Bankimchandra Omnibus: Volume - 1: v. 1

by Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay

  So, one night, summoning up all her courage, with the will in her hand, Rohini went alone to Krishnakanta’s house. As she found the back door closed, she entered through the front gate. She confronted the gatekeepers, sitting on their charpoys, eyes half closed, humming Pilu in most unmusical voices. They stopped her, ‘Who are you?’ ‘Sakhi,’ Rohini replied. Sakhi was one of the maids of the family, so the gatekeepers let her pass. She knew her way around the house well, and she reached Krishnakanta’s bedroom without trouble. This room was never locked, since the house was well protected. Rohini listened carefully; Krishnakanta was snoring loudly. When she was sure, the will-thief entered the room slowly and quietly. She blew out the lamp as soon as she entered the room. Then, as on the previous occasion, she took the key and, feeling her way in the darkness, opened the drawer.

  Rohini was very careful, the movement of her hand very gentle, yet the key in turning made a click which woke Krishnakanta. He was not sure about the nature of the noise; he did not respond but listened intently. As the snoring stopped, Rohini realized that Krishnakanta was awake. She stood still, making no noise. Krishnakanta called out, ‘Who’s there?’ No one answered.

  Rohini, meanwhile, was beginning to feel feeble, worried, unbalanced and perhaps a little frightened. Her breathing was faintly audible and reached Krishnakanta’s ear. He called out for Hari several times.

  Rohini, if she had wanted to, could have run away. But that would have left unrepaired the damage she had done to Govindalal. She thought, ‘I had the courage to do the wicked deed that night, why should I not have the courage to do a good deed tonight?’ She decided to stay.

  Krishnakanta’s repeated calls brought no answer from Hari who had gone elsewhere seeking pleasure, promising to return soon. Then the master took out a matchbox from under his pillow and struck a light. In the light he saw a woman standing near the drawers. Krishnakanta lit the lamp and asked, ‘Who are you?’

  Rohini came closer to him and said, ‘I am Rohini.’ Surprised, Krishnakanta said, ‘What are you doing here at this hour of the night in the dark?’

  ‘I was stealing,’ Rohini replied.

  ‘Stop joking, and tell me why I find you like this. I cannot believe that you are a thief, but it looks as though you came to steal.’

  Rohini said, ‘Then let me complete the work that I came to do. I shall do it in front of your eyes. Afterwards you can treat me as you think fit. I am caught now, I cannot escape, nor will I try to escape.’

  Saying this, Rohini returned to the chest of drawers. She opened the drawers, took out the forged document and replaced it with the genuine will. Then she tore up the counterfeit will.

  ‘Hey, hey! What are you tearing, let me see,’ Krishnakanta shouted, while Rohini burnt the fragments of the forged document in the flame of the lamp.

  ‘What did you burn?’ Krishnakanta asked, his eyes blazing with anger.

  ‘A counterfeit will.’

  Krishnakanta shuddered, ‘Will! Will! Where’s my will?!’

  Rohini said, ‘Your will is in the drawer. Why don’t you see for yourself?’ Krishnakanta was astonished at her coolness and confidence. He wondered if some goddess had not come to play tricks on him. He opened the drawer, and finding the will, took it out. Once he found his reading glasses, he read it and was sure it was the genuine will. Surprised, he asked again, ‘What did you burn?’

  Rohini replied, ‘A forged will.’

  ‘A forged will? Who made it? Where did you find it?’

  Rohini said, ‘I cannot say who made it, but I found it in the drawer.’

  ‘But how did you know that there was a counterfeit will in the drawer?’

  Rohini said, ‘That I cannot say.’

  Krishnakanta thought for a while and then said, ‘Do you think that I could manage such a large estate for so long if I could not see through the little cunning of a woman like you? This counterfeit was made by Haralal. You took money from him and came here to exchange the documents. Then when you were caught you tore up the counterfeit. Am I right?’

  ‘No, that is not true.’

  ‘Then what is the truth?’

