Haranbabu, ‘there is something I must discuss with Sucharita.’
When Lalita made as if to leave, Sucharita clutched at her sari aanchal.
‘But you have to discuss something with Panubabu!’ protested Lalita.
Without answering, Sucharita clung to Lalita’s aanchal. Lalita sat down beside her on the mat. Haranbabu was not one to be deterred by any obstacle. Without any further preamble he went straight to the point.
‘I don’t think it wise to delay our wedding any longer,’ he declared. ‘I have spoken to Poreshbabu. He says there will be no further hindrance once we have your consent. I have decided, the Sunday after next …’
‘No,’ said Sucharita, before he could finish.
Hearing this very curt, distinct and haughty ‘No’ from Sucharita’s lips, Haranbabu came up short. He knew Sucharita to be extremely docile. He had not even imagined that she might instantly shoot down his proposal in mid-air with this single arrow, her ‘No’.
‘No! What is ‘No’ supposed to mean?’ he demanded irritably. ‘Do you want to delay even further?’
‘No.’
‘Then?’ he asked, astonished.
‘I don’t consent to this marriage,’ replied Sucharita, head bowed. ‘Don’t consent?’ repeated Haranbabu, as if nonplussed. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Panubabu,’ Lalita jibed, ‘have you forgotten your Bengali today?’
‘It is easier to admit that one has forgotten the mother tongue, than that one has misunderstood someone whose words one has always respected,’ retorted Haranbabu, looking daggers at Lalita.
‘It takes time to understand people,’ replied Lalita. ‘Perhaps that applies to you as well.’
‘From the beginning until now, I have never been inconsistent in my words, opinions or behaviour,’ declared Haranbabu. ‘I can claim with emphasis that I have given no one any cause for misunderstanding, none whatsoever. Let Sucharita herself say whether I am right or wrong.’
Lalita was on the point of retorting again, but Sucharita interrupted:
‘You are quite right. I have no desire to blame you.’
‘If you won’t blame me, why wrong me either?’ Haranbabu protested.
‘If you call this wrong, then I must wrong you indeed,’ declared Sucharita firmly. ‘But …’
‘Didi, are you in?’ called a voice from outside.
‘Come, Binoybabu, please come in,’ Sucharita quickly responded, delighted.
‘You’re mistaken, Didi, it’s not Binoybabu. I’m just Binoy. Please don’t embarrass me with such deference,’ said Binoy, as he entered. At once he saw Haranbabu and noticed the displeasure on his face. ‘Are you angry because I haven’t visited, all these days?’ he asked.
‘I have reason to be angry, indeed,’ responded Haranbabu, trying to join in the banter. ‘But today you have come at a rather inappropriate time. I was discussing a special matter with Sucharita.’
‘There you are,’ said Binoy, flustered. ‘I still haven’t understood when it is inappropriate for me to visit! That’s why I don’t have the courage to visit at all.’ He prepared to leave.
‘Binoybabu, please don’t go,’ pleaded Sucharita. ‘Our discussion is over. Please stay on.’
Binoy realized his arrival had rescued Sucharita from some grave danger. Pleased, he t
ook a chowki and said, ‘If you encourage me, I can’t resist. If you ask me to stay, then stay I will. Such is my nature. So, I humbly request Didi to think before she says such things, or she will find herself in trouble.’
Saying not a word, Haranbabu remained still as a gathering storm. ‘Very well,’ he seemed to say silently, ‘I shall wait. I shall leave only after I have finally had my say.’
Hearing Binoy’s voice outside the room, Lalita had felt the blood surge within her heart. She had struggled to sustain her normal manner, but without success. When Binoy entered the room she was unable to address him with familiar ease. It became hard to decide where to look, in what posture to place her arm. She tried once to get up and leave but Sucharita would not release her aanchal. Binoy, too, spoke only to Sucharita throughout. It became difficult, expert conversationalist though he was, to start any conversation with Lalita today. So he began chatting with Sucharita with redoubled volubility, allowing no gaps or silences.
But this new awkwardness between Lalita and Binoy did not escape Haranbabu’s notice. He smouldered inwardly, observing that the same Lalita who was so sharply articulate with him these days, became so constrained in Binoy’s presence. Considering how Poreshbabu was leading his family on the path to moral ruin by letting his daughters mix freely with men outside the Brahmo Samaj, his disdain for Poreshbabu increased. Like a curse, the desire arose in his heart that Poreshbabu should regret this terribly some day.
After things had continued like this for quite a while, it became clear that Haranbabu would not leave.
‘You have not met Mashi for a long time,’ Sucharita now pointed out to Binoy. ‘She often asks after you. Can’t you go and see her once?’
‘Please don’t make the false allegation that I have forgotten Mashi,’ said Binoy, rising to his feet.
When Sucharita had led Binoy away to meet her mashi, Lalita arose and said, ‘Panubabu, I don’t think there is anything you particularly need to say to me.’
Gora Page 28
