Behari’s question made Mahendra feel that he had come to suggest that it wouldn’t be right to send Asha with her uncle. He didn’t want to flare up at Behari and so he answered brusquely, ‘No.’
Behari knew Mahendra fairly well. He was fully aware that Mahendra was annoyed. He also knew that once Mahendra’s mind was made up, there would be no way of bringing him around. So he didn’t bring up the topic of Mahendra’s going again. He found himself thinking, ‘If poor Asha is stressed out over something and wants to leave with a burden on her heart, it’d help if Binodini accompanied her.’ So he said very slowly, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if Binod-bouthan went along with her?’
Mahendra roared in anger, ‘Behari, why don’t you say what’s really troubling you? I don’t see the need to beat about the bush with me. I am aware that you suspect I have fallen in love with Binodini. It’s a lie. I haven’t. You do not have to go about guarding me in order to protect me. Please protect yourself instead. If you were a genuine friend, you’d have told me the truth about your feelings long ago and kept yourself far away from your friend’s inner chambers. I can say this to your face—you are in love with Asha.’
A speechless Behari stood up, ashen-faced, and advanced on Mahendra. He looked like he was about to lash out without a thought, like someone who had been wounded deliberately in his weakest spot. He stopped short just in time and spoke with great difficulty, ‘May God forgive you—I must be gone.’ He walked out unsteadily.
Binodini rushed out of the next room and called, Behari-thakurpo!’
Behari leaned on the wall and tried to smile. ‘What is it, Binod-bouthan?’
Binodini said, ‘Thakurpo, I will also go to Kashi along with my Chokher Bali.’
Behari said, ‘No , no, Bouthan, that’s impossible, absolutely impossible. I beg of you—don’t do anything that I have said; I am nobody here, I do not want to interfere, the consequences won’t be good. You are a virtuous soul—you must do what you think is right. I must go.’
Behari folded his hands and saluted Binodini politely as he left. Binodini muttered, ‘I am no saint, Thakurpo—listen to me. If you leave, no one will be happy. Don’ t blame me then.’
Behari left. Mahendra sat there, stupefied. Binodini hurled him an angry look, spitting fire like a bolt of lightning, as she walked into the next room where Asha sat in utter mortification and shame. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, after she had heard Mahendra say that Behari loved her. But Binodini felt no sympathy for her. If Asha had indeed looked up then, she’d have felt terrified. Binodini was livid, furious with the whole world. Lies indeed! Of course, no one loved Binodini! Everyone only loved this bashful, dainty china doll.
Ever since Mahendra had exclaimed to Behari, ‘I am a scoundrel,’ he had felt diffident in Behari’s presence, ashamed of his confession, especially after his blood had stopped boiling. He felt that his heart lay exposed before his friend. He didn’t love Binodini, but Behari felt that he did—this thought was eating away at Mahendra. After that day whenever he came face to face with Behari, he felt his friend was poking at him with amused interest. An irritation was piling up inside and today at the slightest provocation he had given vent to it.
But the manner in which Binodini rushed out of the adjoining room, begging and pleading with Behari to stay and agreeing to obey his wishes by accompanying Asha to Kashi, left Mahendra feeling shattered. He had claimed that he did not love Binodini; but what he saw and heard didn’t give him a moment’s peace—it taunted him in every way. And above all he felt deeply regretful that Binodini had heard him say he did not love her.
24
MAHENDRA KEPT THINKING, ‘I HAVE UTTERED A LIE, THAT I DO NOT LOVE Binodini. It was a harsh thing to say. While it may not be true that I love her, it is very cruel to say that I do not love her. Is there a woman in this world who wouldn’t be hurt by this? How and when can I get a chance to retract what I said? I can’t really go and tell her that I love her; but I must convey to her in a more mild and gentle way that I don’t. I can’t let Binodini go on believing something so wrong.’ And so saying, Mahendra brought out the three letters from his box and read them over again. He thought, ‘Without a doubt, Binodini is in love with me. But why did she plead that way with Behari? Was it just for my benefit? When I declared in so many words that I don’t love her, I suppose she had to decline her love for me in some way in my presence. My rejection may even result in her falling in love with Behari on the rebound.’
