Gradually, the two friends put aside their mutual complaints and went back to their affectionate selves.
Binodini said, ‘You have truly spoilt your husband by keeping him company day and night. He must have someone by his side at all times!’
Asha said, ‘The precise reason why I left him in your care ! You are better at keeping him company.’
Binodini said, ‘In the day I’d be spared by sending him off to college; but the evenings were harder to escape—chat with him, read to him, endless demands!’
Asha said, ‘Serves you right! Why would people spare you when you can entertain them so well?’
Binodini said, ‘Watch out, my friend. The way Thakurpo behaves at times, I wonder if I have mesmeric powers!’
Asha laughed, ‘You’d have to be the one! If only I had even an ounce of your charm.’
Binodini said, ‘Why, who do you wish to ruin? Work on guarding the one you have—don’t go after strangers; it’s not worth the bother.’
Asha chided her with a push and said, ‘Oh dear, what nonsense!’
The moment Mahendra met Asha for the first time after her return from Kashi, he said, ‘I can see you’ve put on weight—the trip seems to have done you good.’
Asha felt mortified. She should not have looked so healthy—but nothing ever went right for poor Asha. Even while she was so miserable, her silly body had put on weight. On the one hand she didn’t have the words to express herself, and on the other her body played truant.
Asha murmured, ‘How have you been?’
In the past, Mahendra would have said, with mock sorrow and some genuine emotion, ‘I was only half alive.’ But now he couldn’t be playful; the words stuck at his throat. He said, ‘I’ve been fine, not bad at all.’
Asha gazed at him and found he had lost weight—his face had a pallor and a bright flame burned in his eyes. A deep-seated hunger seemed to be licking away at his insides. Asha felt upset. ‘My poor husband hasn’t been well at all. Why did I leave him and go to Kashi?’ She was outraged indeed, at her own health, at the fact that her husband had lost weight while she put it on.
Mahendra wondered what he should talk about next and slowly stumbled out with, ‘I suppose Aunty is keeping well?’
He was reassured to that effect and thereafter he was lost for things to say. A tattered, old newspaper lay close by. He pulled it close and glanced through it absentmindedly. Asha stood there looking down as she thought, ‘We meet after so long and he s not talking to me properly; he hasn’t even looked at my face. Is he angry because I didn’t write to him the last few days, or is he upset that I stayed back longer in Kashi at Aunty’s request?’ Desolate and miserable, Asha pondered over the possible sources of her own culpability.
Mahendra went to college and returned later in the day. While he had his snacks, Rajlakshmi waited on him and Asha stood at a distance with her anchal drawn over her head. But no one else was present.
Rajlakshmi asked with a concerned frown, ‘Are you unwell today, Mahin?’
The question annoyed Mahendra. ‘No Mother, why should I be unwell?’
Rajlakshmi said, ‘But you have hardly eaten anything.’
Mahendra snapped back, ‘I am eating, am I not?’
It was a summer evening. Mahendra wrapped himself in a light shawl and began to pace the terrace. He had great hopes that the regular reading session (with Binodini) would take place as usual. They were nearly through with Bankim’s Anandamath, with just a couple of chapters to go. Binodini may be heartless, but she would surely come and read those out to him today! But the evening wore on, the hands of the clock moved on and Mahendra had to go to bed with a heavy heart.
Asha came into the bedroom, bashful and dressed up. She found Mahendra lying in bed. She didn’t know what to do next. A long separation brought with it some coyness—both parties expected a fresh greeting from each other before they could become intimate with each other like before. How could Asha re-enter her old, familiar, pleasure-seat without being asked? She waited at the door for a few long minutes, but Mahendra did not say anything. She stepped into the room, one step at a time. If a bangle or an anklet made a sudden sound, she nearly died of shame. With heart aflutter she went up to the bed and realized that Mahendra was asleep. In that instant, all her finery seemed to strangle her and mock her cruelly. She wanted to hurl everything from her body and rush from the room, go anywhere else.
