He put Rohini’s drenched champak flower-like body on a couch. It looked still brighter in the lamplight. Her long, dark, curly hair was now straight since it was wet; water dripped from it like rain. Her eyes were closed and the eyebrows were now a deeper black, being wet. Her calm broad forehead suggested no shame or fear but some unexpressed feeling. Her cheeks were still bright; the lips still sweet and their redness shamed the red of the bandhuli flower. Govindalal wept, ‘Alas! alas! Why did God send you with so much beauty? Why did He not make you happy if He made you so beautiful? Why are you leaving us this way?’ His heart broke for he knew that he was responsible for her suicide.
If Rohini was still alive she must be saved. Govindalal knew how to save a drowning person. It was relatively easy to get the water out of her system. He made her throw up the water she had swallowed by putting her now in a standing, now in a sitting position and by turning her about from side to side. However, she did not resume her breathing. That was a difficult task.
Govindalal knew what was to be done—her lungs had to be dilated by slowly raising her arms and having air blown into them through her mouth. Her arms were then to be lowered so that the lungs, contracting, would expel the air that was blown into them. This process of artificial respiration had to be continued until natural respiration was restored. Someone had to raise Rohini’s hands while someone else would blow into her mouth. Who would blow into those plum-like red lips which were still full of nectar, a pitcher full of intoxicating sensual desires, like poison. Who should do this dangerous deed, touch those sweet, red lips with his lips?
All other servants had left the garden except the gardener. Govindalal asked him to blow into Rohini’s mouth while he raised her arms. The gardener refused and said in his native Oriya, ‘No, my master. I cannot do that.’
He would rather kiss the holy stone than blow into those lips. The gardener began to sweat, then he said definitely, ‘Not those lips.’
I think that the gardener was right. To see Rohini again after she had been restored to life, to see her going home, her pitcher on her hip, with her red lips, would have made it impossible for him to carry on at his job. It would have made him throw his tools in the Varuni tank and run for his native town, maybe drown himself in the Subarnarekha on the way.4 I do not know if the gardener thought of all this, but he definitely refused to blow into Rohini’s mouth.
Since there was no other way out, Govindalal decided to blow into Rohini’s mouth and the gardener agreed to raise and lower her arms. Then Govindalal put his soft, red, cherry-like lips on her soft, red, cherry-like lips and blew into her mouth. At that very moment, Bhramar, trying to hit a cat with a stick, hit herself on the forehead instead.
The operation of moving Rohini’s arms up and down and blowing into her mouth continued for two or three hours, at the end of which she breathed and came back to life.
17
AS ROHINI STARTED BREATHING, GOVINDALAL GAVE HER A STIMULANT TO restore her strength. Her strength slowly returned and she opened her eyes. She saw the beautiful room cooled by the breeze coming in through the window. On one side was a lamp in a crystal container, shedding a soft light, and on the other was Govindalal, the lamp of her life. She was restored to life by Govindalal’s medicine, which he gave her to drink, and by his words, which she drank through her ears. Her consciousness had returned after her breathing had been restored, and then she had opened her eyes; her memory revived next, and finally her speech: ‘I was dead; who brought me back to life?’
Govindalal said, ‘That is not important. All that matters now is that you are saved.’
Rohini asked, ‘Why did you save me? Am I your enemy? You won’t even let me die.’
‘Why do you wish to die?’
‘Have I no right to kill myself?’
‘No one has the right to sin—suicide is a sin.’
‘I don’t know anything about merit and sin. Nobody taught me. In fact, I do not believe this. I have committed no sin but I have suffered so much. I cannot possibly suffer more if I commit a sin. I will kill myself. You saved me this time because you saw me. Next time I shall take care not to be seen by you.’
Govindalal was distressed, ‘Why do you want to die?’
‘It is better to die in one go than to die slowly every day, every hour and every moment.’
‘What’s hurting you so much?’
‘My heart is burning with desire, there is cool water in front of me. I cannot touch it, not in this life. I cannot even hope to touch it.’
‘Enough of this kind of talk; come, let me take you home.’
‘No, I shall go alone.’
Govindalal respected her decision and said no more. Rohini went alone.
