The Final Question

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  Harendra said, ‘You must come—I won’t stop pestering you until you pay us a visit. But let me tell you one thing—we don’t have any pomp and show; we do nothing ostentatiously.’ Suddenly, pointing to Nilima, he said, ‘She is my ideal. Like her, we follow the path of simplicity. She carries no outward sign of widowhood; looked at from outside, she seems to be steeped in luxury. But I know about her austerity, her strict self-discipline.’

  Kamal remained silent. Suffused with awe and reverence, Harendra continued, ‘You have no respect for Indian antiquity; the ideals of India don’t attract you. But tell me, where else do you find such glory, such ideals ascribed to womanhood? Boudi is the mistress of this house; to Sejda’s motherless son, she’s like a mother. The entire responsibility for this household rests on her shoulders. But she has neither any personal interest nor any entanglement. Now tell me, in which country do widows give so much of themselves?’

  Kamal’s face lit up with a little smile. She said, ‘Where’s the good in it, Haren Babu? Perhaps there’s no such instance in the world of being the selfless mistress of someone else’s house and a selfless mother to someone else’s son. Its uniqueness might make it strange or rare, but how can it make it good?’

  Harendra fell silent on hearing this. Nilima opened her eyes wide with astonishment and looked fixedly at Kamal. Kamal aimed her next words at her. ‘However people might glorify it with splendid words and clever epithets, nobody can respect this playacting of a housewife’s part. It’s better to abandon such glory.’

  Harendra said with deep agony, ‘What advice—to break up a well-run household and go away! Nobody expected that from you.’

  Kamal said, ‘But this household is not her own. Had it been, I wouldn’t have offered such advice. This is how men intoxicate us with activity. When we drink in the heady wine of their applause, our eyes glaze over and we treat it like the fulfilment of our womanhood. I remember Harish Babu of our tea garden. When his sixteen-year-old sister was widowed, he brought her to his house, showed her his horde of children, cried and said, “Dear sister, from now on they are your children; why should you worry, sister? Bring them up, become their mother and the mistress of this house; make your life meaningful. This is my blessing upon you.” Harish Babu was held to be a good man, the entire garden rang with his praise. Everybody said, “Lakshmi’s a lucky girl.” Indeed she was. Only women know that there’s no greater misery, no greater fraud. But by the time this becomes clear, it’s too late to correct it.’

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Harendra.

  ‘I don’t know, Haren Babu,’ said Kamal. ‘I couldn’t see the end of Lakshmi’s self-fulfilment; I had to leave before that. But my carriage has arrived. Come, I’ll tell you about it on the way. Goodbye.’ And she got up instantly.

  Nilima stood speechless, making a namaskar. Her eyes seemed to burn like embers.

  14

  THE WORD ‘ASHRAM’ HAD SUDDENLY SLIPPED OUT OF Harendra’s mouth before Kamal. Abinash was not wrong in mocking him when he heard it. A few poor boys stayed there free of cost and went to school. In fact, Harendra had had no intention of projecting his dwelling place in such a glorious light. It was quite an ordinary affair with a very humble beginning. But these matters are such that once born of the donor’s generosity, they grow at relentless speed. Like stubborn weeds, they lose no time in extracting all sap from the soil and transmitting it to their roots and branches. That is what happened in this case as well. This needs to be explained in detail.

  Harendra had no brother or sister. His father had amassed a lot of money in the law. After his death, Harendra was left only with his widowed mother. She too died soon after her son finished his studies. Thus he had no near relation to press him into marriage, or to take the initiative in chaining him down. His studies once over, Harendra, for want of anything else to do, devoted himself to the service of the people and the nation. He befriended a lot of sadhus, withdrew the accumulated interest from his bank account and formed a Famine Prevention Society, helped an eminent leader in flood relief, joined a Rehabilitation Society and brought the blind, the lame, the dumb and the deaf home to nurse.

