Ramen shared his litany of woes with me till two in the morning. Then he said, “What do you think is the way out?”
“Of course,” I said, “there is an easy way out – just marry her.”
“You’re asking me to marry her? If that were possible it would have been simple.”
“Why isn’t it possible?”
Ramen said, “I’m not exactly a fan of marriage.”
Now it was my turn to persuade him. “Not fond of it? Meaning? You will marry, won’t you? Surely you won’t stay unmarried all your life? And there’s nothing standing in your way either, you admitted yourself that you like her, you feel for her . . .”
“Why shouldn’t I feel for her – I’m human too.”
“But then what’s standing in the way of your marrying her?”
“Something is standing in the way,” Ramen now made another confession. “I’ve promised Ruth that if I do get married again, it will be to her.”
“Who on earth is Ruth?”
“Ruth is the girl in my shop . . .”
“Again, Ramen!”
“Can’t you understand, she has no one of her own . . . And the way she’s pursuing me – I’m very unlikely to get married again, but if I ever . . .”
I said angrily, “So an Anglo-Indian’s ploys matter more to you than a Bengali girl’s tears?”
“Say what you will. I’m off to bed.”
Ramen yanked his jacket off and threw it on the floor, rolled his trousers up to the knees, and stretched himself out on the couch.
Enraged as I was, I said nothing more.
Sleep eluded me that night. I could see Bina’s woebegone expression, puffy eyes, unkempt hair. I felt pain, and yet it wasn’t quite pain, it was an unfamiliar pleasure. I imagined I was pacifying Bina, consoling her. She refused to listen, but I kept talking; once, she smiled, said something, and then I suddenly realized that Ramen and the girl who was so besotted by him were no more in my thoughts; I had forgotten about her. Embarrassing myself, I decided straightaway that getting involved in others’ affairs was not wise. It didn’t make any sense to visit the Duttas anymore, it was best to mind my own business.
But Ramen wouldn’t let me be, he forced me to go along with him the next day. As I had said earlier, I enjoyed the atmosphere there. And in a few days I became addicted in any case; I stopped being a footnote to Ramen and started frequenting the place on my own. In that time Bina had finally got hold of herself, her face had acquired color and a smile, she spoke beyond the dialogue she had begun delivering again with such talent. With her recovery the pace of rehearsals rose; the intense level of socializing that went on before, after, and during the rehearsals was something I witnessed only that one time, in my entire life.
In the first week of March, a couple of months after the first time I had been to Mr. Dutta’s house, in winter – possibly in January – The New Nest was staged. There were four performances. I was present on all four nights, sometimes observing audience reactions in the theater, sometimes helping to arrange the actors’ costumes before the enactment began, backstage. I wasn’t spared the driving around to perform various chores, nor was I deprived of the honorable responsibility of dropping three members of the huge cast home after the performance.
The production came to an end, but the aftermath lasted another whole month. First at Mr. Dutta’s place, then at a restaurant, then at his friends’ country home, and finally again at Mr. Dutta’s – feast after feast, celebration after celebration. Although I had not contributed much, having spent most of my time watching, I was invited to every celebration; the Duttas were flawless hosts. By now, I’d had the opportunity to get to know several members of the troupe quite well, I no longer felt like a fish out of water among them. Although I was only a doctor, and far from well-versed in literary and related matters, several members of this glittering group had accepted me warmly. Of all of them, it was Bina I knew the least; we hadn’t gotten beyond the tight confines of a formal relationship. I’d observed in her something of an antipathy for me. Maybe she didn’t care for the way I looked, or perhaps she was aware that Ramen had told me everything about her – whatever the reason, she seemed to avoid my company. I did not mind this, for it was hard for me to fathom how to talk to, how to conduct myself with, a love-struck, love-singed young woman. This distance was far better.
In April, the Duttas went off to Kalimpong. I paid a visit the day they were leaving, and no one else was present except them, for a change. After some casual conversation, Mrs. Dutta announced, “Some news for you, your patient has recovered completely.”
Wonderful news, I thought to myself, but why tell me? My relationship with them was ending.
As though she had read my mind, Mrs. Dutta said quietly, “You know the whole story, after all, so I thought I’d let you know.”
After a pause, I responded, “I do feel Ramen didn’t do the right thing, in refusing to marry her.”
“He has given his word to someone else, there’s no changing that.”
“Given his word? Rubbish. In truth, he doesn’t want to get married.”
“Well, you can’t force a person to go against his will either. I explained to Bina, ‘You can’t have him, then why behave this way? Don’t you have any self-respect? It’s always the man who begs and pleads with the woman, and you, being the woman . . .’”
Mr. Dutta quipped, “Everything has been turned upside down these days, it’s the women who do the pursuing and the men who do the running now. Poor Ramen. He wasn’t in a position to be envied.”
Mrs. Dutta said, “Well, it was Ramen who managed to get things under control. I have to commend him, considering how taken she was, there would have been no escape for her had he been even remotely wicked.”