  Rohini said, ‘I shall not say anything more. I came here as a thief. Deal with me as you think fit.’

  Krishnakanta said, ‘There is no doubt that you came here with evil intentions, otherwise why should you enter the house like a thief? I shall make arrangements for the punishment that you deserve. I shall not call the police. Tomorrow I’ll have you turned out of the village, with your head shaved and whey poured over it. Until then you will be locked up.’ That night Rohini remained locked up.

  10

  THE NEXT MORNING, GOVINDALAL STOOD BY THE OPEN WINDOW OF HIS bedroom. It was not quite light yet; the kokil had not given its first call from the kamini shrub in the courtyard. The koel, however, had already started singing. As the cool breeze of dawn rose, Govindalal opened the window to enjoy the fragrance of mallika, gandharaj and kutaja flowers it brought with it. A slender girl came up and stood beside him.

  ‘Why are you here?’ asked Govindalal. ‘Why are you here?’ the girl replied. It is unnecessary to point out that the girl was Govindalal’s wife. Govinda said, ‘I am here to take the air; you can’t bear that, can you?’

  The girl said, ‘Why should I? You are always taking things. You are not satisfied with taking things from home that you must take things from the hills and fields.’

  ‘What have I taken from home?’

  ‘Why, you have taken my scolding just now.’

  ‘You know, Bhomra, Bengali men can take a lot of scolding. If they could not, then the whole race would have died of indigestion. Bengalis can digest a scolding easily. So shake your nose-ring and scold me again.’

  We do not know for certain whether Govindalal’s wife’s name, as given by her parents, was Krishnamohini or Anangamanjari or something like that. The real name was obsolete from disuse. Her pet name was Bhramar or Bhomra; the name was suitable for the Bhramar (bumblebee) is black.

  Bhramar objected to her husband’s suggestion that she shake her nosering. As a sign of protest, she took it off and hung it on a hook and then tweaked Govindalal’s nose. Then she looked at him with a gentle smile as if she had done something really wonderful. Govindalal too looked at her with admiring eyes. Just then the first rays of the sun appeared in the eastern sky and their tender shafts fell on the earth. As Bhramar was facing east, the sunlight fell on her face. The dawn light, falling on that bright, clear, soft, dark-toned, beautiful face, shone on the dancing, playful eyes and glowed on the smooth cheek. Her smile, her look, the morning sun, the morning breeze and his love—all blended together.

  Then there arose a commotion from the maidservant’s quarter. As they were awake now, they started sweeping floors, sprinkling water, scouring pots and pans, and attending to other domestic chores. Together they made a great noise—sap-sap, chap-chap, jhan-jhan, khan-khan. Suddenly it all stopped, and instead there arose voices, mimicking, mocking and laughing, ‘Oh God!’, ‘What’s new!’, ‘What a calamity’, ‘How impudent’, ‘What audacity’. Bhramar came out of her room to see what had happened.

  The maidservant community did not pay much attention to Bhramar. There were many reasons for this. To start with, she was too young and not the mistress of the household since her mother-in-law and sister-in-law were still there. Moreover, Bhramar was generally inclined more to laugh than to rule. The clamour increased as she approached.

  The first maid she encountered asked, ‘Have you heard, young mistress?’

  The second maid said, ‘No one has ever heard such an awful thing.’

  The third maid said, ‘What audacity! I will go and take the broom to that woman.’

  The fourth maid commented, ‘Only broom! If you just say the word, I will go and cut her nose off!’

  The fifth maid said, ‘You can never tell what is inside anyone.’

  Bhramar laughed and said, ‘First tell me what has happened. Then you can all
go and do as you please.’ The clamour began all over again.

  The first maid said, ‘Haven’t you heard? The whole neighbourhood is in turmoil over this!’

  ‘A hyena in a tiger’s den,’ commented the second maid.

  The third maid said, ‘I can beat the venom out of her with a broom.’ ‘A dwarf reaching for the moon,’ said the fourth maid.

  The fifth maid said, ‘It is not difficult to detect a wet cat—a rope round her neck.’

