The Final Question

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  ‘But in this unfamiliar place, she might have all the more need of money.’

  ‘Perhaps, but it might not be greater than her self-respect.’

  ‘That too is just your guess,’ said Ashu Babu.

  Ajit did not reply immediately. He remained silent for some time with downcast face, and then said, ‘No, it’s more than a guess. It’s my conviction.’ Having said this, he slowly walked out of the room.

  Ashu Babu did not call him back. He looked after him, eyes dilated with grief. He knew quite well that such a conviction about Kamal was neither impossible nor unjustified. In helpless remorse, he felt something clawing at his heart.

  13

  AFTER RETURNING FROM THE WOMEN’S WELFARE SOCIETY, Nilima began to entreat Abinash. ‘Mukherjee Mashai, I want to see Kamal once. I want very much to invite her to dinner.’

  Abinash was surprised and said, ‘You’re a brave woman, Younger-Wife. You not only want to get acquainted with her, but actually to invite her!’

  ‘Why, is she a tiger or a bear? What’s there to be afraid of?’

  Abinash said, ‘You don’t find tigers or bears in these parts, or else I could have invited them at your command—but not her. If Akshay comes to know of it, he won’t spare me. He’ll drive me out of the land.’

  Nilima said, ‘I’m not afraid of Akshay Babu.’

  Abinash said, ‘There’s no harm if you aren’t. It would serve his purpose as long as I am.’

  Nilima stubbornly said, ‘No, that can’t be. If you don’t go, I’ll go myself to invite her.’

  ‘But I don’t know their house.’

  ‘Thakurpo1 knows it,’ said Nilima. ‘I’ll take him with me. He’s not a coward like you.’ She reflected for some time and said, ‘From what you tell me, it’s Shibnath Babu’s fault. I don’t want to invite him. I want to see Kamal and talk to her. If she agrees to come, the magistrate’s wife has said she’ll come too. Do you understand?’

  Abinash understood everything but could not consent openly. Yet he did not have the courage to oppose her either. He held Nilima not only in affection and respect but also in awe.

  Next morning Nilima summoned Harendra and said, ‘Thakurpo, you must do me a favour. You are a bachelor, you don’t have a wife at home to box your ears in the name of propriety. You share your home with a horde of orphan students—you have nothing to be afraid of.’

  Harendra said, ‘We’ll talk about fears later on, but what do I have to do?’

  Nilima said, ‘I want to see Kamal, talk to her, bring her home and feed her. You know their house. You must take me there to invite her. Tell me what time would suit you.’

  Harendra said, ‘Whenever you command. But what about the master of the house, my Sejda?2 What does he wish?’ He pointed to Abinash across the balcony. He was sitting in his armchair reading the Pioneer.3 He heard everything but made no response.

  Nilima said, ‘Let him do what he wishes. I’m not interested. I’m his sister-in-law, not his sister-in-law’s sister that he should wield his club over me as lord and master. I shall feed anyone I like. The magistrate’s wife has said that she too will come if I ask her. If he doesn’t like it, he can go somewhere else at the time.’

  Without taking his eyes off the paper, Abinash said, ‘But it won’t be prudent, Harendra. I hope you remember yesterday’s incident. Even an unflappable person like Ashu Babu has to be cautious.’

  Harendra did not reply; and afraid that the shameful business of the money should crop up and reach Nilima’s ears, he quickly buried the subject and said, ‘Why don’t you do something else, Boudi?4 Why not invite her to my place? You’ll be the mistress of ceremonies. At least there will be the advent of Lakshmi5 for a day in the house of this unprosperous wretch. The boys too will be happy to taste a few good things.’

  With a touch of resentment in her voice, Nilima said, ‘All right, let’s do that. I’ll be safe from digs and insinuations later on.’

  Abinash sat up and said, ‘That would be a scandal of the worst kind, because there would be no reason left to justify inviting her to the exclusion of Shibnath. It would sound better to say that the women want to get to know each other.’

  This was reasonable enough. So it was decided that after college, Harendra would take Nilima in a carriage to invite Kamal.

  Harendra came in the afternoon to say that there was no need to go. Kamal had already been asked to dinner the following day and agreed to come.