  As his fame spread, hordes of philanthropists came and said, ‘Give us money, we shall serve others.’ All his surplus funds were exhausted; he now needed to break into his capital. Things had come to this pass when one day he suddenly met Abinash. However distant might have been the link, Harendra learnt for the first time that there was still somebody left in the world with whom he could claim kinship. There was a post going vacant in Abinash’s college. With some effort, Abinash got Harendra appointed to it and brought him to Agra. In the historic towns of that part of India, many large, old-fashioned mansions were still obtainable at low rent. Harendra rented one of these. It was now his ashram.

  Harendra met Nilima during the few days he had stayed in Abinash’s house on first arriving in Agra. This young woman did not lurk behind the curtains because Harendra was a stranger, or extend hospitality through the servants. She came out before him in person from the very first day. She said, ‘Don’t hesitate to ask me for whatever you need, Thakurpo. I’m not the mistress of the house, but the responsibility of being mistress has now fallen on me. Your Dada has said, “I’ll dock your pay if this cousin of mine isn’t properly looked after.” Please don’t cause any loss to this poor woman, brother. Tell me what you need.’

  Harendra did not know what to say. His diffidence made him shrink so much that he could not look at the speaker of these sweet, simple words in the face. But it took him only two days to regain his ease. He could not but be easy, such was this woman’s graceful, natural affection and her innate hospitality. From her face, her dress, her speech, one could not tell that she was a widow, that she had no real shelter in this world—that she was, moreover, a stranger in this house. Yet one could sense that these features alone did not make up her full personality.

  She was not exactly young—probably nearing thirty; but her light, laughing ways belied her age. Only a close scrutiny revealed that she was continually girdled by an invisible barrier: neither the servants nor the master of the house could penetrate it.

  Harendra spent two weeks in this house, in this atmosphere. Nilima was upset when she suddenly heard one day that Harendra had rented a house. ‘Why did you do it so hastily, Thakurpo?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you comfortable here?’

  Harendra said with a smile, ‘I would have had to go some day, Boudi.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ replied Nilima, ‘but your eyes still say that you are obsessed with the idea of serving the country. Why don’t you spend a few days more in your Boudi’s custody?’

  Harendra said, ‘I’ll still be doing that. It’s only a ten-minute walk. How can I stray from your sight?’

  Abinash was working in his room. He called out from there: ‘He’ll go to perdition. I tried so hard to persuade you, Haren: “Don’t go, stay here.” But would you listen? What’s more important—your own prestige, or your Dada’s request? Very well then: go to your new shelter and serve the Lord of the Poor. It’s no use pressing him, Younger-Wife. He’s a sannyasin1 at the Charak festival. His life will be in vain if he can’t whirl about with his back pierced.’

  In the new house, Harendra employed a servant and a cook and, like a modest and peace-loving teacher, absorbed himself in his work at college. There were many rooms in this large mansion. All but two remained vacant. Nearly a month later, the vacant rooms began to trouble him. He was paying the rent but getting no benefit from them. So a letter went out to Rajen, the secretary of his Famine Prevention Society. He had been interned for two years because of his enthusiasm for freeing the country. He had been released five or six months earlier and was hunting out old friends and acquaintances. On receiving Haren’s letter and the train fare, he arrived immediately. ‘Let’s see if I can find you a job,’ proposed Harendra. ‘All right,’ said Rajen.

  Satish was Rajen’s intimate friend. He had somehow escaped internment and wa
s trying to start a brahmacharya ashram in an obscure village in Midnapore district. Within a week of receiving a letter from Rajen, he gave up his idea of becoming a sadhu and came down to Agra. He did not come alone: he very kindly brought along a follower from the village. With cogent arguments and evidence from the scriptures, Satish firmly established that India alone was a holy land and the saints and sages were her Gods; that we had lost everything by forgetting to be celibate ascetics; and that no other country in the world was comparable to ours because we had been so long the original teachers of the world, the preceptors of men. Hence at present the only duty of Indians was to set up innumerable brahmacharya ashrams in every town and village. If it were at all possible to free the country, it would be done in this way.