  Bhramar said, ‘A rope round your necks.’

  Then the maids cried with one voice, ‘Why do you blame us? What have we done? Yes, we know, whenever somebody does something wrong somewhere, we are blamed. We are poor women, we have to work hard so that we can eat.’ When this speech was over, some covered their eyes and began to cry. One of them wailed for her dead son. Bhramar was moved but could not stop laughing: ‘I said that you deserve a rope round your necks because you haven’t told me what it’s all about. What has happened?’

  Then again voices rang out from all quarters. With great difficulty, Bhramar gathered from the endless talk the essential information that a theft had taken place in the bedroom of the zamindar. Some said it was not a theft but a robbery, another called it a burglary, while someone else said that four or five thieves had come and taken away government paper worth a lakh of rupees.

  Bhramar asked, ‘What happened then? Who is this wretched woman whose nose you wanted to cut off?’

  The first maid said, ‘Mistress Rohini’s, who else’s?’

  The second maid said, ‘That shameless woman is the cause of all this trouble.’

  The third maid added, ‘They say it is she who brought the gang of robbers.’

  The fourth maid commented, ‘She will now pay for her misdeed.’

  The fifth maid said, ‘Now she will rot in prison.’

  ‘How do you know that Rohini came to steal?’ asked Bhramar.

  ‘Why, she was caught and is locked up in the cutcherry jail.’

  Bhramar went back to Govindalal and reported the story. He shook his head thoughtfully.

  ‘Why do you shake your head?’ asked Bhramar.

  Govindalal said, ‘I do not believe that Rohini came to steal. Do you?’

  ‘You tell me why you don’t.’

  ‘I shall tell you some other time, but you tell me first.’

  Bhramar said, ‘No, you tell me first.’

  Govindalal laughed and said, ‘You tell me first.’

  Bhramar asked, ‘Why should I?’

  Govinda said, ‘I’d love to hear it.’

  ‘You want the truth?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Bhramar tried but could not say it and then shyly bowed her head. Govindalal understood, he understood it from the beginning, that is why he was pressing so hard for an answer. Bhramar believed in Rohini’s innocence as much as she believed in her own existence, but for that there was no reason except that Govindalal said Rohini was innocent. Govindalal’s belief was Bhramar’s belief. He understood that for he knew her. That is why Govindalal loved this dark girl so much.

  Govindalal said, teasing, ‘Shall I tell you why you are on Rohini’s side?’

  Bhramar said, ‘Yes, tell me.’

  Govinda said, ‘Because she calls your complexion “bright brown”, not “black”.’

  ‘Go away,’ Bhramar said with a frown.

  ‘I am going,’ replied Govindalal and was about to leave when she pulled his garment and asked, ‘Where are you going?’

  Govinda said, ‘Tell me where I am going.’

  ‘Shall I tell you now?’ asked Bhramar.

  ‘Yes, tell me.’

  ‘To save Rohini,’ said Bhramar.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Govindalal and kissed Bhramar. A compassionate heart understood another compassionate heart. That is why he kissed her.

  11

  GOVINDALAL WENT STRAIGHT TO THE CUTCHERRY WHICH WAS LOCATED IN the anterior portion of the house. Krishnakanta was already there. He was sitting on a high seat arranged like a throne, smoking ambergris-scented tobacco from a hubble-bubble with a golden tube; he was enjoying the pleasures of heaven on earth. To one side of him were bundles of records, ledgers, account books, receipts, rent rolls, registers of land transactions, assessments and cash books, and on the other stood his stewards, agents, overseers, clerks, cashiers, surveyors, footmen and tenants. And in front of him stood Rohini, her face downcast and veiled.

