Ten minutes ran to fifteen. People came looking for Kumu. ‘The groom is in the bedroom, where is the bride?’ they asked. Motir-ma said, ‘Don’ t be so impatient. She has to change and take off her ornaments.’ She wanted to give Kumu as much time as possible, and when she realized that no more delay was possible she opened the door to find Kumu in a faint on the floor.
Much noise and confusion followed. She was carried to the bed. Some sprayed water on her face, some fanned her. When she came to, Kumu was unaware of her surroundings. She cried out ‘Dada!’ Motir-ma quickly bent over her and said, ‘Don’ t worry Didi, I am here.’ She helped her up and clasped her to her bosom. She told everyone to make room and added, ‘I am taking her to her room just now.’ She whispered into Kumu’s ears, ‘Do not be afraid please, have no fear.’ Kumu got up slowly and prayed. Then she walked up to the other end of the room where Habloo was sleeping and kissed his forehead. Motir-ma escorted her up to the bedroom and asked,’ Still afraid?’
Kumu clenched her fists, smiled somehow and said, ‘No , not at all.’ She thought to herself, ‘Such is my tryst, all darkness outside but lit up inside.’
‘Merey to Giridhar Gopal dusara na koi.’
25
MEANWHILE SHYAMASUNDARI WENT PANTING TO MADHUSUDAN AND announced, ‘Your bride has fainted!’ Madhusudan flared up immediately; he asked, ‘Why? What is the matter with her?’
‘I can’t say, except that she is only pining for her Dada. Won’t you go and find out for yourself?’
‘What ‘s the use? I am not her Dada.’
‘You’ re losing your temper for nothing. They are high-born. It takes time to tame them.’
‘I see, she will go into a faint everyday and I have to massage her with ayurvedic oil. Is that what I married her for?’
‘You make me laugh. In our days women went into a sulk and you had to woo them back, now you have only to nurse them out of a faint.’
Madhusudan sat glumly. Shyama, dissolving with pity, took his hand and said, ‘Please don’t get upset. I cant bear to see you like this.’
Till now she never had the courage to approach him so closely. The garrulous Shyama used to be unusually quiet with him because she knew Madhusudan was a man of few words. Her feminine intuition told her that it was not the same man tonight. Tonight he was weak and a little vulnerable, not conscious of his dignity. She felt that he had not disliked her touch on his hand. The hurt given by the new bride probably was allayed a little with ministration from someone else. It was no small matter that Shyama never looked down upon him. She was no less attractive than Kumu; maybe a little darker, but her eyes, her hair, her luscious lips!
She spoke out, ‘There, she is coming. Let me go. But please do not be angry with her. Poor thing! She is but a child.’
As soon as Kumu set foot into the room Madhusudan lost his patience, ‘So you’ve had a good practice at fainting at your brother’s! But that is not in vogue here.You have to get out of your Noornagari style.’
Kumu stood staring in surprise without a word.
Her silence angered him more. Deep inside him was growing a strong desire to win the heart of this girl, hence the frustrated rage. He said, ‘Let me make it clear. I am a busy man; I do not have the leisure to wait upon a hysterical woman.’
Kumu answered slowly, ‘You want to humiliate me. But you won’t succeed. I shall not take your insults to heart.’
Madhusudan was sarcastic, ‘I know you are your brother’s disciple, but remember, I am his creditor. I can buy and sell him many times over.’
He was a fool to have said this, but he wanted to impress upon her that he was bigger than her brother.
Kumu replied, ‘Be as cruel as you like, but do not demean yourself.’ And she sat down oh the sofa.
He said gruffly, ‘What! You mean to say that I am inferior and your brother is better than me?’
Kumu said, ‘I have come to your house in the knowledge that you are bigger.’
Madhusudan mocked, ‘Bigger, is it? Or is it the greed for money?’
Then Kumu got up, and went and sat down on the floor of the open terrace outside.
It was a mean winter night, dull with smog, the stars were choked under a frowning sky. Kumu’s mind was in a daze, without a thought, without any pain; as if she herself was lost in a thick fog.