  Nilima was excited. Harendra went on: ‘While I was returning from your house, I suddenly met her on the way. There was a porter with her, carrying a big box on his head. I asked, “What’s that? Where are you going?” She said, “I’ve got something to do.” Then I told her about you and said, “Sister-in-law has invited you home tomorrow evening. Only among women. You have to go.” She remained silent for a while and then said, “All right.” I said, “She wanted to come with me and invite you in a befitting way, but need she any more?” She smiled a little and said, “No.” I asked “Can you come by yourself or should I come to escort you?” On hearing this she began laughing again. She said, “I can go on my own. I know Abinash Babu’s house.”’

  Nilima tenderly said, ‘The girl is very good in this way, very modest.’

  Abinash overheard everything from the next room, where he was changing his clothes. He called out, ‘And what about the box on the porter’s head? You didn’t tell us its history, brother.’

  Harendra answered, ‘I didn’t ask about it.’

  ‘It would have been better had you done so. She was probably going to sell or pawn it.’

  Harendra said, ‘Quite possibly. If she comes to you to pawn it, ask her about its history.’ He was about to leave on this note, but suddenly paused at the door and called out, ‘Boudi, you heard Akshay’s paper at the Women’s Welfare Society, didn’t you? We call that man a brute. But if the poor fellow had a little more flair for hypocrisy, he could easily have passed for an honest man in society. What do you say, Sejda? Isn’t it so?’

  Abinash roared from the next room, ‘Oh yes, you ever-genial Lord Shri Gouranga!6 There’s no doubt about it. Go and teach your friend the art.’

  ‘I’ll try. But goodbye, Boudi. I’ll be here on time tomorrow.’ And so he left.

  Nilima spared no effort in making the arrangements. Manorama had been vehemently hostile to Kamal from the very beginning; it being known that she would not come in any event, no one from Ashu Babu’s family had been invited. Malini had been asked but could not come, having suddenly fallen ill.

  Kamal arrived punctually, not in any vehicle but alone on foot. The mistress of the house welcomed her very cordially. Abinash was standing there. He had not seen Kamal for quite some time. Today he was surprised by her appearance and her dress, which bore clear signs of poverty. He said in surprise, ‘Why did you walk all the way here at night, Kamal?’

  Kamal said, ‘The reason is very simple, Abinash Babu, and not at all hard to understand.’

  Abinash was embarrassed. To hide his embarrassment, he said, ‘No, no, don’t talk like that. It wasn’t a safe thing to do. Oh, Younger-Wife, this is Kamal. Her other name is Shibani. This is the lady you were so anxious to meet. Do come in and sit down. I hope you’re ready with your arrangements? Then there’s no point in holding back dinner—after all she must return home in good time.’

  Most of his advice and enquiries were redundant. They neither required answers nor sought them.

  Harendra arrived and greeted Kamal. He said, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to welcome the guest, Boudi. Akshay had come over and it took me some time to get rid of him with sweet talk.’ He began to laugh.

  On going into the house, Kamal looked at the plethora of food and was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘You’ve cooked all this for me, but I don’t eat this sort of food.’ Seeing everybody grow anxious, she explained, ‘I eat only the kind of food that widows take.’

  Nilima was surprised to hear this. ‘How strange! What misery
has befallen you that you should eat widow’s food?’

  ‘That’s a fair question,’ said Kamal. ‘It’s not that I have no cause for grief, but at least my sense of loss is less because I don’t eat these things. Please don’t mind.’

  One could not but mind. Nilima was vexed and said, ‘If you don’t eat anything, all this will go waste.’ Kamal smiled. ‘What has been done has already been done. You can’t undo it. Why should I myself go to waste by eating this?’

  Nilima made a last pitiful attempt, saying, ‘Just for today, for a single day, can’t you break your vow?’

  Kamal shook her head and said, ‘No.’

  Only one smiling word: when first heard, it sounded like nothing at all. Harendra alone realized how irrevocable it was. That is why as soon as the mistress of the house began repeating her request, he interrupted her, saying, ‘Let it be, Boudi; no more of this. Your preparations won’t be wasted. The boys at my place will come and gobble it up clean. But don’t press her any more. Rather, try to give her what she would like.’