  Such talk cast a spell on Harendra. He knew of Satish, but had not met him; so he thanked Rajen inwardly for this piece of luck and counted himself fortunate that he had not married. Satish had a great store of noble speeches, and he continued his disquisitions for some days: ‘We are the progeny of the sages and seers of this holy land; our ancestors once taught the world; hence we are sole heirs to the right of becoming such gurus another day.’ Could anyone born of Aryan blood be such a monster as to disagree with this? No one could, and no one present was perverse enough to do so.

  Harendra became enthusiastic. But since the matter involved contemplation and meditation, it was kept secret as far as possible. Only Rajen and Satish sometimes went to their native villages to collect recruits. Those who were young entered school; those who had passed out of school joined one of the colleges with Harendra’s help. In this way the house was soon packed with boys of various ages. Outsiders did not know much about this, nor did they show any interest. People knew only that a few poor Bengali boys pursued their studies from Harendra’s house. Even Abinash did not know more than this, nor did Nilima.

  Under Satish’s stern diktat, fish and meat were banned in the house. Rising at the holy hour of dawn, everybody had to recite hymns, meditate and carry out breathing exercises as prescribed in the scriptures. Then they did their lessons and household work. But even this did not satisfy the authorities: the path of prayer and discipline grew harder and harder. The cook ran away, the servants were sacked, so their duties fell on the boys. On some days they managed to cook one dish, on others not even that. Their education began to suffer—they were scolded at school but their regime was not relaxed, such was its rigour. The only concession was allowing attendance at feasts in other people’s houses.

  Harendra had forced this exception to the rules when Nilima was celebrating the completion of a vow. Apart from this, there was no mercy at all. The boys went barefoot and with dishevelled hair, and Satish’s alert eyes were constantly on guard lest any unauthorized luxury enter through some minute crevice. This was how the days passed at the ashram.

  Not only Satish, but Harendra too was proud of what they were attempting. They did not say much to outsiders; but often among themselves, Harendra, swollen with complacency and self-satisfaction, would say that, if he could make even one of the boys a true human being, he would think he had attained the highest success in life. Satish would not say anything, only modestly bow his head.

  Both Harendra and Satish were troubled by one thing. For some time now, both had sensed that Rajen’s attitude had changed. He did not show any interest in the affairs of the ashram. He often abstained from the morning prayers and rites. When asked, he would say he was not well; but he showed no symptoms of illness. He would not divulge what his grievances were, why he was behaving in this way. Sometimes he went out at dawn and did not return all day. When he came back at night, his expression would deter even Harendra from asking him anything. Yet all this was against the rules of the ashram. No one except Harendra was allowed to stay out after nightfall. Rajen knew this very well, but did not care. Satish was the secretary of the ashram and hence responsible for its discipline. He did not openly complain to Harendra about these irregularities, but sometimes he would hint that it was inadvisable to keep Rajen at the ashram—the boys might be corrupted. It was not that Harendra did not appreciate this, but nevertheless, he did not dare speak out.

  Once Rajen stayed away all night. A hot debate broke out when he returned in the morning. Harendra said with amazement, ‘Well now, Rajen, where were you last night?’ Rajen attempted a smile and said, ‘Under a tree.’

  ‘Under a tree! Why?’

  ‘It got very late—I didn’t want to wake you up.’

  ‘Well, what made you so late?’

  ‘Just wandering about.’ And he went into his room.

  Satish was standing nearby. ‘What’s going on?’ Haren said to him.

  ‘How should I know?’ said Satish. ‘You see how he dodged even your questions.’

  ‘You’re quite right. This is getting to be too much.’

  Satish gravely said, ‘You know the police had put him away for two years.’

  ‘I know,’ said Haren, ‘but that was on a false suspicion. He hadn’t really done anything.’

  Satish added, ‘I too was on the point of being jailed merely because I was his friend. The police still keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Not impossible,’ observed Harendra.

