Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER XC.

  On the second morning Fazil's messengers reached Wye, withoutinterruption, tethered their ponies in the courtyard of a temple, wherethey obtained shelter, and set about the work they had to do withoutloss of time. Taking their instruments, they wandered into the bazar,and sang their ballads to willing listeners; for the hunchback was amaster of his art, and had a willing and skilful pupil in the boy.

  "Wast thou not in the camp at Jowly?" said a man coming up to Lukshmun,"and this lad too, before we attacked the Toorks,--and we let thee go?Ah yes, and you promised to sing the hymn of the goddess at Tooljapoor,and did not return when we were victorious! Ill for you, for you wouldhave had a share of the gold. By the Mother! you shall sing it now.Come with me!"

  "Not so," said Lukshmun; "we are engaged to sing at Vishnu Pundit'shouse--where is it?--and shall be free in the evening only and if thoucanst direct me to one Moro Trimmul, a Brahmun, and let me go now, wewill sing an hour at night for as many as you choose to bring to thetemple of Ballajee, where we have put up, and take what you have togive us."

  "Moro Trimmul!" cried the man laughing, "thou wouldst have to go deepinto hell for him. Where hast thou been, friend, that his fate did notcome to thine ears?"

  "I was afraid," replied the hunchback; "I fear fighting, sir; and ifa drawn weapon is flashed in my face, I faint. So we ran away fromJowly--did we not, my son? and have been travelling about the countryever since, getting what we can. But what of the Brahmun, sir? was hekilled in the fight at Jowly?"

  "No, no--not there," replied the man; "but he is dead, nevertheless.Some one cut him down the day the Sutee was carried off."

  "Ah yes, I have heard of that, sir; the people have strange storiesabout it; but who carried her off? and who killed the Brahmun? ABrahmun slain! O the impiety!" continued Lukshmun devoutly; "think ofthat, my son! A holy Brahmun!"

  "I don't know; I was not there," replied the man; "we were still outat Jowly, or it would not have happened: but they said some of AfzoolKhan's men, who were starving, made a Durora on the Sutee, and carriedher off; as to Moro Trimmul, he was no loss--a bad man, my friend,though a Brahmun. They might have spared the girl, however, for all theuse she was to the Brahmuns afterwards. I wonder no one kept her, forshe was very lovely, they say."

  "O sir," cried the hunchback innocently; "and did she not live? Whokilled her?"

  "They say not," he replied; "and that the cruel men killed her forthe ornaments she wore. There was a woman's corpse found some daysafterwards on their track, and the remains were brought here, and herfather was told of it. They say he went mad after that, for he believedthey were his child's. He married Moro Trimmul's sister, you know. Ah,it is a curious story altogether."

  "Indeed," returned Lukshmun simply; "I should like to hear it all. If Ising for you to-night will you tell it to me?"

  "A bargain!" cried the man joyfully; "come to us without fail; we are ajovial lot, and there may be good liquor, and some of the dancers too.I will come for thee. 'Faith, the story of the Moorlee's murder by MoroTrimmul is as good as a scene in a play."

  "What Moorlee?"

  "O, the Tooljapoor girl, Gunga, who was with him. They found her bodyunder the window of his room at Pertabgurh, hanging in the trees belowthe precipice, and so the whole came out; but he was dead before then.One of those dare-devil Mussulmans had killed him, and they took someof the Sutee wood, and burnt him there, by the river."

  "Ai Bhugwan! O Lord, forgive me for having slain the Brahmun,"ejaculated the hunchback to himself; "and I did it too. Well, I can'thelp hitting hard when I do hit; and truly he had murdered some one,it appears, so it was only justice after all. Yes, sir," he continued,"I understand. And the Sutee's father?--her name was T--T--T----"

  "Tara," said the man; "and her father is Vyas Shastree of Tooljapoor.He is better now, and I saw him a while ago sitting by the porch ofVishnu Pundit's door, weak, but better; people pity him very much. NowI must go. You will not forget?"

  "No," said the hunchback; "you will find me at the temple after thelamps are lighted; till then we must sing about the streets. Come, myson. Let us hurry on, boy," continued Lukshmun. "I know the house. Donot pretend to notice any one; we will sing the ballad of the Vow,after the first invocation."

  They passed on rapidly: up a few cross streets and alleys, till theyreached that in which was the house that they sought. In the coveredalcove, beside the outer door, sat several Brahmuns, apparently talkingtogether; one elderly man, covered with a sheet, was reading.

  Lukshmun and Ashruf began to sing their ballads at the doors ofevery house as they advanced, and women from within, came out andgave them handfuls of flour or rice, which were dropped into the bagwhich Lukshmun carried. Gradually, as they came nearer, the hunchbackchanged the songs to those of his own country, Canarese and Mahratta inturn, and he was sure there must be some, with which the Shastree wasfamiliar.

  Yes, it was he, reading, while the others sat near him, and conversedamong themselves; thinner than when the hunchback had last seen him,and looking weak, yet still remarkable and unmistakable. Once ortwice the Shastree had looked up at the singers, not so as to seem tocare about their performance, but as if a familiar sound had reachedhim. Now, however, it came to the turn of the Pundit's house, and thehunchback and Ashruf stopped before it.

