The Final Question

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  Bela had a little history of her own which it is necessary to mention here. Her father was a lawyer, but he could acquire neither fame nor wealth in his profession. No one knew about his religious beliefs; he followed neither Hindu, Brahmo nor Christian practices. He used to love his daughter dearly and educated her beyond his means. We have already noted that the attempt had not entirely failed. It was he who had lovingly named her Bela. Even if he did not follow any particular sect, he had his own circle. Within it, Bela’s name soon spread as a charming and educated young woman; hence it did not take long to acquire a wealthy groom for her. He had recently qualified from England as a barrister. After a spell of time to get acquainted and understand each other’s inclinations, they had a civil marriage according to statute. Thus ended the first phase of their intense devotion to the law.

  The second phase consisted of indulgence and entertainment: travelling together, holidaying separately and so on. Rumours circulated about both. They are irrelevant; but the relevant part was soon exposed. The groom was caught red-handed, and the bride’s party threatened to file a divorce suit. Friends tried for a reconciliation, but the educated Bela was a champion of gender equality. She did not pay heed to this humiliating proposal. The poor husband, however flawed his character, was not altogether a bad man. He loved his wife as much as it lay in him. He humbly confessed his offence and prayed with joined hands to be relieved of the trials of the law, but the wife would not forgive him. After much tribulation, a solution was finally reached. By agreeing to pay a large sum in cash as well as a monthly alimony, he was spared the ignominy of a lawsuit.

  Having won the conjugal battle, Bela proudly proceeded to various hill stations such as Simla, Mussoorie and Nainital to repair her shattered health. All this had happened six or seven years earlier. Her father died soon after. He had in no way supported her conduct; rather, he was deeply distressed by it. He had some remote relationship with Ashu Babu’s deceased wife; hence Bela counted as Ashu Babu’s relative. He had been invited to their marriage, and made the acquaintance of her husband. Drawing on these links, Bela had come to Agra as Ashu Babu’s kinswoman: not as a complete stranger, nor a helpless seeker for shelter. Her situation was very different from Nilima’s.

  But the reality took a different form. No one in the house had a jot of doubt about the respective positions of the two women. The cause was unknown, but the line of authority was undisputed.

  It was Bela who first spoke after a long silence. She said, ‘I admit it wasn’t made explicit, but I’ve no doubt that Nilima said that to denigrate me.’

  Perhaps there was no doubt in Ashu Babu’s mind either; but he asked in a surprised tone, ‘Denigrate you? For what, Bela?’

  ‘You know everything,’ said Bela. ‘There was no lack of people to criticize me earlier and there won’t be now. But I ignored them all in order to uphold my dignity and the dignity of all womankind; I won’t care about them today either. When I refused to live with my husband at the cost of my dignity, it was women who slandered me the most. And even now, it’s their clutches that I find hardest to evade. But I wasn’t afraid of them since I had done no wrong, and I’m not afraid today for the same reason. I’m entirely pure in my own conscience.’

  Nilima did not look up from her sewing, but said slowly, ‘Kamal once said that conscience isn’t such a great thing in life. All questions of right and wrong can’t be decided by an appeal to conscience.’

  Ashu Babu was surprised and said, ‘Did she say so?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nilima. ‘She said conscience was a fool’s weapon. It cuts both ways—you can’t rely on it.’

  ‘Let others say so, but you mustn’t utter such things, Nilima,’ said Ashu Babu.

  Bela said, ‘I’ve never heard anything so audacious.’

  Ashu Babu was silent for a moment and then said slowly, ‘Audacious indeed. Kamal’s boldness knows no limits. She lives by her own laws. Her words can’t always be either understood or accepted.’

  ‘I also live by my own laws,’ said Bela. ‘That’s why I couldn’t even accept my father’s bidding. I abandoned my husband but could not humble myself.’

  Ashu Babu said, ‘That was a very sad business; but even if your father could not assent to it, I did.’

  Bela said,’ Thanks. I haven’t forgotten it, Ashu Babu.’

  Ashu Babu said, ‘That’s because I fully believe in equal rights and equal duties for men and women. A great flaw in our Hindu society is that the husband need fear no judgement even if he commits hundreds of offences; but there are a thousand ways for him to punish his wife for a trifling fault. I have never been able to accept this as a just dispensation. That’s why when Bela’s father wrote to me asking for my opinion, I replied that though it was neither pleasing nor decorous, if she wanted to abandon her profligate husband, I could not forbid her by saying it would be wrong.’