Mahendra felt such deep remorse that his agitation worried and surprised himself. So, perhaps Binodini had heard Mahendra saying he did not love her—what was wrong with that? Perhaps this would lead to the indignant Binodini taking her affections elsewhere—would that be so terrible? Unable to make sense of his inner turmoil, Mahendra clung to Asha the way a wayward dinghy latches on to its anchor in a storm.
That night he held Asha’s head on his bosom and asked her, ‘Chuni, tell me how much do you love me?’
Asha thought, ‘What kind of a question is that? Does he doubt me now that all those ugly words have been said with respect to Behari-thakurpo?’ She felt she would the of mortification and said, ‘For shame, why do you ask me that today of all days? I beg of you, tell me what’s on your mind—have you felt anything lacking in my love for you?’
Mahendra enjoyed seeing her so tormented and said, ‘Why do you wish to go to Kashi then?’
Asha said, ‘I shan’t go to Kashi, I shan’t go anywhere.’
He said, ‘But you did want to go earlier.’
Vexed, Asha said, ‘You know why I wanted to go.’
Mahendra said, ‘Perhaps you’ll find greater happiness with your aunt, if you leave me and go.’
Asha said, ‘Never. I didn’t want to go for my pleasure.’
Mahendra said, ‘I truly believe, Chuni, you’d have been much happier married to someone else.’
Asha jerked away from Mahendra’s grasp, dug her face into the pillow and lay there like a wooden doll—an instant later her tears were evident. Mahendra tried to pull her close to him in an effort to console her. But she refused to budge from the pillow. Mahendra felt wracked with guilt but at the same time he was filled with joy and pride at this evidence of his chaste wife’s righteous anger.
This sudden articulation of a lot of things that had been running deep in their hearts threw everyone a little off balance. Binodini felt, ‘Why didn’t Behari protest against such blatant accusations? She would have been happier had he put up even a token protest, however false. As it was, she felt he had got his just desserts from Mahendra. Why would a noble, soul like Behari devote his heart to Asha? Binodini felt a sense of relief that this accusation had thrown Behari into confusion and removed him from the scenario.
But his face—Behari had looked ashen-faced and mortally wounded—began to haunt Binodini wherever she went. The nurturing woman within her heart wept at the remembered vision of anguish. She carried that image of suffering in her heart the way a mother carries about a sick child on her bosom. Binodini felt an impatient eagerness to nurse the image back to health, to see the signs of rejuvenation.
After a few days of this unmindful preoccupation, Binodini could hold still no longer. She wrote a consolatory letter that said:
Thakurpo,
Ever since I saw your anguished face that day I have prayed that you recover soon, and be your old self; when will I see that spontaneous smile again, hear those noble thoughts again? How are you? Drop me a line and let me know.
Your Binod-bouthan
Binodini dispatched the letter through the bearer.
Behari had never imagined in his wildest dream that Mahendra would be able to say such harsh words—that Behari loved Asha—he had never uttered such thoughts quite so clearly even to himself. At first he was thunderstruck. Then he stomped about in anger and hatred as he repeated to himself, ‘Criminal, improper, baseless.’
But once the words had been uttered, their effect could not be erased comp
letely. The grain of truth contained in them germinated and took shape in his mind. The face of that shy child-woman, whom he had glanced at just once in the falling light of the evening, as a fragrant breeze drifted in from the garden, haunted him now, and something seemed to grip his heart tightly even as a harsh pain rose all the way to his throat and threatened to choke him. He spent many nights lying on the terrace and many daytime hours pacing the path in front of his house. Gradually, what was hitherto implicit became a truth in his mind. What was repressed became uncontrolled. Mahendra’s statement gave flesh and blood to an idea that had been formless henceforth and filled Behari inside out.
He perceived his own culpability and thought, ‘It doesn’t become me to be resentful. I must beg Mahin da’s pardon and take leave of him. The other day I had stormed out as if he was guilty and I was sitting in judgement on him. I must accept that I was to blame.’
