‘It’s a question I ask you,’ Sucharita persisted. ‘Why do we condemn caste discrimination?’
‘There is no harm in a cat approaching our plate and devouring rice from it, but if a certain human being enters the room, we must throw away the rice. If caste discrimination causes men to treat other men with such humiliation and contempt, how can I call it anything but anti-religion? Those who can treat human beings with such contempt can never attain greatness. They must suffer the contempt of others.’
‘There may be many flaws in the malpractices prevalent in our community today,’ argued Sucharita, echoing Gora. ‘But then such flaws have pervaded all aspects of the community. For that, is the original community itself to blame?’
‘If I could locate the original element, I would have an answer,’ replied Poreshbabu with his customary tranquility. ‘When I see with my own eyes that people in our country are treating other people with intolerable contempt, tearing us apart, how can I in such circumstances console myself with thoughts of an imaginary original element?’
‘Tell me,’ said Sucharita, echoing Gora’s party again, ‘It was our nation’s ultimate philosophical ideal to regard everyone equally, wasn’t it?’
‘Equality concerns knowledge, not emotions of the heart. It includes neither love nor contempt, for it is beyond anger and jealousy. The human heart can’t sustain such a state, shorn of everything the heart must believe. That is why, in our country, despite such an egalitarian philosophy, low-caste people are not even allowed into temples. If our country does not permit even equality of worship, how does it matter whether such ideas exist in philosophy?’
For a long time, Sucharita mulled over Poreshbabu’s words in silence, trying to comprehend them.
‘Tell me, Baba,’ she finally said, ‘Why don’t you try explaining these things to Binoybabu and the others?’
‘It’s not as if Binoybabu and the others lack the intellect to understand these things,’ smiled Poreshbabu. ‘Rather, it’s from an excess of intellect that they don’t want to understand, only to explain. When they develop a heartfelt desire to understand all these things from the perspective of religion, the greatest truth of all, they won’t have to depend on your Baba’s intellect. At present, they are viewing things from a different perspective. My words will be of no use to them now.’
Sucharita had listened to Gora and the others with respect, but their views, clashing with her convictions, had been inwardly troubling her. She could not rest in peace. Today, her conversation with Poreshbabu brought her temporary relief. Sucharita did not want to entertain the slightest possibility that Gora, Binoy, or anyone else, knew more on any subject than Poreshbabu. She could not help being angry with anybody who contradicted Poreshbabu. Of late, since her acquaintance with Gora, it was because she could not completely dismiss his words in anger or contempt, that she suffered such mental agony. That was why she had grown desperate to seek refuge again in Poreshbabu, like his shadow, as in her childhood days. Rising from the chowki, she went to the door, then came back again, and standing behind Poreshbabu, leaning against the back of his chowki, she said:
‘Baba, let me join you at your prayers today.’
‘Very well.’
Afterwards, going into her bedroom, Sucharita closed the door and tried to remove Gora’s words from her mind. But Gora’s image, glowing with intelligence and conviction, lingered before her mind’s eye. She began to feel that his words were not words alone, but Gora himself; those words had a form, a motion, a life of their own, brimming with the strength of his convictions and the pain of his patriotism. They were not mere opinions to be countered; they comprised an entire being, and no ordinary one. It was hard indeed to spurn this being. Caught in an intense inner conflict, Sucharita felt like weeping. Her heart was full to bursting at the thought that someone could cast her into such a major dilemma and then so easily grow remote, like someone utterly detached. Yet there was also no end to her self-castigation at her own agony.
~24~
It had been determined that Binoy would dramatically recite a poem about music by the English poet Dryden, while the girls, appropriately attired, would mime the accompanying actions onstage. In addition, the girls would also recite English poems and sing English songs. Borodasundari had repeatedly assured Binoy that they would somehow groom him for the performance. She herself had only a smattering of English, but she could rely on a couple of experts in her troupe. But when they assembled for rehearsals, Binoy astounded Borodasundari’s team of experts with his recitation. Borodasundari was denied the satisfaction of moulding this outsider to their coterie. Those who had formerly treated Binoy with scant respect now could not help privately admiring him. In fact, even Haranbabu requested him to write occasionally for his paper. And Sudhir started pestering Binoy to deliver occasional lectures in English at their students’ assembly.
