‘I have no appetite today,’ declared Binoy.
‘Your appetite is not to blame,’ retorted Borodasundari. ‘After all, you have already dined upstairs.’
‘Yes, such is the fate of the greedy,’ smiled Binoy. ‘Tempted by the present, one loses the future.’ He prepared to leave.
‘So you’re going upstairs, are you?’ Borodasundari inquired.
‘Yes,’ replied Binoy curtly, and left the scene. Sucharita was at the door.
‘Didi,’ he murmured in a low voice, ‘please go to Mashi once. There’s something urgent to be discussed.’
Lalita was busy attending to their guests. At one point, when she came near Haranbabu, he announced for no reason: ‘Binoybabu is not here. He has gone upstairs.’
Hearing this, Lalita stood her ground, met his gaze and declared, unabashed: ‘I know. He will not depart without seeing me. I shall go upstairs by and by, once my duties here are done.’
Having failed to embarrass Lalita in the least, Haranbabu’s inner fury began to grow. It had also not escaped his notice that Binoy had suddenly whispered something to Sucharita, and that she had followed him shortly thereafter. Today, his repeated attempts to find pretexts for conversation with Sucharita had met with no success. A couple of times, she had evaded his explicit invitation in such a way that Haranbabu had felt himself insulted before the entire gathering. So he was not in a wholesome frame of mind.
Going upstairs, Sucharita found Harimohini waiting with all her things packed as if ready to depart immediately for some other place.
‘Mashi, what is this?’ Sucharita demanded.
Unable to reply, Harimohini burst into tears. ‘Where is Satish?’ she asked. ‘Please send for him just once, ma!’
When Sucharita glanced at Binoy he explained: ‘Mashi’s presence in this house causes inconvenience to everybody, so I’m taking her to Ma.’
‘From there, I have decided to proceed on a pilgrimage!’ Harimohini declared. ‘It is not appropriate for someone like me to remain in anyone’s house. Indeed, why should people tolerate me like this forever?’
Sucharita herself had been thinking the same thing of late. She had sensed that it was humiliating for her mashi to remain in this house. Hence she was at a loss for a suitable reply. In silence she went to her mashi’s side. It was late. The lamp in the room was unlit. In the blurred Hemanta sky above Kolkata, the stars were enveloped in a vaporous haze. In the darkness it was impossible to tell who was weeping.
‘Mashima!’ Satish’s high-pitched voice resounded from the stairs.
‘What is it, baba? Come, baba,’ called out Harimohini, quickly rising to her feet.
‘Mashima,’ said Sucharita, ‘there’s no question of your going anywhere tonight. We can arrange everything tomorrow morning. Tell me, how can you depart without bidding proper farewell to Baba? That would be very wrong of you, indeed.’
In his agitation at Borodasundari’s humiliation of Harimohini, Binoy had not thought of this. He had decided that Mashi should not spend another night in this house, and to dispel Borodasundari’s notion that Harimohini put up with everything just to remain in this house because she had no other refuge, he was reluctant to brook the slightest delay in removing Harimohini from this place. Sucharita’s words suddenly reminded Binoy that it was not as if Harimohini’s only or primary relationship in this house was with Borodasundari. It was not right, after all, to give more importance to the person who had inflicted an insult, and to forget the one who had been large hearted enough to shelter her like a member of the family.
‘True, indeed,’ exclaimed Binoy. ‘We certainly can’t leave without informing Poreshbabu.’
‘Mashima,’ declared Satish as soon as he arrived, ‘do you know that the Russians are coming to attack Bharatvarsha? What fun!’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Binoy enquired.
‘I am for the Russians.’
‘In that case the Russians have nothing to fear.’
When Satish had managed to liven up Mashima’s circle in this fashion, Sucharita slowly arose and went downstairs. She knew that before retiring to bed, Poreshbabu would read from one of his favourite books. Often, at such times, Sucharita would go to him and at her request, he would read to her as well.
Tonight, too, Poreshbabu had lit the lamp in his secluded chamber, and was reading Emerson’s book. Gently, Sucharita drew up a chair and sat by his side. Putting aside his book, Poreshbabu glanced once at her face. Sucharita’s resolve wavered. She could not bring up any worldly subject.
