by F. E. Penny
CHAPTER XXVIII
Mayita had a long day in the little room by herself, but the timepassed quickly. Bopaul provided her with a packet of cakes and sweetsto serve instead of the midday meal which she would be obliged to miss.He explained to his mother that they were going some distance and wouldnot be home till sunset. No surprise, therefore, was caused byMayita's absence.
She had brought the bridegroom and bride with her, and she spent a verybusy day marrying the happy wood-apple to the satin-white daturablossom plucked fresh from the tree on the way there. The oleanderbush and gourd supplied the flowers required for the guests; and as forthe feast, no pretence was needed. The cakes were real; the sweetswere of the best; and as she ate them Mayita's enjoyment was abundantenough for herself and the numerous guests represented by a goodlyarray of sticks and stones.
She lived in a little kingdom of her own; and for the time she was deadto that cold outer world which treated her so unkindly. In thebeautiful domain of her imagination her widowhood passed away and shewas the mother of the bride or bridegroom according to her fancy.Various sounds in the distance met her ear, but she paid no heed tothem. The jangle of bullock bells only stirred her sufficiently tobring to her remembrance the fact that the bridegroom should have agilded bullock coach in his procession. It sent her on a carefulsearch through the yard for something that would represent the coach.
The sound of the bullock bells caused a greater sensation in the housethan in Ananda's little room. They broke suddenly upon the householdan hour before the midday meal, as the cattle plunged up thecarriage-drive and were stopped with much sighing and snorting beforethe front verandah.
The door of the coach was opened by a firm unhesitating hand, and outstepped no less a person than Gunga herself. She bore no sign ofwidowhood in her appearance. Her upright figure was swathed in a newsilk saree that, like Mrs. Hulver's Sunday dress, "stood by itself."She wore a purple satin jacket and a crimson silk petticoat. The richgold embroidered border of the saree held the wealth of colourtogether, and saved the whole from tawdriness.
With the dignity of a ranee of the olden days she moved up the steps ofthe family mansion and entered her house. A cry of surprise greetedher as the various members came hurriedly forward to make theirsalaams. Sooba's wife when she had recovered from her astonishment wasnot behindhand with her welcome. Her husband was out, she informed hersister-in-law, but he would return to dinner.
Gunga's eyes were everywhere; she led the way to the kitchen, where shelooked into the seething pots and bubbling curries. She found nothingwrong and expressed general approval of her sister-in-law's management.Having satisfied herself she left the kitchen. Sooba's wife followedclosely at her heels deputing another woman to take up her duties.Mats and cushions were brought, and the two sisters seated themselvesin the courtyard to have a chat before the food was served.
"How does our excellent elder brother spend his time?" asked Sooba'swife, burning with curiosity to know if the invalid were much worse.
"He has taken over charge of the farm."
"It must be hard work for one in such poor health."
"Not at all!" snapped Gunga, who did not like these personal inquiries;they were a breach of etiquette, and likely to bring bad luck upon thesubject. "The health of all the family at the farm is excellent.Strongest of all is the big master; he is like a man of thirty insteadof fifty, and he is busy all day long with the rest."
"This is good news, sister. My husband will be rejoiced to learn it.We feared that you were having much anxiety."
The halting speech betrayed her real feeling, and Gunga was notdeceived. With keen enjoyment of the discomfiture of the other shegave more details of her husband's restoration to health.
"I felt sure that you and our little brother would be pleased to hearof the improvement," she concluded.
"How is the silk farm doing?" asked the other, hoping to defer thecross examination that she knew was pending. She felt unequal to thetask of explaining satisfactorily all that had occurred of late. Soobahimself must account for his various unwarranted assumptions in hisstewardship. Gunga was quite ready to talk of the silk business withits new developments. She retailed at length the history of itsculture on the farm--all they had done and all they hoped to do. Shedescribed their plans for further improvements by which their profitsmight have increased and the industry expanded.
"The manager leaves us in a week's time, and my husband will continueto superintend until he returns six months hence."
