Srikanta

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  ‘Who diagnosed it? Gurudev? Did he give you another amulet?’

  ‘Yes. But that was for tying around your neck.’

  ‘Tie it by all means if it cures your disease.’

  ‘I read the letter over and over again for two days. Then I wrote my reply and gave it to Ratan. After he left, I bathed in the Ganga and, standing in the temple of Annapurna, I prayed that the letter would reach you in time. “Save me, Ma, from destroying myself,” I wept.’ Rajlakshmi fixed her full, dark eyes on my face and asked, ‘Why do you bind me so ruthlessly?’

  I couldn’t answer for a moment. Then I said, ‘Women allow themselves to be bound in a way men can’t dream of.’

  ‘You admit it?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Coming out of the temple,’ Rajlakshmi continued, ‘the first person I saw was a silk merchant called Lakshman Sahu. The old man used to sell me Varanasi saris and was very fond of me. “I wish to go to Calcutta, Sahuji,” I said. “I know you do business there. Can you arrange a house for me?” He said I could have a house he owned in Bangali Tola at the price of construction. I agreed instantly for I knew him to be a good and pious man. I brought him the money. He made all the arrangements.’ She paused for breath and continued, ‘A week later, I left Kashi and took up residence here. Ma Annapurna must have heard my prayers for without her intervention none of this would have been possible. I wanted to see you so desperately and here you are.’

  ‘I won’t be here long. I’m going to Burma.’

  ‘We’ll go together,’ she said instantly. ‘I hear there are Buddhist temples all over the country. I can see them. And Abhaya is there!’

  ‘It is a filthy country, Lakshmi. You’ll lose your caste.’

  Rajlakshmi brought her lips close to my ear and whispered something I couldn’t catch.

  ‘Speak a little louder,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ she said decidedly, then resting her head against my chest, she lay silent for a long while. Her warm breath floated over my neck and face.

  Ten

  ‘WAKE UP. RATAN IS WAITING WITH YOUR TEA.’

  Not receiving a reply, Rajlakshmi went on, ‘The sun has been up for hours. How can you go on sleeping?’

  I snuggled into the pillow and murmured drowsily, ‘I’ve only just dropped off. You kept me awake all night—’ The bang of a teacup on the table told me that the embarrassed Ratan had made his escape.

  ‘What a shameless creature you are!’ Rajlakshmi cried. ‘And what lies you tell! I sat up all night fanning you while you snored like Kumbhakarna * and now you accuse me of keeping you awake. Get up this instant or I’ll throw a bucket of water on you.’

  I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. The windows were wide open and the morning light streamed in. Rajlakshmi stood in the middle of the room. The rich folds of a vermilion Varanasi sari glowed like flames around her freshly bathed body and the red and white sandal paste on her brow (put there by the Oriya panda ** at the bathing-ghat) gave her face an unearthly beauty. A beam of golden light, slanting in from the eastern window, fell on her face and neck. Her cheeks glowed with embarrassment but the familiar dimple twinkled mischievously and the rosy mouth curved upwards in a saucy smile. Her eyes, too, were bright with laughter as she said, ‘Why do you stare at me? You’ve been doing so all evening.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me why?’

  ‘You’re comparing me with Putu and Kamal Lata and trying to decide which of us is the prettiest.’

  ‘Wrong. Putu and Kamal Lata are not a patch on you where looks are in question. A glance at you is enough to tell me that. I don’t have to stare.’

  ‘What about accomplishments?’

  ‘That is a question that needs serious consideration.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Her lovely lip curled in derision. ‘All she can do is sing kirtans.’

  ‘Yes and very well too.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Well! Her sur and laya are perfect. And her tal—’

  ‘What is tal?’

  ‘Tal is that which used to fall on your back when you were a scrawny kid with a stomach like a drum. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Of course I remember. Kamal Lata has found out all about your roving mind. Haven’t you told her what a man of action you were?’

  ‘No. Self-advertisement is not a good thing. You can do that for me. But, believe me, she has a beautiful voice and sings truly well.’

