‘Don’t you want to go?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Didn’t you send Nabin to persuade me?’
‘No, I didn’t send him.’
‘Didn’t you tell him about your wish to go?’
‘On the contrary, I told him I didn’t want to go to see my brother.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t tell.’
‘You can’t tell? Again your Noornagar arrogance!’
‘I belong to Noornagar.’
‘Then you go back to them. You are not fit for this household. I did you a favour, you didn’t appreciate it. Now you will have time to regret.’
Kumu sat still. Madhusudan got up, shook her hand in a frenzy and shouted, ‘You don’t even know how to apologize!’
‘Whatever for?’
‘For the privilege of sharing my bed!’
Kumu got up instantly and went to the next room.
On his way back Madhusudan found Shyamasundari still in the passage. He bent down and tried to pull her up by her hand, ‘What are you up to Shyama?’ he asked. Shyama was up immediately and taking his feet in both her hands she said in a maudlin voice, ‘Please put an end to my life.’
Madhusudan held her hand and helped her get up. He said, ‘You are icy cold. Come, I will put you to bed.’ He then covered her with his shawl, held her hand tightly in his right hand and reached her to her bedroom. Shyama asked in a whisper, ‘Won’t you stay for a while?’
Madhusudan said, ‘I have some work to finish.’
Enough of this madness at midnight, no more disruption in my work, he said to himself. At the same time he also realized where his compensation lay for the rebuff he had from Kumu. Tonight he needed to feel loved and wanted. He got a new impetus in his work in the assurance that Shyamasundari waited for him with all her life and love. It softened the pain he suffered from the thorn of rejection he carried in his heart.
Kumu on her part also had some consolation from the trauma she had that night. Every time Madhusudan had been loving to her she had been thrown into the throes of a dilemma. She was distressed by a sense of duty which demanded that she paid for it by loving in return. She had not a chance to win this battle. But the defeat would be ugly; and she tried constantly to suppress the thought of it. Now the suppressed sense of defeat was fully exposed. In her unguarded moment it was totally clear to Madhusudan that her whole being was contrary to his own nature. It was in a way good that both knew the truth for certain and henceforth they would be able to do their duty by each other without any pretence. The reality was that he desired her; and he wanted to cast her out from sheer frustration. It was indeed true that she had no right to share his bed. So far, she had only cheated him. Her place in this house was an embarrassment.
One question had been bothering her throughout the night. Why was he so concerned with her? He was always snubbing her about her Noornagar style, which meant that it was clear to him that they belonged to two different worlds, different cultures. Then why did he still insist on declaring his love for her? Could this ever be true love?
She was convinced that whatever Madhusudan thought now, she could never fully satisfy him. The sooner he realized this the better it would be for all concerned.
Nothing was left the next morning of the joy Nabin felt when he went to bed, having got his brother’s consent. It was two in the morning when Madhusudan sent for Nabin after he had finished his work. His order was to send Kumudini to Bipradas’s house and not to bring her back till he, Madhusudan, sent for her. Nabin understood it as an order of banishment.
Nabin’s bedroom was opposite the covered square yard where Madhusudan met Shyama last night. In fact, Nabin and his wife were talking about Kumu when they heard voices. Motir-ma came out and could see in the moonlight the meeting of Shyama and Madhusudan. She thought to herself, yet another tough knot is being tied tonight in Kumu’s string of fortune.
She asked her husband, ‘Is it wise for Didi to leave at this critical juncture?’
Nabin said, ‘Matters had not gone this far when Bourani was not on the scene. It is because of her that this is happening.’
‘How ridiculous!’
‘Bourani could not feed the hunger she aroused and that is what is going to cause havoc. In my opinion it is better that she stays away for some time now. At least she will be at peace.’
‘So should things drift like this?’
‘There is nothing to do but to watch the fire you can’t extinguish burn itself out to ashes.’
