Gora (Modern Classics)

by Tagore, Rabindranath

  ‘Perhaps my words strike you as harsh. But don’t view me with hostility as a member of the enemy camp. Had I perceived you as an enemy I would not have spoken to you at all. It pains me to see your natural broad-mindedness confined within the limits of a party.’

  Sucharita’s face grew flushed. ‘No, no,’ she protested, ‘don’t worry about me at all. Please continue what you were saying, and I shall try to follow your argument.’

  ‘I have nothing more to say. View Bharatvarsha through your natural intelligence and natural emotions. Love Bharatvarsha. If you see the people of Bharatvarsha as non-Brahmos you will distort their image and regard them with contempt, and constantly misunderstand them. You will never get to see them from the perspective that allows one to see them whole. The Lord has made them human; they think in many different ways, act in many different ways, follow many different beliefs and customs, but underlying all this is a basic humanity; within all this is something that belongs to me, to Bharatvarsha, something that, when viewed from a true perspective, will pierce its outward shell of pettiness and incompleteness to present before us the vision of a great, noble entity. It is infused with the spirit of long endeavour; in it I can see the ancient sacrificial fire still burning amidst all the ashes, and I have no doubt that this fire will transcend its petty location in place and time to cast up its flame at the centre of this earth. The people of this Bharatvarsha have been saying many big things for a very long time; they have accomplished many great tasks; even to imagine that all that has become utterly futile is to show disrespect for the truth, and that itself is atheism.’

  Sucharita had been listening with bowed head. Now she raised her head and asked:

  ‘What are you asking me to do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ asserted Gora, ‘I only say you must understand that the Hindu faith has tried to nurture people of many attitudes, many views; in other words, the Hindu faith alone has acknowledged people as human beings, not as members of some group. The Hindu faith accepts the illiterate as well as the learned—and not just a single facet of learning, but the growth of knowledge in many dimensions. Christians don’t wish to acknowledge diversity; they say there’s Christianity on one side and limitless destruction on the other, with no shades of difference in between. Because we follow those Christians, we feel ashamed of the diversity of the Hindu dharma, failing to recognize that Hinduism strives to perceive the One through the medium of the many. Unless our minds break free of the fetters of Khristani learning, we cannot claim the glory of understanding the true nature of the Hindu dharma.’

  It seemed to Sucharita she was not merely hearing Gora’s words but seeing them manifest before her eyes; she felt Gora’s contemplative gaze, fixed upon the distant future, merge with his words. Forgetting all shame, forgetting herself, she raised her eyes to Gora’s face, which glowed with the intensity of his emotions. In that face Sucharita saw a power that seemed to realize the greatest resolves through its own spiritual energy. She had heard many philosophical discourses from many learned and intelligent members of her community, but Gora’s utterance was no mere discourse, it resembled a new creation. It was so tangible that over time it could dominate one’s whole mind and body. Today Sucharita beheld Indra, the king of deities, armed with his thunderbolt; as the words forcefully assailed her ears, shaking the very doors of her heart, she felt flashes of lightning dance through her blood from moment to moment. She no longer retained the strength to determine how far her opinions coincided with Gora’s.

  At this juncture, Satish entered the room. Being in awe of Gora, he avoided him and edged close to his didi. ‘Panubabu is here,’ he informed her in an undertone.

  Sucharita started as if someone had struck her. She grew desperate to somehow push away, remove, suppress or utterly erase the fact of Panubabu’s arrival. Imagining that Gora had not heard Satish’s murmur, she quickly got to her feet. Rushing downstairs, she confronted Panubabu.

  ‘Please forgive me, but it will not be convenient for me to speak to you today,’ she told him directly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘If you come to Baba’s place tomorrow, you may see me there,’ said Sucharita, without answering his question.

  ‘Do you have visitors today, then?’ Haranbabu inquired.

  ‘Today I shall not have the time,’ repeated Sucharita, evading this query as well. ‘Please excuse me.’

  ‘But I heard Gourmohanbabu’s voice from the street,’ persisted Haranbabu. ‘He is here I suppose?’

