He: (Shey) (Modern Classics (Penguin))

by Tagore, Rabindranath

  ‘Do remind me of some of the things he used to say.’

  ‘I remember his face clearly even today. In class, he seemed to be completely detached; he knew all the books by heart. His face turned upwards, he would reel off the lesson: it seemed as if the words were raining down from the heavens. He didn’t seem bothered whether we attended class or listened attentively to the lesson: he was content to leave it to our discretion.’

  ‘I suppose he didn’t have much chance to get to know you by your faces.’

  ‘He didn’t even make the effort. One day, when I entered his room with a petition for a day’s holiday, it put him in a nervous bustle. He hurriedly got up from his chair: he thought I was what you’d call a real, grown-up lady.’

  ‘It was his habit to make these unimaginable errors.’

  ‘It certainly was! I hope your beard didn’t mislead him into thinking you the Nawab Khanzeh Khan’s private secretary. But no more joking. He was your friend: tell me about him.’

  ‘He had no enemies, but I was the only friend who really appreciated him. When people spread stories of his eccentricity, he would be amazed. One day, he came to me and said, “Everyone says that when I teach a class, I don’t look at them as I teach.”

  ‘I said, “Your friends can’t find fault with your learning, so they find fault with your acumen. They say that you don’t forget what you teach. Instead, you forget that you’re teaching.”

  ‘“If I didn’t forget I was teaching, I wouldn’t be able to teach. All I’d do would be what any plain schoolmaster does. I’ve completely digested the practice of teaching, my mind doesn’t fidget over it any longer.”

  ‘“When an aquatic creature swims in the water, it doesn’t attract attention; when a land animal does the same, it leaps to the eye. In the lake of learning, you’re a fish of the deep waters.”

  ‘“If I look at the students, how am I to give my mind to the class?”

  ‘“Where is that class of yours?”

  ‘“Nowhere. That’s why nothing interrupts me. If the students block my vision, I can’t see the presiding spirit of the class.”

  ‘“‘Ply your books, dear presiding spirit’—is that the maxim you teach?”

  ‘“I don’t teach! I simply let my own spirit circulate.”

  ‘“How do you manage that?”

  ‘“The way the waters of the Ganga flow. On either side, there are deserts in some places, crops in others—cities, cremation grounds. If Mother Ganga had had to take a decision at every step, she would never have saved the children of Sagar.107 What happens to one is what’s destined to happen: vying with God to force more happenings only holds up the flow. My teaching flows through space like the clouds. The rain falls from it on many fields, but the harvest each one bears depends on the field. The headmaster is vexed because I don’t waste time trying to push through the impossible. To count this headmaster as eminently real would be eminently foolish.”’

  Pupu-didi said, ‘Lots of his pupils felt uneasy about him. He told them one day, “This master that you have here, I’ve erased him, so as to give your own minds the space to grow in.” Another day he remarked, “When it comes to teaching, I’m a classicist and Sidhu-babu a romantic.” Needless to say, we couldn’t make head or tail of his words.’

  ‘It means your teacher hoisted the entire class higher, while Sidhu carried one pupil at a time on his shoulders across potholes. Do you understand now?’

  ‘No, and I don’t need to either. Go on about him, it’s fun to hear.’

  ‘It amuses me too, because it takes a while to understand the man. One day he declared, quoting a Chinese philosopher, “The state that exists without rule is the best of all states.” ’

  Pupe declared with pride, ‘There’s no doubt that our class was the best in the school.’

  I replied, ‘That was because your master refused to notice the signs of your mean intelligence, despite clear proof of dimwittedness.’

  Pupu-didi tossed her head. ‘Am I to call this an insult or a joke?’

  I answered, ‘It’s a joke of the milder sort, as if I were to tweak your hair in passing. It doesn’t declare casus belli—none of your “It’s battle today between you and me”.’

  Pupe continued, ‘Mastermashai’s methods were of a funny kind. “You must keep your own records,” he used to say. “It’s not my business to check on you.” We used to keep a daily log of our work; we knew the system of marking.’

  ‘What was the result?’