Asha got into bed as stealthily as possible .Yet, there were enough sounds and movement so as to wake Mahendra if he had truly been asleep. But tonight his eyes stayed shut because Mahendra wasn’t asleep. He lay at one end of the bed and so Asha lay still beside him. It was clear to Mahendra, even with his back to her, that Asha was weeping silent tears in the dark. His own cruelty to her was tormenting him. But he simply did not know what to say, how to hold her or love her. He hurled abuses at himself and lacerated himself mentally—it hurt badly, but didn’t resolve anything. He thought, ‘In the morning I won’t be able to pretend I’m asleep—what shall I say to Asha then?’
But Asha took care of his concern. At the crack of dawn she left the bed in her affronted finery; she couldn’t face him either.
32
ASHA WONDERED, ‘WHY DID THIS HAPPEN? WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?’ But she never considered the obvious. The very idea that Mahendra was in love with Binodini never crossed her mind. Asha was very naïve in worldly matters. Besides, she could never imagine that Mahendra could be anything other than the person she had known forever, ever since their marriage.
Mahendra left for college earlier than usual. As he left, Asha always came and stood at the window. Mahendra would glance up just once before he got into the carriage. This had been a routine with them for the longest time. Thus habituated, Asha drifted to the window mechanically the minute she heard the sounds of the carriage drawing up. Possibly by habit, Mahendra too shot a glance at the window. He found Asha standing there—she hadn’t yet bathed, or changed her clothes; her face was pallid. Instantly Mahendra lowered his gaze and looked down at the books on his lap. Alas for that silent greeting as their eyes met, or that meaningful smile!
The carriage went its way; Asha dropped to the floor. The whole world turned to dust before her eyes. In the streets of Kolkata it was business as usual—carriages headed for offices, trams were chasing other trams—this lone, solitary, pained heart in a distant corner of the city was a misfit amidst the hustle and bustle of life.
Suddenly Asha saw the light. ‘I know—he has heard that Thakurpo went to Kashi and he is upset about that. Nothing else has happened in the meantime that could cause him any displeasure. But—why blame me for that?’
As she mulled over this for a few seconds, Asha’s heart skipped a beat. Suddenly she was gripped by the fear that Mahendra was under the misconception that Asha and Behari had colluded in his sudden arrival in Kashi. A conspiracy. Oh, shame! Such mistrust! It was bad enough that her name was linked to Behari, causing her such trauma; if Mahendra doubted her in this manner now, she’d surely die. But if there was really such a misgiving, if Mahendra felt she’d really gone wrong, why didn’t he confront her with it? He should judge her and punish her to his satisfaction. She felt he was avoiding her without tackling the issue head-on. Asha was convinced that Mahendra was suffering from some misconception that he knew was intrinsically false and he was ashamed to admit it even to Asha. Why else would he walk around looking so guilty? The censorious husband would hardly look like this!
All day long Mahendra was haunted by that melancholy expression on Asha’s face that he had glimpsed in an instant in the morning. Through the lectures in college, amidst the hordes of students, he could only see Asha, wan and dishevelled, her clothes in disarray, her eyes pained and aggrieved.
After college he went for a stroll around the circular lake. As he strolled, dusk drew close; he couldn’t decide what he should do about Asha—sympathetic duplicity or harsh honesty—which did she deserve? Not once did he even cons
ider letting Binodini go. He only wondered how he could honour both his loves at the same time.
Mahendra consoled himself with the thought that the love he still felt for Asha was rare in most women’s lives. Asha should be grateful for that love and generosity. Mahendra’s heart was large enough to carry both Asha and Binodini in it. His nuptial relationship wouldn’t be affected in the least by the platonic, noble romance he had with Binodini.
Having thus convinced himself, Mahendra felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. He grew cheerful at the thought of spending his entire life like a planet with two moons, with both Binodini and Asha being where they belonged in his life. He decided to go to bed early that night and to caress and stroke away all the doubts that Asha was facing. Reassured by his own decision, he walked home hurriedly.