  Sucharita could not suppress this question. ‘Yes he is,’ she answered, blushing.

  ‘All the better,’ said Haranbabu. ‘I needed to talk to him as well. If you are busy with something special, I can chat with Gourmohanbabu in the meantime.’

  So saying, without awaiting Sucharita’s consent, he began to climb the stairs. Ignoring Haranbabu’s presence beside her, Sucharita entered the room and announced to Gora:

  ‘Mashi has gone to prepare some refreshments for you. I’ll just go to her.’ She rushed from the scene.

  Haranbabu solemnly took a chair. ‘You seem to have lost some weight,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes sir, for some time now I was under treatment to make me lose some weight,’ Gora replied.

  ‘Indeed,’ remarked Haranbabu, feigning concern. ‘You suffered a lot.’

  ‘No more than what’s expected.’

  ‘There is something I must discuss with you concerning Binoybabu. Perhaps you have heard that he is preparing to join the Brahmo Samaj next Sunday.’

  ‘No, I had not heard.’

  ‘Do you consent to it?’

  ‘Binoy did not seek my consent after all.’

  ‘Do you think Binoy is willing to receive this initiation out of genuine conviction?’

  ‘Since he has agreed to receive initiation, your question is utterly redundant.’

  ‘When our instincts grow powerful, we have no time to think about our convictions. You know what human nature is like.’

  ‘No,’ Gora declared. ‘I don’t engage in needless discussions on human nature.’

  ‘We don’t share the same opinions, or the same community, but I have a high regard for you. I know for sure that whatever you believe in, whether true or false, no temptation can divert you from your convictions. Yet …’

  ‘What is the value of that little shred of respect you have retained for me,’ interrupted Gora, ‘that it would be such a great loss for Binoy to be deprived of it! Indeed there are good and bad things in this world, but while you may evaluate them if you wish according to your respect or disrespect for them, you can’t tell the rest of the world to accept your judgement.’

  ‘Very well, we need not resolve this matter immediately. But I ask you—won’t you oppose Binoy’s attempts to marry into Poreshbabu’s family?’

  ‘Haranbabu,’ protested Gora, flushing, ‘how can I discuss such things about Binoy with you? Given your constant awareness of human nature, you should also have realized that Binoy is my friend, not yours.’

  ‘I brought up the subject because it concerns the Brahmo Samaj, or else …’

  ‘But I have nothing to do with the Brahmo Samaj, so what do I care about your anxieties!’

  At this moment, Sucharita entered the room.

  ‘Sucharita,’ said Haranbabu, ‘I have something special to discuss with you.’

  Not that he needed to say this. It was only to show Gora his special intimacy with Sucharita that Haranbabu pointedly made this remark. Sucharita made no reply. Gora remained unmoved, showing no signs of getting up to give Haranbabu a chance for private talk.

  ‘Sucharita, come into the next room for a moment,’ urged Haranbabu. ‘Let me just tell you something.’

  ‘I hope your mother is well?’ Sucharita asked Gora, without answering Hara
nbabu.

  ‘I have never seen Ma unwell,’ Gora responded.

  ‘I’ve seen how easily she finds the strength to remain well,’ Sucharita observed. She remembered having met Anandamoyi while Gora was in jail.

  At this point, Haranbabu suddenly picked up a book from the table, and opening it, he first glanced at the author’s name before turning pages at random and running his eyes over them. Sucharita flushed. Knowing what book it was, Gora smiled faintly to himself.

  ‘Gourmohanbabu,’ asked Haranbabu, ‘are these your childhood writings?’

  ‘That childhood is not yet over,’ smiled Gora. ‘For some living beings, infancy is short-lived, but for others it lasts rather long.’

  ‘Gourmohanbabu,’ declared Sucharita, ‘Your refreshments should be ready by now. Let’s go into the other room then. Mashi will not emerge before Panubabu. Maybe she’s waiting for you.’ This last statement was deliberately directed against Haranbabu. She had borne a lot on this occasion, and could not help retaliating in some measure.

  Gora rose to his feet.

  ‘I’ll wait, then,’ declared Haranbabu, undaunted.