  ‘We gave ourselves lower marks, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Didn’t you ever cheat him?’

  ‘If someone else had been marking us, we might have been tempted to cheat. It would have been foolish to cheat oneself, especially since he never checked on us.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘And then, after every three months we’d do our own calculations and find out for ourselves if we had gone up or down.’

  ‘Was yours an especially high high-school of the Age of Truth?108 Wasn’t there anyone who indulged in a little deceit?’

  ‘Mastermashai remained unperturbed. He would say, “Some people in this world are bound to shirk and cheat, but those responsible for themselves are less likely to do so.” Our punishments were of the same kind, never externally inflicted. One day, during roll call, I lied to save my best friend’s record of attendance. He said to me, “You’ve been dishonest: you must perform a penance.” He didn’t even want to know, later, if I’d performed it.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘I certainly did.’

  ‘Meaning, you gave away your powder box to your friend?’

  ‘I never use powder.’

  ‘You mean to say that complexion of yours is entirely your own?’

  ‘Whatever else, at least I haven’t borrowed it from you, as you’ll realize if you try to compare the two.’

  ‘For shame! If you see a difference in our complexions, you’re finding fault with our entire clan. We’re of the same blood; our complexions can’t ever be dissimilar. Had there been a poet at hand, he would have declared that your colour had sprung from Lord Brahma’s smile.’

  ‘And yours from his sneer.’

  ‘This is what’s called anyanyastuti, mutual admiration. Grandfathers have two kinds of smiles—one dental, the other cerebral. It’s the cerebral kind that fell to me—what one calls wit in English.’

  ‘Dadamashai, you never stop singing your own praises.’

  ‘That’s my chief virtue. I belong to the band of exceptional men who know themselves.’

  ‘Your tongue’s wagging again. But no more; please stop now. We were talking about the schoolmaster, now we’ve begun to talk about you.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that? The subject is congenial, what in English you might call interesting.’

  ‘That subject is always there in front of me. I don’t have to remember it. Rather, it’s difficult to overlook.’

  ‘All right, let me tell you about a special side of this teacher of ours. It’s worth writing down. Once the master had invited some people home for the evening. To see if he remembered having done so, I went to his house, quite early in the morning. Let me tell you of the conversation he was having with his servant Kanai.

  ‘Kanai said, “Lobsters are very expensive now, because of Jagaddhatri Puja.109 So I’ve bought egg-laden crabs instead.”

  ‘The schoolmaster asked, slightly worried, “What’ll you do with the crabs?”

  ‘Kanai replied, “I’ll put them in a curry with gourd, they’ll taste delicious.”

  ‘I asked, “Master, do you have a special craving for lobsters?”

  ‘The master answered, “I certainly do.”

  ‘“Well, in that case, you’ll have to restrain it!”

  ‘“Why restrain it? The desire’s ready at hand, all I need do is shunt it in the direction of the crabs.”

  ‘“I see you have to do a good deal of shunting.”

  ‘The schoolmaster said,
“I’ve eaten crab curry many times. I never put my whole mind to it. But now that I’ve seen Kanai’s mouth water, my mind will turn towards the crab at dinnertime, guided by his drooling tongue: it’ll add to the relish. It’s as if he’d underlined the curry in red pencil; it’ll help me to memorize it.”

  ‘The master asked, “What have you got tied up in that bundle?”

  ‘“Drumsticks,” said Kanai.

  ‘The master looked at me and said with pride, “There’s the fun of it. When he went to the market, I was thinking of gourd stems. Now that he’s back, I’ve got drumsticks instead. That’s the advantage of never giving orders.”

  ‘“What if, instead of drumsticks, he’d brought back snake-gourds?” I asked.

  ‘The master answered, “In that case, I’d have felt a moment’s qualm. You see, the name has an influence on the matter. The name ‘snake-gourd’ isn’t appetizing. But if Kanai had chosen it specially, it would have given me a chance to overcome my instincts. For the first time in my life, I’d have had the chance to think, ‘Why not try it and see?’ Perhaps I’d have discovered that it wasn’t bad after all. My blind prejudice against the vegetable would have been removed, and the limits of my enjoyment extended. That’s how poets, in their works, try to extend our tastes to share their own. Their work is to underline the process of creation.”

