The Home and the World

Rabindranath Tagore

[1861-1941]

Translated [from Bengali to English]by Surendranath Tagore

London: Macmillan, 1919[published in India, 1915, 1916]

[Frontispiece: --see woman. Jpg]

Chapter One

Bimala's Story

I

MOTHER, today there comes back to mind the vermilion mark [1] atthe parting of your hair, the __sari__ [2] which you used towear, with its wide red border, and those wonderful eyes ofyours, full of depth and peace. They came at the start of mylife's journey, like the first streak of dawn, giving me goldenprovision to carry me on my way. 

The sky which gives light is blue, and my mother's face was dark, but she had the radiance of holiness, and her beauty would put toshame all the vanity of the beautiful. 

Everyone says that I resemble my mother. In my childhood I usedto resent this. It made me angry with my mirror. I thought thatit was God's unfairness which was wrapped round my limbs--that mydark features were not my due, but had come to me by somemisunderstanding. All that remained for me to ask of my God inreparation was, that I might grow up to be a model of what womanshould be, as one reads it in some epic poem. 

When the proposal came for my marriage, an astrologer was sent, who consulted my palm and said, "This girl has good signs. Shewill become an ideal wife. "

And all the women who heard it said: "No wonder, for sheresembles her mother. "

I was married into a Rajah's house. When I was a child, I wasquite familiar with the description of the Prince of the fairystory. But my husband's face was not of a kind that one'simagination would place in fairyland. It was dark, even as minewas. The feeling of shrinking, which I had about my own lack ofphysical beauty, was lifted a little; at the same time a touch ofregret was left lingering in my heart. 

But when the physical appearance evades the scrutiny of oursenses and enters the sanctuary of our hearts, then it can forgetitself. I know, from my childhood's experience, how devotion isbeauty itself, in its inner aspect. When my mother arranged thedifferent fruits, carefully peeled by her own loving hands, onthe white stone plate, and gently waved her fan to drive away theflies while my father sat down to his meals, her service wouldlose itself in a beauty which passed beyond outward forms. Evenin my infancy I could feel its power. It transcended alldebates, or doubts, or calculations: it was pure music. 

I distinctly remember after my marriage, when, early in themorning, I would cautiously and silently get up and take the dust[3] of my husband's feet without waking him, how at such momentsI could feel the vermilion mark upon my forehead shining out likethe morning star. 

One day, he happened to awake, and smiled as he asked me: "Whatis that, Bimala? What __are__ you doing?"

I can never forget the shame of being detected by him. He mightpossibly have thought that I was trying to earn merit secretly. But no, no! That had nothing to do with merit. It was mywoman's heart, which must worship in order to love. 

My father-in-law's house was old in dignity from the days of the__Badshahs__. Some of its manners were of the Moguls andPathans, some of its customs of Manu and Parashar. But myhusband was absolutely modern. He was the first of the house togo through a college course and take his M. A. Degree. His elderbrother had died young, of drink, and had left no children. Myhusband did not drink and was not given to dissipation. Soforeign to the family was this abstinence, that to many it hardlyseemed decent! Purity, they imagined, was only becoming in thoseon whom fortune had not smiled. It is the moon which has roomfor stains, not the stars. 

My husband's parents had died long ago, and his old grandmotherwas mistress of the house. My husband was the apple of her eye, the jewel on her bosom. And so he never met with much difficultyin overstepping any of the ancient usages. When he brought inMiss Gilby, to teach me and be my companion, he stuck to hisresolve in spite of the poison secreted by all the waggingtongues at home and outside. 

My husband had then just got through his B. A. Examination andwas reading for his M. A. Degree; so he had to stay in Calcuttato attend college. He used to write to me almost every day, afew lines only, and simple words, but his bold, round handwritingwould look up into my face, oh, so tenderly! I kept his lettersin a sandalwood box and covered them every day with the flowers Igathered in the garden. 

At that time the Prince of the fairy tale had faded, like themoon in the morning light. I had the Prince of my real worldenthroned in my heart. I was his queen. I had my seat by hisside. But my real joy was, that my true place was at his feet. 

Since then, I have been educated, and introduced to the modernage in its own language, and therefore these words that I writeseem to blush with shame in their prose setting. Except for myacquaintance with this modern standard of life, I should know, quite naturally, that just as my being born a woman was not in myown hands, so the element of devotion in woman's love is not likea hackneyed passage quoted from a romantic poem to be piouslywritten down in round hand in a school-girl's copy-book. 

But my husband would not give me any opportunity for worship. That was his greatness. They are cowards who claim absolutedevotion from their wives as their right; that is a humiliationfor both. 

His love for me seemed to overflow my limits by its flood ofwealth and service. But my necessity was more for giving thanfor receiving; for love is a vagabond, who can make his flowersbloom in the wayside dust, better than in the crystal jars keptin the drawing-room. 