  Nilima raised her eyes in undissembled surprise and asked, ‘Did you really reply like that?’

  ‘Of course I did.’

  Nilima fell silent. Faced with that silence, Ashu Babu began to feel a kind of unease. He said, ‘There’s nothing to be surprised about, Nilima. Rather, it would have been wrong on my part not to have written so.’

  Pausing a little, he said, ‘You’re a great admirer of Kamal; tell me, what would she have done in this case? What reply would she have given? That’s why the other day, when I introduced her to Bela, I emphatically said, “Kamal, I’ve seen only one woman who thinks like you, who’s proved herself as brave as you are, and that’s Bela.”’

  Nilima’s eyes suddenly filled with anguish. She said, ‘That poor girl has been put outside the pale of orthodox society; why drag her in?’

  Ashu Babu grew concerned. ‘No, no, Nilima, I’m not dragging her in. I’m only citing her as an example.’

  ‘That amounts to dragging her in,’ retorted Nilima. ‘You said just now that everything she says can’t be understood or accepted. In that case how can she serve as an example?’

  Ashu Babu did not understand where he had gone wrong. He replied in a hurt tone, ‘I think something’s the matter with you today, for whatever reason. Let’s not carry on the discussion right now.’

  Nilima ignored his words. Instead she said, ‘You had consented to their separation at that time, and today you have unhesitatingly cited Kamal’s example. Had Kamal been in Bela’s place, she alone knows what she would have done. But if Bela were to follow Kamal’s example, she should be living by stitching clothes for poor workmen. Perhaps she wouldn’t even get their custom every day. Whatever Kamal might have done, she wouldn’t have consented to eat the food and wear the clothes provided by the very husband she had spurned and attacked. She would have killed herself rather than demean herself so.’

  Ashu Babu was so overwhelmed that he could not reply. Bela sat as though thunderstruck. Nilima used to spend her days in fun and laughter, as if it were her duty to humour everybody. Neither of them had reckoned that she could turn ruthless so swiftly.

  Nilima fell quiet for some time and then resumed: ‘It’s true I don’t sit at your gatherings, but the things that are discussed there about some people reach my ears; otherwise perhaps I wouldn’t have said anything. Kamal has never spoken ill of Shibnath; she has never spoken of her distress to anyone. Do you know why?’

  Ashu Babu could only ask in bewilderment, ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s useless explaining why,’ answered Nilima. ‘You people won’t understand. ‘She paused and continued, ‘Ashu Babu, it’s a very crude maxim that husband and wife have equal rights. Don’t think that I’m objecting to the rights demanded by women in spite of being one. I’m not protesting; I know them to be true, but a group of witless truth-delighting men and women have made this truth so confused by their words and actions that I’m tempted to call it false. I beg you with folded hands that henceforth you avoid teaming up with others in talking about Kamal.’

  Ashu Babu was about to reply; but before he could do so, N
ilima picked up her sewing things and left the room.

  Amazed and distressed, he said, ‘I don’t know what she has heard and when, but she’s blaming me quite without cause.’

  It had stopped raining, but the gloomy sky brought an untimely darkness into the room. As the servant carried in the lamp, Ashu Babu again took up his book. He could not concentrate on the printed words, but it seemed even more impossible to face Bela and talk to her.

  Providence was merciful. Ajit and Harendra, the two self-mortifying penitents, stormed into the room, having travelled all the way jostling under a single umbrella. As a result, both were drenched on one side each.

  ‘Where’s our Boudi?’ they demanded.

  Ashu Babu was ecstatic: he had not expected anyone to come on a day like this. He got up elatedly to greet them. ‘Come, Ajit. Come and sit down, Harendra.’

  ‘Yes, but where is she?’

  ‘What’s this! You’re both soaked.’

  ‘Yes indeed, but where’s she gone?’

  ‘I’ll send for her.’ As Ashu Babu prepared to call out, Nilima herself entered through the curtains of the inner quarters. She was carrying dry clothes. ‘Wonderful,’ said Ajit. ‘Can you tell the future?’