  ‘You, of course, are the best judge. Do you remember the song you used to sing when we were together in the pathshala? The one that had us all enthralled?’ Her eyes twinkled with merriment. ‘It went something like this—Kotha geli praner pran bap Duryodhan re-e-e-! (Where are you lost, life of my life, son Duryodhan). It was a truly touching song. Even the cows and goats had tears in their eyes!’ And she stuffed her sari into her mouth and doubled up with laughter.

  Footsteps were heard on the stairs and within seconds Ratan was at the door. ‘I’ve put the kettle on for fresh tea. It’ll be ready in a minute.’ And, picking up the cup of stone-cold tea, he was preparing to depart, when Rajlakshmi said, ‘If you don’t get out of bed at once the second cup will also go waste. And Ratan can’t stand waste, can you, Ratan?’

  ‘I don’t know about you, Ma, but I can stand a good deal, particularly from Srikanta Babu.’

  Rajlakshmi looked at his departing back with a tender smile and said, ‘Ratan loves you very much.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘He threatened to leave my service the day you came away from Kashi. “Ratan!” I said to him, “Have you forgotten all I’ve done for you?” “No,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m not an ingrate. I’m going to Burma to serve Srikanta Babu. That’s the best way I know of repaying you.” It took a lot of persuasion to make him change his mind. And then—your wedding invitation arrived.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ I interrupted. ‘I only asked for your opinion—’

  ‘Oh yes? And what if I’d said “go ahead”? You would have married her, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Of course you would. You men are capable of anything.’

  ‘That’s not true. Everyone is not capable of everything.’

  ‘I don’t know what Ratan thought or felt,’ she continued, cutting me short. ‘I noticed him giving me strange glances and several times I saw tears in his eyes. Then, when I gave him the letter to post, he said, “I’ll go to Calcutta and deliver it myself.” “Why waste all that money, Ratan?” I asked and his answer was, “I don’t know why but, looking at you, I get the feeling that the ground is being cut from under your feet and that the tide will sweep you out to sea in a matter of moments. I won’t take the fare from you even if you offer it, for all I have today is through your kindness. However, if Lord Vishwanath hears our prayers and all goes well you may send a little something to my woman in the village.”’

  ‘That son of a barber is as shrewd as a fox,’ I remarked with a wry smile. Rajlakshmi smiled too but did not comment. She urged me, once again, to get up and get ready before Ratan arrived with the second cup of tea.

  Sitting down to my midday meal, I asked Rajlakshmi why she was dressed in Varanasi silk.

  ‘You tell me the reason,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Don’t you recognize the sari?’

  ‘Yes. It is the one I sent to you from Burma.’

  ‘The moment it came I decided to wear it on the most important day of my life. Neither before nor after.’

  ‘Is that why you are wearing it today?’

  ‘Yes.’

  After a while I said, ‘I hear you’re leaving for Kalighat in a few minutes.’

  ‘How can I? I must feed you first and put you to sleep. Only then I’ll be free.’

  ‘No, you won’t be free even then. Ratan tells me that your fasts have doubled in number and you eat practically nothing these days. You must give up your wilful ways. I’ve decided to be very strict with
you and I’m beginning now. You’re not going to Kalighat today.’

  Rajlakshmi folded her hands in entreaty. ‘Grant me this one day for my own. Keep me as your humble slave from tomorrow onwards.’

  ‘What utter and abject servility!’ I sneered.

  Rajlakshmi’s face grew solemn. ‘That is how I should be. I became so proud and insolent that I forgot what I owed to you. I don’t deserve your love and tenderness. I’ve lost my right to them through my own fault.’

  I looked up and saw that her eyes were wet. ‘Go tomorrow,’ I said gently. ‘You stayed awake all night fanning me. You must be tired.’

  ‘Serving you doesn’t tire me. I’ve stayed up night after night nursing you in illness and never felt anything at all. Something—I don’t know what—soothes all my weariness away. I’ve lost sight of God for so long now. Today, on my day of happiness, I want to find him again. Don’t stop me, dearest. Let me go.’

  ‘Then let’s go together.’

  Rajlakshmi’s eyes brightened. ‘Come then,’ she cried joyfully. ‘But promise not to think any blasphemous thoughts.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee that. I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait for you at the temple gate. You may say a prayer on my behalf and ask for a boon.’

