Kamal looked at him silently. Ajit said, ‘You shouldn’t stay in this house a moment longer.’
‘Should you?’
‘No, not I either. I’ll go away somewhere tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s better,’ said Kamal. ‘I’ll leave then too. For the time being, let me sit in this chair for the rest of the night. You go and get some rest.’
Ajit looked at the narrow chair and said hesitantly, ‘But …’
Kamal said, ‘It’s no use saying “but”, Ajit Babu. It makes for a lot of problems. I can’t go home now, nor can I go to your room. So go, don’t wait any longer.’
In the morning the servant came and called Ajit to Ashu Babu’s bedroom. He was not yet out of bed. Kamal sat in a chair near him: she had already been summoned.
Ashu Babu said, ‘I’ve been unwell since yesterday, and today it seems—well, Ajit, please sit down.’
When he had done so, Ashu Babu went on: ‘I heard you’re going away this morning. I can’t ask you to stay back either. Well, goodbye. Even if we don’t ever meet again, rest assured that I have blessed you with all my heart—so that you can forgive us and be happy in life.’
Ajit had not yet looked up at Ashu Babu’s face. As he did so now, he fell silent at the point of replying. ‘Fell silent’ does not express it: he seemed suddenly to have forgotten how to speak. He could not have imagined such a profound change in a person over a few hours on a single night.
Ashu Babu was himself silent for two or three minutes, then said to Kamal: ‘I have called you here, but I feel like hanging my head rather than looking you in the eye. How can I tell anyone of all that took place in my heart last night?’
He paused and continued, ‘Akshay once said that Shibnath doesn’t stay with you. I didn’t pay much heed to his words. I thought it was an exaggeration born of animosity. You were in trouble for want of money, but even then I didn’t understand the reason. Now everything is clear—there’s no room left for doubt.’
Both his listeners remained silent. He went on, ‘I’ve often treated you badly, but I’ve loved you from the first day we met, Kamal. That’s why I’m repeatedly struck by a single thought: if only we hadn’t come to Agra!’ As he said this, a tear rose to the corner of his eye. He wiped it away and only exclaimed, ‘God!’
Kamal went and sat at the head of his bed. She laid her hand on his forehead and said, ‘You’re running a fever, Ashu Babu.’
Ashu Babu drew her hand between his own and said, ‘Let it be, Kamal. You’re very intelligent: tell me what to do. That man’s presence in my house seems to make me burn all over.’
Kamal looked up and saw Ajit’s troubled face. On getting no response from him, she said after a moment’s silence, ‘Tell me what you want me to do.’ As there was no reply, she fell silent again, then continued: ‘You don’t want to keep Shibnath Babu here, but he’s ill. That being so, either send him to the hospital or, if you know where he lives, send him there. If you think it better to send him to my place, you can do that too. I have no objection, but you know I haven’t got the means for his treatment; I can nurse him with all my strength, but can do no more.’
Full of gratitude, Ashu Babu said, ‘I don’t know why, but I had expected just this reply from you. I knew you couldn’t be stone-like in response to a stony-hearted man. He is yours, take him home. Don’t worry about the expenses: that’s my responsibility.’
Kamal said, ‘But one point should be made clear before all else.’
Ashu Babu hastily said, ‘You don’t need to tell me, Kamal, I know. One day all this dirt will be cleansed away. You don’t need to worry: so long as I’m alive, I won’t let you be the victim of unjust persecution.’
Kamal looked at him and remained still. She did not speak.
‘What are you thinking, Kamal?’
‘I was wondering whether you should be told something. I think you should, otherwise nothing will be made clear and dirt will keep piling up. You are rich, you are generous, it’s not difficult for you to spend money on others. But if you have the mistaken notion that you are being kind to me, that should be set right. I shan’t accept your alms under any pretext.’
Ashu Babu recalled the incident of the sewing machine. He was pained, and said, ‘If I’ve made a mistake, Kamal, can’t you forgive me?’
Kamal said, ‘The mistake wasn’t so serious then as it could be now. You think that saving Shibnath is a way of saving me, but that’s not so. Now do as you like, I have no objections.’
