Gora (Modern Classics)

by Tagore, Rabindranath

  At this moment, Mahim appeared on the terrace, panting.

  ‘Why build a three-storey house when humans don’t have wings?’ he protested. ‘The gods in the heavens don’t like it if human beings, creatures of the soil, attempt to inhabit the sky. Did you see Binoy?’

  ‘Binoy cannot marry Shashimukhi,’ declared Gora, avoiding a direct reply.

  ‘Why? Is Binoy unwilling?’

  ‘I am unwilling.’

  ‘How extraordinary!’ exclaimed Mahim, spreading his hands. ‘Here’s a new twist, I see! So you are unwilling! May I know why?’

  ‘I see clearly that it will be hard to keep Binoy within our community. We can’t let him marry one of our girls.’

  ‘I’ve seen a lot of Hindu fanaticism, but nothing to match this. You surpass even the Hindus of Kashi and Bhatpara! Your rulings are based on future predictions, I find. One of these days, you will prescribe swallowing cowdung to restore my caste purity, just because you’ve dreamt of my conversion to Christianity!’

  After much ranting, Mahim said: ‘I can’t marry the girl to an illiterate, after all! An educated, intelligent young man is bound to circumvent the shastras sometimes. Argue with him, curse him if you like, but why punish my daughter by preventing his marriage? All your ideas are totally perverse!’

  ‘Ma, please restrain this Gora of yours!’ Mahim went downstairs and begged Anandamoyi.

  ‘Why, what’s the matter?’ asked Anandamoyi anxiously.

  ‘I had almost fixed a match between Shashimukhi and Binoy. I had even got Gora to agree to it. But meanwhile, Gora has understood clearly that Binoy is not Hindu enough, because he deviates occasionally from the views of Manu and Parashar. So Gora has dug his heels in, and you know what he’s like when he chooses to be obdurate. In today’s depraved world, this Kaliyug of ours, if Janak were to decree that he would offer Sita’s hand only to a suitor who could make Gora unbend, I can wager that Shri Rama would have failed. After Manu-Parashar, you are the person Gora respects the most. Now, if you find a way, my girl’s future will be assured. Search as we might, another such suitor is not to be found.’

  Mahim proceeded to recount all that had passed between him and Gora on the terrace. Sensing the developing hostility between Binoy and Gora, Anandamoyi was distressed. Going upstairs, she found that Gora, having stopped pacing the terrace, was reading on one chowki, his feet propped up on another. Anandamoyi drew up a chowki close to him. Lowering his feet, Gora sat upright and glanced at her face.

  ‘Gora, my boy, you must keep a request of mine,’ Anandamoyi pleaded. ‘Don’t quarrel with Binoy. To me, you two are like brothers. I can’t bear the prospect of a split.’

  ‘If a friend wants to sever our ties, I can’t waste my time running after him.’

  ‘Baba, I don’t know what has occurred between you two. But if you can believe that Binoy wants to sever his ties with you, then what’s your friendship worth?’

  ‘Ma, I prefer to be direct. I can’t hold with those who equivocate. If it’s in a person’s nature to have one foot in each boat, he must step off the boat that is mine, even if it hurts me or the person concerned.’

  ‘Tell me what the matter is,’ Anandamoyi insisted. ‘His only crime is having visited a Brahmo home occasionally, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Ma.’

  ‘So what? Let me tell you Gora, you are so obstinate in all matters, that no one can divert you from your chosen course. But why are you so detached only where Binoy is concerned? If your Abinash wanted to leave your group, would you let him go so easily? Is it because Binoy is your friend that he means least of all to you?’

  Gora lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Anandamoyi’s words made him clearly understand his own feelings. He had imagined all this while that he was ready to sacrifice his friendship for duty’s sake, but now he realized it was quite the contrary. It was because his pride as a friend had been wounded that he was about to inflict on Binoy the ultimate punishment possible in a friendship. He had assumed that friendship alone would keep Binoy bound to him; any other method would be an insult to their mutual affection.

  As soon as Anandamoyi sensed that her words had had some effect on Gora, she gently prepared to rise, without saying more. Gora too, jumped to his feet suddenly, and taking his chador from the alna, he flung it across his shoulder.

  ‘Where are you going, Gora?’ Anandamoyi enquired.

