The Final Question

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  ‘If you suddenly hear he’s in danger, what will you do?’ asked Kamal.

  Ashu Babu said, ‘I can only tell you when the time comes, not now. During my illness, Nilima and I heard many accounts of him from Harendra. As I listened, I seemed to see before me the true image of self-sacrifice for others’ sake. I pray to God he isn’t in danger.’

  No one said anything, but in their hearts all must have joined in the prayer.

  ‘I don’t see Nilima today,’ remarked Kamal. ‘I suppose she’s busy with her work.’

  Ashu Babu said, ‘Indeed, she’s an active person and keeps herself busy day and night; but today I heard she’s taken to bed with a headache. She must be feeling quite ill, for it’s not in her nature to do so. Unless you saw it with your own eyes you wouldn’t believe that a person could nurse the sick so well and so untiringly.’

  He paused for a moment and then continued, ‘I first met Abinash in Agra. We visit each other occasionally—we don’t really know each other very well. But now I feel how absurd the distinction is between one’s own folk and strangers. There’s no one who’s your own in this world, Kamal, and no one who’s a stranger. No one knows whom the stream will draw near you and whom it will bear away.’

  Kamal and Ajit understood, though Bela did not, whom these words alluded to and the grief that prompted them. Ashu Babu went on, as though talking to himself: ‘Since I recovered from my illness, many things in this world have appeared differently to me. Why all these drags and bonds, I ask, why these wranglings over good and evil? Man willingly blinds himself by piling up errors and deceptions. He still has to learn many unknown truths through many ages—only then, perhaps, can he truly grow human. The great aim of all his refinement and civilization seems to be to give pain rather than pleasure.’

  Kamal looked on in amazement. She did not fully grasp what he was saying. It was like seeing an approaching figure through a mist; yet the gait seemed familiar.

  Ashu Babu stopped of his own accord. Perhaps Kamal’s amazed look had made him self-conscious. He said, ‘I have more things to tell you. Come another day.’

  ‘I will. I must go now.’

  ‘Goodbye. The car’s waiting below. I’ve kept Basdeo on call so that he can drive you home. Ajit, why don’t you go with her? He’ll drop you at the ashram on the way back.’

  They both made namaskars and left the room. Bela came with them to the car and said, ‘There was no time today to get to know you. But the next time we meet, I won’t let you get away so easily!’

  Kamal nodded, smiled and said, ‘That’ll be my good fortune. But I’m afraid you might change your opinion of me once we’re better acquainted.’

  The two sat side by side in the car. After they had turned a bend, Kamal said, ‘It was as dark that night as it is now. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘The madness of that day?’

  ‘I remember that too.’

  ‘Do you remember that I’d consented?’

  Ajit smiled and said, ‘No, but I remember that you made fun of me.’

  Kamal said in surprise, ‘I made fun of you? No, never.’

  ‘Of course you did.’

  ‘Then you were mistaken,’ said Kamal. ‘Anyway, I’m not doing so today. Come on, let’s go away today.’

  ‘Nonsense! You’re very naughty.’

  Kamal smiled and said, ‘Why should I be naughty? No one’s so quiet and good-natured as I am. Just think: you suddenly commanded. “Kamal, let’s go away!” and I agreed instantly and said, “Yes, let’s!”’

  ‘But that was only a joke.’

  ‘All right, let it be a joke,’ said Kamal, ‘but what wrong did I do? You used to call me by the familiar tumi, but you’ve suddenly grown formal and begun saying apni. Just think how miserably I spend my days, how I barely manage to feed myself by stitching your clothes. There is no limit to your wealth—but have you asked after me even once? Would you have let Manorama be in such straits? See how thin I’ve grown working day and night.’ As she laid her left hand on Ajit’s, his whole body suddenly seemed to tremble. He tried to say something faintly; but Kamal drew back her hand and called out, ‘Driver, stop! Stop! We’ve come all the way to the lunatic asylum. Turn the car back! I hadn’t realized where we were going in the dark.’