‘Baba, please read to me,’ she said.
Poreshbabu began to read to her, and to explain. At ten in the night, the reading session ended. Even now, Sucharita prepared to leave quietly without saying anything, lest she arouse any distress in Poreshbabu’s heart.
‘Radhé!’ called Poreshbabu, affectionately. She came back.
‘Did you come to speak to me about your mashi?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Baba,’ replied Sucharita, surprised that he had read her thoughts. ‘But tonight let it be, we’ll talk tomorrow morning.’
‘Sit down.’
When she had obeyed, he said, ‘I have considered the fact that your mashi is finding it difficult here. I had not realized clearly before this that her beliefs and rituals would assault Labanya’s mother’s convictions so strongly. When it is obviously causing her pain, keeping your mashi here would inhibit her freedom.’
‘My mashi is ready to leave,’ Sucharita replied.
‘I knew she would leave. You two are the only people she can call her own. I’m also aware that you will be unable to abandon her to her fate. So I’ve been thinking about it, these last few days.’
Sucharita had no idea Poreshbabu had realized her mashi’s predicament and was worrying about it. She had proceeded very cautiously all along, lest he sense the true state of affairs and be pained by it. Now, she was amazed to hear Poreshbabu’s words. Tears glistened on her lashes.
‘I have selected a house for your mashi,’ Poreshbabu informed her.
‘But she …’ faltered Sucharita.
‘She can’t afford the rent,’ said Poreshbabu. ‘Why should she pay rent? You will pay it.’ Sucharita gazed at his face in amazement. ‘Let her stay in your own house,’ he smiled. ‘She won’t need to pay rent.’ Sucharita was even more amazed.
‘Don’t you know,’ Poreshbabu continued, ‘you own two houses in Kolkata, the two of you! One yours, the other Satish’s. When he was dying your father left some money with me. Investing the capital to make it grow, I bought two houses in Kolkata. All these days I was receiving rent for them, which was also accumulating. The tenant has vacated your house recently. There will be no inconvenience if your mashi lives there.’
‘Can she live there by herself?’ Sucharita inquired.
‘With you two as her very own relatives, why must she live by herself?’
‘That is what I came to discuss with you tonight. Mashi is ready to leave, but I was wondering how I could let her depart alone. So I have come to you for advice. I shall do whatever you say.’
‘Do you see this alley here, skirting our house?’ asked Poreshbabu. ‘Your house is just two or three buildings down this alley. If you stand at that veranda there, you can see the house. If you all live there, you won’t remain entirely unprotected. I can look after you.’
Sucharita felt as if a huge boulder had rolled off her chest. She had been ceaselessly worrying, ‘how shall I abandon Baba?’ But leave she must: that too had become a certainty. Her heart too full for words, Sucharita sat silently beside Poreshababu. He too remained silent, deeply self-absorbed. Sucharita was his disciple, his daughter, his soulmate. She had become a part of his life, even of his devotional path. His prayers seemed to gain a special completeness on days when she came and joined
him quietly. Moulding Sucharita’s life daily with his benevolent affection, he had been bestowing a certain fulfillment to his own life as well. No-one had come to him before with Sucharita’s devotion and utter humility. Like a flower gazing at the sky, she had turned to him, laying bare her entire being. When approached by someone with such single-minded eagerness, the limits of human generosity are extended of their own accord; the heart bows down in its own fullness, like a cloud burdened by its own moisture. There can be nothing more auspicious than the opportunity of daily gifting one’s truest and worthiest qualities to a heart that is compatible. Such was the rare opportunity Sucharita had given Poreshbabu. Hence, his relationship with her had grown very intense. Today it was time to sever his outward bond with Sucharita; having ripened the fruit with his own life-sap, he must now free it from him. The pain he felt within at this, he offered up to the all-knowing Ishwar. Sucharita was equipped with resources for her journey; for some time now, Poresh had been observing her preparations for the call to take the path that stretched out ahead, aspiring to new experience on her own strength, arriving at it through joy and sorrow, blows and counter-blows. Privately, he was saying: ‘My child, proceed on your journey … it is impossible that I should overshadow your entire life with my intelligence and my protection alone. May Ishwar liberate you from me and draw you to the ultimate goal through a diverse range of experiences. May your life find its fulfillment in Him!’ With these words he was mentally surrendering Sucharita, so lovingly cherished from her infancy, as an offering to Ishwar. Poresh was not angry with Borodasundari; in his mind, he had not fostered any hostility towards his own family. He knew that a deluge unleashed by the new rains can create a tremendous upheaval in a beach that is narrow; the only solution is to release the waters into an open field. He was aware that sheltering Sucharita had in a short time given rise to unforeseen situations within this small family, disrupting their regular traditions. He also sensed that setting her free, instead of clinging to her, was the only way to restore peace and normalcy, in keeping with her natural tendencies. Realizing this, he was quietly trying to arrange things so that peace and harmony could easily be restored.