  ‘To Binoy’s.’

  ‘Your meal is ready. Please dine before you set out.’

  ‘I’ll go get Binoy. He’ll dine with us too.’

  Anandamoyi went downstairs, without saying more. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she stopped suddenly.

  ‘Here comes Binoy!’ she exclaimed.

  As she spoke, Binoy arrived on the scene. Anandamoyi’s eyes grew moist.

  ‘Binoy, baba, haven’t you dined yet?’ she asked, patting him tenderly.

  ‘No, Ma.’

  ‘You must dine with us,’ Anandamoyi insisted.

  Binoy glanced at Gora.

  ‘You’ll have a long life, Binoy,’ Gora remarked. ‘I was just going to your place.’

  Anandamoyi’s felt light-hearted with relief. She hurried downstairs.

  Once the two friends had moved indoors, Gora made a random remark:

  ‘Do you know, I’ve found a good gymnastics coach for our boys. He’s training them quite well.’

  Neither of them dared raise the subject closest to their hearts. At dinner, Anandamoyi sensed from their conversation that the veil of constraint had not yet been lifted.

  ‘It’s very late, Binoy,’ she observed. ‘Sleep here tonight. I’ll send word to your house.’

  ‘Bhuktwa rajabadacharet,’ quoted Binoy in Sanskrit, after darting a swift glance at Gora’s countenance. ‘One should not walk the streets after a meal. So one may as well sleep here tonight.’

  After dinner, the two friends went to the terrace and settled on a madur. It was the month of Bhadra; moonlight flooded the sky, for it was the bright quarter of the lunar cycle. Flimsy white clouds floated gently across the sky, blurring the moon occasionally, like short spells of drowsiness. Rows of rooftops of varying shapes and sizes stretched to the horizon in every direction, their outlines sometimes merging with the treetops in the play of light and shade, the scene resembling a vast, needless fantasy. The church clock struck eleven; the ice-seller called out his wares for the last time, and departed. The hum of traffic had dwindled. In Gora’s street, there was no sign of wakefulness. There was only the occasional sound of horse hooves on the wooden floor of the neighbour’s stable, or every now and then, the barking of dogs.

  Both of them were silent for a long time. Then Binoy, after some initial hesitation, ultimately poured out his inner feelings, in full force, without restraint.

  ‘Bhai Gora, my heart is full to bursting. I know you have no taste for such things, but I’ll die if I don’t unburden myself. I can’t tell good from evil anymore, but one thing is certain: no clever strategy will work here. I have read many things in books, and assumed, all these days, that I know everything: like looking at a painting of water and assuming that swimming would be easy, only to discover, once in the water, that staying afloat is no easy feat!’

  So Binoy tried fervently to explain this extraordinary insight to Gora. Nowadays, he said, his days and night were too full to allow any space—as if there was no chink in the sky, it was so utterly dense—like a beehive in spring, full to bursting with honey. Formerly, much of the universe had been left out of his life, his gaze fixed only on the small part of it that met his needs. Today, he saw the entire universe, was touched by everything in it, and found everything imbued with a new meaning. He had not realized he loved the world so much, that the sky was so extraordinary, the light so exquisite, even the movement of unknown pedestrians on the street so intensely real. He longed to be of some service to all, to offer all his energy to the world forever, like the sun in the sky.

  It was not immediat
ely apparent that Binoy was saying all this with reference to any particular person. He could not bring anyone’s name to his lips, embarrassed even to offer a hint, as if he had wronged someone even in discussing such things. It was wrong of him, and an insult, but tonight, by his friend’s side, in the solitary darkness, under the silent sky, he found it impossible to avoid this guilty act.

  What a face! How exquisitely her spirit glowed on her tender cheeks! How extraordinary her inner radiance that shone forth in her smile! What an intellectual brow! And what deep, unfathomable mysteries lurked in those eyes, beneath the shadow of those dense lashes. And those hands, so eloquently expressive, ready to fulfill with grace the promise of devotion and love! Binoy’s heart seemed to swell with the joy of knowing that his life, his youth, were indeed worthwhile. That Binoy should see incarnate the vision that most people would die without ever beholding—what could be more amazing?