Ashu Babu said, ‘I know how you feel; it’s neither unnatural nor unjust. Well, let’s have it that I’m trying to save Shibnath; I’m not showing any kindness to you. Will that do?’
Kamal showed signs of irritation. She answered, ‘No, that won’t do. If I can’t make you understand, I’m helpless. If you can’t send him to the hospital, send him to Haren Babu’s ashram. They look after many people; they’ll look after him too. Whatever you want to spend, you can spend there. I’m very tired. Let me go now.’ She made a determined effort to get up.
Ashu Babu was annoyed by her words and conduct. He said, ‘This is too much, Kamal. You are unfairly distorting what I wanted to do, with the well-being of both of you at heart. I know that in one way this is a matter of endless shame for me and that I must suffer deeply if I don’t stop this immorality now. But it’s not true that I’m trying to find a way out because my own daughter is involved. I can save Shibnath in many ways, but that’s not all I want. I made this proposal in the hope that you might win him back by nursing him with your heart’s care. I didn’t do it out of mere selfishness.’
The words were true, moving and full of sincerity, but they had no impact on Kamal. She replied, ‘It’s precisely this that I wanted to impress on you, Ashu Babu. I’m not unwilling to nurse him. I’ve nursed many people at the tea garden—I’m accustomed to it. But I don’t want to get him back, either by nursing him or by refusing to nurse him. I don’t say this out of resentment or by way of empty boasting. Our relationship is broken and I can’t put it together again.’
Her words carried neither heat nor emotion: they were utterly plain and simple. It was this that silenced Ashu Babu completely. The next moment he said, ‘What’s this you’re saying, Kamal? You want to give up your husband for such a trifling reason? Who taught you this?’
Kamal remained silent. Ashu Babu continued, ‘Whoever might have taught you so in your youth taught you wrong. This is unjust and unbefitting—whatever home you may have been born into, you are a Bengali woman. This is not your path or mine—you must learn to forget it. Don’t you know, Kamal, what is virtuous in one country is impious in another? And it’s better even to die in one’s own faith.’
His eyes blazed as he said this, and when he finished he seemed to be gasping for breath. But the person he addressed remained unmoved.
Ashu Babu spoke on: ‘This illusion was once leading us to perdition. But a few noble souls saw the error. They called to the people of the country, “Where are you going like madmen? You want nothing, you lack nothing, you don’t have to beg of anyone. Only turn your eyes and look at the treasures of your own house. Your forefathers have left you everything, only reach out and gather it.” I’ve seen everything there is to see in England with my own eyes. I wonder what would have happened to me if they hadn’t uttered their warning in time. I remember my younger days—the state of the educated people at that time!’ So saying, he raised his folded hands in homage to the great departed.
Kamal looked up and saw that Ajit was gazing at him, wonderstruck. His rapt imagination seemed to have robbed him of consciousness.
Ashu Babu’s trance had not yet left him. He said, ‘Kamal, if they hadn’t done anything else, they would have been immortal among the people of our country only for this.’
‘Only for this!’
‘Yes, only for this. Because they told us to turn our eyes from the outer world towards our own home.’
Kamal asked, ‘If there are lights sh
ining outside, if the sun rises in the east, should we still turn our backs and look at our home in the west? Would that imply love for our country?’
Perhaps the question did not reach Ashu Babu’s ears. Absorbed in his own flow, he went on, ‘It’s only because of their foresight that we regained faith and respect for our country, its religion, its myths and history, its customs and rituals, its traditions and laws—everything that was perishing under foreign pressure. As a people, we were on the road to ruin, Kamal; it was not an easy escape. Who do you think made us realize that unless we retrieved all of that, we would not survive?’
Ajit suddenly stood up excitedly. He said, ‘I never imagined that you held such ideas. I’m only sorry that I hadn’t understood you for so long, that I didn’t sit at your feet and take lessons from you.’
He was about to say more in this vein, but he was interrupted. The servant entered and announced that Harendra Babu and some others had come to pay a visit. The next moment, Harendra entered with Satish and Rajen. He said, ‘I was told that Shibnath Babu is asleep. I called on the doctor too on my way here. He thinks it’s nothing very serious; Shibnath will be better soon.’ He made a namaskar to Kamal and sat down with his companions.