It was beyond Madhusudan’s expectation and comprehension that Kumu could silently walk out of the room as she did. He immediately held her brother responsible for this abject defeat of his. He sat on the bed and punched its emptiness. After a while he lost his patience. He got up in a rush, went out on the terrace and called out to her, ‘Borrobou!’
Kumu was startled.
‘Why are you standing outside in this dewy cold? Come into the room.’
Kumu stared at his face without any embarrassment. The little authority of ownership he was still nursing within himself vanished. He took her left hand and said gently, ‘Please come inside.’
Kumu had the telegram from her brother in her right hand. She pressed it to her bosom. She did not take her hand away but followed her husband quietly into the bedroom.
26
THE NEXT MORNING WHEN SHE WOKE UP HER HUSBAND WAS STILL ASLEEP. She did not look at him lest she felt revolted. She took great care to get up without waking him, touched his feet and went for a bath. When she finished she went into the terrace from the rear door. A faint line of gold was visible in the sky through the fog.
After a while when the sun was up she came back to the bedroom to find her husband gone. She opened the drawer under the mirror to put by the telegram. The sapphire ring was not there.
The serenity that had come over her after her morning prayers vanished. Her eyes were aflame. Motir-ma came to call her for a glass of milk and some sweets. But Kumu was sitting still, hard as a statue of stone.
Motir-ma, a little apprehensive, asked, ‘What is the matter, sister?’
Kumu could not utter a word, only her lips trembled.
‘Please tell me what has hurt you?’
In a choked voice she answered, ‘It is stolen!’
‘What is?’
‘My ring, my brother’s blessing.’ ‘Who has taken it?’
Kumu stood up and without taking any name, pointed outward.
‘Calm down. He must be teasing you. He will give it back to you.’
‘I won’t take it back. Let me see how much more he can torture me.’
‘All right, we shall see about it later. Now please have something to eat.’
‘No, I can swallow a morsel now.
‘Please, my dear, for my sake do!’
‘Let me ask you something, sister. Is it true that I can have nothing of my own from now on?’
‘No, there is nothing of the sort. All that you may possess depends upon your husband’s goodwill. Don t you know we sign our names as dasi—“your obedient servant”.’
Servant indeed! Kumu recalled Kalidas’s depiction of Indumati’s role.
‘Grihini sachibah, sakhee mitah
prija-shishyaa lalitey kala-bidhau’
—housewife, secretary, companion, friend, and a dear pupil of the fine arts—no mention of a slave! Was Savitri a slave to Satyaban? Or for that matter was Sita of Uttar Ramcharit, a slave maiden?
She asked, ‘What sort of men are those who think of their wives as slaves?’
‘You have to know him yet,’ said Motir-ma. ‘He not only makes a slave of others but he is also a slave to himself. The day he is unable to attend office he docks his own pay. Once he was ill and could not go to work for a month, so for the next two or three months he cut down on the household expenses to make up for the loss. So far I have looked after housekeeping and I have a fixed allowance for that. In this house, everyone from the master to the lowest employee, all are slaves.’
Kumu thought for a moment and said, ‘All right, I shall also be one of them. I will work for my daily upkeep. I do not want to be an honorary slave here. Do
engage me under you, after all you are in charge of housekeeping. I don’t want to be mocked by anyone as a “Rani”.’
Motir-ma said, ‘In that case you have to obey me. I order you now to come for your breakfast.’
As they were going out Kumu said, ‘You see, sister, I came here prepared to give myself, but he would not let it happen. Now let him be satisfied with his slave. He will never have me.’
Motir-ma said understandingly, ‘The wood-cutter knows how to cut the tree but he only gets the wood, not the tree. The gardener, on the other hand, knows how to tend the tree, so he gets its flower and fruit. You have cast your lot with a lumberjack. He is a trader, there is no room for compassion in his heart.’