The whole of next morning Habloo would not leave Kumu’s side. When the tutor came and he was sent for, he looked to her. If she had asked him to go for his studies he would have obeyed, but Kumu told the bearer that it was a holiday for Habloo.
The tender tone that prevails when a new bride is about to go to her own place was missing in Kumu’s case. It felt as if this house was losing her for good, as though the bird which was caged all this time had found an opening. It would fly away never to return to her cage ever.
Nabin said, ‘I would have been happy to ask you not to be away too long, but I am unable to utter those words.You better be with them who respect you. If you ever need anything, just think of Nabin.’
Motir-ma filled an earthen jar with mango preserves and pickles of all sorts she had made herself, and put it in Kumu’s palanquin. She did not say anything; she had her own reservations. As long as the barrier was gross and as long as Madhusudan insulted her palpably, all her sympathies were with Kumu. But the fact that internal impediments, which are delicate, emotional, and beyond analysis, are also the strongest, was not easily comprehensible to Motir-ma. To her the natural thing for a wife was to feel fortunate whenever the husband was inclined to be pleased. Not to think so was, to her, going too far. So much so that she did not take it kindly that Nabin should still be sympathetic towards his Bourani. It was indeed difficult ordinarily for a woman to realize that the natural repulsion Kumu felt was only too real and that it was not her pride but a matter of great mental struggle within herself. If a Chinese woman who had submitted to the customary binding of her feet heard of another woman who considered submitting to this torture degrading, then she would surely laugh and dismiss such objection as mere affectation. That which was intrinsically natural would appear to her as abnormal. Motir-ma was the most hurt at Kumu’s suffering. Maybe that was why she was now hardening in her attitude towards her. It was impossible for Motir-ma to sympathize with, much less forgive, a woman who did not accept gratefully when fortune turned to offer her a gift.
46
AS SHE REACHED HER HOME, KUMU OPENED THE DOOR OF THE PALANQUIN a little and looked up. At this time of the day it was usual for Bipradas to sit on the balcony with his newspaper. Today there was no one. Her house had not been informed about her arrival today. The sight of the liveried peon accompanying the palanquin alerted the gateman. He guessed the mistress had come. The palanquin crossed the front courtyard and was proceeding inside, but Kumu stopped it, got out and quickly climbed the outside staircase to the first floor. She wanted to be the first to meet her Dada. She was sure that as a patient he would be assigned the front drawing room. From the window here one could see the grove of gulmohur, kanchan and peepul trees. It was this room that first received the light of the sun filtered through the branches. It was Bipradas’s favourite room.
Tom the terrier saw her at the top of the stairs, and rushed and jumped on her, wagging his tail and creating a commotion. He went on barking, trotting ahead of Kumu. Bipradas was leaning on a folded couch, half prone with a light printed quilt on his feet. His right hand was resting on the bed holding a book. It seemed he was tired and had just stopped reading. Next to him on the floor there was an empty tea-cup and the crumbs of bread on a plate. The books on the shelf on the wall near his head were in disarray. The night lamp, full of soot, was still there in a corner.
Kumu was startled looking at his face. She had never seen him so sad, wan and sickly ever. Thi
s Bipradas was ages away from the one she knew. She put her head on his feet and broke into tears.
‘Is that you, Kumu? So you’ve come. Come sit here near me.’ He drew her close. In his letter he had practically told her not to come, yet there was a faint hope that she might turn up. The fact that she could come made him feel at ease; perhaps there was nothing in the way of her smoothly running her new household. Normally he was expected to propose, arrange conveyance and send an escort to bring her home. But since she came on her own, it led him to believe that she enjoyed much more freedom than he expected her to have in Madhusudan’s house.
Kumu was running her fingers through his dishevelled hair, settling it somewhat. She said, ‘Dada, how terrible you look!’
‘Nothing has happened lately to make me look brighter, but why have you lost your looks? Why have you become so pale?’
By then news of Kumu’s arrival had reached all the others in the house and everyone came crowding around her. Kumu saluted Aunt Kshema who embraced her and kissed her forehead. All the servants came and bowed to her. When the greetings were over Kumu told Kshema, ‘Aunty, Dada is looking poorly.’