  Nilima angrily said, ‘I will. But you don’t need to console me, brother. Please stop. This is not grass that you can bring your flock of sheep to graze on. I’d rather throw all this away than let them have it.’

  Harendra smiled and said, ‘What makes you so angry with them?’

  Nilima retorted, ‘All your misery is because of them. Your father left behind a lot of money. You earn quite a bit yourself. If you had a wife, your house would have been full of children by now. Things wouldn’t have taken this wretched turn. But you’re a bachelor like the god Kartik, and you’re bringing up your flock in the same way. I’ll never feed those boys—I give you my word! I’d rather let all this be wasted.’

  Kamal did not understand any of this; she looked on in puzzlement. Harendra was embarrassed and said, ‘She has this old grudge against me, and this is my punishment.’ Then he explained the matter briefly: ‘I have a few orphan boys who stay with me and go to school or college. All her rancour is towards them.’

  Kamal was amazed and said, ‘Is that so? Why, I never heard of this.’

  Harendra said, ‘There’s nothing to hear. But they are all good, well-disposed boys, and I love them.’

  Nilima said in a fury, ‘Yes, they have vowed that when they grow up they will save the country. In other words, like their guru, they too will become brahmacharis and set out to conquer the world, I suppose.’

  ‘Will you pay them a visit, just once?’ asked Harendra. ‘You’d like meeting them.’

  Kamal agreed immediately and said, ‘I can come tomorrow—if you fetch me.’

  Harendra said, ‘No, not tomorrow but some other day. Rajen and Satish of our ashram have gone on a visit to Varanasi; I’ll bring you to the ashram after they return. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to meet them too.’

  Abinash had just entered. When he heard this, he opened his eyes wide and said, ‘Has your den of young wretches now become an ashram? What a hypocrite you are, Haren!’

  Nilima was offended. She exclaimed, ‘This is unfair of you, Mukherjee Mashai. Thakurpo hasn’t asked you for money for his ashram; why should you accuse him of being a hypocrite? It isn’t hypocrisy to bring up other people’s children at your expense. Rather, those who say it is should be called hypocrites.’

  Harendra smiled and said, ‘Boudi, you abused them yourself just now as being a flock of sheep. Does Sejda get this reward for echoing your own words?’

  Nilima answered, ‘I said so in anger. But how in shame can he say so? Let him first be clear in his own mind what hypocrisy means; then let him teach others.’

  Kamal said, ‘Do all your boys go to school or college?’

  ‘Yes, ostensibly that’s what they do,’ Harendra replied.

  Abinash said, ‘And why don’t you tell her frankly what goes on behind the scenes—all those exercises in suspending and regulating the breath, and all the rest of it?’

  Everyone laughed at this. Nilima told Kamal imploringly, ‘Don’t judge Mukherjee Mashai by his mood today. Sometimes he’s much calmer, or I’d have had to run away long ago to save my life.’ She began to laugh.

  A little heat had been gathering for some time, but it was dispelled by this soothing jest. The Brahman cook came to announce that Kamal’s food was ready. So everybody got up, suspending the discussion for the time being.

  After the meal, nearly two hours later, when everybody had again gathered in the sitting room, Kamal took up the thread of their earlier conversation. ‘The boys may not practise regulating their breath to purge their souls, but they must be doing things other than learning from their textbooks—what are those?’

  Harendra said, ‘They do. They spare no effort to grow up as true human beings for the future. But I’ll explain everything the day you honour us with your visit. Not today.’

  Abinash was vastly irritated that such excessive respect was being paid to the young woman, but he remained quiet.

  Nilima said, ‘Why not tell her today, Thakurpo? You may not reveal your ways of training them, but what’s the harm in telling her that you are teaching them brahmacharya according to the ancient Indian ideal, in your own way? You once hinted at such a thing to me.’

  Harendra politely said, ‘I don’t say you’re wrong, Boudi.’ As he spoke, he recalled the argument they had had the other day. Looking at Kamal, he asked, ‘I suppose you don’t have any sympathy for me either?’

  Kamal said, ‘Haren Babu, I can’t tell you unless I know exactly what you are about. But it’s not reasonable to suppose that bringing up boys in the ancient mould necessarily means following the true model of humanity.’

  ‘But that’s what our Indian ideal is!’ said Harendra.