As they sat there in silence, the two of them, the clock struck eleven. Rising to his feet, Poreshbabu led Sucharita by the hand to the terrace above the portico. The evening vapours had evaporated, and the stars were shining in the pure darkness. On that silent night, with Sucharita by his side, Poresh uttered a prayer: ‘Dispelling all the falsehoods of this world, let the pure image of perfect truth manifest itself in our lives.’
~42~
At dawn the next day, Harimohini knelt to touch Poresh’s feet in a pranam.
‘What are you doing?’ he protested, flustered, moving aside at once.
‘I can never repay my debt to you,’ Harimohini replied, with tears in her eyes. ‘You have found help for someone as helpless as myself. No one but you could have accomplished this. I have seen that nobody can do anything for my benefit, even if they want to. You are deeply blessed by the Lord, that is why you can favour even a person such as me.’
Poreshbabu was acutely embarrassed.
‘I have not done anything much,’ he insisted. ‘All this is Radharani’s …’
‘I know, I know,’ Harimohini interrupted. ‘But Radharani herself belongs to you; whatever she does is really your doing. When she lost her mother, and her father too was no more, I regarded her as a very unfortunate girl. But how was I to know that the Lord would transform her misfortune into something so gloriously worthwhile? Having met you, after all my wanderings, I now understand clearly that the Lord has been kind to me as well.’
‘Mashi, Ma has come to fetch you,’ announced Binoy as he arrived. ‘Where is she?’ asked Sucharita, springing to her feet.
‘Downstairs, with your mother.’
Sucharita hastened downstairs.
‘Let me go and arrange all the things in your house,’ said Poreshbabu to Harimohini.
When he had departed, Binoy asked in surprise: ‘Mashi, I didn’t know about your house!’
‘I didn’t know about it either, baba! Only Poreshbabu knew. It’s our Radharani’s house.’
‘I had thought Binoy would prove useful to at least one person in the world,’ declared Binoy, after listening to the whole story. ‘But even that opportunity has eluded me. Until now, I have not been able to do anything for my mother; it is she who does the needful for me. I can’t do anything for Mashi either; I shall draw favours from her instead. It is my destiny to take, not to give.’
After a while, Anandamoyi arrived there, accompanied by Lalita and Sucharita.
‘When the Lord shows kindness, he does so without stinting,’ said Harimohini, advancing towards them. ‘Didi, today I get to meet you as well.’ She took Anandamoyi’s hand and drew her to the madur on the floor.
‘Didi,’ said Harimohini, ‘Binoy speaks of no one but you.’
‘That has been his ailment since childhood,’ smiled Anandamoyi. ‘Once he takes up a subject, he doesn’t drop it easily. Very soon it will be Mashi’s turn, too.’
‘That will happen, let me tell you in advance,’ confirmed Binoy. ‘I have found Mashi late in life, acquired her by my own efforts. I must find diverse ways to compensate myself for this long deprivation.’
‘Our Binoy knows how to acquire what he lacks,’ smiled Anandamoyi, glancing at Lalita, ‘and having acquired it, he also knows how to cherish it with his heart and soul. Only I know how he perceives all of you—as if he has suddenly glimpsed a vision he could never have imagined possible. Ma, what can I say? How happy I am that he has made your acquaintance! The way Binoy has taken a fancy to this household of yours, it’s done him a world of good. He knows it only too well and doesn’t hesitate to admit it, either.’
