The Final Question

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  Harendra said, ‘It’s against the law even to harass the innocent. Those who can do that can do worse things.’

  Saying this, he left for college, but he was inwardly disturbed: not because he was worried about Rajen’s future, but because he was afraid that his plans to bring up the boys as true human beings, saving the country, might be frustrated. Whether Satish’s account was true or not, Harendra was convinced that it would be unwise to draw the attention of the police to the ashram. Particularly since Rajen was openly violating the rules of the place, it was advisable to move him elsewhere by getting him a job, or on some other pretext.

  A few days later, there were two days of holiday for a Muslim festival. Satish asked for permission to go to Varanasi. Harendra had an ambitious plan to establish ashrams all over India modelled on the one at Agra, and Satish was going to Varanasi for this purpose. When Rajen came to know of it he said, ‘Haren-da, let me also go with him for a few days.’

  Harendra said, ‘He’s going because he has work.’

  Rajen said, ‘I want to go because I have no work. I have the money to pay the train fare out.’

  ‘And what about the fare back?’ asked Harendra. Rajen kept quiet.

  Harendra said, ‘For some days now I’ve been on the point of telling you something, but haven’t been able to.’

  Rajen smiled and said, ‘You don’t need to tell me, Haren-da. I know what it is.’ Then he went away.

  They were to go by the night train. As they were leaving, Harendra waited by the door. He tucked something wrapped in paper into Rajen’s hand and whispered, ‘I’ll be very sorry if you don’t come back, Rajen.’ Having said this, he at once hurried back to his room.

  They both returned ten days later. Satish drew Harendra aside and cheerfully said, ‘The little you told him that day has worked, Haren-da. All this time Rajen has put in a superhuman effort to set up the ashram at Varanasi.’

  ‘He puts superhuman effort into everything he does!’ said Harendra.

  ‘Yes, he’s done just that. If only he could put in a quarter of that labour for our own ashram!’

  Harendra said hopefully, ‘He’ll do it, Satish, he’ll do it. Perhaps he hadn’t understood things correctly all this time. I’m sure you’ll find him working relentlessly now.’ Satish hoped the same.

  Harendra said, ‘I’d postponed something till your return. Do you know what I’ve decided? We can’t keep the existence and the purpose of our ashram secret any longer. We must have the support of the country and the people. And we must spread our methods of work among the masses.’

  ‘But won’t it disrupt our own work?’ asked Satish doubtfully. ‘No,’ said Harendra. ‘I’ve asked a few people over this Sunday. They’re coming for a visit. We must convince them about the education, dedication, abstinence and purity inculcated by the ashram. I’m putting you in charge.’

  Satish asked, ‘Whom are you expecting?’

  Harendra said, ‘Ajit Babu, Abinash-da and my Boudi. Shibnath Babu is not in town now—I heard he’s gone to Jaipur on some business. But perhaps you’ve heard of his wife Kamal—she too will come. And if he’s well enough, perhaps I can persuade Ashu Babu as well. As you know, none of them is an ordinary person. We must be able to earn their true respect that day. That’s your responsibility.’

  Satish humbly lowered his head and said, ‘Bless me so that I can do that.’

  On Sunday the guests arrived shortly before evening. Only Ashu Babu didn’t come. Harendra met them at the entrance and showed them in with due respect. The boys were busy with their routine tasks. One was lighting the lamp, one sweeping, one drawing water, one kindling the oven and another getting the ingredients ready. Harendra said to Abinash with a smile, ‘Sejda, these are our ashram boys—those whom you call wretches. We don’t have servants and cooks—they do all the work themselves. Boudi, come into our kitchen. We’re celebrating a festival today. Come and see all the preparations.’

  Everybody followed Nilima to the door of the kitchen. A boy of ten or twelve was kindling the oven; another boy of the same age was slicing potatoes. Both stood up to greet them. Nilima asked affectionately, ‘What will you be having today, boys?’

  The boy said gleefully, ‘Today’s Sunday. On Sundays we have potato curry!’

  ‘And what else?’

  ‘Nothing else.’

  In bewilderment Nilima asked, ‘Only potato curry? No dal or gravy or anything else …’

  The boy only said, ‘We had dal yesterday.’