  ‘“Does Kanai have any hand in trying to expand the limits of your taste?”

  ‘“He certainly does. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t ever have paid any attention to piring-shaak.110 The very word would have knocked me over. In this world, freedom from prejudice means widening one’s vision.”

  ‘“And your Kanai is engaged in that worthy task.”

  ‘“You’ve got to admit that, brother. By adding his desires to mine, my own lose their narrowness. If I’d been living on my own, this could never have happened.”

  ‘“I understand, but the limits of Kanai’s desires—”

  ‘“I’ve widened them. He comes from East Bengal, and couldn’t stand the mention of kalai dal.111 Nowadays he’s quite happy to eat it cooked with asafoetida.”

  ‘Suddenly, at this point, Kanai entered again. He said, “I forgot to tell you that I haven’t brought any curd today. The kaviraj has forbidden curd at night.”

  ‘Since he didn’t want to repeat himself by saying that the price of curd too had risen, he had had to hatch the tale involving the kaviraj. As consolation, he promised, “I’ll make you some weak tea with a little juice of ginger in it; it’ll be good for you in the cold night.”

  ‘ “What do you say, Master?” I asked. “Thinking of offering everyone some tea with ginger?”

  ‘ “How can I answer for everyone? Those who’ll drink it will drink it. It might do them good. As for those who won’t, it won’t do them any harm.”

  ‘I asked, “According to the teachings of the Chinese philosophers, your household admits no master, does it?”

  ‘“No.”

  ‘“Then how can you accept a servant?”

  ‘“If there’s no master, there obviously can’t be a servant.”

  ‘“I suppose you’ve mixed up master and servant to create a compound substance?”

  ‘The schoolmaster smiled. “Oxygen and hydrogen lay aside their incendiary natures and mingle to form water.”

  ‘I retorted, “Had you married, brother, all your Chinese philosophy would have fled the town. A wife isn’t so ethereal an entity as to exist, yet not to exist. Even though her face might be demurely veiled, her presence would be a very tangible truth. Under her rule, the kingdom would reel at a frown from her eye: you’d be subject to constant buffeting, front and back.”

  ‘The schoolmaster replied, “In that case, the husband would escape to Dera Ghazi Khan112 on a one-way ticket, while his spouse’s wifeliness disappeared down the tracks of the East Bengal Railway as she returned to her father’s home.”

  ‘The schoolmaster sometimes says funny things, but never laughs.’

  ‘If you had to make up a story about our teacher, how would you go about it?’ asked Pupu-didi.

  ‘I’d have to set aside a million years!’

  ‘That means you’d make up some fantastic tale. But you wouldn’t have to worry about your present-day critics.’

  ‘No man of letters fears such witnesses. The truth is, my story will need a change of era to come alive. Let me explain why. The basic materials in the creation of the world were stone, iron and other such heavy stuff. The business of moulding these, hammering them into shape, went on for ages. Their hardness remained bare and exposed for many ages. At last, soft earth covered the surface in a carpet of green; as if to protect the dignity of the creator. Then the animals made their appearance; they roamed the earth bearing vast burdens of bones and flesh, wearing heavy suits of armour, and dragging indecently heavy tails. They were spectacular beasts. But these flesh-burdened creatures didn’t meet the Creator’s approval. He began his relentless experiments once again, and kept at it age after age. At last came man, who possessed a mind. The unnecessary tail disappeared, bones and flesh remained only in modest quantities, and the tough hide was softened into skin. No longer were there horns, or hooves, or the fierce power of talons. The four legs were reduced to two. It was understood that the Almighty was plying his tools to refine the Age of Creation more and more. Man is entangled in both the crude and the fine. The struggle between mind and flesh goes on. In fact, the Almighty is shaking his head again: ‘No, this hasn’t turned out right.’ There are signs that this age too will not last long. It will destroy itself through a supreme scientific expedient. A few hundreds of thousands of years will go by. Gradually, the flesh will fall away and the mind will emerge supreme. It is in this age of the perfect mind that your master sits, in a class of bodiless pupils. Just think how his method of teaching was to merge himself in his pupils, spreading one mind over the other as though there were no external hindrances.’