Lalita found herself in a peculiar situation. She felt pleased, yet privately rather dissatisfied, that Binoy did not require any help from anybody. Binoy was not inferior to any of them; rather, he was superior to them all, and secretly aware of his own superiority, he would not expect any guidance from them. This thought tormented her. Regarding Binoy, she herself could not understand what she desired, what might ease her mental discomfort. Meanwhile, her unhappiness constantly expressed itself sharply in trivial ways, always targeting Binoy in the end. Realizing that such conduct towards Binoy was neither fair nor civil, she felt remorseful and tried hard to restrain herself, but she could not understand why, at the slightest pretext, some unwarranted inner anguish would suddenly burst forth, snapping her self-control. She now pestered him to desist from the very activity which she had earlier ceaselessly urged him to join. But now, how was it possible for Binoy to abscond without reason, throwing the entire plan into jeopardy? There was not much time left, either; and having discovered a new skill, he had himself become enthusiastic about it.
‘I’m dropping out,’ Lalita ultimately told Borodasundari.
‘Why?’ asked Borodasundari very anxiously, for she knew her second daughter.
‘Because I’m not good at it!’
In fact, ever since it became impossible to regard Binoy as a novice, Lalita never wanted to recite or rehearse her role in his presence. ‘I’ll practice on my own,’ she would declare. This would hinder everybody’s practice, but Lalita was impossible to handle. Defeated, they ultimately had to manage their rehearsals without Lalita. But finally, when Lalita wanted to opt out altogether, Borodasundari was thunderstruck. Knowing she could not find a solution, she sought Poreshbabu’s help. Poreshbabu never interfered in his daughters’ minor preferences. But considering that they had made a commitment to the magistrate, that the hosts would also have made arrangements accordingly, and that time was also very short, he sent for Lalita and inquired, stroking her head:
‘Lalita, it would be wrong of you to withdraw now.’
‘But Baba, I’m not good at it,’ answered Lalita, her voice choked with unshed tears. ‘I can’t.’
‘If you can’t perform well you won’t be to blame, but if you withdraw, it will be wrong on your part.’
Lalita hung her head.
‘Ma, my little one, having taken it on, you must complete this undertaking. It’s too late now to escape lest your pride suffer a blow. Even if your pride is hurt, you must ignore it to perform your duty. Can’t you do that, ma?’
‘I can!’ declared Lalita, raising her face to her father’s.
That very evening, especially for Binoy’s benefit, she seemed to set about her task with excessive force and daring, casting aside all inhibitions. Until now, Binoy had never heard her recite. Today, listening to her, he was amazed. Binoy was thrilled beyond his expectations at such clear, spirited pronunciation, no trace of indistinctness anywhere, and such unhesitating power of expression. Her voice continued to ring in his ears long after.
In recitation, a good elocutionist casts a spell on the listener’s mind. The poem’
s emotions lend an aura of glory to the one who recites, blending with her voice, appearance and nature. Like a flower on a tree-branch, the poem blossoms in the speaker’s personality, enriching her. Lalita, too, began to appear to Binoy in a poetic light. All these days, she had troubled him continuously by her sharpness. Just as we tend to feel only the sore spots on our body, Binoy, too, had been unable lately to think beyond Lalita’s sharp words and pointed mockery. He had been compelled to wonder repeatedly, why Lalita had acted or spoken in a certain way; the more he failed to penetrate the mystery of her displeasure, the more his mind grew obsessed with thoughts of her. Awakening suddenly at dawn, he would be reminded of those thoughts, and every day, on his way to Poreshbabu’s, he would wonder what Lalita’s mood that day would be. When Lalita showed the slightest sign of pleasure, Binoy would heave a sigh of relief, and wonder how to make the feeling last, but he had failed to find a way.