My husband could not break completely with the old-timetraditions which prevailed in our family. It was difficult, therefore, for us to meet at any hour of the day we pleased. [4]I knew exactly the time that he could come to me, and thereforeour meeting had all the care of loving preparation. It was likethe rhyming of a poem; it had to come through the path of themetre. 

After finishing the day's work and taking my afternoon bath, Iwould do up my hair and renew my vermilion mark and put on my__sari__, carefully crinkled; and then, bringing back my bodyand mind from all distractions of household duties, I woulddedicate it at this special hour, with special ceremonies, to oneindividual. That time, each day, with him was short; but it wasinfinite. 

My husband used to say, that man and wife are equal in lovebecause of their equal claim on each other. I never argued thepoint with him, but my heart said that devotion never stands inthe way of true equality; it only raises the level of the groundof meeting. Therefore the joy of the higher equality remainspermanent; it never slides down to the vulgar level of triviality. 

My beloved, it was worthy of you that you never expected worshipfrom me. But if you had accepted it, you would have done me areal service. You showed your love by decorating me, byeducating me, by giving me what I asked for, and what I did not. I have seen what depth of love there was in your eyes when yougazed at me. I have known the secret sigh of pain you suppressedin your love for me. You loved my body as if it were a flower ofparadise. You loved my whole nature as if it had been given youby some rare providence. 

Such lavish devotion made me proud to think that the wealth wasall my own which drove you to my gate. But vanity such as thisonly checks the flow of free surrender in a woman's love. When Isit on the queen's throne and claim homage, then the claim onlygoes on magnifying itself; it is never satisfied. Can there beany real happiness for a woman in merely feeling that she haspower over a man? To surrender one's pride in devotion iswoman's only salvation. 

It comes back to me today how, in the days of our happiness, thefires of envy sprung up all around us. That was only natural, for had I not stepped into my good fortune by a mere chance, andwithout deserving it? But providence does not allow a run ofluck to last for ever, unless its debt of honour be fully paid, day by day, through many a long day, and thus made secure. Godmay grant us gifts, but the merit of being able to take and holdthem must be our own. Alas for the boons that slip throughunworthy hands!

My husband's grandmother and mother were both renowned for theirbeauty. And my widowed sister-in-law was also of a beauty rarelyto be seen. When, in turn, fate left them desolate, thegrandmother vowed she would not insist on having beauty for herremaining grandson when he married. Only the auspicious markswith which I was endowed gained me an entry into this family--otherwise, I had no claim to be here. 

In this house of luxury, but few of its ladies had received theirmeed of respect. They had, however, got used to the ways of thefamily, and managed to keep their heads above water, buoyed up bytheir dignity as __Ranis__ of an ancient house, in spite oftheir daily tears being drowned in the foam of wine, and by thetinkle of the "dancing girls" anklets. Was the credit due to methat my husband did not touch liquor, nor squander his manhood inthe markets of woman's flesh? What charm did I know to soothethe wild and wandering mind of men? It was my good luck, nothingelse. For fate proved utterly callous to my sister-in-law. Herfestivity died out, while yet the evening was early, leaving thelight of her beauty shining in vain over empty halls--burning andburning, with no accompanying music!

His sister-in-law affected a contempt for my husband's modernnotions. How absurd to keep the family ship, laden with all theweight of its time-honoured glory, sailing under the colours ofhis slip of a girl-wife alone! Often have I felt the lash ofscorn. "A thief who had stolen a husband's love!" "A shamhidden in the shamelessness of her new-fangled finery!" Themany-coloured garments of modern fashion with which my husbandloved to adorn me roused jealous wrath. "Is not she ashamed tomake a show-window of herself--and with her looks, too!"

My husband was aware of all this, but his gentleness knew nobounds. He used to implore me to forgive her. 

I remember I once told him: "Women's minds are so petty, socrooked!" "Like the feet of Chinese women, " he replied. "Hasnot the pressure of society cramped them into pettiness andcrookedness? They are but pawns of the fate which gambles withthem. What responsibility have they of their own?"

My sister-in-law never failed to get from my husband whatever shewanted. He did not stop to consider whether her requests wereright or reasonable. But what exasperated me most was that shewas not grateful for this. I had promised my husband that Iwould not talk back at her, but this set me raging all the more, inwardly. I used to feel that goodness has a limit, which, ifpassed, somehow seems to make men cowardly. Shall I tell thewhole truth? I have often wished that my husband had themanliness to be a little less good. 

My sister-in-law, the Bara Rani, [5] was still young and had nopretensions to saintliness. Rather, her talk and jest and laughinclined to be forward. The young maids with whom she surroundedherself were also impudent to a degree. But there was none togainsay her--for was not this the custom of the house? It seemedto me that my good fortune in having a stainless husband was aspecial eyesore to her. He, however, felt more the sorrow of herlot than the defects of her character. 