  "Go on," said one of the Brahmuns impatiently; "you have been bawlingall down the street, disturbing our meditations, and the Shastree thereis weak. Go on, and make no noise."

  "Maharaj," said Lukshmun, humbly putting up his hands, "we are undera vow, made before the Holy Mother at Tooljapoor" ("May she forgiveme for telling the lie!" he thought parenthetically), "to sing beforeevery house in Wye, and bring her what we get; 'tis a good work,learned sirs, and we are poor people,--do not hinder us; 'tis a longway to go, and we are weary. Let us sing you a ballad for our vow, oronly a verse, else we cannot go on."

  "Make haste then," said the first spokesman impatiently.

  Lukshmun returned the lute; and as he played the prelude which Tarahad heard, he saw Vyas Shastree, who had not noticed him, look up. Hislarge eyes were opened to the full, and he leaned forward with anexpression of intense curiosity. Then the singers broke at once intothe ballad:--

  "Fast her tears fell--faster, faster, As the days pass slowly by."

  "Hold!" he exclaimed, waving his hand; "who are ye? and whence come ye?"

  "From Tooljapoor, O Pundit," said the hunchback humbly.

  "Who taught you that ballad?"

  "No one taught it me. I heard it, and have remembered it. They say oneVyas Shastree composed it. Maybe you have heard of him, sir. He had adaughter named Tara. She was a Moorlee. I have heard they are all deadnow."

  "Ye belong to Tooljapoor?"

  "No, Maharaj; I am from near Allund--a long way from this; but the vowI made is for" ("The gods forgive me if I tell another lie!" he saidinwardly)--"for a--child--O kind sir; if the Mother will send me one.Your worship speaks Canarese?"

  "Yes," said the Shastree, replying in that language; "who art thou?"

  "Do they understand it?" asked the hunchback.

  "No," he replied, "none but my wife, and she only a little. Why dostthou ask?"

  "Can I go into the court? I know all the ballad, and can sing itsweetly for the women; they always like it," returned Lukshmun. "Willyou listen, Maharaj? 'tis not very long;" and as they went in, theysang on more loudly and confidently than before. Some women of thehouse came and looked at them, and listened, and among them were Anundaand Radha. The hunchback looked from the Shastree to his elder wife,and saw the tears falling from both their eyes; at last the Shastreerose and went in to her, and when Anunda saw him, she burst into bitterweeping.

  "Grieve not for one at rest," Lukshmun heard him say; "at rest in thepeace which was denied her here. Yet the old ballad moves me strongly,wife. Come hither," he cried to the singers; "take this for the sakeof.... No matter now; I am Vyas Shastree, and what strange chance hathsent you I know not, bu
t take this," and he offered money.

  "The gods be thanked! No; not from you," exclaimed Lukshmun, inCanarese. "Come aside," he continued in the same tongue, "for I havethat to tell you and her, which will give you new life and strength.Listen," and he whispered in the Shastree's ear; "Tara lives, well andin honour. I bear a token and a letter which she hath sent you. Come,and I will give it; 'tis for her mother, and this letter for thee," andhe took it from a fold in his turban.

  "Anunda! O wife!" cried the Shastree, trembling and gasping forbreath, as he leaned on her, opening the letter. "She lives--our Tara.Come--he knows of her; see her own writing, the holiest and most secretMuntra I taught her; she hath written it."

  "Away with ye!" cried Radha to the other women about, "this is not foryour ears;" and the group were left alone; for Radha, advancing, shutthe door of the court, and stood there with them.

  "Do ye know this?" asked Lukshmun, when he had disengaged the ring fromhis inner garment. "Lady, it was to be given to thee, if thou art hermother! She is well who gave it to me, three days ago."

  Her mother! Who could doubt it who saw Anunda then? The piece of goldspoke a thousand loving greetings to her. She laughed and cried byturns. She could speak nothing intelligibly. She kissed it rapturously,and hugged it close to her bosom, then looked at it till the tearsrained from her eyes, and again did the same. A new life! a newdaughter! born again, as it were. Anunda could not believe it.

  "Thou art mocking us," she said at last, as a revulsion of feelingappeared to possess her. "This was among the jewels given to JanooNaeik, when ... she never got it."

  "True," replied Lukshmun, "and she has the rest," and he enumeratedthem; "and here is a letter about her from my master, with whom she is.Listen to me, I can tell you better than that writing."

  Listen? ah yes, to the sweetest tale they had ever heard, did theylisten for hours. The Brahmuns at the door wondered, and the peoplefrom within came and looked and wondered too, why the Jogies sat heretalking to the Shastree--but still they sat. Once, for a moment, theShastree's cruel belief rose up against him, and forbade him to see anoutcast; but nature asserted its own. "They dare not meddle with me,"he thought, "and we cannot be as she is. But no matter, we will go toher, wife; yes, we will go to-morrow. Get the things ready. Thou wiltguide us, friend?"

  "And guard ye, too, with our lives," said Lukshmun. "Yes, to-morrowearly, we will set out."

  And so next day Vishnu Pundit and his friends marvelled that theShastree and his family left them so suddenly, and knew not why theywent, or whither.