Lalita tried to reply, but could not find the words. She began to blush. Observing her distress, Sucharita interposed:
‘Binoybabu can detect the inner goodness in everybody, so he gets to enjoy the best in everybody. That is largely due to his special talents.’
‘Ma, you assume Binoy is a major subject of discussion but he doesn’t enjoy such eminence in this world,’ protested Binoy. ‘I want to explain this to you every time, but from pure vanity, I fail to do so. But now it won’t do anymore. No more of this, Ma, no more talk of Binoy today.’
At this moment Satish came bounding up, clasping his newborn puppy to his breast.
‘Baba Satish, my dearest boy, please take the dog away, baba!’ cried Harimohini, highly flustered.
‘He won’t trouble you, Mashi!’ Satish assured her. ‘He will not go into your room. Just pet him a little, he won’t object.’
‘No baba, no,’ said Harimohini, shrinkng away. ‘Take him away.’
At this, Anandamoyi drew Satish to her, dog and all. ‘You’re Satish, aren’t you? Our Binoy’s friend?’ she asked, as she took the puppy on her lap.
Satish saw nothing incongruous in being identified as Binoy’s friend. So he confirmed, without any hesitation:
‘Yes.’ He gazed expectantly at Anadamoyi.
‘I am Binoy’s mother,’ she informed him. The puppy proceeded to amuse itself by trying to chew upon Anandamoyi’s balas, the thick bangles she wore.
‘Bakhtiar,’ prompted Sucharita, ‘touch Ma’s feet.’
Awkwardly, Satish somehow performed the task. At this moment, Borodasundari came upstairs.
‘Will you join us for something to eat?’ she asked Anandamoyi without so much as glancing at Harimohini.
‘I don’t discriminate about food, touch and so on,’ Anandamoyi declared. ‘But today, let it be. Let Gora come back, I’ll dine with you after that.’ She could not bring herself to do something in Gora’s absence that would have displeased him.
‘So here you are, Binoybabu!’ remarked Borodasudari, glancing at
Binoy. ‘I thought perhaps you had not come.’
‘Do you think I would go away without telling you I was here?’ Binoy at once retorted.
‘Yesterday you avoided the feast to which you were invited,’ persisted Borodasundari. ‘So today, perhaps, you could join us for a meal uninvited.’
‘I find that much more tempting,’ Binoy responded. ‘Tips are more attractive than a salary.’
Harimohini was privately surprised. Binoy dined at this house, and even Anandamoyi did not observe such restrictions. She was not happy about this.
‘Didi,’ asked Harimohini diffidently, after Borodasundari had left, ‘is your husband …’
‘My husband is a staunch Hindu.’
Harimohini was dumbfounded. Sensing her thoughts, Anandamoyi said:
‘My sister, when the Samaj was greater than all of us, it was the Samaj I followed. But one day, Ishwar visited our home in such a form that He made it impossible for me to follow the Samaj anymore. Once the Lord Himself snatched my caste status away from me, what have I to fear from anyone else?’
‘Your husband?’ faltered Harimohini, not understanding this explanation.
‘My husband is angry with me.’
‘And the boys?’
‘The boys are not happy either. But must I live to please them alone? My sister, I can’t explain my situation to anyone else—only the all-knowing One can understand it.’ Anandamoyi folded her hands in reverence.
Harimohini imagined that some missionary’s daughter had visited Anandamoyi and filled her mind with Khristani ideas. She now felt an acute sense of constraint.
~43~
Sucharita had felt very reassured when told that she could live close to Poreshbabu’s house, constantly under his supervision. But as the time approached for them to move into her new home once it was furnished, she felt a catch in her heart. No matter if they lived close to each other; but now it was time to sever the all-encompassing link between their lives, she felt as if a part of herself would die. Her place within this family, however insignificant, her duties there, even her relationship with each member of their domestic staff, became a source of agony for her.
Gora (Modern Classics) Page 30