  But what madness was this? How wrong of him! But, wrong or not, it could be checked no longer. If this tide should wash him up on some shore, all the better; and if it should sweep him away and drown him, there was no preventing it. The problem was, he did not even want to be rescued. As if being carried away, surrendering all long-cherished beliefs, all stability, was life’s true fulfillment!

  Gora listened in silence. Upon this terrace, on such solitary, drowsy moonlit nights, they had exchanged many thoughts on many other occasions: so many thoughts on literature, human nature, social good, the future course of their lives, so many resolves the two of them had made together. But never had they spoken of such things. Gora had never before been confronted with such truths about the human heart, expressed so cogently, in such a manner. All along, he had dismissed such things as romantic claptrap. But today, he saw them so closely that he could no longer disavow them. Not only that, these emotions jolted his heart, with a thrill that streaked like lightning through his body. Momentarily, the veil was lifted, as in a breeze, from an unseen part of his youth, and the Sharat moonlight entered that long-sealed chamber, suffusing it with magic.

  The moon went down, beneath the line of rooftops. From the east came the faintest hint of light, like the smile on a face in sleep. At last, Binoy’s heart felt light, and a certain embarrassment crept in.

  ‘All my words must seem very petty to you,’ he observed, after a short silence. ‘In your heart you probably feel contempt for me. But tell me, what else can I do? I have never concealed anything from you. Today too, I have concealed nothing, whether you understand me or not.’

  ‘Binoy, I can’t say I understand these things correctly,’ Gora said. ‘Just a couple of days ago, you wouldn’t have understood them, either. Nor can I deny that, until now, I have found such worldly obsessions to be extremely trivial. But that may not mean they are actually insignificant. They have struck me as insubstantial illusions because I have had no direct experience of their force and intensity. But how can I say this major insight of yours is false? The fact is, a man cannot function unless he belittles all things outside his own field of action as trivial. That is why Ishwar has made distant things appear small to the human eye, instead of placing man in grave trouble by presenting all truths in an equal light. We must choose a particular direction, relinquishing our desire to cling to everything at once, or else we shall never grasp the truth. I cannot transfer myself to your position to salute the image of truth that you have beheld, for that would mean losing what’s true for my life. It’s either one or the other.’

  ‘Either Binoy, or Gora. I am ready for self-fulfillment, while you prepare for self-sacrifice.’

  ‘Binoy, stop trying to compose a book with your pronouncements,’ protested Gora, impatiently. ‘I see clearly from your words that you are today confronted with a powerful reality which you cannot evade. Once you recognize a truth, you must surrender to it; there is no holding back. It is my desire that one day, I, too, shall similarly attain the truth of my chosen field. So far, you were satisfied with knowledge of love gleaned from books. I, too, know patriotism only from books. Now that love has revealed itself to you, you have instantly realized how much truer it is than book-learning. It has taken over your whole universe, and you can find no respite from it anywhere. The day patriotism confronts me similarly in its entirety, there will be no saving me either. It will effortlessly draw to itself my life and wealth, my blood, marrow and bones, my sky, and all my light. Listening to your words, I get an inkling of how wonderfully exquisite, how manifestly well-defined is the true image of our own nation swadesh, how tremendously powerful are its joys and sorrows, engulfing life and death in an instant, like a flood. Your experience affects my life, today. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand what you have found, but through you, I seem to have a foretaste of what I myself wish to achieve.’

  As he spoke, Gora rose from the mat and began pacing about on the terrace. The glow of dawn in the east appeared to him like a statement or a message, like a mantra from the Vedas chanted in some ancient meditation-grove. His hair stood on end. For an instant, he stood transfixed, and from his crown, a ray of light seemed to rise like a fine stem, blossoming into a thousand-petalled lotus that filled the whole sky. His entire spirit, consciousness and strength seemed to extinguish themselves in surrendering to this supreme bliss.

  ‘Binoy,’ Gora suddenly exclaimed when he was himself again, ‘you must transcend this love of yours as well. You can’t stop there, I tell you. One day, I shall demonstrate to you how immensely real is the great power that summons me. My heart is overjoyed today. Now I cannot relinquish you to anyone else.’

  Rising from the madur on the floor, Binoy came and stood close to Gora, who embraced him with both arms in extraordinary enthusiasm.

  ‘Bhai,’ he said, ‘if we die, we die together. We two are one. Nobody can separate us, or come between us.’