The spirits of the listener rose at this information; it was highlysatisfactory as far as Sooba was concerned. Considering that there wasno longer any fear apparently of Pantulu's death, the next best thingfor his younger brother's interests would be a prolonged absence withthe creation of new interests outside Chirapore city. In the midst oftheir conversation Sooba himself appeared. He had seen the bullockstethered in the compound, but had not heard who the visitor was. Hethought it might be a merchant come from a distance to buy silk orcotton or rice; and with the intention of creating an impression of hisown importance he swaggered in, speaking with a loud strident voicethat could be heard all over the house.
"Wife!" he called. "Where are the men of the family! Why isn't thefood ready? What are your lazy women about in the kitchen? We shallhave to send some of them out into the fields if they can't do theirwork in the house. Don't they know that the master is hungry and wouldeat?"
His wife scrambled to her feet and went to meet him. Before she couldsay a word he recommenced his scolding. "A new bamboo is wanted forthis lazy family; and if the mistress will not use it, the master willtake it in his own hand. I warn these idlers that the stick will notfall lightly or sparingly."
A figure appeared suddenly behind his shrinking wife, tall, stern andcommanding, with no fear in her eye.
"Neither the master nor the mistress of this house requires a newbamboo unless it be for the back of a presumptuous younger brother,"she cried in a tone that startled Sooba more than a little. He fellback a pace or two as he was confronted by the angry Gunga.
"Sister! I did not know you were here! When did you arrive?" Then ashe received no reply he continued turning to his trembling wife."Woman, have you seen to the comfort of the big mistress? Have youprovided the curry she likes with plenty of green chutney?"
She was not to be taken in by this solicitation for her personalwelfare, and she replied sharply:
"I have everything I want. As the house is mine I have only to give myorders. Sister, go to the kitchen and see that the rice is properlystrained before it is served out."
Sooba's wife gladly made her escape, and left her husband to bear thebrunt of the storm that she guessed was not far off.
"You have taken too much upon you, brother. We did not make you masterof the house, but steward in our absence. It seems that you havemisunderstood your position."
"I have done my best," replied Sooba sullenly. "From all we have heardit is probably that the time is not far distant when I shall be thereal master, since the son you bore your husband has become anoutcaste."
The taunt only added fuel to the fire that was already burning withinthe breast of the mother.
"The mention of my son reminds me to ask where he is. News was broughtto the silk farm which I could scarcely believe. It was said that youhad driven him away, and that he has left his home without saying wherehe has gone."
"My fool of a wife has been telling you tales," he replied, scowling ina manner that promised ill for her.
"I have learned nothing from your wife. I asked no questions but keptthem for you. The news was brought to me by the men who returned fromcarrying the last bales of silk to the go-downs in Chirapore. Theyheard it in the bazaar; and I have come to inquire into its truth andto learn first and foremost where my son is."
She let her eyes rest upon him with a keen inquiry there was noevading. Much as he disliked the close catechising he was obliged toreply.
"Why should he be tempted to do such a thing?"
"He was angry and offended because we gave him the punishment orderedby the swami. It was light and less than he deserved----"
"I have heard another story. Where is his wife?"
"She is here in the house."
"I don't see her in the kitchen, where, as my daughter-in-law, sheshould be superintending the women."
"Since she has become a widow she leads a retired life as is onlyfitting," explained Sooba, with increasing uneasiness.
"A widow! then the body of my son has been found!"
Sooba shifted from one foot to the other as he answered.
"His body is still in the well."
"Has any one seen it?"
"His cap was seen and recovered from the place where it hung about afoot above the surface of the water."
"And on the strength of that you have performed the widow rites. Itappears to me that you have acted with unwarrantable harshness towardsmy son and his wife. There would have been time for the ceremonieswhen my son's body was found."
"He is dead! I assure you he is dead!" protested Sooba. "It is thefirm conviction of other members of the family whom I have consultedthat he is dead."
"And if it be true, is it for the wife of the younger brother to strikethe bangles off the arm of the heir's widow? But I tell you she is nowidow! My boy is alive; he had too much spirit to stay where he wasill-treated; and too much courage to drown himself. You were wrong tobeat him as you did."
"It was with your consent."
"That a small punishment should be given to satisfy the swami lest heshould curse us. You have done more; you have gone beyond your orders.Where are the jewels?"
"I have them in safe keeping, sister," he replied, beginning to tremblefor the consequences. She had it in her power to turn him and his wifeout of the house.
"After we have eaten you shall hand them over to me together with themoneys that have been paid in by the silk and cotton merchants."