  Govindalal was Krishnakanta’s favourite. On entering the cutcherry, he asked, ‘What has happened, Big Uncle?’ As she heard his voice, Rohini opened her veil a little and gave him a look. Govindalal wondered what that look meant. It was a sad and imploring look. But what did she want? It must be her appeal to save her from this trouble. Then he remembered their conversation on the steps of the tank. He had told her she could speak to him if she was ever in trouble. Now she was in trouble. That’s what she told him by that look. He thought, ‘I wish you well, for there is no one who can help you here. But it won’t be easy, for the man who is holding you is a strong-minded person.’ As he was pondering about the ‘look’, Govindalal paid no attention to what Krishnakanta was saying, so he repeated his question, ‘What has happened, Big Uncle?’ The master had already told him what had happened the night before, but as his nephew repeated his question he said to himself, ‘This young man has lost his head at the sight of this pretty face.’ He, however, told the whole story again and added, ‘It is that rascal Haralal’s doing. I think that this wretched woman took a bribe from him to replace the genuine will with a forged one. Once she was caught she tore up the forged will in fear.’

  Govinda asked, ‘What does Rohini say?’

  Krishnakanta said, ‘What can she say? She says that that was not how it happened.’

  Govindalal turned to her, ‘If it was not so, then how was it, Rohini?’

  Rohini, without lifting her head, answered in a choked voice, ‘I am in your hands, do what you like. I shall not tell you any more.’

  Krishnakanta said, ‘See! The wickedness!’

  Govindalal said to himself, ‘Not everyone is wicked in this world. There may be something other than wickedness in her.’ He asked his uncle, ‘What orders have you given? Are you going to send her to the police?’

  Krishnakanta said, ‘What have I to do with the police? I am the police, magistrate and judge in this estate. Will it help my manliness if I were to send this unimportant woman to prison?’

  ‘Then what will you do?’ asked Govindalal.

  ‘I will have her winnowed out of the village, having had her head shaved and whey poured over it. She will never be able to return to my estate.’

  Govindalal turned to Rohini and said, ‘What have you got to say?’

  Rohini said, ‘It would do me no harm.’

  Govindalal was astonished. After a little thought he said to his uncle, ‘I have a request to make.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Please free her for a little while. I stand surety and shall bring her back by ten o’clock.’

  Krishnakanta said to himself, ‘Just as I thought: my nephew is interested in this woman.’ Then he said to Govindalal, ‘Where will you take her and why should I let her go?’

  Govindalal said, ‘It is our duty to find out the truth. She will not talk in front of all these people. I shall take her to the women’s quarter and question her in private.’

  Krishnakanta said to himself, ‘To hell with his questioning. The boys of today are shameless. But wait, you rascal, I will go one better.’ He said to Govindalal, ‘Very well’, and then he ordered one of his footmen, ‘Take this woman, send her with a maidservant to Bhramar’s quarter and make sure that she does not escape.’ The footman took Rohini away. Govindalal too left. Krishnakanta invoked Goddess Durga, ‘What’s come over the younger generation!’

  12

  GOVINDALAL ENTERED THE INNER BUILDING AND SAW BHRAMAR SITTING with Rohini in silence. She wanted to comfort Rohini but was afraid of
making her cry. So Bhramar sat there in silence. She was relieved to see Govindalal; moving quickly towards him, she gestured to him. As he came near, Bhramar asked him in a low voice, ‘What is Rohini doing here?’ Govindalal replied, ‘I want to ask her some questions in private. Afterwards, let fate decide her future.’

  ‘What do you want to ask her?’

  ‘What’s on her mind. If you are afraid to leave me alone with her then you may listen from behind the door.’

  At this, Bhramar hung her head in embarrassment. She went straight to the kitchen, pulled the hair of the cook and said, ‘Cook, tell me a fairy tale.’

  In their room, Govindalal asked Rohini, ‘Will you tell me everything?’

  Her heart was bursting to tell him everything but she was the daughter of an Aryan, the race who would mount funeral pyres alive. ‘You have heard what the master said,’ Rohini replied.

  Govindalal said, ‘The master said you came to put in a forged will and steal the genuine one. Is that right?’

  Rohini said, ‘No, that is not right.’

  ‘Then how was it?’

  ‘What good will it do if I tell you?’

  ‘It may be for your own good.’