Then, in that deserted room, Govindalal suddenly threw himself on the floor and started to cry. He hid his face on the floor, and with tears streaming from his eyes he called out, ‘Oh Lord, save me from this danger. I shall not be able to save myself unless you give me strength. I shall die, Bhramar too will die. Abide in my heart—with you I can conquer my weakness.’
18
WHEN GOVINDALAL RETURNED HOME, BHRAMAR ASKED, ‘WHY WERE YOU in the garden for so long tonight?’
Govindalal said, ‘Why do you ask? Have I never been late before?’
‘You have, but from the look on your face and the tone of your voice, I feel that something has happened tonight.’
‘What has happened?’
‘How can I say what is wrong if you do not tell me? I was not there.’
‘Why can’t you tell from the look on my face?’
Bhramar said, ‘Stop joking. I can tell from your face that something is wrong. Please tell me. I am very worried.’
As she spoke, tears fell from her eyes. Govindalal caressed Bhramar, wiped her tears and then said, ‘I shall tell you some other day, but not today.’
Bhramar persisted, ‘Why not today?’
Govinda said, ‘You are young and it is not a matter for a young girl like you to hear.’
‘Shall I be told tomorrow?’
‘No, I shall not tell you tomorrow, but in two years’ time. Please do not ask me more now.’
Bhramar sighed. ‘Ah well, then let it be after two years. I wanted very much to know, but how can I know if you don’t tell me? I feel so sad.’
A deep sorrow darkened Bhramar’s mind. As the sudden appearance of a cloud blots out the bright blue and beautiful spring sky, so this sadness blotted out Bhramar’s cheerfulness. Tears came rolling down from her eyes. She thought that she was crying for nothing, she was wicked and her husband would be angry. So, still crying, she went out, found a corner and sat down with her feet outstretched to read Annadamangal. I cannot say if she enjoyed it but the black cloud did not lift from her heart.
19
GOVINDALAL DECIDED TO TALK TO HIS UNCLE ABOUT THEIR FINANCIAL AFFAIRS. He started asking about various estates. Krishnakanta was pleased that Govindalal was showing an interest in the family’s property. ‘It would be good if you boys take an interest in the business of running our estates. I may not live long and if you were to learn the management of our property, it would be good for the future. I am too old to travel to inspect all our estates and there are disturbances in some of them.’
Govindalal said, ‘If you were to send me there, I would be happy to go. In fact, it is my wish to visit all our estates.’ Krishnakanta was very pleased. ‘I am very happy to hear this. At the moment there is some trouble in Bandarkhali; the steward says that the tenants are on a rent-strike. The tenants say that they have been paying the rents regularly but the steward does not give them proper receipts. If you wish to go there, I can make the necessary arrangements.’
Govindalal agreed. This was really the reason why he went to see Krishnakanta. He was in the prime of his youth, with excitable desires like the waves of a turbulent sea and he had a strong passion for beauty. Bhramar could not satisfy this passion. Rohini’s beauty was like the first cloud in the blue summer sky.
Govindalal beheld her beauty as the chatak bird beholds a raincloud. His heart danced at the sight of Rohini like a peacock dances at the sight of the first rain. When he became aware of his own feelings, he swore to himself that he would rather die than be unfaithful to Bhramar. He resolved to forget Rohini and put his mind to work. He was sure that once he had gone away he would forget her. That’s why he started talking about the estates, and when Bandarkhali was mentioned, he was eager to go.
When Bhramar heard that her husband would be leaving to visit a country estate, she insisted that she too should go with him. She pressed hard. She cried and went to her mother-in-law for support. The old lady would not let her go. So Govindalal kissed Bhramar, and with the boat ready and surrounded by servants, he set out on his ten-day journey to Bandarkhali.
Bhramar lay down on the floor and cried. Then she got up, took her copy of Annadamangal and tore it up. She opened the bird’s cage and let the bird fly out, drowned her dolls and cut all the flowers in the flowerpots. She lost her appetite, flung her food at the cook, pulled down the maidservants’ braids, and quarrelled with her sister-in-law Having done such naughty things, Bhramar lay down in bed, pulled the sheet over her head and began to cry. Meanwhile, propelled by a favourable wind, Govindalal’s boat went its way over the waves of the river.