She dismissed him as the household was waiting for dinner. Themen--who were served first--could not begin to eat until therepresentative of the family had offered the daily oblation to thedeity and said grace.
When the meal was over Gunga summoned Sooba giving him no time for theafter-dinner nap claimed by the more important members of the family.
"Let him bring the jewels," she said to his wife. "Come yourself andlisten to what I have to say. It concerns you both."
Sooba had an unhappy half-hour with his sister-in-law. He foundhimself called upon to account not only for the jewels and every rupeepaid in but also for every anna paid out, the amount of rice taken fromthe granaries, the curry stuffs that had been used, the produce of thedairy and garden.
The wardrobes and clothes' chests were emptied, the contents displayedand missing sarees accounted for. The contents of the strong boxcontaining the family jewels was examined, even to the numbering of theloose gems and pearls that formed part of the wealth belonging toPantulu.
It was hard to be made to disgorge when he had looked upon the covetedtreasure as his already; but Sooba and his wife had no alternative.Dorama's jewels were handed over down to the smallest silver toe-ring.Gunga examined them critically, separating several of the choicest andmost valuable from the rest. They were not put back in the strong box,but were placed in another and more portable jewel case. This shelocked, and slipped the key on her own bunch which was tied to herbetel-bag.
"Are you taking the jewels away with you?" asked Sooba.
"They are required at the silk farm," she replied shortly.
"For yourself or for the manager's wife?"
"Neither; they are to be worn at a wedding I am arranging. They willadorn the bride."
"Is she a relative that you honour her thus?"
"She will be when the ceremonies are completed. I am making a secondmarriage for my husband, since our son is lost to us, and I am notlikely to give him another. The girl is young and strong and will bearus many sons."
Sooba's jaw dropped in astonished consternation and speech failed him.His wife was more ready with her tongue.
"It is an excellent plan, sister; one that I had thought of adoptingmyself since the gods have not blessed me with children. Is yourhusband strong and well enough to play his part?"
"You should see him! He is like a young man! you would think the yearshad gone backwards instead of forwards, he is so full of strength andenergy." Gunga handled the remaining jewels tenderly as she put themback in the strong box. "Although the girl's people are not poor, herjewels are nothing compared with these that belonged to my son's wife.This gold ornament"--she picked up the richly embossed disc thatSooba's wife had envied and already appropriated--"will sit well on herhair. It used to look so well on Dorama's head."
"When is the wedding to be?" asked Sooba, his heart sinking within himas he contemplated the future.
"In three days' time. After the wedding I shall return here to live,and my little sister will remain on the silk farm under the care of themanager's wife. I shall go over frequently to see them, and when themanager comes back six months hence, my husband and his wife will joinus here. Now I wish to see Dorama, and to know why she did not come tothe kitchen for her food when the rest of the family had dinner."
Some of the women were sent in search, but the widow could nowhere befound. The basin of curry and rice put aside for her was untouched.One of them recalled the fact that she went frequently to the roomformerly occupied by her husband. Gunga rose to her feet.
"I will go there myself; you need not follow; I wish to see her alone."
Her word was law and they dared not disobey. She passed through thegarden and out into the compound taking the path by which the men hadgone on that dreadful night with their evil intent. To her surpriseshe heard a voice murmuring in the room. Unseen by the busymatch-maker she watched the child at her play. Then she entered andthe girl started violently as though she had been discovered in someact of flagrant wickedness, as, indeed, from a Hindu point of view wasthe case; for was she not enjoying a few hours of perfect happiness,and upsetting the Hindu notion that widows have no right to be happy.
"Most excellent lady, I was brought here by my brother and told to stoptill he returns," she said, fearing blame and perhaps punishment fortrespassing where widows were unwelcome.
"You are doing no harm, child. Your brother is Bopaul, is he not?"
"No one ever had such a good brother! To-day he is being good to thepoor unhappy Dorama; but I am forbidden to say anything about it; so ifyour excellency would know what he is doing you must wait till hereturns."
"How soon will that be?"
"Perhaps in another hour. They had to walk until they found thecarriage that was to take Dorama away."
"Where was she going?"
"Ah, that I must not tell; but think how pleased her husband will bewhen he sees her!"