  ‘Now you blame the dark,’ said Ajit. ‘The only consolation is that the poor darkness can’t protest against even a thousand unjust charges. It doesn’t have the right.’ And he laughed a little.

  Kamal also laughed and said, ‘Yes, that’s so. But justice isn’t everything in life. It’s only because injustice too has its place that the world goes on; otherwise it would have come to a halt long ago. Stop, driver!’

  Ajit opened the door. Kamal got down and said, ‘The dark is guilty of other offences too, Ajit Babu. One’s afraid of going through it alone.’

  Taking the hint, Ajit silently stepped out and joined her at once.

  Kamal said to the driver, ‘Now go home. He’ll be late in returning.’

  ‘What’s that you say? Where shall I find transport in these parts to take me home so late?’

  ‘I’ll arrange something.’

  The car went away. ‘I know you won’t arrange anything,’ said Ajit. ‘I’ll have to walk three or four miles in the dark. But I could easily have gone back in the car after dropping you here.’

  ‘You couldn’t, because I couldn’t have left you to the uncertain mercies of that ashram without giving you something to eat. Come in.’

  In the house the maid had lit the lamp and was waiting. She opened the door as soon as called. Going upstairs, Kamal laid out the pretty mat in the kitchen for Ajit to sit on. Everything was ready: she lit the stove and started cooking. Then sitting down near him, she asked, ‘Do you remember that other day like this?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Well, can you tell me the difference between that day and this?’

  Ajit looked hesitantly round the room, trying to recollect where the things had been placed then and now. Kamal said with a smile, ‘You won’t find it in that way even if you look all night. You must look elsewhere.’

  ‘Can you tell me where?’

  ‘Towards me.’

  Ajit suddenly shrank within himself in a kind of bashfulness. He gently said, ‘I could never look properly at your face. Others can, but I don’t know why I’ve never been able to.’

  Kamal said, ‘There lies the difference between you and others. They could do so because their looks lacked all respect for me.’

  Ajit was silent. Kamal went on, ‘I had determined to find you somehow or other. I hadn’t hoped to meet you at Ashu Babu’s place today. But when that happened, I knew I had to bring you here. The meal is only a pretext: I won’t let you go after you finish it. I won’t let you go anywhere tonight. I’ll keep you shut up in this house.’

  ‘What good will that do you?’

  ‘I’ll explain that later on,’ said Kamal. ‘But if you still go on addressing me as apni, I really shall be hurt. Once you used to call me tumi, though I hadn’t asked you to do so; you chose to on your own. I have done no wrong since then that you should change. Now, if I’m offended and don’t reply you’ll be hurt.’

  Ajit nodded and said, ‘I suppose I will be.’

  Kamal said, ‘There’s no “suppose” about it; you certainly will feel hurt. You came to Agra for Manorama’s sake. When she went away as she did, everyone thought you wouldn’t stay here a moment longer. Only I knew you wouldn’t be able to go. Now tell me: do you believe that I too love you?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Of course you do. That’s why I have so many complaints against you.’

  Ajit eagerly asked, ‘So many complaints? Let me hear one.’

  Kamal said, ‘That’s precisely why I didn’t let you go home. First let me tell you about my own woes. Having no other means, I have to make my way by stitching clothes for poor people. This I can bear. But how can I agree t
o charge money for sewing your clothes simply because I’m poor?’

  ‘But you don’t accept charity.’

  ‘No, I don’t—not even from you. But is there no way in this world to get things done except through charity? Why didn’t you come and insist, “Kamal, I won’t allow you to do such work”? What could I have said in reply? If today by some mishap I were to lose my power to earn a living, should I have to go begging on the streets although you are here?’

  The pain implicit in her words caused him anguish. He said, ‘That could never be, Kamal—not while I’m alive. I’d never thought about you in this way. I still can’t believe that you’re the same Kamal we all know.’

  Kamal said, ‘Let them know whatever they wish. Are you only one of them? Nothing more?’

  Ajit did not reply to this question, perhaps because it was very difficult. Both of them fell silent. Perhaps both felt the need to question their own selves rather than each other.