Ashu Babu nodded in agreement, but his eyes were on Ajit and it was him he addressed. ‘Aren’t you forgetting that I spent my entire youth in England? There are many things which you can’t see from close by but only at a distance. I clearly see the change in educated minds. This ashram of Harendra, the attempt to spread its branches in various cities—isn’t it all possible today only for this? Ask him if you don’t believe me. The same celibacy, the same relentless continence, the same reintroduction of the old laws and customs—are all these not efforts to bring back those ancient days? If we forget this, if we lose confidence in it, have we anything left to hope for? Will you find anywhere in the world the equal of our ideal of the forest hermitage? The men who once built our society, those ancient lawgivers, were not merchants but sannyasins. Our ultimate fruition lies in our ability to absorb their gifts unquestioningly with bowed heads. That is our only road to well-being, Kamal; there’s no other.’
Ajit was silent, Harendra and Satish overwhelmed: what was this Indian sahib saying today? Rajen had no idea of what had occasioned this sudden discussion. An unmixed respect could be seen growing on everyone’s face.
The speaker himself was no less surprised: not only by the force of his oratory, but because he had never had an opportunity to speak in this way to anyone before. He felt a surge of inexpressible joy. For the moment, he seemed to have forgotten his own immediate grief. He said, ‘Do you understand, Kamal, why I made this request to you?’
Kamal shook her head and said, ‘No.’
‘No? Why not?’
Kamal said, ‘You were telling us exultantly that there is a growing trend among the educated to overcome the influence of foreign education and return to the old ways. You believe that this will do good to the country, but you didn’t give us any reason for thinking so. Many ancient customs and practices were on the verge of extinction; now an effort is being made to resurrect them. That may be so, but where’s the proof that it will do any good, Ashu Babu? You didn’t explain that.’
‘What! I didn’t?’
‘No, you didn’t; you said exactly what any blind anti-reformist and eulogist of the past would say. There’s no evidence that the resurrection of everything defunct is necessarily good. It also happens that evil things are re-established in this world under the spell of delusion.’
Ashu Babu found no answer to this, but Ajit said, ‘No one spends energy on retrieving what is evil.’
Kamal said, ‘They do, not because it is evil but because they think what is old must be self-evidently good. I had wanted to tell you one thing at the very beginning, Ashu Babu, but you didn’t pay heed. Whether it’s a social custom or ceremony or a spiritual rite, if you cling to it because it belongs to your country, you might be praised for patriotism but you can’t please the god of the country’s well-being. He is offended by it.’
Ashu Babu answered in amazement: ‘What are you saying, Kamal? If you abandon the faith, the rites and customs of your country and take alms from others, what will you have left of your own? By what identity will you declare yourself a human being before the world?’
Kamal said, ‘The claim will automatically come to you; you won’t need any identity. The world will know you without that.’
Ashu Babu said agitatedly, ‘I don’t understand you, Kamal.’
‘You can’t be expected to, Ashu Babu. That’s the way things are. In this changing world, the truth that appears in new forms at every step taken by the dynamic human mind cannot be recognized by everyone. They think, “Where did this nuisance come from?” Do you remember the Shibani you saw that day in the shadow of the Taj? You won’t find her today in the person of Kamal. You might wonder, “Where has the woman I saw disappeared?” But such is the true identity of a human being: I hope this is how I shall always be known to people, Ashu Babu.’
Pausing a little, she added, ‘We’ve lost our tack in the storm of argument and counter-argument: we’ve forgotten the real issue. But I’m very tired. I must go.’
Ashu Babu looked on, silent and bewildered. On some matters he understood the girl faintly, on others not at all. Only one thing repeatedly struck him: the storm she had talked about had swept away all his pleas and arguments as it would a blade of grass.
Kamal stood up. She signalled to Ajit and said, ‘You brought me here; will you take me home?’ But now it seemed he was too embarrassed to look up.