  ‘Not even that of the material senses?’

  ‘If that weren’t there, the intelligence would find itself with nothing to do. There’s always a difference between good and bad, stupid and clever. Human character is of many types. There are varieties of thought and singularities of desire. He who can enter these disparate worlds makes a good schoolmaster. Education is now an inner process.’

  ‘Dadamashai, I can’t remember just where this school is.’

  ‘The world has three homes—one beneath the ocean, one on land, and one in the sky, with subtle winds and subtler light. This last one is empty at present: it’s reserved for the next era.’

  ‘In that case, your class is being wafted along on that wind, that light. But what do the students look like?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain. They certainly have forms, but the forms are unconfined.’

  ‘Then I suppose they’re made of various-coloured lights.’

  ‘That’s possible. Didn’t the science master explain to you the other day how, in this very universe, fine particles of light are pretending to take on bodily form, like chameleons? But at that time, light will find expression in its own original, ethereal form. All of you will sit radiating light in class. That day, sellers of Otin Snow113 will go bankrupt.’

  ‘Why should they go bankrupt? They’ll turn into light.’

  ‘To go bankrupt means to turn into light.’

  ‘What colour will I be, Dadamashai, when I turn into light?’

  ‘Golden.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’ll be pure radium.’

  ‘There won’t be any fighting among the lights that day, will there, Dadamashai? Is there likely to be any squabbling over electrons?’

  ‘You’ve got me worried. We’ll probably need a League of Lights. I can already hear rumours of quarrelling over electrons.’

  ‘All the better, Dadamashai. You’ll be able to render the martial spirit eloquently in your poem. Oh dear, will there be language, though?’

  ‘The language o
f words will simply transform into the language of feeling. You won’t have to memorize any grammar.’

  ‘What about songs?’

  ‘Music must conform to colour. It won’t be very easy. The taans will dart to all corners of the sky. The Tansens114 of the age will light up the horizon with a new aurora borealis.’

  ‘And what’ll happen to all your free verse?’

  ‘Electrons of iron and of gold will mingle in them.’

  ‘The grandmothers of that age will disapprove.’

  ‘I have a feeling that all the granddaughters of the time will be enthralled.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll take care to be born your granddaughter in that Age of Light as well. For the present, you’ll have to bear with this bearer of flesh and form. Now I’m off to the cinema.’

  ‘What’s the film?’

  ‘Sita’s Exile.’

  * * *

  107children of Sagar: The mythical King Sagar had 60,000 sons, who insulted a sage and were burnt to death by the fire of his anger. However, Sagar’s descendant Bhagirath was able to please Shiva and bring Ganga to the earth, whose waters, flowing over the ashes of the men, set them free.

  108Age of Truth: Satyayug, the first and best of the four mythical ages.

  109Jagaddhatri Puja: the festival of the goddess Jagaddhatri, one of the forms assumed by Durga.

  110piring-shaak: a kind of edible leaf.

  111kalai dal: a kind of lentil.

  112Dera Ghazi Khan: a town and district now in Pakistan, in the very opposite direction to that served by the East Bengal Railway.

  113Otin Snow: a face cream popular at the time.

  114Tansen: a singer of legendary fame, one of the ‘nine jewels’ of the Mughal Emperor Akbar’s court.

  14

  NEXT MORNING, PUPE-DIDI BROUGHT ME BREAKFAST AS I HAD ORDERED: chickpeas and molasses in a stone bowl. I’d set about reviving ancient Bengali cuisine in this modern age. Didimani asked, ‘What about tea?’

  I answered, ‘No, date palm juice.’

  Didi asked, ‘Why are you looking so sombre today? Did you have a bad dream?’

  I replied, ‘The shadows of dreams constantly pass over my mind—then the dreams dissolve and the shadows disappear. Today, I keep remembering a story of your childishness: I’d love to tell you.’