After her meal when Kumu came back to her room, she found a box of lozenges. Habloo had deposited a secret gift for her and made himself scarce. So there were cracks even in this stony site for flowers to bloom. The message of these sweets made Kumu feel like crying and laughing at the same time. She stepped outside her room to look for the boy and found him standing quietly behind the door. His mother had warned him not to frequent this room. He was afraid of annoying the master by anything he might do. Everyone in this house was well aware that it was best to keep away from Madhusudan, unless of course he wanted them for something.
Kumu caught hold of Habloo and put him on to her lap. Both of them began to look into everything in her room that could serve as a toy. Kumu noticed that a glass paperweight had caught little Habloo’s fancy. The sight of a coloured flower through the glass intrigued him.
Kumu promptly offered it to him.
Habloo was wonderstruck. In all his years he had never heard of such an unthinkable proposition. Could he ever aspire to own such a wonderful object! He looked at her in amazement and hesitation.
Kumu said, ‘You can take it.’
Habloo could not contain his joy. He picked up his precious gift and bounded out of the room.
In the afternoon Motir-ma came and said, ‘What have you done, my sister? The master has created a rumpus at finding the paperweight in Habloo’s hand. Not only has he snatched it away but he also thrashed Habloo, accusing him of stealing. And that strange boy never even mentioned you. I won’t be surprised if the word goes round that I am the one teaching him to steal.’
Kumu was frozen to silence.
The crunch of shoes was heard outside. Madhusudan was coming up. Motir-ma hurried away. Madhusudan put the paperweight down in its place with great care and added in a stern voice of calm confidence, ‘Habloo had stolen it from your room. You must learn to be more careful with things.’
Kumu said sharply, ‘He did not steal it.’
‘All right, he misplaced it!’
‘No. I gave it to him.’
‘So that’s how you are spoiling him.You will do well to remember that nothing in this house can be given away to anyone without my approval. I cannot stand disorderliness.’
Kumu stood up and said, ‘Did you not take away my sapphire ring?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Didn’t that pay for your piece of glass?’
‘But I told you, you cannot have it.’
‘You can keep your things, only I can’t?’
‘In this house nothing is exclusively yours.’
‘Nothing at all? Then let this house be.’ And saying this, Kumu left the room.
As soon as she left, Shyama entered the room busily and asked, ‘Where is the bride?’
‘Why?’
‘I have been waiting with her breakfast the whole morning. Is she going to starve herself in this house?’
‘So what? Let the princess of Noornagar not eat! Are you her slaves?’
‘Shame on you. One does not lose one’s temper with kids. We can’t stand her starving like this. No wonder she fainted the other day.’
Madhusudan roared, ‘Go away. Nothing needs to be done. She will eat when she feels hungry.’
A dispirited Shyama left the room.
Madhusudan’s blood was boiling. He quickly put his head under the shower to cool himself.
27
UNTIL EVENING KUMU COULD NOT BE FOUND ANYWHERE. FINALLY Motir-ma found her sitting on a mat in the small corner next to the storeroom where the lamps, oil cans and the like were kept.
Motir-ma said, ‘What is all this, Didi?’
Kumu said, ‘This is my place in this house; I shall look after the lamps and lights.
Motir-ma said, ‘You have found yourself a nice job. Of course you have come to lighten up this house, but you don’t need to look after oil-lamps for that. Now come with me.’
Kumu would not budge.
Motir-ma said, ‘In that case, let me also sleep here.’
Kumu firmly said, ‘No!’ Motir-ma felt that this girl may be good-natured but she certainly had the power of command in her. Motir-ma had no option but to leave.
Madhusudan heard the news when he came to the bedroom at night. His first thought was, ‘Let her be in that room. How long can she stick it out? The more we coax her the more stubborn she’ll get.’
He put out the light and went to sleep. But sleep would not come easily. Every sound felt like her footfall. Once he felt as if she was standing at the door. He got out of bed and looked towards the door, but there was no one. As the night wore on, his mind was in turmoil. He could not muster up enough resolve to ignore her.Yet it was against his policy to go forward and concede defeat. He splashed cold water on his face, but that too did not help. He tossed around in bed. In the end he could no longer contain his curiosity and restlessness. With a lantern in hand he crossed all the bedrooms till he arrived at the lamproom. He stopped to listen for any sound within, but there was none. He opened the door carefully and saw Kumu sleeping on the floor on a mat, one end of which was rolled up as a pillow. Because he could not sleep, his wife too ought not to have been sleeping, he thought. But he found her deep in sleep, so much so that even when the light from the lantern fell on her face she did not wake up. Just then she turned on her side. Madhusudan fled in the same way as a thief does at the sign of the householder waking up. He was worried that she would see his distress and laugh at him.