  The force of Gora’s passionate enthusiasm rocked Binoy’s heart as well. Wordlessly, he surrendered to Gora’s magnetism. Side by side they roamed the terrace together, in silence. A rosy hue appeared in the eastern sky.

  ‘Bhai,’ said Gora, ‘I see my devi, the female deity I worship, not in a beautiful setting, but where there is famine and poverty, pain and humiliation. There, one does not worship with music and flowers, but with one’s life and blood. To me, that seems the greatest joy. There, no pleasure exists to delude you; by one’s own strength, one must awaken fully and give oneself completely. This is no sweetness, but an invincible, unbearable manifestation, cruel and terrible. It has a harsh resonance that strikes all seven notes at once, causing the strings of the instrument to snap. The thought of it thrills me. This indeed, is the joy of manhood, I think—the tandava-dance of destruction. It is to see the exquisite image of the new appear above the violent sacrificial flames of the old, that men must strive. In the blood-red sky, I see a free, radiant future—I see it in today’s impending dawn. See how my heart vibrates to the rhythm of some unknown tabor!’

  As he spoke, Gora pressed Binoy’s hand to his heart.

  ‘Bhai Gora, I’m with you,’ declared Binoy. ‘But never let me hesitate, I tell you. Draw me in your wake, relentless as destiny itself. We are destined for the same path, but the two of us are not equal in strength, after all!’

  ‘Our natures differ, but an immense bliss will merge our disparate temperaments,’ Gora asserted. ‘A love even greater than our mutual affection will unite us. Until that love materializes, there will be many clashes between us at every step, many conflicts and separations. Then, one day, forgetting everything, our differences and even our friendship, we shall be able to stand together, united in unshakable strength, in a great, magnificent act of self-surrender. That terrible bliss will be our friendship’s final outcome.’

  ‘Let it be so!’ cried Binoy, grasping Gora’s hand.

  ‘But until then, I shall trouble you a lot,’ warned Gora. ‘You must put up with all the torment, for we can’t regard friendship as life’s ultimate goal, nor dishonour our friendship by trying to keep i
t alive at any cost. It can’t be helped if our friendship collapses as a result; but should it survive, it will indeed be worthwhile.’

  Sudden footsteps startled them. Turning, they saw that Anandamoyi had come up to the terrace.

  ‘Come, it’s time to sleep now,’ she insisted, dragging them by the hand towards the room.

  ‘We can’t sleep now, Ma!’ both of them protested.

  ‘You can!’ declared Anandamoyi. She forced the two friends to lie in bed side by side, and shutting the door, she sat close to their headstead and began to fan them.

  ‘Ma, we can’t sleep if you start fanning us,’ Binoy objected.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ she said. ‘The moment I leave, the two of you will start talking again. We shan’t allow it.’

  When they had fallen asleep, Anandmoyi tiptoed out of the room. As she descended the stairs, she saw Mahim on his way up.

  ‘Not now,’ she told him. ‘They didn’t sleep at all last night. I have just put them to bed.’

  ‘My goodness, that’s called true friendship indeed,’ responded Mahim. ‘Do you know if they spoke of marriage?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Perhaps something has been decided. When will they wake up? If the wedding doesn’t take place soon, there will be many problems.’

  ‘No problems will arise from their falling asleep,’ laughed Anandamoyi. ‘They are bound to wake up in the course of the day!’

  ~16~

  ‘Aren’t you going to get Sucharita married?’ Borodasundari demanded.

  ‘Where is a groom to be found?’ asked Poreshbabu gently, after stroking his beard in his usual quiet, grave manner.

  ‘Why, her marriage to Panubabu is more or less fixed,’ replied Borodasundari. ‘At least, so we privately assume. Sucharita knows it, too.’

  ‘I don’t think Radharani quite fancies Panubabu.’

  ‘Look, I don’t like such ideas. I don’t distinguish between Sucharita and my own daughters, but we must admit there’s nothing very extraordinary about her either! If a learned, devout man like Panubabu fancies her, is that to be taken lightly? Say what you will, my Labanya is much prettier, but I assure you she’ll marry the man we choose. She will never say ‘no.’ If you encourage Sucharita’s arrogance, it will be hard to find a match for her.’