------

1. The mark of Hindu wifehood and the symbol of all the devotionthat it implies. 

2. The __sari__ is the dress of the Hindu woman. 

3. Taking the dust of the feet is a formal offering of reverenceand is done by lightly touching the feet of the revered one andthen one's own head with the same hand. The wife does notordinarily do this to the husband. 

4. It would not be reckoned good form for the husband to becontinually going into the zenana, except at particular hours formeals or rest. 

5. __Bara__ = Senior; __Chota__ = Junior. In jointfamilies of rank, though the widows remain entitled only to alife-interest in their husbands' share, their rank remains tothem according to seniority, and the titles "Senior" and "Junior"continue to distinguish the elder and younger branches, eventhough the junior branch be the one in power. 

II

My husband was very eager to take me out of __purdah__. [6]

One day I said to him: "What do I want with the outside world?"

"The outside world may want you, " he replied. 

"If the outside world has got on so long without me, it may go onfor some time longer. It need not pine to death for want of me. "

"Let it perish, for all I care! That is not troubling me. I amthinking about myself. "

"Oh, indeed. Tell me what about yourself?"

My husband was silent, with a smile. 

I knew his way, and protested at once: "No, no, you are not goingto run away from me like that! I want to have this out withyou. "

"Can one ever finish a subject with words?"

"Do stop speaking in riddles. Tell me. .. "

"What I want is, that I should have you, and you should have me, more fully in the outside world. That is where we are still indebt to each other. "

"Is anything wanting, then, in the love we have here at home?"

"Here you are wrapped up in me. You know neither what you have, nor what you want. "

"I cannot bear to hear you talk like this. "

"I would have you come into the heart of the outer world and meetreality. Merely going on with your household duties, living allyour life in the world of household conventions and the drudgeryof household tasks--you were not made for that! If we meet, andrecognize each other, in the real world, then only will our lovebe true. "

"If there be any drawback here to our full recognition of eachother, then I have nothing to say. But as for myself, I feel nowant. "

"Well, even if the drawback is only on my side, why shouldn't youhelp to remove it?"

Such discussions repeatedly occurred. One day he said: "Thegreedy man who is fond of his fish stew has no compunction incutting up the fish according to his need. But the man who lovesthe fish wants to enjoy it in the water; and if that isimpossible he waits on the bank; and even if he comes back homewithout a sight of it he has the consolation of knowing that thefish is all right. Perfect gain is the best of all; but if thatis impossible, then the next best gain is perfect losing. "

I never liked the way my husband had of talking on this subject, but that is not the reason why I refused to leave the zenana. His grandmother was still alive. My husband had filled more thana hundred and twenty per cent of the house with the twentiethcentury, against her taste; but she had borne it uncomplaining. She would have borne it, likewise, if the daughter-in-law [7] ofthe Rajah's house had left its seclusion. She was even preparedfor this happening. But I did not consider it important enoughto give her the pain of it. I have read in books that we arecalled "caged birds". I cannot speak for others, but I had somuch in this cage of mine that there was not room for it in theuniverse--at least that is what I then felt. 

The grandmother, in her old age, was very fond of me. At thebottom of her fondness was the thought that, with the conspiracyof favourable stars which attended me, I had been able to attractmy husband's love. Were not men naturally inclined to plungedownwards? None of the others, for all their beauty, had beenable to prevent their husbands going headlong into the burningdepths which consumed and destroyed them. She believed that Ihad been the means of extinguishing this fire, so deadly to themen of the family. So she kept me in the shelter of her bosom, and trembled if I was in the least bit unwell. 

His grandmother did not like the dresses and ornaments my husbandbrought from European shops to deck me with. But she reflected:"Men will have some absurd hobby or other, which is sure to beexpensive. It is no use trying to check their extravagance; oneis glad enough if they stop short of ruin. If my Nikhil had notbeen busy dressing up his wife there is no knowing whom else hemight have spent his money on!" So whenever any new dress ofmine arrived she used to send for my husband and make merry overit. 

Thus it came about that it was her taste which changed. Theinfluence of the modern age fell so strongly upon her, that herevenings refused to pass if I did not tell her stories out ofEnglish books. 

After his grandmother's death, my husband wanted me to go andlive with him in Calcutta. But I could not bring myself to dothat. Was not this our House, which she had kept under hersheltering care through all her trials and troubles? Would not acurse come upon me if I deserted it and went off to town? Thiswas the thought that kept me back, as her empty seatreproachfully looked up at me. That noble lady had come intothis house at the age of eight, and had died in her seventy-ninthyear. She had not spent a happy life. Fate had hurled shaftafter shaft at her breast, only to draw out more and more theimperishable spirit within. This great house was hallowed withher tears. What should I do in the dust of Calcutta, away fromit?

My husband's idea was that this would be a good opportunity forleaving to my sister-in-law the consolation of ruling over thehousehold, giving our life, at the same time, more room to branchout in Calcutta. That is just where my difficulty came in. Shehad worried my life out, she ill brooked my husband's happiness, and for this she was to be rewarded! And what of the day when weshould have to come back here? Should I then get back my seat atthe head?