"Is he waiting on the road?"
"I think not, most honourable lady, because he is safe somewhere withthe missionary; but where I may not say."
"Do you know the place?"
"No, excellent mother, not yet. My brother will tell me this eveningwhen he comes back."
"He is coming here?"
"To take me home. I hope he will be in before it is dark. I shouldnot like to stay in this ugly little room at night. This was the placewhere they beat Ananda. The market women say that he was nearlykilled; and that his new God must have come Himself and carried himaway; he was hurt so that he could not stand. Ah, bah, that Sooba Iyeris a bad man, the market women say! I love listening to the marketnews. When I am strong and big I shall ask them to let me go as acoolie to carry one of the baskets. Then I shall hear of all thedeaths and weddings and births and beatings and accidents and scoldingsand widowings."
"Go on with your play, child. I will see your brother when he
comesfor you," said Gunga.
Mayita had another hour to wait before she heard his call. As she cameout of the yard she caught sight of the tall stern woman going acrossthe compound to meet him. She stopped at the entrance till theinterview was over, the timidity of the widow and her fear of givingoffence holding her back.
"I want to ask you if you know anything of my son," said Gunga goingstraight to the point.
"He is staying with Mr. Alderbury, the English missionary."
"And his wife?"
"She has joined him with my assistance. After all that has happened Ifelt that I must lend her the help of a friend, whether I gave offenceto your honourable husband or not."
"It will not be regarded as an offence. Why did they leave home inthis secret manner?"
"Can you ask, most excellent lady? The treatment they both receivedfrom their uncle was sufficient to drive them to the other end of theearth. I wonder they lived through it."
Gunga's lips closed tightly, and her eye burned with the fire of thetiger who sees her cubs ill-treated. There was a pause and she asked:
"Is he well?"
"He has nearly recovered from his injuries."
"I want to see him!"
The unpremeditated words burst from her lips with passionate longing.It was the cry of the mother whose maternal love could not be stiflednor killed by anger. Her instinct thrust down every barrier, and shecried aloud for her offspring. The lonely woman was giving up hermarital rights to another for the sake of her husband's religiousprejudices that she respected and believed in thoroughly. She devoutlyhoped that a son would be born to him who might bring comfort andreassurance concerning the future. Her act of renunciation made aheavy demand upon her. She had already seen how the man's eyes hadturned with desire towards the younger woman in whom lay so muchpromise; and although she was still mistress of his house, their unitywas ruptured for ever. The Hindu woman understands polygamy and, as inGunga's case, sees the urgent necessity for it; but she is notindifferent. She tolerates it as unavoidable; at the bottom of herheart she hates and loathes it. This introduction of a second mate isat the bottom of all sorts of evil in the zenana, of jealousy andhatred on the part of the superseded; of arrogance and tyranny on thepart of the interloper.
Gunga was battling with jealousy even though she herself had arrangedwhat was to take place; and she turned to her son with a longing thatwould take no denial, renegade and apostate though he was to his familyand religion.
"Tell me where he is so that I may go to him! After all, he is stillmy son, my only child, my dearly loved boy!" she pleaded.
Bopaul recognised the maternal cry and he answered sympathetically.
"A letter addressed to the mission station will always find him. Letme remind you, honourable lady, that it is not Ananda who has createdthis breach between his parents and himself. It was always his hopethat his father would continue to treat him as a son; that some waymight be found by which the ties of blood might be maintained withoutcomplete banishment from home. You have so acted that any compromisewas impossible. He has done well in removing himself out of reach ofinjury and insult; and in forsaking a country that gives him noprotection as a citizen."
Gunga's proud head drooped.
"Perhaps we were too hard on the boy. If we had had more time forthought it might have been different," she said, in a broken voice.
"Shall I give him a message when I write?" asked Bopaul whose curious,modern philanthropy made him ready and almost anxious to heal thebreach.
"Ah, do, my son!" replied Gunga, with sudden hope. "Tell him that Iwill come soon and talk to him at the mission house. I have so much tosay. There is work for him at Bombay. Tell him that though he is lostto his father, to his religion, to the State--though he is an outcasteand an exile, his mother remains his mother still. Nothing, nothingthat gods or men may devise, can ever deprive a woman of the rights ofmotherhood when once a child is born to her!"