  There was little to cook: it didn’t take long. As he sat down to eat, Ajit gravely said, ‘It’s strange that however wealthy a person may be, he can’t but enjoy the fruits of your earning. Yet you won’t take anything from anyone, won’t let anyone support you—not even if he dashes his brains out for you.’

  Kamal smiled and said, ‘Why do all of you accept what I give? Moreover, when did you try to dash out your brains?’

  Ajit said, ‘I’ve wanted to do so many times over. And I eat your food because I succumb to your insistence. If today I say, “Kamal, I’m taking charge of you from now; give up this beggarhood”—you will, very likely, break out so harshly that I’ll be left speechless.’

  Kamal asked, ‘Did you ever say such a thing to me?’

  ‘I think I did once.’

  ‘And I didn’t pay heed to it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you hadn’t said it so as to make me heed you. Perhaps it remained in your mind and was never put into words.’

  ‘Well, suppose I say it now?’

  ‘Then suppose I too say “No”?’

  Putting down the food he held in his hand, Ajit said, ‘That’s it. We have never understood you even for a single day. Just as I didn’t grasp your words when I first saw you at the Taj, so are you a mystery to us even today. You’ve just asked me to take charge of you, and then at once you say “No”.’

  Kamal smiled and said, ‘Let me hear you say “No” in this way. Say that you won’t eat again as you’ve eaten today. I’ll see how you keep your word.’

  ‘How can I keep my word?’ retorted Ajit. ‘You won’t let me go until I’ve eaten.’

  But this time Kamal did not smile; she calmly said, ‘It’s not yet time for you to take charge of me. When the time comes I shan’t be able to say “No”. It’s getting late. You’d better finish eating.’

  ‘I shall. Can you tell me whether such a day will ever come?’

  Kamal shook her head and said, ‘I can’t. You’ll have to find the answer for yourself one day.’

  ‘I don’t have the power. I searched very hard once but couldn’t find it. From now on I’ll only live with hand outstretched in the hope that you’ll give the answer.’

  Ajit began to eat in silence. After a while, Kamal asked, ‘What made you suddenly go to Harendra’s ashram instead of coming here?’

  ‘I had to stay somewhere,’ said Ajit. ‘As you know very well, I couldn’t leave Agra.’

  ‘You think I know that?’

  ‘Yes, of course you do.’

  ‘If that’s so, why didn’t you come straight to me?’

  ‘Had I come, would you really have taken me in?’

  ‘But you didn’t really come. Never mind. But life in Harendra’s ashram is very hard. It’s part of their discipline. How could you put up with so much hardship?’

  ‘I don’t know how I did, but now I don’t even think about such things. I’m now one of them. Perhaps this will be my life for all time to come. I haven’t been idle all this time either. I’ve sent out people to set up ashrams at different places; I have hopes of three or four. I would like to go out once myself.’

  ‘Who gave you this idea? Harendra, I suppose?’

  Ajit said, ‘If he has, he’s done so innocently. Those who have seen the ruin of this country with their own eyes—the cruel suffering of the poor, the deep disgrace of our irreligion, the cowardice born of our weakness …’

  Kamal interrupted him: ‘I don’t deny that Harendra has seen all this, but you’ve only heard of it. You’ve not yet had the chance to see it with your own eyes.’

  ‘But surely all this is true?’

  ‘I haven’t said it isn’t, but is setting up ashrams a remedy?’

  ‘Why not? India doesn’t simply mean a tract of land with the Himalayas on the north and the ocean on three sides. Its ancient civilization, its distinctive religion, the sanctity of its ethics, the majesty of its morals and its devotion—that is India. That’s why it’s called the land of the Gods. Is there any course other than spiritual endeavour to save it from utter debasement—to make the life of pure-hearted boys, vowed to brahmacharism, meaningful and glorious?’

  Kamal cut him short. ‘You’ve finished your meal. Wash your hands and come to the other room—no more of all this.’

  ‘Won’t you eat?’

  ‘Do I ever eat two meals a day that I should do so now? Please get up.’