‘How can he get better without your nursing? He has been used to it for such a long time.’
Bipradas reminded her, ‘Aren’t you going to offer Kumu anything?’
‘Sure.That goes without saying. The palanquin bearers have been served already. Let me go and check up. You two can gossip in the meantime.’
Bipradas called Kshema and whispered something into her ears. Kumu guessed it was about the way the attendants from her in-laws’ house were to be taken care of. She was an outsider to this consultation. She had no say in this matter. She did not like this at all. Kumu began her effort to regain her old position in this house.
First she whispered some orders to the khansama and then started to rearrange the room in her own way. She moved out the glasses, cups and plates, the lamps and empty soda-water bottles to the outside veranda; also one broken cane-chair, a few dirty towels and a torn undervest. Then she arranged the books on the shelf, brought a teapoy within her brother’s reach and placed on it some reading material, an inkstand, a glass carafe and a tumbler for drinking water, a small mirror, comb and a hairbrush.
Meanwhile Gokul brought hot water in a brass jug and also a brass basin and a clean towel and kept all this on a low cane seat. Without waiting for his permission, Kumu wet a towel in the hot water and sponged Bipradas’s face and hands and combed his hair. Bipradas sat quietly like a small child. Then she informed herself about the timing and dosage of his medicines, the diet to be administered, and took over charge in such a manner that it seemed she had no other responsibility in her life.
Bipradas began to wonder what all this added up to. He had presumed that she had come for a short visit and would go back, but this did not seem to be the case at all. He was curious about her relationship with her in-laws, but hesitated to ask her directly. He waited for her to tell him herself. Once he asked her in a low voice, ‘When do you have to get back?’
‘Not now,’ she said. ‘I shall be with you for some time.’
Tom was trying to go to sleep quietly under the master’s couch. Kumu petted him so much that he became effusive in his affection. He jumped up and placed his paws on her lap and started a voluble conversation in his own tongue. Bipradas understood that Kumu sought to take refuge from any further discussion behind this commotion which she created herself.
After a while she stopped playing with Tom and said, ‘Dada, it is time for your barley-water. Shall I go and fetch it for you?’
‘No, it isn’t time yet,’ he said and motioned her to sit on the chair close to him. Then he took her hand in his and asked, ‘Kumu, tell me frankly how are you two getting on?’
Kumu could not say anything right then. She sat with her head down, her face went red, and then as she used to do in her childhood, she hid her face on his chest and started to cry. She said, ‘Dada, I misunderstood everything. I was so ignorant!’
Bipradas stroked her head gently and said after an interval of time, ‘I failed to bring you up properly. If Mother were alive, she would have prepared you well for marriage and in-laws.’
Kumu said, ‘So far I had only known you. I could never imagine that another household could be so radically different. From my childhood my thoughts had been moulded by yours. So I never feared anything. I have seen Father hurt Mother on many occasions, but that was a kind of wildness, the wound was outside, not internal. Here my humiliation is all deep within me.’
Bipradas sighed silently and began to brood. That Madhusudan belonged to a different world was apparent to him from the preliminaries to this marriage. Anxiety on this count was one reason why he was unable to recover fully. There was no way to save Kumu from this gross elephantine embrace. To make matters worse, his entire property was mortaged to this very person. This humiliating relationship was now affecting Kumu too. During his illness all these days, his constant thought was about escaping from the shackles of this loan. He did not want to come to Kolkata lest it became difficult to maintain a normal relationship with Kumu’s in-laws. He had decided to live in Noornagar for fear that his natural claim of affection on Kumu might be outraged at every step in Kolkata. But he was eventually compelled to come here in search of some other moneylender. He knew this was next to impossible and this worry was sitting like a boulder on his chest.
After a while Kumu turned her shoulder a little away from him, and asked, ‘Tell me, Dada, is it a sin on my part that I cannot endear my husband to myself?’