Asha was absent when he had his dinner. But he went to bed thinking that she’d have to come to the bedroom at some point. But in the silent room, in that empty bed, which were the reminiscences that flooded his heart? Were they the ones of the first days of his romance with Asha? No. All those memories had faded away from his mind the way moonshine melts before sunlight. A razor-sharp, accomplished young woman outshone the image of the naïve child-woman cloaked in shyness. Mahendra recollected his scuffle with Binodini over The Poison Tree. In the evenings, as Binodini had read out Bankim’s Kapalakundala to him, the night crept up and the household fell asleep. In that solitary room, in that still silence, Binodini’s voice grew softer and nearly disappeared as she read on. Suddenly, she came back to her senses, dropped the book and stood up to leave. Mahendra said, ‘Let me come with you till the bottom of the stairs.’ Mahendra reminisced about those evenings and felt thrilled anew. The night wore on and Mahendra began to dread Asha’s arrival. But Asha did not come. Mahendra thought, ‘I was ready to do my duty, but if Asha takes exception without reason and refuses to come here, what can I do?’ And he gave himself up to more pleasurable meditations on Binodini and brought back even more of her.
When the clock struck one, Mahendra could hold still no longer. He went out to the terrace and found the mellow moonlight flooding the night. The mammoth silence of Kolkata felt as tangible as the waves in a speechless ocean—the breeze ambled casually amidst the row of edifices, shrouding them in thick layers of sleep.
Mahendra could not contain his craving: ever since Asha returned from Kashi, Binodini hadn’t met him. The lonely night enchanted by moonlight propelled him relentlessly towards Binodini. Mahendra went down the stairs. He stood before Binodini’s door and realized that it wasn’t locked yet. He stepped into the room and saw that the bed was made, but there was no one in it yet. At the sound of footsteps, Binodini called out from the balcony to the south, ‘Who’s there?’
Mahendra replied in a voice drenched in emotion, ‘Binod, it’s me.’ He walked straight out onto the balcony.
On this warm summer night Rajlakshmi happened to be lying there, on a mat, along with Binodini. She said, ‘Mahin, what are you doing here so late at night?’
Binodini cast an angry, thunderous glance at him from under her thick, dark brows. Mahendra walked away without another word.
33
THE FOLLOWING MORNING WAS CLOUDY AND GLOOMY. THE SKY WAS LADEN with rain-clouds after days of scorching heat. Mahendra left early for his classes. His discarded clothes lay scattered on the floor. Asha counted them up as she handed them out to the washerman.
Mahendra was absentminded by nature. Hence Asha had instructions to check his pockets before handing his clothes over to the laundry. She fished into a pocket of his discarded shirt and came up with a letter.
If only that letter had turned into a poisonous snake and stung Asha’s fingers before she could read it! If a potent poison spreads in the body, it can yield results in five minutes. But a poisoned mind only brings mortal torment, not death.
Asha fished out the open letter and saw it was written by Binodini. Asha’s face turned ashen. She took the letter into the next room and began to read—
After what you did last night, I’d have thought you’ll come to your senses. Why did you send me a clandestine note through Khemi, the maid? Shame on you! What must she think! Are you going to make it impossible for me to show my face to anyone in the world?
What do you want from me? Love? Why do you beg? You have received love since the day you were born, but still you crave for it.
In this world, I have no one to love and no one to love me. Hence I play at games of love and satisfy my craving for it. When you had the time to spare, you joined in the game. But all games must end some day. You have summons from the house—why do you still peep into the playroom? Shake off the dust and go back home now. I have no home. So I’ ll sit in a corner and play games in my head. I shall not call you.
You wrote that you love me. That may have worked while we were playing games—but if you want me to take it for the truth, I do not believe it. At one point in time you believed you love Asha—that was a lie too. Now you think you love me, this too is a lie. The only one you love is yourself.
Thirst for love has parched my heart and soul. You do not have the capacity to quench my thirst—I know that for a fact. As I keep telling you, let go of me, don’t come after me. Don’ t be so shameless as to shame me. My desire for games has ended. Now, if you call me, I shall not answer. You have called me heartless in your note. That may be true. But I also have a soul and hence today I take pity on you and renounce you. If you dare answer this letter I shall be sure that the only way to escape you is to leave this house.