After heaping some more praises on Ramen, Mrs. Dutta said, “Now Bina says fine, let Ramen not marry her, but she’s not going to marry anyone else either, not in her entire life. But we’re going to be planning for her marriage soon. For now we’re leaving her with my elder sister – you’ve met her, she was in charge of women’s costumes for the play, and my mother’s going to be visiting next month. She too will be relieved once the last of the brood is married off. Will you keep your eye open for a suitable boy?”
I nodded in consent, but her words seemed heartless. Bina had barely survived a major crisis – and to talk of marriage again so soon afterward! Maybe what she had said was not entirely true, surely she wouldn’t stay unmarried all her life, but it couldn’t be easy for her to forget Ramen so easily. Not everyone could brush things away as easily as Ramen could!
Mrs. Dutta said, “My sister’s house is on Southern Avenue, it would be lovely if you could visit them sometimes! They’d be delighted. And Bina’s health, too – I’d really like it if she could live according to a doctor’s regime for some time . . .”
“Certainly,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”
And thus began my visits to Southern Avenue. One or two people from the cast of The New Nest used to visit too, but most did not – the Duttas’ home had been the destination of their pilgrimage; as soon as the Duttas left, the gathering broke up. And even if one ran into the others now and then, there was neither hide nor hair of Ramen – he seemed to have been waiting for just such an opportunity; when the Duttas disappeared, so did he.
I put Bina through a round of calcium injections, prescribed two patent pills – one after meals and one before going to bed – and fixed a diet for her. The treatment appeared to be working; her cheeks grew redder, her eyes, brighter, her skin, silkier. Her eldest sister joked, “Bina’s blooming – marriage beckons.”
Her mother arrived from Benaras, and the matchmaking began. But whenever a prospective groom was mentioned, Bina would fling her hands up, make a face and say, “Oh, spare me, please.” By now the ice had thawed between us. Her mimicry of potential suitors, ranging from a young shawl-wearing professor to a widower landowner of Rangpur, accompanied by her comments, made me both lau
gh and feel sorry for those unknown gentlemen.
Her eldest sister scolded her. “Bina, stop this tomfoolery. You don’t seem to like any of them, you’ll never find a husband this way.”
Bina said, “Am I heartbroken because of that?”
Her sister retorted, “Why should you be heartbroken. These days girls turn twenty-five, even thirty, and still don’t get married, they just go on being teachers till they’re ready to drop. Let’s hope it doesn’t happen to you.”
“If that’s what fate holds how can I avoid it?”
“Why are you being so unreasonable? Think of Ma – she’s getting on, how much longer . . .”
“We’ve been through all this, bordi.”
“Why don’t you tell us what kind of person you want – we’ll look.”
Bina said, “Are you telling me it’s like an outfit or a shoe that you can order at a shop?”
All this was happening in my presence, I felt quite uncomfortable. Just as I was wondering if I could leave on a pretext, Bina’s sister suddenly glanced at me and said, “Why look anywhere else – you and Abani here are a perfect match.”
Bina went off in peals of laughter. “What rubbish!”
Her laughter betrayed excellent health, but it didn’t ring very nicely in this doctor’s ears. I stood up and said grimly, “Well, goodbye.”
Bina’s sister said, “You seem annoyed.”
“Not at all – I have some things to do, so . . .”
“Will you take us for a spin in your car? It’s so hot, we’d love some fresh air.”
“Of course. Come along . . .”
“What about you, Bina?” asked her sister as she rose.
Bina came along too. After a couple of turns around the Dhakuria Lake, I stopped the car. Bina’s sister wanted to sit on the grass, but as soon as we got out of the car, she ran into a neighbor and the two of them walked on ahead.
“What would you like to do?” I asked Bina. “Sit here, or catch up with them?”
Bina said, “Might as well go back, this area has become terrible these days.”
“We’ll go back when they return,” I persisted. “Let’s sit down for a while.”
The two of us sat down, and then there was no conversation. I was trying to dredge the shallows of my brain for something to say, when Bina suddenly said, “My sisters imagine I’ve forgotten Ramen. But I haven’t – and won’t either.”
I responded, “I know. And I feel bad about what they say too.”
“But let me ask you something. Why do you hang about our place – aren’t you supposed to be a friend of Ramen’s?”
I cannot myself describe what my expression must have been like at that moment but it must have been quite terrible, for the moment she looked at me, Bina’s expression changed as well. She said quickly in a low voice, “Please don’t mind, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re right,” I said and stood up.
Bina stood up immediately too and said, “I never say such things to anyone, I wish I knew why I said it to you. Please tell me you won’t remember this.”
“But you’re right.”
“No, I’m not. I’m wrong. You’ll come tomorrow, won’t you? Tell me you’ll come.”
“I will.”
“Can you tell me something? Has Ramen married his Ruth?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you run into him anymore?”
“I haven’t seen him in ages.”
She didn’t say anything else.
I said, “If there’s anything you want to tell him I can let him know.”