  ‘Why wait in vain?’ Sucharita objected. ‘After this I won’t have the time.’

  Still Haranbabu did not arise. Sucharita and Gora left the room. Seeing Gora in this house, and observing Sucharita’s behaviour towards him, Haranbabu’s heart was up in arms. Would Sucharita lose her footing in the Brahmo Samaj in this fashion! Was there nobody to protect her! This must be prevented, at any cost. Snatching a piece of paper, Haranbabu began composing a letter to Sucharita. He had a few fixed notions, one being that when he reprimanded people in the name of truth, his fiery words could not fail to have effect. He did not even consider that apart from words alone, there was also something called the human heart.

  After a long chat with Harimohini at the end of his meal, when Gora entered Sucharita’s room to collect his walking stick, it was almost dark. A lamp had been lit on Sucharita’s desk. Haranbabu had departed. A letter addressed to Sucharita lay upon the table, prominently visible immediately upon entering the room. The sight of that letter instantly hardened Gora’s heart. It was undoubtedly written by Haranbabu. Gora knew Haranbabu had a special claim upon Sucharita; he was unaware that this claim had been eroded in any way. Today, when Satish whispered to Sucharita about Haranbabu’s arrival, and the startled Sucharita rushed downstairs to reappear shortly with Haranbabu in tow, Gora’s heart had been struck by a very discordant note. Subsequently, when Sucharita left Haranbabu alone in the room and took Gora downstairs for refreshments, her behaviour certainly appeared rude, but thinking that intimacy might permit such conduct, Gora had taken it for the sign of a close relationship. After that, the sight of that letter lying on the table was a heavy blow for Gora. A letter is a very mysterious thing. Because it displays only the name on the outside, concealing everything else within, it can torment a person needlessly.

  ‘I shall come tomorrow,’ Gora announced, glancing at Sucharita’s face.

  ‘Very well,’ replied Sucharita, with downcast eyes.

  On the point of leaving, Gora paused suddenly.

  ‘Your place is in the solar system of Bharatvarsha,’ he declared. ‘You belong to my own country; we can never allow some comet to sweep you away on its tail, whirling you off into empty space! Where you truly belong, there must I place you firmly on a pedestal, only then shall I desist. These people have persuaded you that your notion of truth, your dharma, would forsake you in that place; but I tell you clearly, your notion of truth, your dharma, does not merely consist of opinions or words belonging to you or a few others. It is entangled in every direction with the strands of countless lives; one cannot uproot it from the forest and transplant it into a flowerpot at will. If you wish to keep it sparkling and alive, to bring it to complete fulfillment, then you must assume the position assigned to you long before your birth, at the heart of popular society. You cannot afford to say: “I am unfamiliar with it, unrelated to it in any way.” Should you say such a thing, your idea of truth, your dharma, your power, will fade like a shadow. If your opinions drag you away from the position assigned to you by the Almighty, whatever that position may be, I can convince you for sure that your opinions will never triumph. I shall come tomorrow.’

  With these words, Gora left the scene. For a long time afterward, the air inside the room seemed to resonate. Sucharita remained motionless as a statue.

  ~58~

  ‘Look Ma,’ Binoy told Anandamoyi, ‘Truth be told, whenever I have offered pranam in obeisance to an idol, I have inwardly felt a strange sense of shame, which I have suppressed. On the contrary, I have written wonderful essays in praise of idol worship. But to tell you the truth, when I have bowed at the idol’s feet, my inner heart has not acquiesced.’

  ‘As if your heart is so simple!’ declared Anandamoyi. ‘You cannot take a broad view of anything. In every matter, you look for finer nuances. That is why you can never shed your fussiness.’

  ‘True indeed. Because I have such fineness of perception, I can use hair-splitting arguments to prove even what I don’t believe in. I deceive myself as well as others as it suits me. All my arguments about religion so far have been prompted not by faith but by partisanship.’

  ‘That’s what happens when one has no real attachment to dharma,’ Anandmoyi asserted. ‘Then even dharma, like family, social prestige and wealth, becomes a matter of pride.’