Kamal laughed a little to herself. Then stepping forward, she suddenly placed her hand on Rajen’s shoulder and said, ‘Rajen Babu, my brother, please take me home.’
Rajen was surprised to be addressed so endearingly. He looked at her once and said, ‘Come.’
As they reached the door, Kamal turned and said, ‘Ashu Babu, I haven’t withdrawn my offer. If you agree to send him on those terms, I’ll do my utmost. If he survives, so much the better; if not, it’s his misfortune.’ With this, she left. Everyone in the room sat dumbfounded. To the ailing master of the house, even the glow of dawn seemed pale and unwelcome.
Rajen escorted Kamal half the distance to her house. He said he would return to see her in a few hours, after finishing some work. Kamal did not refuse: perhaps because she was unmindful, perhaps for some other reason. She walked home briskly and found that the door leading upstairs was still locked. The low-caste woman who worked for her had not come. She gathered from the grocer across the street that the maid was ill and her young granddaughter had come to leave the keys of the house.
Kamal opened the door and started her household work. She had scarcely eaten since the previous day: she thought she would quickly cook and eat something and then have a little rest. She badly needed to rest, but today it seemed she just could not finish her housework. She had not noticed how much rubbish had gathered everywhere, how she had been spending her days amidst disorder. Everything that her eyes now lit on seemed to reproach her. The crumbling plaster from the ceiling had gathered in the crannies of her bedstead and had to be removed; the overflow from the sparrow’s nest had landed on her bed, and she had to change the sheets; the pillowcase was very shabby and had to be removed; the table and chairs were in disarray, the doormat was stiff with mud, the mirror so filthy that it would take a whole morning to clean it; the ink had dried in the ink-pot and the pens had disappeared, and there was no sign of any blotting paper. Wherever she looked she found such a super-abundance of untidiness that it seemed the house had long been deserted. She forgot her bath and meal; she had no idea how the day passed. It was evening when, having finished all the work, she went downstairs to wash the grime off her body.
All these days Kamal had clearly known that she could not stay here alone: it was neither possible nor justifiable. How would she pay the rent month after month? She had to go; but so far she had somehow be
en unable to settle the day of departure. Morning followed night and night followed morning without giving her the break to step out of all this. From time to time that day, she had felt rising within her the obscure question of why, since she felt no attachment to the house, she had worked so hard today, why it had been necessary. Each time the problem struck her, she would come out on to the balcony and look vaguely at the street, as though trying to forget something, and then return to work. In this way she brought both her work and the day to an end.
Although the day ended every day, it did not end like this. After sunset she lit a lamp and began cooking her meal. To fill up the time, she turned over the pages of a book, sitting up in bed. But so tired was she today that she could not tell when her eyes and the book both fell shut.
When she woke up the lamp had burnt out and the red glow of daylight filled the room through the open window. The day rolled on, but the maid did not turn up. It became necessary to find out where she lived and ask how she was. With this in mind, Kamal changed her sari and was about to go out when she heard footsteps downstairs, and her heart began to beat faster. A voice called, ‘Are you in? May I come up?’
‘Yes, do.’
The man who entered was Harendra. He pulled up a chair, sat down and said, ‘Were you going out?’
‘Yes. I heard that the old woman who works for me is ill. I was going to see her.’
‘Bad news. It must be influenza. It seems to be turning into an epidemic in Agra. They’ve already begun dying in the slums. If it gets to be as bad as in Mathura or Vrindavan, we’ll have to run away or else die. Where does this old woman live?’
‘I don’t know exactly. I’ve heard it’s somewhere nearby. I’ll have to find out.’
Harendra said, ‘It’s very infectious. Be careful. But perhaps you’ve heard how things are developing here?’
‘No,’ said Kamal, shaking her head.
Harendra looked at her and was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Don’t worry; there’s nothing to worry about. I would have come yesterday but couldn’t make the time. Our Akshay Babu didn’t turn up at the college. I heard he’s ill, and you saw for yourself yesterday that Ashu Babu has taken to his bed. Abinash Babu too has been running a fever since last evening. Boudi’s face also seemed rather pinched: I hope she doesn’t catch it as well.’
The Final Question Page 18