Behari knew that Asha had left for Kashi. One evening he approached Mahendra’s room with hesitant steps. He met Rajlakshmi’s distant uncle, Sadhucharan, and asked him, Sadhu da, I couldn’t come earlier. Is everything all right here?’ Sadhucharan informed him of everybody’s well-being and Behari asked, When did Bouthan leave for Kashi?’ Sadhucharan said, ‘She hasn’t gone to Kashi; that trip has been cancelled.’ In spite of all that had happened, Behari yearned to rush indoors. He knew that he could no longer bound up the familiar stairs, make pleasant conversation with everyone without a thought, now it was all alien and forbidden to him—yet his heart craved for that very thing. He yearned to go inside, just once, like the member of the family that he once had been and speak a few words to Rajlakshmi, a few to Asha behind the veil, and call her bouthan. Sadhucharan said, ‘Why are you standing here in the dark? Come inside.’
Behari took a few hurried steps towards the inner chambers, turned back and said to Sadhucharan, ‘I have some work—I must go.’ He left hurriedly.
The same night Behari undertook a journey. The bearer meanwhile took Binodini’s letter to Behari and finding him gone, brought it back home. Mahendra was strolling in the garden. He asked, ‘Whose letter is that?’The bearer told him everything. Mahendra took the letter from him. He was tempted to go and give it to Binodini—see her face turn red with shame—and come away without another word. He had no doubt that the contents of the letter would put Binodini to shame. He remembered that once before too such a letter had gone from Binodini to Behari. Mahendra could not rest without knowing the contents of the letter. He tried to tell himself that Binodini was living under his roof and as such he was responsible for her. Hence it was his duty to intercept such letters and read them, since Binodini should not be allowed to ruin herself.
Mahendra opened the short letter and read it. Written in simple language, the writer’s genuine concern was quite palpable in it. He read it again and again and pondered on it, but could not figure out which way Binodini’s thoughts flowed. He couldn’t help feeling that Binodini was now trying to transfer her affections elsewhere because he—Mahendra—had declared that he did not love her. Angry with him, she had given up all hopes of ever gaining his affections.
Such thoughts made it very difficult for Mahendra to hold himself in check. The possibility that Binodini—who had once come to surrender herself to him—would slip from his hands for all time to come, thanks to a momentary lapse, drove him wild. Mahendra thought, ‘If Binodini has feelings for me, it is good for her—her feelings would not be disrespected. I know myself, I shall never do anything to cause her harm. She can be quite safe in loving me. I am in love with Asha and Binodini will be safe from my attentions. But if she gives her heart to someone else, who knows what can come of it!’ Mahendra decided he must get back Binodini’s affections, without surrendering himself.
He stepped into the inner chambers and found Binodini standing in the corridor with an anxious look on her face, apparently waiting for something. Mahendra was instantly gripped by vicious jealousy. He said, ‘You know, you wait in vain; he will not come. Here is your letter—it’s come back.’
Binodini said, ‘But it’s open.’
Mahendra went away without answering her. Binodini assumed that Behari had opened the letter, read it and sent it back without a reply—and she went up in flames. She sent for the bearer who had carried the letter. He was busy elsewhere and so he didn’t come. Behind closed doors, Binodini’s tears fell from her burning eyes the way molten wax drips from a candle. She tore her letter to tiny bits and still wasn’t satisfied—was there no way to erase those few lines from the past and the present, to nullify all of it? The irate bee stings whoever crosses its path; a thwarted Binodini was now ready to set fire to everything around her. Was she to lose everything that she ever desired? Could success never be hers? Since happiness was not to be hers, she decided she’d rest in peace only when she had dragged to the ground all the people who had hindered her happiness, posed an obstacle to her success and had deprived her of all possible joy.
25
THAT EVENING, AS THE FIRST BREEZE OF SPRING DRIFTED THROUGH THE air, Asha laid out a mat on the terrace and sat there after ages. In the falling light, she was reading a serialized novel in a monthly magazine.The hero of the story was on his way back home after a whole year and was attacked on the way by robbers, setting Asha’s heart aflutter; meanwhile, the unfortunate heroine had woken up at that very moment from a terrible nightmare. Asha could scarcely hold back her tears. She was a generous reader of Bengali literature and she liked nearly everything that she read. She’d call Binodini and say, ‘Dear Bali, I beg you to read this one—it’s really good. I cried my heart out.’ But Binodini would pick faults with the story and tear it to bits, leaving Asha crestfallen.