"What do you want with that seat?" my husband would say. "Arethere not more precious things in life?"

Men never understand these things. They have their nests in theoutside world; they little know the whole of what the householdstands for. In these matters they ought to follow womanlyguidance. Such were my thoughts at that time. 

I felt the real point was, that one ought to stand up for one'srights. To go away, and leave everything in the hands of theenemy, would be nothing short of owning defeat. 

But why did not my husband compel me to go with him to Calcutta?I know the reason. He did not use his power, just because he hadit. 

------

6. The seclusion of the zenana, and all the customs peculiar toit, are designated by the general term "Purdah", which meansScreen. 

7. The prestige of the daughter-in-law is of the first importancein a Hindu household of rank [Trans. ]. 

III

IF one had to fill in, little by little, the gap between day andnight, it would take an eternity to do it. But the sun rises andthe darkness is dispelled--a moment is sufficient to overcome aninfinite distance. 

One day there came the new era of __Swadeshi__ [8] in Bengal;but as to how it happened, we had no distinct vision. There wasno gradual slope connecting the past with the present. For thatreason, I imagine, the new epoch came in like a flood, breakingdown the dykes and sweeping all our prudence and fear before it. We had no time even to think about, or understand, what hadhappened, or what was about to happen. 

My sight and my mind, my hopes and my desires, became red withthe passion of this new age. Though, up to this time, the wallsof the home--which was the ultimate world to my mind--remainedunbroken, yet I stood looking over into the distance, and I hearda voice from the far horizon, whose meaning was not perfectlyclear to me, but whose call went straight to my heart. 

From the time my husband had been a college student he had beentrying to get the things required by our people produced in ourown country. There are plenty of date trees in our district. Hetried to invent an apparatus for extracting the juice and boilingit into sugar and treacle. I heard that it was a great success, only it extracted more money than juice. After a while he cameto the conclusion that our attempts at reviving our industrieswere not succeeding for want of a bank of our own. He was, atthe time, trying to teach me political economy. This alone wouldnot have done much harm, but he also took it into his head toteach his countrymen ideas of thrift, so as to pave the way for abank; and then he actually started a small bank. Its high rateof interest, which made the villagers flock so enthusiasticallyto put in their money, ended by swamping the bank altogether. 

The old officers of the estate felt troubled and frightened. There was jubilation in the enemy's camp. Of all the family, only my husband's grandmother remained unmoved. She would scoldme, saying: "Why are you all plaguing him so? Is it the fate ofthe estate that is worrying you? How many times have I seen thisestate in the hands of the court receiver! Are men like women?Men are born spendthrifts and only know how to waste. Look here, child, count yourself fortunate that your husband is not wastinghimself as well!"

My husband's list of charities was a long one. He would assistto the bitter end of utter failure anyone who wanted to invent anew loom or rice-husking machine. But what annoyed me most wasthe way that Sandip Babu [9] used to fleece him on the pretext of__Swadeshi__ work. Whenever he wanted to start a newspaper, or travel about preaching the Cause, or take a change of air bythe advice of his doctor, my husband would unquestioningly supplyhim with the money. This was over and above the regular livingallowance which Sandip Babu also received from him. Thestrangest part of it was that my husband and Sandip Babu did notagree in their opinions. 

As soon as the __Swadeshi__ storm reached my blood, I said tomy husband: "I must burn all my foreign clothes. "

"Why burn them?" said he. "You need not wear them as long asyou please. "

"As long as I please! Not in this life . .. "

"Very well, do not wear them for the rest of your life, then. But why this bonfire business?"

"Would you thwart me in my resolve?"

"What I want to say is this: Why not try to build up something?You should not waste even a tenth part of your energies in thisdestructive excitement. "

"Such excitement will give us the energy to build. "

"That is as much as to say, that you cannot light the houseunless you set fire to it. "

Then there came another trouble. When Miss Gilby first came toour house there was a great flutter, which afterwards calmed downwhen they got used to her. Now the whole thing was stirred upafresh. I had never bothered myself before as to whether MissGilby was European or Indian, but I began to do so now. I saidto my husband: "We must get rid of Miss Gilby. "

He kept silent. 

I talked to him wildly, and he went away sad at heart. 

After a fit of weeping, I felt in a more reasonable mood when wemet at night. "I cannot, " my husband said, "look upon Miss Gilbythrough a mist of abstraction, just because she is English. Cannot you get over the barrier of her name after such a longacquaintance? Cannot you realize that she loves you?"

I felt a little ashamed and replied with some sharpness: "Let herremain. I am not over anxious to send her away. " And Miss Gilbyremained. 

But one day I was told that she had been insulted by a youngfellow on her way to church. This was a boy whom we weresupporting. My husband turned him out of the house. There wasnot a single soul, that day, who could forgive my husband forthat act--not even I. This time Miss Gilby left of her ownaccord. She shed tears when she came to say good-bye, but mymood would not melt. To slander the poor boy so--and such a fineboy, too, who would forget his daily bath and food in hisenthusiasm for __Swadeshi__. 