  Satish responded with a sad smile: ‘I’m afraid that they might grow fond of our ashram because of him.’

  Harendra turned silent and thoughtful at this. Satish too was silent for a while, but suddenly said, ‘Perhaps you know that Rajen doesn’t even believe in God.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Harendra in astonishment.

  ‘I know he doesn’t,’ said Satish. ‘He doesn’t have a jot of respect for the activities, rules and regulations of the ashram. You’d better get him a job somewhere else.’

  Harendra said, ‘Jobs are not fruit to be plucked off a tree. They take a lot of getting.’

  ‘Then please make the effort,’ rejoined Satish. ‘You being the founder-president of the ashram and I its secretary, it’s my duty to apprise you of everything. You’re very fond of him, and he’s my friend too. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything against him, but now I think it’s my duty to warn you.’

  Harendra was tense. He said, ‘But I know he has a stainless character …’

  Satish nodded and said, ‘Yes, even his greatest enemy can’t accuse him on that score. Rajen is a lifelong virgin, but he isn’t a brahmachari. The real reason for his abstinence is that he hasn’t the time to ponder that there are such creatures as women on this earth.’ He paused and continued, ‘I make no charge against his character; it’s exceptionally spotless, but …’

  ‘Why “but”?’ asked Harendra.

  Satish said, ‘We used to share a room in Calcutta. He was then a student in Campbell Medical School, and he was also studying privately for the B.Sc. Everybody thought he would top the list; but just before the examination he suddenly went away somewhere …’

  Harendra asked in astonishment, ‘You mean he studied medicine? But he told me that he had been admitted to the Shibpur Engineering College, and ran away because the course was too hard for him!’

  Satish said, ‘If you check, you’ll learn that he came first in his third year at college. All the teachers were very upset when he left for no reason. His wealthy aunt had been supporting him: she was vexed by this and stopped the money. It must have been around then that you came to know him. When he returned after wandering for two years, his aunt, at his own suggestion, got him admitted to the Medical School. He used to be first in class in every subject, but after three years he suddenly gave it up. It was the same excuse: “It’s too hard, I can’t cope with it.” He then came and took refuge in my house. He said he would study for the B.Sc., supporting himself by tutoring, and then take up work as a village schoolmaster. “All right, do that,” I said. For the next fifteen days he neither ate nor bathed, nor did he sleep—the way he studied was astounding. Everyone said, “This is the way to be first in every subject.”’

  Harendra knew
nothing of this. Very interested now, he asked, ‘And then?’

  Satish said, ‘What he next began to do was also astonishing. He didn’t touch his books. His notebooks and pencils lay forgotten—nobody knew where he went or where he stayed. When he came back, we were frightened to look at him: he had neither bathed nor eaten all that time.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then one day the police came and went on a rampage through the house. They threw away this, scattered that, opened that other, shouted down one, arrested another—you can’t picture it if you haven’t seen it with your own eyes. The people who lived in the house were all humble clerks. Two of them developed heat stroke from sheer fright. We thought there was no escape—the police would arrest us all and perhaps hang us.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Towards the evening they arrested Rajen and me—since I was Rajen’s friend—and went away. They let me go after four days, but we lost all trace of Rajen. Before releasing me, the English officer took pity on me and warned me over and over, “One step, only one step! There’s only one step between your house and this jail. Go!” I had a dip in the Ganga, paid a visit to Goddess Kali at Kalighat, and returned home. Everyone said, “Satish, you’ve been lucky.” I went to my office. My English boss sent for me, handed me two months’ salary and said, “Go.” I heard that they’d made all kinds of searches and enquiries after me.’

  Harendra remained dumbfounded for some time, then slowly asked: ‘Then you’re certain that Rajen …’

  Satish said apologetically, ‘Don’t ask me. He’s my friend.’

  Harendra was not pleased. He said, ‘To me, too, he’s like a brother.’

  Satish said, ‘You should consider one point. It’s true that they harassed me for no reason, but finally they did let me go.’