Today she decided she would make Mahendra read this story, as she shut the magazine, dewy-eyed. It was at this point that Mahendra appeared on the terrace. The look on his face made Asha tense, although he tried to affect an air of bonhomie and asked, ‘Who is the fortunate soul you are thinking of, alone on the terrace?’
Asha forgot the travails of her hero and heroine completely and asked, ‘Aren’t you feeling too well today?’
Mahendra said, ‘I feel just fine.’
Asha said, ‘But you are lost in some thought, please tell me what it is.’
Mahendra picked up a paan from Asha’s box, put it in his mouth and said, ‘I was thinking that it’s been ages since your aunt saw you. If you could go and visit her all of a sudden, she’d be so happy.’
Asha gazed at his face wordlessly; she failed to understand why this subject was being revived.
Seeing Asha silent, Mahendra asked, ‘Don t you feel like going?’
This was difficult. Asha did want to visit Annapurna but she didn’t feel like leaving Mahendra. She said, ‘When your college closes, we can both go.’
Mahendra said, ‘When my college closes, I won’t be able to go. I’ll have to prepare for my exams.’
Asha said, ‘In that case, let it be—I don’t have to go now.’
Mahendra replied, ‘But why? Since you wanted to go, I think you should.’
Asha said, ‘No, I don’t want to go.’
Mahendra asked, ‘Just the other day you wanted it and now you don’t?’
Asha looked down silently. Mahendra wanted an unfettered space to claim his truce with Binodini and he felt impatience tugging at him. When Asha fell silent, he felt an unprovoked surge of anger. He said, ‘Are you, by any chance, not sure of me? Do you want to guard me and keep me under surveillance?’
Suddenly, Asha’s innate timidity, softness and uncomplaining nature struck him as unbearable. He thought, ‘If you want to go to Aunty, you should say, yes I want to go, please arrange it somehow. Instead, it’s yes, no, I don’t know and then silence—what is all this?’
Asha was taken aback by this sudden, harsh outburst from Mahendra. She tried to think of an answer but nothing came to mind. She was at a loss as to why Mahendra was so affectionate at times and so cruel at others. But the more
incomprehensible he grew to her, the harder Asha clung to him, with all the fears and affections of her trembling little heart.
Asha was suspicious of Mahendra and so she wanted to guard him day and night! What a cruel joke, what misplaced sarcasm. Should she take an oath and protest or should she brush it off in jest?
When a confused Asha remained speechless, Mahendra lost his patience, got up and stormed away. The hero and the heroine of the monthly magazine weren’t given another thought. The last rays of the setting sun disappeared, the mild spring breeze of the early evening was replaced by a chilly nip in the air—Asha lay still on the mat.
Late that night Asha stepped into the bedroom and found Mahendra had already gone to bed without even calling her. She felt that Mahendra was repulsed by her indifference to her doting aunt. Asha got into bed, took Mahendra’s feet in her hands, buried her face in them and lay still. Mahendra was overcome by pity and tried to pull Asha to him. But she refused to budge. She said, ‘If I have done any wrong, please forgive me.’
Deeply affected, Mahendra said, ‘You have done no wrong, Chuni. I am a great scoundrel to have hurt you so wickedly.’
Asha’s tears drenched Mahendra’s feet. He got up, held her in his arms and made her sit down beside him. Once her tears stopped flowing, she said, ‘Do you think I don’t want to visit Aunty? But I don’t feel like leaving you and going away. That’s why I didn’t want to go—please don’t be angry.’
Mahendra stroked her damp forehead gently and said, ‘How can I be angry about this, Chuni? How can I be angry because you do not want to leave me and go anywhere? You don’t have to go anywhere.’
Asha said, ‘No, I shall go to Kashi.’
Mahendra said, ‘But why?’
Asha said, ‘Since the thought that I do not leave you because I don’t trust you has crossed your mind, I must go away, even if for a few days.’
Mahendra said, ‘But that was my sin, why should you pay for it?’
The Tagore Omnibus, Volume One Page 10