My husband escorted Miss Gilby to the railway station in his owncarriage. I was sure he was going too far. When exaggeratedaccounts of the incident gave rise to a public scandal, whichfound its way to the newspapers, I felt he had been rightlyserved. 

I had often become anxious at my husband's doings, but had neverbefore been ashamed; yet now I had to blush for him! I did notknow exactly, nor did I care, what wrong poor Noren might, ormight not, have done to Miss Gilby, but the idea of sitting injudgement on such a matter at such a time! I should have refusedto damp the spirit which prompted young Noren to defy theEnglishwoman. I could not but look upon it as a sign ofcowardice in my husband, that he should fail to understand thissimple thing. And so I blushed for him. 

And yet it was not that my husband refused to support__Swadeshi__, or was in any way against the Cause. Only hehad not been able whole-heartedly to accept the spirit of__Bande Mataram__. [10]

"I am willing, " he said, "to serve my country; but my worship Ireserve for Right which is far greater than my country. Toworship my country as a god is to bring a curse upon it. "

------

8. The Nationalist movement, which began more as an economic thana political one, having as its main object the encouragement ofindigenous industries [Trans. ]. 

9. "Babu" is a term of respect, like "Father" or "Mister, " buthas also meant in colonial days a person who understands someEnglish. [on-line ed. ]

10. Lit. : "Hail Mother"; the opening words of a song by BankimChatterjee, the famous Bengali novelist. The song has now becomethe national anthem, and __Bande Mataram__ the national cry, since the days of the __Swadeshi__ movement [Trans. ]. 

Chapter Two

Bimala's Story

IV

THIS was the time when Sandip Babu with his followers came to ourneighbourhood to preach __Swadeshi__. 

There is to be a big meeting in our temple pavilion. We womenare sitting there, on one side, behind a screen. Triumphantshouts of __Bande Mataram__ come nearer: and to them I amthrilling through and through. Suddenly a stream of barefootedyouths in turbans, clad in ascetic ochre, rushes into thequadrangle, like a silt-reddened freshet into a dry river-bed atthe first burst of the rains. The whole place is filled with animmense crowd, through which Sandip Babu is borne, seated in abig chair hoisted on the shoulders of ten or twelve of theyouths. 

__Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram__! It seemsas though the skies would be rent and scattered into a thousandfragments. 

I had seen Sandip Babu's photograph before. There was somethingin his features which I did not quite like. Not that he was bad-looking--far from it: he had a splendidly handsome face. Yet, Iknow not why, it seemed to me, in spite of all its brilliance, that too much of base alloy had gone into its making. The lightin his eyes somehow did not shine true. That was why I did notlike it when my husband unquestioningly gave in to all hisdemands. I could bear the waste of money; but it vexed me tothink that he was imposing on my husband, taking advantage offriendship. His bearing was not that of an ascetic, nor even ofa person of moderate means, but foppish all over. Love ofcomfort seemed to . .. Any number of such reflections come backto me today, but let them be. 

When, however, Sandip Babu began to speak that afternoon, and thehearts of the crowd swayed and surged to his words, as thoughthey would break all bounds, I saw him wonderfully transformed. Especially when his features were suddenly lit up by a shaft oflight from the slowly setting sun, as it sunk below the roof-lineof the pavilion, he seemed to me to be marked out by the gods astheir messenger to mortal men and women. 

From beginning to end of his speech, each one of his utteranceswas a stormy outburst. There was no limit to the confidence ofhis assurance. I do not know how it happened, but I found I hadimpatiently pushed away the screen from before me and had fixedmy gaze upon him. Yet there was none in that crowd who paid anyheed to my doings. Only once, I noticed, his eyes, like stars infateful Orion, flashed full on my face. 

I was utterly unconscious of myself. I was no longer the lady ofthe Rajah's house, but the sole representative of Bengal'swomanhood. And he was the champion of Bengal. As the sky hadshed its light over him, so he must receive the consecration of awoman's benediction . .. 

It seemed clear to me that, since he had caught sight of me, thefire in his words had flamed up more fiercely. Indra's [11]steed refused to be reined in, and there came the roar of thunderand the flash of lightning. I said within myself that hislanguage had caught fire from my eyes; for we women are not onlythe deities of the household fire, but the flame of the soulitself. 

I returned home that evening radiant with a new pride and joy. The storm within me had shifted my whole being from one centre toanother. Like the Greek maidens of old, I fain would cut off mylong, resplendent tresses to make a bowstring for my hero. Hadmy outward ornaments been connected with my inner feelings, thenmy necklet, my armlets, my bracelets, would all have burst theirbonds and flung themselves over that assembly like a shower ofmeteors. Only some personal sacrifice, I felt, could help me tobear the tumult of my exaltation. 