  ‘What boon?’

  I thought for a while but could come up with nothing. ‘Lakshmi,’ I asked, ‘What would you wish for me?’

  ‘A long life,’ she said promptly. ‘And health and strength. And the capacity to be stern with me. I was on the point of being destroyed by your indulgence.’

  ‘This is gross self-pity, Lakshmi.’

  ‘It is. Can I ever forget your letter?’

  I sat silent, my face downcast. She put out a hand and raised it, smiling. ‘I can’t bear this either,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But sternness is not part of your nature so I shouldn’t expect it of you. I must undertake it myself.’

  ‘What will you do? Fast some more?’

  ‘No. Fasting is no punishment for me. If anything, it makes me more arrogant. That won’t be my way.’

  ‘What is your way as you see it now?’

  ‘I don’t see anything. I’m groping in the dark.’

  ‘Tell me, Rajlakshmi—do you think I’m capable of harshness and cruelty?’

  ‘I do, my love, I do.’

  ‘That’s a lie.’

  ‘It is a lie but it is also at the root of all my troubles, gosain. A fine name your Kamal Lata has found for you. I shall call you Narun gosain too, from now on.’

  ‘Do so—by all means.’

  ‘The name has many advantages. You may, occasionally, mistake me for Kamal Lata and heave a sigh of relief. Am I right?’

  ‘This is the language of slaves indeed!’ I laughed. ‘You haven’t changed one bit, Lakshmi, for all your talk. If you were a real slave your master would have punished you for your impertinence by sending you to the gallows.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I’ve put the noose round my neck and my fate in a hangman’s hands from childhood onwards.’

  ‘You’re a very naughty girl and have been so from childhood onwards. No hangman has ever had the power to keep you under control.’

  Rajlakshmi was about to make a laughing rejoinder when she glanced at my thala and stood up. ‘Good Heavens! You’ve finished. Where’s the milk? Promise me you won’t get up. I’ll fetch it in a minute.’ And she hurried out of the room.

  A sigh escaped me. ‘Rajlakshmi and Kamal Lata!’ I thought.

  She came in a few minutes later and put down a bowl of milk, then, picking up the fan, waved it gently and said, ‘I used to think there was something wrong, something sinful in all this. That is why I left Gangamati and went to Kashidham. I cut off my hair, wore widow’s weeds and started a course of rigorous penance under Gurudev’s guidance. I was sure I was on the right path and the golden gates of heaven almost within reach. You were the one obstacle in my path and I swept you away harshly, ruthlessly. But ever since that day my tears have not ceased. I forgot my mantra and lost sight of God. My soul was parched as if with years of drought and I thought, “If this is the path to God, why do I suffer so?”’

  I looked at her and smiled. ‘God wishes to test the faith of his devotees. Had you been a little patient, a little more firm of faith, you would have realized God.’

  ‘I don’t wish to realize God. I’ve found what I wanted.’

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Here. In this house.’

  ‘Impossible! Prove it.’

  ‘Why should I prove it to you? Have I nothing better to do?’

  ‘Slave girls don’t talk like that!’

  ‘Don’t keep calling me a slave girl. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Very well, then. You aren’t a slave girl. I give you your freedom.’

  ‘Oh! You do, do you? Last night you fell asleep with your arms around my neck. I removed them gently and sat up. I saw that your brow was drenched with sweat. I wiped it with the end of my sari and took up the fan. Your face looked so beautiful in the lamplight—I sat gazing on it for hours. “If this is immoral,” I thought, “who cares for morality? If this is vice—to hell with virtue. My soul recognized him for my own even before it awoke to full consciousness. If this is a lie—what and where is the truth?” You haven’t had your milk. Shall I bring some fruit?’

  ‘I can’t eat any more, Lakshmi.’

  ‘But you must. You’ve become very thin.’

  ‘If I have, it is from months of neglect. Don’t try to remedy it in one day. I’ll die in the attempt.’