After the mental turmoil of the last few days, the beauty of Lalita’s recitation moved Binoy with particular force. It delighted him so much that he could not find suitable words of praise. He was afraid to say anything, good or bad, directly to Lalita’s face, for the general human tendency of being pleased by a compliment may not apply to her. In fact, it may not apply precisely because it was the general rule. Hence, Binoy effusively praised Lalita’s talents to Borodasundari. This deepened Borodasundari’s respect for Binoy’s learning and intellect.
There was another surprising development. As soon as Lalita herself realized that her recitation and acting had been flawless, that she had handled her difficult duty with the ease of a well-built boat riding a wave-crest, her bitterness towards Binoy evaporated. She made no further attempts to discourage him. Her enthusiasm for the task at hand increased, and the rehearsals brought her closer to Binoy. In fact, she had no objections now to seeking Binoy’s advice about recitation or any other matter.
This transformation in Lalita removed a load from Binoy’s mind. So overjoyed was he, that he began visiting Anandamoyi at odd hours to indulge in playful antics, just like a little boy. He stored up many things to prattle about to Sucharita, but nowadays, he did not get to see her at all. He conversed with Lalita whenever he had the chance, but with her he had to guard his tongue. Because he knew Lalita was sharply judgemental about him and everything he said, his words lacked their spontaneous flow in her company.
‘Why do you speak as if your words are taken from a book?’ Lalita would ask, sometimes.
‘Because I have only read books all these years, my mind now resembles a printed book,’ he would reply.
‘Please make no effort to say things very gracefully,’ she would urge. ‘Just utter your own thoughts directly. You speak such fine language, I suspect you are using someone else’s words, thoughtfully rearranged.’
So, if his natural talent spontaneously presented him with a finely worded idea, Binoy would have to struggle to shorten and simplify it for Lalita. If ever an ornate phrase rose to his lips, he would feel embarrassed.
Lalita’s heart glowed as if a cloud had inexplicably lifted from it. Even Borodasundari was amazed at her transformation. Now Lalita did not resist all suggestions, as before; she would participate enthusiastically in all activities. She drove everyone to distraction, coming up with new ideas every day regarding costumes and other arrangements for the forthcoming event. However enthusiastic Borodasundari might be about such things, she also had an eye on the expenses. Hence, she felt as concerned about Lalita’s present enthusiasm as she had been earlier about her aversion to acting. But she did not dare to oppose Lalita’s active creative instincts either, for at the slightest hurdle in any task she had enthusiastically undertaken, Lalita would become utterly disheartened, unable to participate at all.
In this effusive mood, Lalita had often rushed eagerly to Sucharita. Sucharita had smiled, indeed, and spoken to her, but Lalita repeatedly came up against some hidden inner obstacle that made her turn away, secretly offended at the rebuff.
One day, she went up to Poreshbabu and said: ‘Baba, Suchididi can’t be left to read alone in a corner while we go off to perform. She must join us.’
Of late, Poreshbabu had also been feeling that Sucharita was drifting away from her female companions. He feared that this mental state was not healthy for her nature. Lalita’s words convinced him that unless Sucharita could participate in the general merriment, this aloofness would grow more pronounced.
‘Go speak to your mother,’ he instructed Lalita.
‘I’ll speak to Ma, but you must to take the responsibility of persuading Suchididi,’ Lalilta insisted.
When Poreshbabu asked her, Sucharita could not refuse. She set forth to do her duty. As soon as Sucharita emerged from her corner, Binoy tried to engage her in conversation as before, but something had happened in the last few days, for she seemed beyond his reach. In her face, in her glance, was a remoteness that made him hesitate to approach her. Even earlier, Sucharita’s social interaction and everyday activities had revealed a certain detachment, but now it had become extremely apparent. Even in joining the rehearsals her independence had not been affected. Immediately after completing the bare requirements of her task, she would go away. At first, Binoy was deeply hurt at this aloofness. Gregarious by nature, he found it hard to accept any resistance from those he found congenial. In this family, it was Sucharita who had so far shown him a special regard; now, spurned without reason, he was deeply wounded. But when he realized that Lalita was also similarly offended at Sucharita’s behaviour, he felt comforted and his relationship with Lalita grew more intimate. Without giving Sucharita a chance to avoid him, he forsook her company. In this way, Sucharita soon drifted far away from Binoy.
