‘No,’ replied Haranbabu. ‘You must be urgently needed elsewhere. You may leave.’
Lalita understood the innuendo. Haughtily raising her head, she at once put the matter into words:
‘Binoybabu has come after a long time. I’ll go chat with him. Meanwhile, should you wish to read your own article—but oh no! I find Didi has torn the paper to shreds. If you can bear to read the writings of others, you may glance through these.’ With these words, she brought Gora’s writings from the corner table where they had been carefully preserved, and placing them before Haranbabu, she rushed from the room.
Harimohini was delighted to see Binoy. It was not just out of affection for this good-looking young man, but also because visitors to this house who had met Harimohini had seemed to regard her as a creature of an alien species. Residents of Kolkata, they were better versed in English and Bengali letters than she. Their aloofness and contempt made her feel extremely inadequate. In Binoy she seemed to find a refuge from all this. He too belonged to Kolkata, and Harimohini had heard that his scholarly prowess was not negligible either. Yet he showed her no disrespect, treating her as a member of the family. This shored up her self respect. Especially for this reason, even upon a slight acquaintance, Binoy acquired an intimate place in her affections. She began to feel that he would protect her like a suit of armour from the arrogance of others, that like a cover he would shield her from view since she had become too visible in this house.
Lalita would never have approached Harimohini readily so soon after Binoy had gone there, but now, goaded by Haranbabu’s sarcasm, she seemed compelled to go upstairs, tearing aside all her hesitation. She not only went there, but also began at once to prattle ceaselessly to Binoy. Their conversation grew so animated, that every now and then, the sound of their laughter reached the ears of Haranbabu, alone in the room on the floor below, piercing him to the heart. Unable to remain by himself for long, he tried to quell his inner bitterness by conversing with Borodasundari. Upon hearing that Sucharita had rejected Haranbabu’s proposal, Borodasundari could hold her patience no longer.
‘Panubabu,’ she exhorted him, ‘you can’t afford to behave so decently. She has repeatedly expressed her consent, and the entire Brahmo Samaj is awaiting this marriage. Now we can’t let everything be turned topsy-turvy just because she has made a gesture of denial today. You must not relinquish your claims, I tell you. Let’s see what she can do!’
Haranbabu needed no incitement in this matter. Stiff and wooden, head held high, he was saying to himself:
‘On principle, this claim must not be relinquished. Giving up Sucharita is no great matter for me, but I can’t bring embarrassment upon the Brahmo Samaj.’
To cement his intimacy with Harimohini, Binoy had made a childlike demand for food. Flustered, Harimohini had at once offered him soaked chickpeas, cottage cheese, butter, a little sugar and a banana, arranged on a small platter, and some milk in a small brass bowl.
‘I thought I would hassle Mashi, demanding food at an odd hour, but I have been outwitted,’ smiled Binoy. He now made a great show of settling down to a feast. At this moment, Borodasundari arrived on the scene. Bending as low over his thala as possible, Binoy greeted her with a namaskar and said: ‘I was downstairs for a long time, but did not get to see you.’
Without answering him, Borodasundari addressed Sucharita: ‘So her ladyship is here! Just as I had thought. There’s a party going on! She is entertaining herself! Meanwhile poor Haranbabu has been waiting for her since early morning, as if he is merely her gardener. I’ve reared them from childhood, but bapu, I never saw such behaviour, all these days. I wonder where they are learning such things nowadays. What was unthinkable in our family has started happening now. Indeed, we can’t face the members of our Samaj any more. To destroy in a couple of days everything you were always taught! What outrageous conduct!’
‘I didn’t know someone was waiting downstairs,’ Harimohini agitatedly protested to Sucharita. ‘We have been very unfair, I must say. Go, ma, please go quickly. I am to blame for this.’
Lalita was instantly about to assert that Harimohini was not at all to blame. Sucharita secretly gripped her hand to silence her, then went away downstairs.