  Satish was standing beside them. He explained, ‘By the rules of our ashram we don’t have more than one dish at a meal.’

  Harendra smiled and said, ‘We can’t afford it, Boudi; how can we? My brother-in-mission’s explanation keeps up the honour of the ashram before outsiders.’

  Nilima asked, ‘There are no maids or servants either, I suppose?’

  Harendra said, ‘No. If we called them in, we’d have to say goodbye to the potato curry. The boys wouldn’t like that.’

  Nilima did not ask any more questions. Her eyes grew moist as she looked at the boys’ faces. She said, ‘Thakurpo, let’s go somewhere else.’

  Everyone understood what she meant. Harendra was inwardly pleased and said, ‘Come. But Boudi, I knew you wouldn’t be able to tolerate this.’ He looked at Kamal and continued, ‘But you are habituated to this kind of life—you alone will understand its value. That’s why I invited you so respectfully that day to this brahmacharya ashram.’

  Seeing Harendra’s profoundly serious face, Kamal smiled and said, ‘My own case is different. Haren Babu, do you call this fruitless exercise in poverty, carried out with such ostentation among such small children, a way to bring up true human beings? They are brahmacharis, I suppose? If you want to bring them up, do it the easy, natural way—don’t bow them down prematurely with the burden of false privations.’

  The sternness of her words disconcerted Harendra.

  Abinash said, ‘You didn’t do well to invite Kamal, Haren.’

  Kamal was embarrassed and said, ‘It’s true. No one should invite me anywhere.’

  Nilima said, ‘But I’m different. You’ll never be disregarded in my house. Come, let’s go and sit upstairs. Let’s see what other fireworks Thakurpo has in store for us at his ashram.’ She smiled gently to cover Kamal’s embarrassment.

  The ashram parlour on the first floor was quite spacious. The antique ornaments on the ceiling and the walls were still there. There were a bench and four chairs, but as a rule no one sat on them. A carpet was laid out on the floor. Today being a special day, a white sheet had been spread over it with a few cushions borrowed from the neighbouring Lalaji’s house. In the middle of the room there was a twelve-branched lamp of floral cut-glass work, and in one corner a wall lamp with a green shade. These too had been borrowed from Lalaji. Everyone was happy to enter this room after the dark, joyless atmosphere below.

  Abinash leaned on a cushion and, stretching out his legs, said contentedly: ‘Ah, what a relief.’

  Harendra was pleased and asked, ‘Do you like this room of our ashram, Sejda?’

  Abinash said, ‘Now you’re putting me in a fix, Haren. Kamal is present, and I dare not praise anything in front of her—she might prove at once with razor-sharp logic that everything here is bad, from the designs on the roof to the carpet on the floor.’ He looked at her, smiled a little, and continued: ‘I may not have any other assets, but you must admit that I’ve built up the capital of accumulating age. On the strength of that, let me tell you one thing today. I don’t deny that truth is often unpleasant. But that doesn’t mean that whatever is unpleasant is true. Shibnath has taught you many things, but I find he left out this one.’

  Kamal’s face flushed, but it was Nilima who replied. She said, ‘Shibnath is at fault; we must punish him with a fine. But when it comes to acting the guru, no male seems any the less. I beseech you, utter a few more words of wisdom from the stock of your years—let’s all listen and be blessed.’


  Abinash burned inwardly—not only because he was being ridiculed in company, but because the sharp edge of the irony both attacked and humiliated him. For some time now, a hot wind of disaffection from some obscure source had been blowing between him and Nilima. It was nothing as terrible as a storm, but it often drove motes of hay or dust into their faces. It was like a slightly loose tooth—you could chew with it, but it hurt to chew. He said to Harendra, ‘I don’t feel offended, Haren. Your Boudi isn’t wrong—she knows me very well. She knows that my capital is simple and old-fashioned; it may have substance but no sap.’

  Harendra asked, ‘What does that mean, Sejda?’

  Abinash said, ‘You won’t understand, you’re an ascetic. But from the way my Younger-Wife has suddenly started admiring Kamal, she should earn much merit if she puts Kamal’s experience to use.’

  The ugliness of this jibe offended his own ears, but his arrogance was leading him to say something more. Harendra stopped him, saying in a hurt tone, ‘Sejda, all of you are my guests today. I have cordially invited Kamal on behalf of the ashram. If you forget that, we shall all be very sorry.’