When my husband came home later, I was trembling lest he shouldutter a sound out of tune with the triumphant paean which wasstill ringing in my ears, lest his fanaticism for truth shouldlead him to express disapproval of anything that had been saidthat afternoon. For then I should have openly defied andhumiliated him. But he did not say a word . .. Which I did notlike either. 

He should have said: "Sandip has brought me to my senses. I nowrealize how mistaken I have been all this time. "

I somehow felt that he was spitefully silent, that he obstinatelyrefused to be enthusiastic. I asked how long Sandip Babu wasgoing to be with us. 

"He is off to Rangpur early tomorrow morning, " said my husband. 

"Must it be tomorrow?"

"Yes, he is already engaged to speak there. "

I was silent for a while and then asked again: "Could he notpossibly stay a day longer?"

"That may hardly be possible, but why?"

"I want to invite him to dinner and attend on him myself. "

My husband was surprised. He had often entreated me to bepresent when he had particular friends to dinner, but I had neverlet myself be persuaded. He gazed at me curiously, in silence, with a look I did not quite understand. 

I was suddenly overcome with a sense of shame. "No, no, " Iexclaimed, "that would never do!"

"Why not!" said he. "I will ask him myself, and if it is at allpossible he will surely stay on for tomorrow. "

It turned out to be quite possible. 

I will tell the exact truth. That day I reproached my Creatorbecause he had not made me surpassingly beautiful--not to stealany heart away, but because beauty is glory. In this great daythe men of the country should realize its goddess in itswomanhood. But, alas, the eyes of men fail to discern thegoddess, if outward beauty be lacking. Would Sandip Babu findthe __Shakti__ of the Motherland manifest in me? Or would hesimply take me to be an ordinary, domestic woman?

That morning I scented my flowing hair and tied it in a looseknot, bound by a cunningly intertwined red silk ribbon. Dinner, you see, was to be served at midday, and there was no time to drymy hair after my bath and do it up plaited in the ordinary way. I put on a gold-bordered white __sari__, and my short-sleevemuslin jacket was also gold-bordered. 

I felt that there was a certain restraint about my costume andthat nothing could well have been simpler. But my sister-in-law, who happened to be passing by, stopped dead before me, surveyedme from head to foot and with compressed lips smiled a meaningsmile. When I asked her the reason, "I am admiring your get-up!"she said. 

"What is there so entertaining about it?" I enquired, considerably annoyed. 

"It's superb, " she said. "I was only thinking that one of thoselow-necked English bodices would have made it perfect. " Not onlyher mouth and eyes, but her whole body seemed to ripple withsuppressed laughter as she left the room. 

I was very, very angry, and wanted to change everything and puton my everyday clothes. But I cannot tell exactly why I couldnot carry out my impulse. Women are the ornaments of society--thus I reasoned with myself--and my husband would never like it, if I appeared before Sandip Babu unworthily clad. 

My idea had been to make my appearance after they had sat down todinner. In the bustle of looking after the serving the firstawkwardness would have passed off. But dinner was not ready intime, and it was getting late. Meanwhile my husband had sent forme to introduce the guest. 

I was feeling horribly shy about looking Sandip Babu in the face. However, I managed to recover myself enough to say: "I am sosorry dinner is getting late. "

He boldly came and sat right beside me as he replied: "I get adinner of some kind every day, but the Goddess of Plenty keepsbehind the scenes. Now that the goddess herself has appeared, itmatters little if the dinner lags behind. "

He was just as emphatic in his manners as he was in his publicspeaking. He had no hesitation and seemed to be accustomed tooccupy, unchallenged, his chosen seat. He claimed the right tointimacy so confidently, that the blame would seem to belong tothose who should dispute it. 

I was in terror lest Sandip Babu should take me for a shrinking, old-fashioned bundle of inanity. But, for the life of me, Icould not sparkle in repartees such as might charm or dazzle him. What could have possessed me, I angrily wondered, to appearbefore him in such an absurd way?

I was about to retire when dinner was over, but Sandip Babu, asbold as ever, placed himself in my way. 

"You must not, " he said, "think me greedy. It was not the dinnerthat kept me staying on, it was your invitation. If you were torun away now, that would not be playing fair with your guest. "

If he had not said these words with a careless ease, they wouldhave been out of tune. But, after all, he was such a greatfriend of my husband that I was like his sister. 

While I was struggling to climb up this high wave of intimacy, myhusband came to the rescue, saying: "Why not come back to usafter you have taken your dinner?"

"But you must give your word, " said Sandip Babu, "before we letyou off. "

"I will come, " said I, with a slight smile. 

"Let me tell you, " continued Sandip Babu, "why I cannot trustyou. Nikhil has been married these nine years, and all thiswhile you have eluded me. If you do this again for another nineyears, we shall never meet again. "

I took up the spirit of his remark as I dropped my voice toreply: "Why even then should we not meet?"