  ‘But I must go back to the ashram.’

  ‘No, you can’t. Come into the next room. I have many things to hear from you.’

  ‘All right, let’s go. But it’s forbidden for us to stay away from the ashram at night. However late it may be, I have to go back.’

  Kamal said, ‘That rule is for the ashramites who have been initiated, not for you.’

  ‘But what will people say?’

  Kamal could never keep her patience at the mention of ‘people’. She said, ‘People can only slander you; they can’t protect you. You needn’t be afraid of the person who can—I’m much more truly yours than “they” are. The other day you’d asked me to go with you but I couldn’t; today I can’t but go. Come into the other room. There’s nothing to be afraid of about me. I’m not the sort of woman to be an object of men’s lust. Please get up.’

  Leading him to the other room, Kamal made up the bed with a new set of bedclothes. For herself she casually, carelessly laid out another bed on the floor and said, ‘I’m coming. I shan’t be more than ten minutes, but don’t fall asleep.’

  ‘I won’t’

  ‘If you do, I’ll prod you out of sleep.’

  ‘You won’t need to, Kamal. All sleep has fled my eyes.’

  ‘Well, we’ll test that later on,’ said Kamal as she left the room. The maid had left long ago. Kamal had to put away the utensils, carry the dirty dishes out into the balcony, bolt the door downstairs, carry out many such small household chores. Only then would she be free.

  Sitting alone in the room, on the neat bed made by Kamal with the utmost care, Ajit sighed deeply—not for any grave reason, only from a contentment born of deep satisfaction. Perhaps he felt a tinge of excitement, but no heat of desire: only the honeyed touch of a mellow joy seemed to wrap him silently.

  Ajit was a rich man’s son, brought up in luxury. But since entering Harendra’s brahmachari ashram, he had turned his eyes elsewhere in the relentless pursuit of the essential Indian spirit along the arduous path of poverty and self-mortification. Suddenly his eyes fell on a few small chrysanthemums embroidered in yellow around the pillowcase. In a corner of the sheet, a little creeper of unknown breed was embroidered in silk. That was all the decoration—a very modest matter. Many people have such things in their homes. Kamal had done it in her leisure hours. Ajit was charmed. He was turning it over in his hand when Kamal, having finished her work, came into the room. He looked up at her and exclaimed, ‘It’s very nice!’

  Kamal was a little surprised. ‘What’s nice? That little creeper?’

  ‘Yes, and those yellow flower
s. You’ve done this yourself, haven’t you?’

  ‘An excellent question,’ said Kamal with a smile. ‘Do you think I hired a craftsman to do it? Do you need anything of this kind?’

  ‘No, no, no, I don’t. What should I do with it?’

  Kamal smiled at his vehement, bashful refusal and said, ‘Take it to the ashram and put it on your bed. If anyone asks, tell him that Kamal sat up at night to make it.’

  ‘What nonsense!’

  ‘Why should it be nonsense? No one makes things of this kind for oneself; only for others. Do you think I embroidered these flowers for myself to sleep on? I knew someone would come one day—I had set this apart for him. When you go away in the morning, I’ll give you all these.’

  Now Ajit himself smiled and said, ‘Kamal, am I so stupid?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Should I believe that you embroidered these with me in mind?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it isn’t true.’

  ‘But will you believe me if I tell you the truth?’

  ‘Of course I will. There’s no limit to your jesting—I still blush when I remember what happened that day in the car. But that’s different. I know that when you’re not joking you never tell a lie.’

  ‘Then if I say that I’m not really joking but telling the truth, will you believe me?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘In that case I’ll tell you the truth today. It happened before Rajen arrived—that is to say, when he’d been driven out of the ashram but had not sought shelter with me. I was in a similar state. When all of you turned me away in contempt, when I had no one to ask for help in this alien place—it was during those days of utter misery that I worked that little embroidery. Perhaps I’d never have known whom I had in mind when I did it. I’d almost forgotten about it. But today, as I came to make the bed, I suddenly thought, “No, not anything else. I can’t let you sleep on something that someone else has used earlier.”’