I have already said that Binoy had attracted Borodasundari’s affection. She had no doubt that he would eventually join the Brahmo Samaj under the influence of their family. She took a certain pride in moulding Binoy with her own hands, as it were, and had even shared this pride with some of her friends. Seeing this same Binoy now ensconced in the enemy camp, she seethed with indignation, and needless to say, her inner agony was redoubled at the sight of her own daughter Lalita aiding Binoy’s second moral downfall.
‘Lalita, do you have any business here?’ she asked, brusquely.
‘Yes,’ answered Lalita, ‘Binoybabu is here, so …’
‘The person Binoybabu has come to see will look after him. You come downstairs now. There are things to be done.’
Lalita concluded that Haranbabu must have made some unwarranted remark to her mother concerning Binoy and herself. This surmise hardened her heart. With unnecessary garrulity, she declared: ‘Binoybabu is here after so long, I’ll come after chatting with him awhile.’ From Lalita’s tone it became clear to Borodasundari that force would not work here. Lest her defeat be exposed to Harimohini, she said no more and left without any farewell greeting to Binoy. To her mother, Lalita expressed enthusiasm for conversation with Binoy, but once Borodasundari had gone, there was no sign of that eagerness. They felt a certain constraint, all three of them, and soon afterwards, Lalita arose, went to her room and closed the door.
Binoy could clearly sense Harimohini’s predicament in this house. He brought up the subject and bit by bit he gleaned all the details of Harimohini’s past.
‘Baba,’ she finally said, ‘the world is not a suitable place for an orphaned soul like me. Better if I could have gone to some holy place and devoted myself to my deity’s service. I could have managed for a while on the little money I have left, and if I lived longer I could have somehow survived by cooking for others and being fed by them. I saw so many people managing quite well like this in Kashi. But sinner that I am, I could not adapt to those conditions. Whenever I am alone, thoughts of my own grief overwhelm me, keeping all gods and deities at bay. I fear for my sanity. For me, Radharani and Satish are like a raft for a drowning man—I find that the very thought of relinquishing them makes me choke for breath. So day and night, I fear that I must lose them—else why, having once lost all I had, would I again so quickly grow to love them so much? Baba, I have no qualms telling you, ever since I discovered the two of them, I’ve been able to concentrate wholeheartedly on my prayers to Thakur; if I lose them, my Thakur will instantly harden, turn to stone.’
Harimohini wiped her eyes with the corner of her sari.
~40~
Entering the room downstairs, Sucharita faced Haranbabu.
‘Tell me what you have to say,’ she said.
‘Sit down,’ said Haranbabu.
Sucharita did not sit. She stood immobile.
‘Sucharita, you are being unjust to me.’
‘You, too, are being unjust to me.’
‘Why,’ protested Haranbabu, ‘I have given you my word, and that still …’
‘Do justice and injustice reside in words alone?’ interrupted Sucharita. ‘By emphasizing your word, would you torment me in deed? Isn’t a single truth larger than a thousand falsehoods? If I have made a hundred mistakes, would you forcibly give them first priority? Now that I have realized I was mistaken, I shall not go by anything I may have said earlier, for it would be unjust of me to do so.’
How Sucharita could be so transformed, Haranbabu failed to comprehend. He had neither the courage nor the humility to infer that he himself might be responsible for her loss of habitual quietness and modesty.
‘What was your mistake?’ he asked, privately blaming Sucharita’s newfound companions.
‘Why do you ask?’ demanded Sucharita. ‘Earlier I had consented, but now I no longer consent—does that not suffice?’
‘We are answerable to the Brahmo Samaj after all. What shall we say, either you or I, to members of the Samaj?’
‘I shall say nothing at all,’ Sucharita declared. ‘If you wish to speak, you may tell them that Sucharita is young, lacking brains, inconsistent by nature. Say whatever you please. But between us, this is the end of the matter.’
‘It can’t be the end. If Poreshbabu …’
As he spoke, Poreshbabu arrived on the scene.
‘What is it, Panubabu, what were you saying about me?’ he asked.
Sucharita was on her way out.