“No, I have nothing to tell him,” said Bina and sighed.
Her sister rejoined us. Bina rose and said, “Let’s go home.”
“So soon?” said her sister and looked at her, and then at me. “What’s the matter, have you two been quarrelling?”
Bina laughed in a manner designed to prove the complete falsity of her sister’s surmise, but the laughter lacked authenticity. I didn’t smile either.
That night I made up my mind. Enough – this was the end. If Bina could say to my face what she did, the mere suspicion of what she really thought made me break out in a sweat. The expression “hang about” was eating away at my brain like termites. But it wasn’t right to do anything drastic suddenly; that would be melodramatic, people would notice, it would become a topic of conversation. After all, I had developed something of an intimacy with these people over the past few months. Without revealing my intentions I planned to gradually decrease the frequency of my visits, and then finally disappear – nobody would consider anything significant to have happened. I’d get peace of mind, they’d be relieved, Bina wouldn’t have to put up with the unwanted company of a fool.
With this objective, I visited them the next day, to discover Bina all dressed up and waiting in the drawing room. She said, “Ah, you’re here.”
When I glanced at her she said, “I was worried you wouldn’t come anymore.”
I realized this was a case of applying a balm of sweetness to the previous day’s wound. Forcing a smile, I said, “Why shouldn’t I?”
Bina laughed unaffectedly and said, “That’s what I thought. But how bordi scolded me last night!”
“Scolded you? Why?”
“It seems I’m very rude, unsocial, impertinent . . .”
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“I’ve already admitted it was wrong of me to have said what I did – why drive it home further? Anyway, now that you’ve come, I’m relieved. Bordi, bordi . . .” Bina called out without getting up. “Abani has come.”
I hadn’t seen Bina in such great spirits recently – never, in fact – for from the time I had seen her, she had been overcome by love. She seemed like a different person, like a child, it was good.
After her bath, Bina’s sister came in and said, “Bina, could you get the tea please? They’re making some snacks, get those as well.”
When Bina had left, her sister smiled at me and said, “We’ve fixed her marriage with that court officer, Abani. The boy’s family is in a hurry, and Ma’s getting anxious too. And really, how long can one delay these things?”
It seemed to me Bina was something of a burden for these people, that they’d be thankful to be rid of her. I didn’t like the idea.
“We were thinking of next month – the twenty-ninth . . .”
“So soon?” the words escaped my mouth.
“We’ve written to Gayatri, they’ll arrive soon.”
Things had progressed quite a ways. And I knew nothing. Then again, why should I know – where did I stand in the scheme of things, after all? Was that why Bina was in such high spirits today?
Her sister said, “What do you think?”
“I was only thinking . . .”
“Thinking what? That’s what I want to know.”
“Has she agreed?”
“Bina? We can’t afford to wait for her to agree. We can’t all be as childish as she is, can we?”
So, she hadn’t agreed? The marriage was against her wishes? And still so joyful?
The tea arrived, so did the snacks, and so did Bina. But the tea tasted bitter, the snacks stale, I didn’t even glance at Bina.
After I had finished my tea, Bina’s sister said, “Shall we go to the lake again?”
My mind was wandering, I came to with a start and said, “Were you talking to me?”
“Of course I was talking to you. Let’s not take the car, it’s not very far, after all. A walk will be nice.”
She knew everyone in the neighborhood; no sooner did we go out than she ran into someone she knew. A little later I noticed Bina and I had left them far behind. Back then, girls were just beginning to move around freely in that part of town. Observing this, I said, “This freedom for women is a very good thing.”
Bina said, “Do you think the freedom to move around freely is everything?”
“I think it’ll grow to cover other things too.”
<
br /> “I don’t see it happening.”
The words had been on the tip of my tongue for quite some time, I took the opportunity to say them. “You sister gave me the good news.”
“What good news?”
“Apparently on the twenty-ninth of next month . . .”
“Are you mad?”
“You mean it isn’t true?”
“Why don’t you ask the one who told you?”
I didn’t say anything more, but I felt much lighter. If I had had to hear from the same Bina who had told me the day before she’d never forget Ramen, that she was about to marry a young court officer of her own free will, wouldn’t that have been sad? And yet, what was so sad about it – didn’t such things happen all the time? Of course they did – every day – and what was wrong with it? And even if you could blame the others, there was no question of blaming Bina, for Ramen neither visited nor even inquired after her, he was probably immersed in Ruth, the scoundrel! If I could have, I would have forced him to marry Bina – but why was I so concerned, what responsibility did I have? Hadn’t I vowed the previous night to put a full stop to this? Indeed, what on earth was I doing here, why did I even visit every day, why did I ever get involved with that play and the people in it? This was the time for me to expand my medical practice, I shouldn’t have even been concerned with anything else. Suddenly it occurred to me that there would be no salvation unless I left Calcutta. Why not spend a few days in Darjeeling, and then get to work with fresh determination – yes, this was a good idea.
My Kind of Girl Page 7