  Rajlakshmi’s face grew pale. ‘It won’t happen again. I’ve learnt my lesson.’ Then, after a few minutes’ silence, she continued, ‘And so the night went by. I woke with the first glimmer of dawn and taking the durwan with me, went down to the river. As I sank into the water I felt my pain and guilt flow out of me. Ma Ganga took me to her bosom and made me whole again. I came home and entered my prayer-room. I found that my mantra had come back to me and I could pray. My God had come back to me. I felt his presence blotting out the glaring light of my sky like masses of shadowy cloud and my shrivelled up soul, smouldering with years of aridity, grew moist and green again. Tears poured out of my eyes but they were not wrung out of a heart burning with pain. They ran down like cascades of silvery light. They drenched me in their sweetness, they drowned me in their joy…. Let me bring some fruit and feed you with my own hands. Shall I?’

  I nodded. As she left the room I sighed, once again. ‘Rajlakshmi and Kamal Lata!’ I thought. I wondered who had presided over her birth and thought of naming her Rajlakshmi. After all, there were thousands of other names.

  It was nine o’clock at night when we returned from Kalighat. Rajlakshmi had a bath, changed into a simple sari and came and sat by me.

  ‘I see that you’ve shed your regal apparel,’ I remarked. ‘It’s a relief to see you as your normal self.’

  ‘It was given by my king—so it had to be regal. I want that sari put on me when I am dead.’

  ‘I’ll remember your command. But you’ve lived on dreams all day. Aren’t you ever going to eat? Shall I ask Ratan to bring up your meal?’

  ‘Here? Have you ever seen me eat in your presence?’

  ‘I haven’t, yet. But what if I do?’

  ‘Women eat like monsters. They prefer to eat in private.’

  ‘You can’t fool me with your tricks, Lakshmi. I’m not letting you starve anymore. If you don’t do as I say, I shall stop talking to you.’

  ‘Go ahead. See if I care.’

  ‘I won’t eat, either.’

  ‘You win,’ she laughed. ‘I couldn’t stand that.’

  The cook brought up her meal—a simple one of fruit and sweetmeats. She ate a little and said, ‘Ratan has complained to you that I don’t eat enough. Would you be able to eat if you were in my place? My case was lost irretrievably, I thought, yet I came to Calcutta to seek a fresh court of appeal. Every day I sent Ratan to your lodgings and sat here tens
e with fear that you would refuse to come. What could I expect after treating you the way I did?’

  ‘You could have come to my lodgings yourself and pounced on me the way a green beetle pounces on a cockroach.’

  ‘Who’s the cockroach? You?’

  ‘Who else? There isn’t a meeker and humbler insect in the world.’

  Rajlakshmi thought for a moment and said, ‘Yet I fear you more than anyone else in the world.’

  ‘That’s a joke.’

  ‘It isn’t. I know you better than you know yourself. You care very little for the opposite sex. You don’t desire women or really need them though you feign an interest, sometimes, out of consideration for their feelings. If you had refused to come to me I would have been powerless to make you do so.’

  ‘You’re wrong. If I desire anything at all in the world, to this day, it is you, Lakshmi. I can refuse anyone anything—but not you. You say you know me better than I do myself. And you don’t know this?’

  ‘I’ll go and wash my hands,’ Lakshmi rose and left the room.

  The following evening, her daily duties concluded, Rajlakshmi came and sat by me. ‘I want to hear all about Kamal Lata,’ she said. ‘Tell me.’

  I told her all I knew but, fearing a misunderstanding, left out those bits that concerned just the two of us. She heard Kamal Lata’s story with great concentration and commented, ‘It was Jatin’s death that broke her. After all, she was responsible.’

  ‘How was she responsible?’

  ‘Wasn’t she? Had she not sought his help in taking her life, it would never have occurred to him to do the same. It was inevitable. That is why one must never ask a friend to be a partner in one’s sin. The scales overbalance and one has to pay for the other’s crime. She lives on but the boy she loved so dearly had to die.’

  ‘Your reasoning is a bit obscure, Lakshmi.’

  ‘It may be to you. It isn’t to me or to Kamal Lata!’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Of course it is. I’m ashamed to go on living when I look at you.’

  ‘You said, yesterday, that all your guilt and pain had been washed away. Was that a lie?