  ‘Yes, we no longer perceive it as dharma in general, but as our own personal dharma, fighting our battles for its sake. That’s what I too have been doing all these days. Still, it’s not as if I can completely deceive myself. Because I pretend faith where belief fails me, I have always felt ashamed of myself.’

  ‘Don’t I know that! From the fact that you all go to such extremes, beyond the ordinary, it is clear that you are forced to use many resources to fill the void in your hearts. Where faith comes easy, one need not go to such lengths.’

  ‘That is why I have come to ask you whether it is good to pretend that I believe in something that does not inspire my faith,’ said Binoy.

  ‘Just listen to him! What sort of question is that?’

  ‘Ma, I’m going to formally join the Brahmo Samaj the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘What’s this you say, Binoy!’ Anandamoyi exclaimed. ‘Where is the need to seek formal initiation?’

  ‘That need is what I was trying to explain all this while, Ma!’

  ‘Can’t you remain within our community and still keep your faith in whatever you believe in?’

  ‘To remain, I would have to resort to deceit.’

  ‘Don’t you have the courage to remain with us sans deceit? The members of our community will make you suffer, but can’t you withstand that?’

  ‘Ma, if I don’t follow the dictates of the Hindu community, then …’

  ‘If three hundred and thirty-three crores of opinions can prevail within the Hindu community, why should your opinions not be acceptable too?’

  ‘But Ma, if members of our community were to say, “You are not a Hindu,” can I still insist that “I am a Hindu”?’

  ‘People in our community call me a Khristan, after all. In practice, indeed, I don’t eat with them. But still, just because they call me a Khristan, I don’t assume I must accept what they say. When I know something to be right, I consider it wrong to run away and hide myself on that account.’

  Binoy was about to reply, but before he could say anything, Anandamoyi interrupted: ‘Binoy, I shan’t let you argue; this is no matter for argument. Can you conceal anything from me, after all? I can see you’re trying to forcibly delude yourself on the pretext of arguing with me. But don’t plan those false tactics in such a grave matter.’

  ‘But Ma,’ said Binoy, hanging his head, ‘I have promised in writing that I shall accept my initiation tomorrow.’

  ‘That cannot be allowed. If you exp
lain to Poreshbabu, he will never urge you to proceed.’

  ‘Poreshbabu has no enthusiasm for my initiation; he is not participating in the ritual.’

  ‘Then you have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘No Ma, the matter has been decided, and can’t be reversed. Never.’

  ‘Have you told Gora?’

  ‘I haven’t met Gora.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Anandamoyi. ‘Is Gora not at home now?’

  ‘No, I hear he has gone to Sucharita’s.’

  ‘But he went there yesterday!’ exclaimed Anandamoyi in surprise.

  ‘He has gone there today as well.’

  At that moment, they heard palki bearers approach the yard. Expecting the visitor to be some female relative of Anandamoyi’s, Binoy went out.

  Lalita came in and touched Anandamoyi’s feet in a pranam. Anandamoyi had not expected her to come there that day, under any circumstances. Looking at her face in surprise, she at once realized that Lalita had come to her because of some problem concerning Binoy’s initiation.

  ‘Ma, I am delighted to see you here,’ said Anandamoyi, to give Lalita a chance to raise the subject. ‘Binoy was here a moment ago. Tomorrow he is to join your community. That’s what we were talking about.’

  ‘Why must he seek initiation?’ Lalita burst out. ‘Is there any need?’

  ‘Is there no need, Ma?’ asked Anandamoyi, astounded.

  ‘I can’t think of any.’

  Unable to fathom Lalita’s intentions, Anandamoyi stared at her in silence.

  ‘It is demeaning for him to suddenly seek initiation in this way,’ continued Lalita, hanging her head. ‘Why is he accepting such humiliation?’

  ‘Why’! Didn’t Lalita know why? Did she have no cause to rejoice?

  ‘Tomorrow is the date set for his initiation. He has given his word,’ said Anandamoyi. ‘Now it is beyond his power to change it, so Binoy told me.’

  ‘In such matters one’s word means nothing,’ declared Lalita, fixing her burning gaze on Anandamoyi’s face. ‘If change is necessary, it must be allowed.’