  Nilima said, ‘Then Thakurpo, remind him also that if somebody is addressed as Younger-Wife, she does not really become a wife. One must know the limits of the control one can exercise over her. Let me add this much at least to Mukherjee Mashai’s store of experience. It may be of use to him one day.’

  With folded hands, Harendra said, ‘Spare us, Boudi! Should all this battling over experience take place in my house? Sort out the rest of your disagreement when you’re back at home, else we shan’t survive. I didn’t invite Akshay because I felt nervous about him; but I seem to be meeting the same fate anyway.’

  Both Ajit and Kamal laughed at this. Harendra said, ‘Ajit Babu, I hear you’re going home tomorrow.’

  ‘From whom could you have heard this?’

  ‘I had gone to bring Ashu Babu. He said that perhaps you’ll be leaving tomorrow.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Ajit. ‘Not tomorrow, though, but the day after. And it’s not certain that I’ll go home. Perhaps I’ll turn up at the station towards the afternoon, and set out on my next journey by the first train leaving, in whichever direction—north, south, east or west.’

  Harendra said with a smile, ‘It’s rather like becoming a world-weary wanderer—that is, having no fixed destination.’

  ‘Yes’, said Ajit.

  ‘But what about returning?’

  ‘I haven’t yet decided about that.’

  Harendra said, ‘Ajit Babu, you’re a fortunate man. But if you need someone to carry your baggage, I can offer you such a person. You won’t find a better friend to have with you in alien places.’

  Kamal said, ‘And if you need a cook I can offer you an unrivalled one. You’ll have to admit this cook has the right to boast.’

  Nothing seemed to interest Abinash any more. He said, ‘What’s the point in staying on here? Why don’t we get ready to leave?’

  Harendra said deferentially, ‘Won’t you talk to the boys? Won’t you give them a few words of advice, Sejda?’

  Abinash said, ‘I didn’t come to give advice. I came only to accompany the others. I don’t think they need my company any more.’

  Satish appeared with a number of boys. They were of various ages, from ten or twelve to nineteen or twenty. It was winter. They wore no warm clothes and no shoes—perhaps because shoes were not a necessity. The arrangements for meals have already been described. These were a part of the training in a brahmacharis’ ashram. Harendra had prepared a beautiful speech for the day. Rehearsing it in his mind, he began with appropriate gravity. ‘These boys have dedicated themselves to the country. Bless them so that they may propagate the great ideal of this ashram in every town and village.’

  Everyone gave their full-throated blessings.

  Harendra said, ‘If time permits I’ll express my views later on.’ He then turned to Kamal and said, ‘We invited you specially today to say a few things for everyone to hear. The boys are hoping to hear something from you which will make their life’s vow shine brighter.’

  Kamal flushed with diffidence and hesitation. She said, ‘But I can’t make a speech, Haren Babu.’

  It was Satish who replied. ‘Not a speech, only some advice. Just something to stand them in good stead in working for the country.’

  Kamal asked him, ‘First tell me what you mean by working for the country.’

  Satish said, ‘Anything that makes for the total welfare of the country is work for the country.’

  Kamal said, ‘But different people have different notions of welfare. If your idea doesn’t match mine, my advice will be of no use to you.’

  Satish was in a quandary. He could not find an appropriate reply. To help him out, Harendra said, ‘Whatever leads to the liberation of the country constitutes the only welfare for the country. Is there anyone in the land who doesn’t admit this truth?’

  Kamal said, ‘Haren Babu, I’m afraid to say there is, for everyone will be furious. Or else I myself would have said that there is no better word than “liberation” to deceive and be deceived. Liberation from what, Haren Babu? From threefold misery or from worldly ties? Tell me, what did you determine to be the sole well-being of the nation when you set up this ashram? Is this your ideal of serving your motherland?’

  Harendra hastily said, ‘No, no, no, not this, not this. We don’t want this.’