"My horoscope tells me I am to die early. None of my forefathershave survived their thirtieth year. I am now twenty-seven. "

He knew this would go home. This time there must have been ashade of concern in my low voice as I said: "The blessings of thewhole country are sure to avert the evil influence of the stars. "

"Then the blessings of the country must be voiced by its goddess. This is the reason for my anxiety that you should return, so thatmy talisman may begin to work from today. "

Sandip Babu had such a way of taking things by storm that I gotno opportunity of resenting what I never should have permitted inanother. 

"So, " he concluded with a laugh, "I am going to hold this husbandof yours as a hostage till you come back. "

As I was coming away, he exclaimed: "May I trouble you for atrifle?"

I started and turned round. 

"Don't be alarmed, " he said. "It's merely a glass of water. Youmight have noticed that I did not drink any water with my dinner. I take it a little later. "

Upon this I had to make a show of interest and ask him thereason. He began to give the history of his dyspepsia. I wastold how he had been a martyr to it for seven months, and how, after the usual course of nuisances, which included differentallopathic and homoeopathic misadventures, he had obtained themost wonderful results by indigenous methods. 

"Do you know, " he added, with a smile, "God has built even myinfirmities in such a manner that they yield only under thebombardment of __Swadeshi__ pills. "

My husband, at this, broke his silence. "You must confess, " saidhe, "that you have as immense an attraction for foreign medicineas the earth has for meteors. You have three shelves in yoursitting-room full of. .. "

Sandip Babu broke in: "Do you know what they are? They are thepunitive police. They come, not because they are wanted, butbecause they are imposed on us by the rule of this modern age, exacting fines and-inflicting injuries. "

My husband could not bear exaggerations, and I could see hedisliked this. But all ornaments are exaggerations. They arenot made by God, but by man. Once I remember in defence of someuntruth of mine I said to my husband: "Only the trees and beastsand birds tell unmitigated truths, because these poor things havenot the power to invent. In this men show their superiority tothe lower creatures, and women beat even men. Neither is aprofusion of ornament unbecoming for a woman, nor a profusion ofuntruth. "

As I came out into the passage leading to the zenana I found mysister-in-law, standing near a window overlooking the receptionrooms, peeping through the venetian shutter. 

"You here?" I asked in surprise. 

"Eavesdropping!" she replied. 

------

11. The Jupiter Pluvius of Hindu mythology. 

V

When I returned, Sandip Babu was tenderly apologetic. "I amafraid we have spoilt your appetite, " he said. 

I felt greatly ashamed. Indeed, I had been too indecently quickover my dinner. With a little calculation, it would become quiteevident that my non-eating had surpassed the eating. But I hadno idea that anyone could have been deliberately calculating. 

I suppose Sandip Babu detected my feeling of shame, which onlyaugmented it. "I was sure, " he said, "that you had the impulseof the wild deer to run away, but it is a great boon that youtook the trouble to keep your promise with me. "

I could not think of any suitable reply and so I sat down, blushing and uncomfortable, at one end of the sofa. The visionthat I had of myself, as the __Shakti__ of Womanhood, incarnate, crowning Sandip Babu simply with my presence, majesticand unashamed, failed me altogether. 

Sandip Babu deliberately started a discussion with my husband. He knew that his keen wit flashed to the best effect in anargument. I have often since observed, that he never lost anopportunity for a passage at arms whenever I happened to bepresent. 

He was familiar with my husband's views on the cult of __BandeMataram__, and began in a provoking way: "So you do not allowthat there is room for an appeal to the imagination in patrioticwork?"

"It has its place, Sandip, I admit, but I do not believe ingiving it the whole place. I would know my country in its frankreality, and for this I am both afraid and ashamed to make use ofhypnotic texts of patriotism. "

"What you call hypnotic texts I call truth. I truly believe mycountry to be my God. I worship Humanity. God manifests Himselfboth in man and in his country. "

"If that is what you really believe, there should be nodifference for you between man and man, and so between countryand country. "

"Quite true. But my powers are limited, so my worship ofHumanity is continued in the worship of my country. "

"I have nothing against your worship as such, but how is it youpropose to conduct your worship of God by hating other countriesin which He is equally manifest?"

"Hate is also an adjunct of worship. Arjuna won Mahadeva'sfavour by wrestling with him. God will be with us in the end, ifwe are prepared to give Him battle. "

"If that be so, then those who are serving and those who areharming the country are both His devotees. Why, then, trouble topreach patriotism?"

"In the case of one's own country, it is different. There theheart clearly demands worship. "

"If you push the same argument further you can say that since Godis manifested in us, our __self__ has to be worshipped beforeall else; because our natural instinct claims it. "

"Look here, Nikhil, this is all merely dry logic. Can't yourecognize that there is such a thing as feeling?"