As he came out and crossed the veranda he met Shyama with a clay lamp in her hand. ‘How come you are here?’ she asked. Ignoring the question, he asked back, ‘Where are you going, bou?’
‘Tomorrow I have a vow to break and have to feed some Brahmins; I am going to the kitchen to make the arrangements. You are also invited. But I have nothing to offer you in return.’
Madhusudan suppressed the reply that readily came to his lips.
In that pre-dawn darkness Shyama’s face looked beautiful in the lamplight. She added, with a little smile, ‘My day is made, because the first person I met before starting the preparations is a lucky man like you. My vow will be fruitful.’
The slight emphasis she put on the word ‘lucky’ sounded somewhat embarrassing to him. Shyama could not summon up enough courage to ask him anything about Kumu directly. As she left she said, ‘Come to my room tomorrow. I’ll give you dinner—that’s a promise.’
He went to bed again but kept the lantern outside the door just in case Kumu changed her mind. But as he lay awake, he was unable to dismiss the picture of Kumu’s sleeping face. The delicate beauty of her hand relaxed outside the shawl kept tormenting his memory. At the wedding when he had taken that hand into his, he had hardly noticed it. Tonight he could look at it endlessly. When would he be able to win that hand? He got up, lit the lamp and opened Kumu’s drawer and saw her bead purse. The first thing that he found in it was her brother’s telegram, then a photograph of both her brothers and a small piece of paper with this sloka from the Gita written in Bipradas’s own hand.
‘Dedicate unto me, O son of Kunti, whatever you do, whatever you breathe, whatever you worship, whatever you gift and whatever you pray for.’
Envy gnawed at Madhusudan’s mind. He gnashed his teeth and made short shrift of Bipradas in his own mind. He kn
ew that the end to Bipradas’s constant counselling of Kumu was certain, but he had to tighten the screw bit by bit. He would be at peace only if he could snatch away at that very minute all of Kumu’s nineteen years which lay beyond his control. He knew of no other way than force. Today he was unable to throw the bead purse away. He was bolder the day he stole the ring. Till then he was under the impression that Kumudini was like any other girl easily disciplined, in fact they liked to be ordered around. But he realized today that Kumu’s reactions were completely unpredictable.
There was only one way to bind her life with his firmly, by giving her the experience of motherhood. This was his one consoling thought.
The clock struck five, but the winter night was still in darkness. In a while it would be daybreak and if he didn’t act now, this would be another night wasted. He quickly left the bedroom and reached the lamproom with a deliberate clatter. He opened the door noisily, only to find Kumu missing. Where could she be?
He heard the noise of running water in the courtyard. He saw from the veranda that Kumu was scouring with tamarind paste a whole lot of old unused rusty lamps. This was nothing but an attempt, on her part, to wilfully find work, to prolong the sleepless misery of a winter morning.
Madhusudan watched in stunned surprise. He was turning over in his mind possible ways to overcome such strength in the weaker sex. ‘When the household gets up and sees her sculling old lamps what would they make of it? What would the servant whose job it is, think? There could be no better way of ridiculing me in front of the whole world,’ thought Madhusudan.
A sudden impulse to have it out with her then and there ran through his mind, but the spectacle of the entire family leaving their beds and conning out to watch the farce of the two of them sparring, held him back. Instead, he went back to the main house and spoke to his younger brother Nabin, ‘Do you ever notice what is going on in this house?’
Nabin was the manager of the household. He was frightened at this stern question from his brother, quite out of the blue, and hastened to ask, ‘Why Dada, whatever is the matter?’
The Tagore Omnibus, Volume One Page 60