During Gora’s brief absence, Binoy had been able to mingle very freely with Poreshbabu’s family in every way. Everyone in Poreshbabu’s household felt a special satisfaction at this uninhibited revelation of Binoy’s true nature. Binoy, too, felt an unprecedented delight at achieving this unobstructed, natural state of mind. The feeling of being liked by all these people further enhanced his capacity to please. As his personality blossomed, as he sensed his own independent strength, Sucharita drifted away from Binoy. This loss, this blow, would have been intolerable at any other time, but now he could overcome it easily. Surprisingly, Lalita, too, had not expressed any reproach at Sucharita’s change of heart, this time. Was it only the enthusiasm for recitation and drama that had completely possessed her soul?
Meanwhile, seeing Sucharita join the performance, Haranbabu suddenly became very enthusiastic. He volunteered to recite an extract from Paradise Lost, and to deliver a short lecture on the enchantment of music, as a prelude to the recitation of Dryden’s verse. Privately, Borodasundari was extremely annoyed at this. Lalita was also displeased. Haranbabu had already met the magistrate to confirm this plan. When Lalita protested that the magistrate might object prolonging the show like this, Haranbabu silenced her by producing from his pocket a letter of thanks from the magistrate.
Gora had set out on a journey without a mission; nobody knew when he would return. Although Sucharita had decided not to give this matter any place in her thoughts, she hoped in her heart, each day, that Gora might arrive that very day. Her heart could never suppress such thoughts. When she was excruciatingly tormented by Gora’s indifference and the unruliness of her own heart, when her soul was desperate to escape this net, Haranbabu requested Poreshbabu once again in the name of the Almighty Ishwar, to confirm his betrothal to Sucharita.
‘But the wedding is a long way off,’ Poreshbabu demurred. ‘Is it a good idea to commit yourselves so soon?’
‘I consider it very essential for our maturing sensibilities for both of us to spend some time in this state of commitment before the wedding takes place,’ declared Haranbabu. ‘Between early acquaintance and the wedding itself, such a spiritual relationship, a bond without worldly responsibilities, would be particularly beneficial.’
‘Very well, let me ask Sucharita
,’ said Poreshbabu.
‘She has already given her consent,’ Haranbabu reminded him.
Poreshbabu still had doubts about Sucharita’s feelings for Haranbabu. So he sent for her and placed Haranbabu’s proposal before her. Relieved at the possibility of surrendering her fraught, divided life to some ultimate cause, Sucharita gave her consent so instantly and decisively, that all Poreshbabu’s doubts were dispelled. He begged her to consider carefully whether it was advisable for her to be forsworn so long before her marriage. Still, Sucharita raised no objection to this proposal. It was decided that, once Brownlow Saheb’s invitation was taken care of, they would invite everyone to the betrothal on a special date.
For a brief moment, Sucharita felt as if she had emerged from the devouring maws of the malign planet Rahu. She privately resolved to harden her heart, preparing herself to marry Haranbabu and join the activities of the Brahmo Samaj. She decided to read some English theological texts with Haranbabu every day, and to follow his guidance. Having vowed to accept what was difficult, even unpleasant for her, she experienced a great sense of elation.
For some time now, she had not read the English paper that Haranbabu edited. Today, she received the paper as soon as it appeared in print. Perhaps Haranbabu had sent it especially for her. Carrying the paper to her room, Sucharita sat motionless and began to read it from the very first line, as if it was her sacred duty. Respectfully, she began to absorb the advice offered in the journal, as if she was a student. The ship in full sail suddenly keeled over when it touched a mountain. In the present issue of the paper, there was an article entitled ‘Breathing the air of olden times,’ attacking people who remained backward-looking even in the present age. Not that the arguments were unreasonable; in fact, Sucharita had been looking out for such ideas. But as soon as she read the article, she realized that Gora was its target. Yet, there was no mention of his name, nor any reference to any of his published articles. Every line of this essay exuded the vicious joy of spearing live flesh, like the satisfaction of a soldier when every bullet finds its mark.
Gora (Modern Classics) Page 19