As she finished reading the letter, everything came tumbling around Asha. Her nerves gave way, she could scarcely breathe and the sun stole away the light from her eyes. Asha tried to hold on to the wall, then the cupboard and finally the chair as she crumpled to the floor. A little later she came back to her senses and tried to read the letter once again. But her shattered mind could hardly take it in. The black letters danced before her eyes. How did this happen? What was all this! What a terrible, earth-shattering disaster! Asha couldn’t think of where to go, whom to call and what to do. Her heart fluttered like the fish that was hauled out of water and gasped for breath. Just as the drowning man reached up and groped for the sky over his head, deep down in her heart Asha desperately tried to get a hold of something firm, and finally she sobbed out, ‘Aunty!’
The minute she took the name of her beloved aunt, tears sprang to her eyes and flowed relentlessly. She sat on the floor and wept her heart out. When the weeping subsided, she thought, ‘What shall I do with this letter?’ She cringed as she imagined Mahendra’s severe embarrassment if he discovered that Asha had read the letter. She decided to put the letter back in the pocket of his shirt and hang it up on the shelf instead of sending it to the laundry.
With this thought she came back into her room. Meanwhile, the washerman had leaned back on his bundle of clothes and gone to sleep. Asha picked up the shirt and tried to put the letter back in its pocket when she suddenly heard, ‘Bali dear!’
She dropped the shirt and the letter hastily on the bed and sat on it. Binodini came into the room and said, ‘These days the washerman has been mixing up clothes. Let me take back the ones that haven’t been marked yet.’
Asha couldn’t bring herself to look at Binodini. She turned away and looked out of the window for fear that her face would give her away. She bit down hard on her lips so that the tears wouldn’t escape her eyes.
Binodini stopped short and took stock of Asha’s expression. She said to herself, ‘I get it—so now you know all about last night. And I suppose I am the only one to blame!’
Binodini did not make any effort to speak to Asha. She just picked out a few clothes and walked away.
Asha was stung by the shame of having been friends with Binodini so naïvely for all these days. She wanted to compare the cruel letter just once more to the ideal of a friend that she carried in her heart.
She was opening the letter once again when Mahendra burst int
o the room. Apparently, he had rushed out in the middle of a lecture and run home for some reason.
Asha hid the letter in the folds of her sari. Mahendra also stopped short when he found Asha in the room. Then he cast anxious looks all over the room. Asha knew what he was looking for; but she couldn’t think of a way to slip the letter back in its place and make good her escape from the room.
Mahendra picked up each discarded item and hunted through it. Asha couldn’t bear to watch his pitiful attempts any longer. She hurled the shirt and the letter on the floor, gripped the bedpost with one hand and buried her face in the other. Mahendra picked up the letter in a flash. For a second he gazed at Asha. Then the sounds of his footsteps running down the stairs fell on Asha’s ears. The washerman was saying, ‘Ma , how much longer for you to give all the clothes? It’s getting late and I live far away.’
34
SINCE MORNING RAJLAKSHMI HAD NOT SENT FOR BINODINI. WHEN BINODINI went into the storeroom as usual, Rajlakshmi did not even look up.
This did not escape Binodini’s notice. She said, ‘Aunty, are you unwell? I don’t blame you, after what Thakurpo did last night. He just barged in like a madman! I could hardly sleep after that.’
Rajlakshmi merely sulked and didn’t say a word.
Binodini said, ‘He must have had a minor tiff with Chokher Bali and that was that! He must drag me there to resolve it or to hear them out. He couldn’t wait for the morning. I must say this, Aunty, and don’t you blame me, your son may have many qualities, but patience isn’t one of them. That’s what all our spats are about.’
Rajlakshmi said, ‘You are blabbering in vain—I am not in the mood to listen to anything today.’
Binodini said, ‘Neither am I, Aunty. If I criticized your son I was afraid you’d be hurt and so I tried to pull the wool over your eyes with a bunch of lies. But a time has come when that’s no longer possible.’
The Tagore Omnibus, Volume One Page 14