  Kamal said, ‘Then say this is not what you want, that your ideal is different: that your aim is not withdrawal from worldly life or indifference to it, but to live along with all the wealth, all the beauty, all the life on this earth. But what you’re training the boys for is not this goal. They have no warm clothes, no shoes on their feet. They wear worn-out dhotis, their hair is dishevelled. Will the nation’s Lakshmi send us the key of her storehouse through those who live on one meagre meal a day and grow up in deprivation, in whom the joy of acquiring things dies in the heart? Haren Babu, take a look at the world. Those who have got a great deal have easily given things away. There is no need for a school of austerity like this to make them graduates in self-denial.’

  Satish asked in bewilderment, ‘Do you mean that devotion to religion and initiation into sacrifice are not needed in the struggle for the nation’s freedom?’

  Kamal said, ‘First let’s be clear what we mean by a freedom struggle.’

  Satish hesitated. Kamal smiled and said, ‘You seem to imply that such a struggle simply means throwing off the yoke of foreign rule. If that is so, Satish Babu, I give you my word that, though I’ve neither taken to religion nor been initiated into sacrifice, you’ll always find me in the front rank. But shall I find all of you there?’

  Satish did not speak. He grew somewhat agitated, and following his restless gaze to its object, Kamal could not turn her eyes away for some time. This, then, was Rajendra. Only Satish had noticed him as he entered silently and stood near the door. He had been looking at him all this time without turning his gaze, as if in a stupor, and he looked on in the same way even now.

  Once seen, Rajen’s appearance was hard to forget. He might have been twenty-five or twenty-six. His complexion was so fair that at first glance it seemed unnatural. His forehead was large, balding in front even at this age; his eyes were deep-set and very small, like a mouse’s eyes gleaming from its dark hole. His thick lower lip hung forward as if suppressing a strong determination within him. If one saw him without warning, one would think it better to avoid such a man.

  Harendra said, ‘This is my friend Rajendra—not only a friend but like a younger brother to me. I haven’t seen such a wonderful worker, such a great patriot, such a fearless, honest man, Boudi. It’s him I was talking about the other day. He lays things aside casually, just as he obtains them easily. He’s a strange man, Ajit Babu. It’s him that I had in mind when I suggested someone to carry your baggage.’

  Ajit was about to say something when a boy entered to announce that Aksh
ay Babu had come.

  ‘Akshay Babu!’ exclaimed Harendra in astonishment.

  ‘Yes, my friend, yes,’ said Akshay as he entered the room, your dearest friend Akshaykumar.’ Then he suddenly gave a start and said, ‘Oho! What’s happening today? Everyone seems to be here. I had come out for a drive with Ashu Babu in his car. He dropped me here on the way. As I was passing, it suddenly struck me that I might drop in at Hari Ghosh’s cowshed.2 That’s why I’ve come. Splendid!’

  No one responded to this because there was nothing to say; no one believed him either. This was not Akshay’s usual route, and he seldom came to this house.

  Akshay looked at Kamal and said, ‘I had thought of going to see you tomorrow morning, but I don’t know the place—it’s just as well that we’ve met. There’s some good news.’

  Kamal looked at him in silence. Harendra asked, ‘What’s the good news? If it’s good it certainly can’t be secret.’

  ‘What’s there to hide?’ said Akshay. ‘On the way here we came across that Parsee sewing-machine seller, that very man who had gone to borrow money on Kamal’s behalf the other day. We stopped the car and heard the news.’ Pointing at Kamal, he continued, ‘She had bought a machine on credit and was paying her bills by sewing shirts and so on. Now Shibnath’s disappeared, but of course that couldn’t be an excuse for defaulting on the payment! So he had taken away the machine, but today Ashu Babu paid the full price and bought it. Kamal, send someone tomorrow morning to fetch it. Why didn’t you tell us that you were in such straits?’

  All of them were wounded to the core by the brutal cruelty of his tone. Even Abinash flushed as he realized why Kamal looked so pale and haggard.

  Kamal said in a subdued voice, ‘Give him my thanks and tell him to return it. I don’t need it any more.’

  ‘Why? Why?’

  Harendra said, ‘Akshay Babu, get out of this house. I didn’t invite you—I didn’t want you to come, yet here you are. Shouldn’t there be some limit to a man’s brutality?’

  Looking up suddenly, Kamal saw Ajit’s eyes brimming with tears. She said, ‘Ajit Babu, have you brought your car? Could you please reach me home?’