  ‘I didn’t need to,’ replied Nilima. ‘I saw you from the window. The way you were walking down the road under one broken umbrella, each sacrificing himself for the other—not only I but everyone in the land must have seen you.’

  ‘Two of them under one umbrella!’ exclaimed Ashu Babu. That’s why you’re both drenched.’ He burst out laughing.

  Nilima said, ‘Perhaps they believe in egalitarianism. They wouldn’t do either party an injustice, so they made a hair-splitting division of the umbrella. Come on, Thakurpo, change your clothes.’ She handed the garments to Harendra. Ashu Babu kept silent.

  Harendra said, ‘There are two dhotis but only one kurta.’

  ‘It’s a very big one, Thakurpo; it’ll do for both.’ She gravely sat down on a nearby chair.

  Harendra said, ‘It’s Ashu Babu’s kurta. No doubt it could accommodate not only two but four people; but you’d have to hang it up like a mosquito net, not wear it.’

  Bela had sat so far with a pale, downcast face. Now she could not control her laughter, so she got up and went out. Nilima silently looked out of the window.

  Ashu Babu said with affected seriousness, ‘My dear Harendra, I’ve been reduced to half by my illness. Don’t mock me any more. Can’t you see how it upsets the women? One has gone out, unable to stand it, and the other has turned her face away in a sulk.’

  ‘I wasn’t mocking you, Ashu Babu,’ said Harendra. ‘I was praising the glory of immensity. Jokes and mockery might threaten mere mortals like us; they can’t touch beings like you. So let your body be immortal like the eternal Himalayas; let the ladies be silent; and let not the rain be an excuse for depriving the meaner sort of men from their usual quota of sweets.’

  Nilima looked up and smiled. She said, ‘It’s been customary since old times to praise one’s elders, Thakurpo. It’s a settled tradition and you’re adept at it. But today you’ll have to vary the routine. Today, if the younger ones are not flattered, the share of sweets for the meaner sort will fall to zero.’

  Bela came back from the veranda and sat down.

  ‘Why, Boudi?’ asked Harendra.

  Nilima’s eyes glistened with deep affection. She said, ‘I haven’t heard any sweet words for a long time. I’m greedy for some more.’

  ‘Then shall I start?’

  ‘Well, let it be for the time being. Go and change in the next room. I’ll send you another kurta.’

  ‘But after we’ve changed?’

  Nilima said with a smile, ‘After that—let me go and see what I can arrange for the meaner sort.’

  Harendra said, ‘You needn’t bother to arrange anything. Just open your eyes and look round. Your glance, like the goddess Annapurna’s,1 will bring overflowing bounty wherever it falls. Come, Ajit, there’s nothing to worry about.’ He dragged Ajit by the arm into the next room.

  23

  ‘THERE’S NO SIGN OF THE RAIN STOPPING,’ SAID AJIT.

  ‘No,’ said Harendra. ‘So we’ll have to walk once again in the dark all the way to the ashram, sharing the same broken umbrella to prove our egalitarian theories. Of course we don’t have to think about the next part of the operation—that’s been concluded here. We’ll only have to change our wet clothes again and go to bed.’

  Ashu Babu anxiously said, ‘Then why didn’t you have a full meal here?’

  ‘No, no, let it be,’ said Harendra. ‘What does it matter? Don’t worry about it, Ashu Babu.’

  Nilima broke out in giggles and then, in a complaining tone, said, ‘Thakurpo, why are you unnecessarily worrying a sick man?’ To Ashu Babu she said, ‘He is a sannyasi grown ripe in his ascetic ways. No one can fault him for eating too little. It’s Ajit Babu that I’m worried about. From the way he ate today, it’s obvious that he isn’t maturing fast enough even in such virtuous company.’

  Harendra said, ‘Perhaps there’s still some evil in his heart. He’ll be found out one day.’

  Nilima looked at him for a moment and said, ‘May your words prove blessed, Thakurpo: let it be so. Let him harbour a little vice, let him be found out. I’ll offer sacrifices to Kali of Kalighat that day.’

  ‘Then get ready to do so.’

  Ajit said in deep vexation, ‘What nonsense is this, Haren Babu? You’re disgusting.’

  Harendra did not say anything more. Looking at Ajit’s face, Nilima grew acutely curious, but she too kept silent.