20
AFTER GOVINDALAL LEFT, NOTHING SATISFIED BHRAMAR. SHE TOOK DOWN her bed because it was too soft, and the fan above it because the air was fiery hot. She forbade her servants to bring flowers to her for there were insects in them. She stopped playing cards; she told her friends that her mother-in-law did not approve of such games; she gave away her needles, cotton, wool and patterns to the girls in the village on the grounds that they made her eyes ache. If someone asked about the unwashed clothes that she had taken to wearing, she blamed the washerman; yet her wardrobe was full of clean clothes. She would hardly touch her hair with a comb, it looked more like a field of thatching grass ruffled by the wind; if anyone drew her attention to it she would laugh and bundle it up. She was difficult at mealtimes; she would say, ‘I cannot eat, I have a fever.’ Her mother-in-law got a doctor, who prescribed some pills and potions for Bhramar. She got Khiri to see to it that Bhramar took these medicines regularly. Bhramar received the pills and potions and then threw them out of the window.
Before long, these excesses became unbearable for Khiri. ‘Whom do you pine for, my young daughter-in-law mistress?’ she asked. ‘Does he, for whom you are crying yourself to death, think of you for a moment? While you are crying he is probably meditating on mistress Rohini’s beauty, with a hubble-bubble in his hands.’
Bhramar was very free with her hands—she slapped Khiri’s face with a strong hand. Then she said, weeping, ‘How dare you speak to me like that? Get out of my sight.’
Khiri said, ‘Can you stop people talking by slapping me? We do not say anything, for you would get angry. But we must tell you, and you must know. Call Panchi, the low-caste woman, and ask her whether she did not see Rohini coming out of the second young master’s [Govindalal’s] garden house late at night.’
Khiri was unlucky to have spoken this way to Bhramar in the morning. Bhramar stood up and showered slaps and blows on Khiri, knocked her down, pulled her hair and at last burst into tears.
Khiri was used to Bhramar’s occasional slaps but today the young mistress had gone too far, so she got angry and said, ‘What’s the use of beating us? If we say anything it is for your own good, for we cannot bear to hear people gossiping about you. If you don’t believe me, then send for Panchi and ask her yourself.’
Crying in anger and sorrow, Bhramar said, ‘You go and ask a low-caste woman about my husband. How dare you talk to me like that? I will tell my mother-in-law and have you thrown out of the house with a broom. Now get out of my sight.’
Then Kshiroda alias Khiri the maid left, boiling with anger at the unnecessary beatings she had received.
Bhramar, looking up with folded hands and tears in her eyes, called out to Govindalal, ‘O preceptor, teacher, you are conversant with righteousness and are my sole truth. Is this what you concealed from me the other day?’ Deep in her heart, in that secret place which no eye could penetrate and where there was no self-deception, Bhramar found no distrust of her husband. Only once did the thought come to her mind, ‘If he is unfaithful to me—but then I shall not suffer much. If I die, the suffering will also end.’ To a Hindu woman, death appears very easy.
21
KHIRI THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS INDEED THE KALI AGE—WHY ELSE WOULD a slip of a girl like Bhramar disbelieve her? Kshiroda in her simple heart bore no real grudge or malice against her mistress; in fact, she wished her well. But she found it intolerable that Bhramar should not believe her story. She oiled her smooth body, put a coloured towel on her shoulder and with a pitcher on her hip, she went to bathe in Varuni.
On her way she first met Haramani Thakurani, a cook in the zamindar’s household, who was coming back from Varuni. As soon as she saw her, Khiri started speaking loudly to herself, ‘It is said that the person for whom you steal calls you a thief. I cannot work in a rich man’s house any more; you never know what mood they are in.’
Haramani, sensing a quarrel, shifted the wet garment she had washed during her bath from her right hand to her left and asked, ‘What is it, Khiri? What’s up?’
Khiri proceeded to unburden her heart, ‘The shameless hussies of the neighbourhood would visit our master’s garden house, but we servants must not tell our mistress.’
Hara asked, ‘What is this? Who is this hussy?’