‘Don’t go, Sucharita,’ Haranbabu called out, ‘let’s discuss the matter with Poreshbabu.’ Sucharita turned around. ‘Poreshbabu,’ Haranbabu continued, ‘after all these days, Sucharita now says she does not consent to the marriage. Should she have treated this grave matter so frivolously, for so long? Mustn’t you also take responsibility for this ugly development?’
‘Ma,’ said Poreshbabu gently, stroking Sucharita’s head, ‘there is no need for you to remain here. You may go.’ These simple words instantly brought tears to Sucharita’s eyes and she rushed out of the room.
‘Because I had long suspected that Sucharita had consented to the match without fully knowing her mind, I could not keep your request that we confirm your betrothal in the presence of Samaj members,’ Poreshbabu explained.
‘Doesn’t it occur to you that Sucharita indeed knew her own mind when she gave her consent, and now declines because she no longer understands herself?’
‘Both are possible, but in such a state of doubt, the wedding cannot take place.’
‘Will you not give Sucharita good advice, then?’
‘I am sure you know that I would never willingly give Sucharita bad advice.’
‘If that were true, Sucharita could never have come to such a sorry state. I say this to your face: all the things currently happening in your family are the results of your own lack of judgement.’
‘Indeed you are right,’ smiled Poreshbabu. ‘Who but me can be held responsible for the consequences of my family’s actions?’
‘You will repent this, I tell you.’
‘Repentance is God’s will, after all. It is sin I fear Panubabu, not repentance.’
Sucharita came in. ‘Baba, it is time for your prayers,’ she announced, taking Poreshbabu’s hand.
‘Panubabu, would you wait a while, then?’ Poreshbabu inquired. ‘No.’
Haranbabu strode out of the room.
~41~
Sucharita was frightened by the conflict that had broken out simultaneously within herself and with the outer world. Her feelings for Gora had intensified without her knowledge. This had become completely, transparently and irrefutably clear to her ever since he went to jail. What to do about her feelings and where they might lead her, she could not determine. She could not speak of this to anyone else, diffident about it even to herself. She had not even found a secret opportunity to come to terms with herself about this private anguish. Haranbabu was threatening to rouse their entire community at her threshold; even the likelihood of newspaper publicity loomed large. Besides, her mashi’s problem had grown so acute that a solution had to be found without a day’s delay. Sucharita realized her life had reached a crossroads where it was no longer possible to traverse well-known paths in her habitual contented way.
At this difficult moment, Poreshbabu was her only recourse. She had not sought his counsel or advice. There were many things she could not reveal directly to Poreshbabu, things unfit for disclosure because they were shameful and degrading. Poreshbabu’s lifestyle, his company itself, seemed sufficient to make her feel silently drawn into some paternal lap, or maternal bosom.
These days, because it was winter, Poreshbabu did not visit the garden in the evening. In a small chamber on the western side of the house, he would place his mat before an open door and prepare himself for prayer. The glow of the setting sun would fall upon his tranquil face, framed by white locks. At this time, Sucharita would quietly approach him and silently take her place by his side. She seemed to immerse her own unquiet, agonized spirit in the depths of Poresh’s prayers. Nowadays, at the end of his prayers, Poresh would often find this daughter, this pupil of his, seated silently beside him. Seeing this girl enveloped in an indescribable spiritual grace, he would quietly bless her with all his heart.
Because he saw union with the sublime as his life’s sole target, Poresh’s spirit was always inclined towards what was worthiest and truest. Hence worldly life could never assume much importance for him. Because he had thus acquired a certain internal detachment, he could not exert any pressure on others about their opinions or conduct. Dependence on divine beneficence and patience with the world came very naturally to him. So pronounced were these qualities in him, that he was condemned by those who were communal; but he received blame in such a way that it might assault him but not injure him permanently. He would constantly repeat to himself: ‘I shall accept nothing from anyone else, receiving everything from Him alone.’