‘You know very well, Kumu, that my views on what is sinful and what is meritorious are quite contrary to the scriptures.’
Absent-mindedly she began to turn the pages of an illustrated English magazine. Bipradas continued, ‘The events and circumstances in every person’s life are so different from each other that to lay down firmly a general rule about good and evil will remain merely a rule, it will not be practical ethics.’
Kumu kept her eyes lowered on the magazine and said, ‘Mirabais life, for instance . . .’
Whenever the struggle between what is to be done and what is not to be done raged fierce in her mind she thought of Mirabai. She wished fervently for someone to explain to her the ideals of Mirabai.
With some effort she overcame her hesitation and said, ‘Mira found her real beloved within herself, so she could sincerely give up her social husband. But have I got such a major right to relinquish my mundane household?’
‘But, Kumu, I thought you already had your deity fully within yourself.’
‘So I used to think. But when I was in a crisis I found myself bereft of feelings. I tried my best but was somehow unable to make Him real in my heart of hearts. This is my greatest regret.’
‘The mind has its ebb and flow too. Night descends every now and then but that does not stop the day from dawning. Whatever you have achieved is one with you.’
‘Bless me so that I do not lose my faith in Him. He tortures one in order to give Himself in the end. But, Dada, I have made you ill worrying about me!’
‘Kumu dear, I am used to worrying about you since your childhood. If I stop getting your news or am not allowed to worry about you there will be a big void in my life. Groping in that emptiness is what has tired me out.’
Kumu was stroking his feet. She said, ‘You must not think too much about me. My protector is within me. I have nothing to fear.’
‘All right. Let that be. Right now I feel like teaching you some music as I used to.’
‘Thank God for the music you taught me. That is what keeps me alive. But do not teach me today, when you get stronger, then. Today let me sing to you instead.’
She sat near his head and began to sing softly,
‘Piya ghar aaye, so hi pitam piya pyaar re.
Mira ke prabhu Giridhar naagar
Charana-kamal balihar re.’
(My beloved has come home. He is my true love. Mira is thrill
ed to be at the feet of her lord Giridhari.)
Bipradas was listening with his eyes closed. As she sang she had an extraordinary vision. Her inner world was filled with light.The beloved had come and she could feel the touch of his feet in her heart. As she embraced her beloved that world turned into her reality. Her singing had transported her to that world. The last lines of the song filled her whole existence with endless ecstasy. There was no room for the petty afflictions and insults of the everyday world. ‘The beloved had come home.’ What more did one want? If this song never ended it could be her escape for life.
Gokul came and put some pieces of toast and a glass of barley-water on the teapoy. Kumu stopped singing and said, ‘Dada, sometime back I was looking for a guru, but do I need one?You have given me the mantra of music.’
‘Don’t put me to shame. Gurus like me are a dime a dozen. They themselves are ignorant of the mantras they impart to their disciples. Now tell me how long exactly can you stay here?’
‘Till I am sent for.’
‘Did you ask to come here?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Then what is the meaning of all this?’
‘It’s no use trying to get the meaning. You won’t get it even if you tried. It is enough that I am here close to you. The longer I can stay here, so much the better.You are not eating, Dada. Please finish your food.’
A servant came and announced the arrival of Kalu Mukherjee. Bipradas seemed to be somewhat concerned at this news. He said, ‘Send him in.’
47
KUMU BOWED TO HIM AS SOON AS KALU CAME IN. HE SAID, ‘SO, LITTLE ONE, you’ve come! Now Dada will soon be well.’
Her eyes were filled with tears. She said, ‘Dada, won’t you have some lemon juice in your barley-water?’
Bipradas waved his hand casually indicating that it really didn’t matter. Kumu knew he hated barley-water so she always put some lemon juice and rose-water and made a sherbet out of it. None of that was available today for Bipradas never told anyone else about his own taste; he took whatever came with equal distaste.
The Tagore Omnibus, Volume One Page 70