‘Who but that wretched Rohini?’
‘Oh Lord! How long has she been carrying on? And with whom?’
Khiri whispered Govindalal’s name, then they exchanged sly glances and smiles and went their different ways. A little way down the path, Khiri met Ram’s mother, stopped her with a smile and told her about Rohini’s misdeeds. The two exchanged meaningful looks and smiles, then they went their ways.
And so Kshiroda unburdened herself to Haramani, Ram’s mother, Shyam’s mother, Hari, Tari, Pari and everyone else she met. At the end of it she felt better and with a happy heart she went to bathe in the crystal waters of Varuni. In their turn, Haramani, Ram’s mother, Shyam’s mother, Hari, Tari and Pari told everyone they met that Rohini had been in Govindalal’s garden house. Zero added to one made ten, zero added to ten made a hundred and zero added to a hundred made a thousand. The sun, whose rays were not too warm when Khiri first spoke of Rohini to Bhramar, had not set yet when it was proclaimed in every house that Rohini was favoured by Govindalal. The tale of Rohini’s visit to Govindalal’s garden led to the tale of the unbounded passion that had grown between them and this in its turn led to the tale of the countless pieces of jewellery he had given her. To this, many other details were added, but I, as a humble truth-telling male writer, shall not presume to elaborate on these to you ladies, highly skilled in the art of talking and spreading scandal.
By and by the news reached Bhramar. First Vinodini came and said, ‘Is this true?’ with a pale face and a heart about to break. Bhramar asked, ‘Is what true?’ Vinodini contracted her eyebrows like Cupid’s flowery bow and flashed a bolt of lightning from the corner of her eye, put her boy on her lap and said, ‘I am talking about the Rohini affair.’
Bhramar could not reply. She drew the child towards her and with a girlish trick made him cry. Vinodini left giving the boy her breast.
Suradhani came next. ‘Didn’t I tell you to put a spell on your husband? After all, you are not of fair complexion, you cannot win a man’s heart just with words, you need beauty and other qualities. God knows, Rohini is very clever.’
‘What do you mean, Rohini is clever?’
Suradhani hit her brow with her hand, ‘Hard luck! Everyone knows except you that your husband has given Rohini seven thousand rupees worth of jewellery.’
Bhramar was angry. In her mind she sent Suradhani to the land of Yama. Wringing the neck of one of her do
lls, she said, ‘I know that. I saw his account book. We are down by fourteen thousand rupees worth of jewellery.’
After Vinodini and Suradhani, a host of Bhramar’s other women relatives and friends came in singly, in twos and threes, to tell this poor and distressed girl that her husband was in love with Rohini. Young, middle-aged and old, they all said, ‘It is not at all surprising. Could there be a woman who would not fall in love with such a handsome man? Is it any wonder that he fell for such a beautiful woman as Rohini?’ In love or hatred, in jest or anger, in joy or sorrow, with laughter or tears, they all said, ‘Bhramar, you are ruined.’
Bhramar had been the happiest girl in the village and other women were jealous of her happiness. Why should a dark-complexioned, plain-looking girl be so rich? Why should she have a husband with whom no scandal was attached and who was worthy of a goddess? Why should a simple aparajita flower be valued like a lotus and smell like jasmine? The women of the village could only bear so much. So they came in flocks and herds with their children or their sisters, with their hair done up or while in the act of doing it up or with their hair loose. They all came to tell Bhramar that her happiness was at an end. No one felt for her, no one considered that Bhramar was an innocent girl, unhappy due to the absence of her husband.
Bhramar could not take this torture any more. She closed her doors, and threw herself on the floor. As she rolled on the floor, she cried for her husband, ‘You, who are dearer than life, you alone can remove my doubt. You are my doubt but you are also my faith. Whom should I ask now? I don’t believe what they are saying, but they are all saying it, and why should they do so if it weren’t true? Who will allay my fears? You are not here, why don’t I die as my suspicion is not removed? How can I live with this doubt? Why don’t I die? When you come back, Lord of my life, don’t reproach your Bhomra for having died without letting you know.’
Bankimchandra Omnibus: Volume - 1: v. 1 Page 40