  After the talk about Ajit had died down, Harendra said to Nilima, ‘Kamal is very annoyed with our ashram. Perhaps you remember, Boudi.’

  Nilima nodded and said, ‘Yes, I do. Does she feel the same way even now?’

  ‘Not exactly the same,’ said Harendra. ‘Her hatred has grown more intense. That’s the only difference.’ He went on, ‘It’s not only us; she’s equally enamoured of all religious institutions. Whether you talk of brahmacharihood or asceticism or God Himself—as soon as she hears it, she bursts into flame with such devotion and love! If she’s in good humour, she can even condescend to be amused to see these foolish grown-up boys at play. It’s quite wonderful!’

  Bela was listening quietly. She said, ‘Is God too a matter of sport to her? And you were comparing me with her, Ashu Babu!’ She looked at their faces one by one, but didn’t find encouragement anywhere. Her harsh voice did not seem to reach anybody’s ears.

  Harendra went on speaking: ‘Yet there’s such unwavering restraint, such a silent moderation and serene resignation in her that it leaves you amazed. Do you remember the business of Shibnath, Ashu Babu? He was nothing to us, yet we couldn’t tolerate his wrongdoing; our hearts burned to punish him. But Kamal said “No.” I still remember how she looked that day. There was no hatred, no anguish in that “No”, no expectation of applause for her generosity, no arrogance of forgiveness: her benevolence seemed full of unmixed compassion. However grave Shibnath’s offence might have been, she was startled at my proposal and said, “Shame on you! No, no, it can’t be.” In other words, she could not think of demeaning herself by being cruel to the man she had once loved: she silently swept away all his faults from public view. And she seemed to do it without effort or agitation, or any weeping and lamenting. It was like a stream flowing effortlessly down a mountain.’

  Ashu Babu only remarked, ‘That’s true.’

  Harendra continued: ‘I feel very angry when she wants to laugh away not only my own ideal but our collective religion, heritage, customs, moral obligations—everything. I know that gross alien blood is flowing in her veins and, likewise, an aggressive alien religion in her heart; yet I can’t answer her boldly to her face. Some confident power seems to shine through her speech, as though she has found out the true meaning of life. She seems to recognize it not through any teaching, not through feelings and perceptions, but directly with her eyes.
’

  Ashu Babu was pleased. He said, ‘The same thing has also struck me a number of times. That’s why she acts exactly as she speaks. Even if her judgement is mistaken, there’s a glory in that mistake.’ He paused and went on: ‘Look, Haren, it’s good in a way that that scoundrel has left her. Virtue would have been dishonoured if he had cast a shadow over her forever. It would have been as offensive as casting pearls before swine.’

  ‘On the other hand,’ said Harendra, ‘she’s so full of compassion that I haven’t seen any woman like her except Boudi. In the way she cares for others, she’s like the goddess Lakshmi. It’s perhaps because she’s superior to men in so many ways that she presents herself so humbly before them. It’s really wonderful: her heart seems to melt down to her feet.’

  Nilima smiled and said, ‘Thakurpo, in your previous birth you were probably some queen’s panegyrist: the training hasn’t left you yet. It would be better for you to give up teaching young boys and take up that profession instead.’

  Harendra smiled. He said, ‘What to do, Boudi? I’m a simple man and I speak out what I feel. But just ask Ajit Babu: he’ll roll up his sleeves and get ready to attack me. Never mind: if he lives, he’ll come to see how things are.’

  Ajit cried out angrily, ‘What’s all this, Haren Babu? It seems I’ll have to leave your ashram one of these days.’

  Harendra said, ‘I know you’ll have to one day. But keep your patience meanwhile.’

  ‘Then say whatever you like. I’ll leave.’

  Nilima said, ‘Thakurpo, why don’t you wind up your brahmacharis’ ashram? Then you’ll be free, and so will the boys.’

  Harendra said, ‘Boudi, the boys may be free, but there’s no such hope for me—at least not while that man Akshay’s there. He’ll see me off to the house of death.’

  Ashu Babu said, ‘It seems you’re all afraid of Akshay.’

  ‘Yes, we are. It’s easier to swallow poison than to digest his jibes. So many people died of the influenza, but not he. He neatly escaped.’