To receive the touch of this deep, silent tranquility at the core of Poresh’s life, Sucharita would come to him on a variety of pretexts nowadays. At this inexperienced stage in her life, when her contrary heart and a contrary world made her frantic, she would repeatedly think: ‘If only I could prostrate myself, clasping Baba’s feet to my head and lie there just awhile, my heart would find peace.’ In this way, Sucharita hoped to summon up all her inner strength and to withstand all assaults with unshakeable patience. Ultimately, all hostility would be vanquished automatically. But that was not how things turned out. She found herself compelled to take an uncharted course.
When Borodasundari found it impossible to sway Sucharita by raving and ranting, and saw no hope either of finding an ally in Poreshbabu, her fury against Harimohini reached violent proportions. Harimohini’s presence within her household began to torment her every moment. One day, she had invited Binoy to the prayers for her father’s death anniversary. The ceremony was scheduled for the evening, but before that, she was decorating the hall where the gathering would take place. Sucharita and the other girls were assisting her.
Suddenly, she spotted Binoy going up to meet Harimohini by the staircase at the side. When the mind is under pressure, even trivial incidents assume major significance. Binoy’s going upstairs became instantly so unbearable for her that she abandoned her room-decoration and immediately went to Harimohini. There she saw Binoy on the floormat, chatting familiarly with Harimohini like a member of the family.
‘Look here,’ Borodasundari blurted out, ‘stay here as long as you please, and I shall take good care of you. But I tell you, that deity of yours can’t be kept here.’
Harimohini had always led a provincial life. She had imagined that Brahmos represented a particular branch of the Christian faith, and therefore that it was their company one might discriminate against. But in these few days, she had gradually begun to realize that they, too, might hesitate to associate with her. She had been agonizing over what she ought to do, when hearing these words from Borodasundari she understood there was no time left to think. She had to take a decision, somehow. First she thought of taking up residence somewhere in Kolkata, so she could see Sucharita and Satish now and then. But with her limited resources, she could not afford to remain in Kolkata.
After Borodasundari’s sudden, stormy entry and exit, Binoy hung his head in silence.
‘I want to go on a pilgrimage,’ Harimohini announced after a brief pause. ‘Could one of you escort me there, baba?’
‘Of course we can! But it will take a few days to ma
ke arrangements. Come along meanwhile Mashi, come and stay with Ma.’
‘Baba, I am a heavy responsibility. I don’t know what burden destiny has placed upon my forehead, for it is too much for anyone to bear. I should have realized this when even my in-laws’ home failed to take the weight of my burden. But my heart is blind, baba; my bosom is hollow, and to fill the emptiness I wander from place to place, but my wretched destiny tags along. Let it be, baba, I’d best not go to anyone else’s house. I shall seek refuge at the lotus-like feet of the One who bears the burden of the entire universe. I can’t cope anymore.’ She began to wipe her eyes again and again.
‘You can’t say that, Mashi! My Ma is incomparable. For someone who has surrendered her entire life’s burden to the Lord it is no ordeal to bear the burden of others. Take my mother for instance, or Poreshbabu here. I shall brook no arguments. I shall take you first to my place of pilgrimage, and only then shall I visit your holy place.’
‘Then we should send word once …’
‘When we arrive, Ma will know of it. That will be confirmation indeed.’
‘Tomorrow morning, then …’
‘Why? We can go tonight.’
In the evening, Sucharita came to him and said, ‘Binoybabu, Ma has sent for you. It is time for the prayer ceremony.’
‘I have things to discuss with Mashi. I can’t attend tonight.’ Actually, Binoy now could not bear to accept Borodasundari’s invitation on any account. The whole affair struck him as a farce.
‘Baba Binoy, please go,’ begged Harimohini, flustered. ‘We can discuss things later. Let your ceremonies first be over, then come to me.’
‘It would indeed be best for you to join us,’ Sucharita suggested.
Binoy realized that if he did not join the gathering, it would further aggravate the revolution taking place within this family. So he went to the prayer venue, but even that did not entirely accomplish the desired results. After prayers, there was food.
Gora (Modern Classics) Page 29