  Kamal said, ‘Tell me who has decided that the Indian ideal is the ultimate ideal for all ages.’

  Abinash had not spoken so far. He controlled his anger and said, ‘It may not be the ultimate ideal, Kamal, but it’s the ideal of our ancestors. Indians have always aimed at it—it’s the only path for them to follow. I don’t know about Haren’s ashram, but if he has adopted this path, my blessings on him.’

  Kamal looked at him silently for a while and said, ‘I don’t know why people make this mistake. They seem to recognize no Indians other than themselves. We have many other communities as well. Why should they adopt this ideal?’

  Abinash was enraged and retorted, ‘To hell with them. This argument means nothing to me. It’s enough for me if I can see our own ideal clearly.’

  Kamal slowly said, ‘You’re saying this out of extreme anger, Abinash Babu. I don’t think you’re so bigoted as a rule.’ After pausing a little, she continued, ‘But who knows—perhaps all males think like this. The other day the same topic came up with Ajit Babu. His face blanched with pain at the thought that India’s lasting uniqueness, her distinctive identity, was being impaired. He had once been a staunch nationalist—perhaps he still is in his heart of hearts. To him, this possibility is simply another name for the end of the world.’ And she sighed deeply.

  Abinash seemed about to say something, but Kamal took no notice and went on: ‘But I wonder what there is to worry about. Why must I cling to the customs and practices of a particular country forever, just because I happened to be born there? What does it matter if its distinctiveness is lost? Need we be so attached to it? What’s the harm if everyone on earth shares the same thoughts and feelings, if they stand under a single banner of laws and regulations? What if we can’t be recognized as Indians any more? Where’s the harm in that? No one can object if we declare ourselves to be citizens of the world. Is that any less glorious?’

  Abinash could not think of an answer immediately. He said, ‘Kamal, you don’t understand what you’re saying. This would spell disaster for mankind.’

  Kamal replied, ‘It won’t, Abinash Babu. It’ll only destroy the conceit of the blind.’

  Abinash said, ‘These are all Shibnath’s words.’

  Kamal responded, ‘I didn’t know
that—does he say such things?’

  Abinash now forgot himself. His face darkened with a sneer as he said, ‘You know it very well. You have learnt his words by heart, and you say you don’t know whose they are!’

  Kamal did not reply to this gross discourtesy. Nilima did. She said, ‘I don’t care who said it, Mukherjee Mashai. As a teacher you can shut your students up by scolding them, but you can’t solve a problem that way. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you can’t answer a question, but it’s shameful to break the rules of decent behaviour. Thakurpo, please call for a carriage. You must see her home. You’re a brahmachari, so I have no fears about letting you go with her.’ She looked askance at Abinash and ended, ‘Seeing how amiable Mukherjee Mashai is starting to look! It wouldn’t be wise to wait any longer.’

  Abinash said sombrely, ‘Well, why don’t you sit and talk? I’m going to bed.’ He rose and left.

  The servant had gone to call a carriage. Harendra said to Kamal, ‘You really must visit my ashram one day. If I come to fetch you, you mustn’t stop me.’

  Kamal said smilingly, ‘Why invite me to an ashram of brahmacharis? Wouldn’t it be better if I didn’t go?’

  ‘No, that can’t be. You needn’t be afraid of us because we’re brahmacharis. We’re very simple people. We neither wear saffron clothes nor have matted hair and bark loincloths. We live among ordinary people—you can’t tell us apart from them.’

  ‘But that isn’t good either. To hide among the ordinary in spite of being extraordinary is also a kind of wrongdoing. Perhaps this is what Abinash Babu calls hypocrisy. Saffron and matted hair and bark loincloths are far better. They make it easy to identify such people and harder to be deceived by them.’

  Harendra said, ‘One can’t beat you in argument—one has to call a retreat. But really, don’t you appreciate our institution? Whether or not we are successful, our ideal is a noble one.’

  Kamal said, ‘I don’t agree with that, Haren Babu. Like all kinds of abstinence, sexual abstinence also contains truth; but it’s a truth of a lesser order. Presented sanctimoniously as life’s chief truth, it turns into a sort of incontinence which carries its own punishment. Spirituality grows weak through the arrogance of self-mortification. But all right, I shall come to your ashram.’