"I tell you the truth, Sandip, " my husband replied. "It is myfeelings that are outraged, whenever you try to pass offinjustice as a duty, and unrighteousness as a moral ideal. Thefact, that I am incapable of stealing, is not due to mypossessing logical faculties, but to my having some feeling ofrespect for myself and love for ideals. "

I was raging inwardly. At last I could keep silent no longer. "Is not the history of every country, " I cried, "whether England, France, Germany, or Russia, the history of stealing for the sakeof one's own country?"

"They have to answer for these thefts; they are doing so evennow; their history is not yet ended. "

"At any rate, " interposed Sandip Babu, "why should we not followsuit? Let us first fill our country's coffers with stolen goodsand then take centuries, like these other countries, to answerfor them, if we must. But, I ask you, where do you find this'answering' in history?"

"When Rome was answering for her sin no one knew it. All thattime, there was apparently no limit to her prosperity. But doyou not see one thing: how these political bags of theirs arebursting with lies and treacheries, breaking their backs undertheir weight?"

Never before had I had any opportunity of being present at adiscussion between my husband and his men friends. Whenever heargued with me I could feel his reluctance to push me into acorner. This arose out of the very love he bore me. Today forthe first time I saw his fencer's skill in debate. 

Nevertheless, my heart refused to accept my husband's position. I was struggling to find some answer, but it would not come. When the word "righteousness" comes into an argument, it soundsugly to say that a thing can be too good to be useful. 

All of a sudden Sandip Babu turned to me with the question: "Whatdo __you__ say to this?"

"I do not care about fine distinctions, " I broke out. "I willtell you broadly what I feel. I am only human. I am covetous. I would have good things for my country. If I am obliged, Iwould snatch them and filch them. I have anger. I would beangry for my country's sake. If necessary, I would smite andslay to avenge her insults. I have my desire to be fascinated, and fascination must be supplied to me in bodily shape by mycountry. She must have some visible symbol casting its spellupon my mind. I would make my country a Person, and call herMother, Goddess, Durga--for whom I would redden the earth withsacrificial offerings. I am human, not divine. "

Sandip Babu leapt to his feet with uplifted arms and shouted"Hurrah!"--The next moment he corrected himself and cried:"__Bande Mataram__. "

A shadow of pain passed over the face of my husband. He said tome in a very gentle voice: "Neither am I divine: I am human. Andtherefore I dare not permit the evil which is in me to beexaggerated into an image of my country--never, never!"

Sandip Babu cried out: "See, Nikhil, how in the heart of a womanTruth takes flesh and blood. Woman knows how to be cruel: hervirulence is like a blind storm. It is beautifully fearful. Inman it is ugly, because it harbours in its centre the gnawingworms of reason and thought. I tell you, Nikhil, it is our womenwho will save the country. This is not the time for nicescruples. We must be unswervingly, unreasoningly brutal. Wemust sin. We must give our women red sandal paste with which toanoint and enthrone our sin. Don't you remember what the poetsays:

/* Come, Sin, O beautiful Sin, Let thy stinging red kisses pour down fiery red wine into our blood. Sound the trumpet of imperious evil And cross our forehead with the wreath of exulting lawlessness, O Deity of Desecration, Smear our breasts with the blackest mud of disrepute, unashamed. */

Down with that righteousness, which cannot smilingly bring rackand ruin. "

When Sandip Babu, standing with his head high, insulted at amoment's impulse all that men have cherished as their highest, inall countries and in all times, a shiver went right through mybody. 

But, with a stamp of his foot, he continued his declamation: "Ican see that you are that beautiful spirit of fire, which burnsthe home to ashes and lights up the larger world with its flame. Give to us the indomitable courage to go to the bottom of Ruinitself. Impart grace to all that is baneful. "

It was not clear to whom Sandip Babu addressed his last appeal. It might have been She whom he worshipped with his __BandeMataram__. It might have been the Womanhood of his country. Or it might have been its representative, the woman before him. He would have gone further in the same strain, but my husbandsuddenly rose from his seat and touched him lightly on theshoulder saying: "Sandip, Chandranath Babu is here. "

I started and turned round, to find an aged gentleman at thedoor, calm and dignified, in doubt as to whether he should comein or retire. His face was touched with a gentle light like thatof the setting sun. 

My husband came up to me and whispered: "This is my master, ofwhom I have so often told you. Make your obeisance to him. "

I bent reverently and took the dust of his feet. He gave me hisblessing saying: "May God protect you always, my little mother. "I was sorely in need of such a blessing at that moment. 

Nikhil's Story

I

One day I had the faith to believe that I should be able to bearwhatever came from my God. I never had the trial. Now I thinkit has come. 

I used to test my strength of mind by imagining all kinds of evilwhich might happen to me--poverty, imprisonment, dishonour, death--even Bimala's. And when I said to myself that I should beable to receive these with firmness, I am sure I did notexaggerate. Only I could never even imagine one thing, and todayit is that of which I am thinking, and wondering whether I canreally bear it. There is a thorn somewhere pricking in my heart, constantly giving me pain while I am about my daily work. Itseems to persist even when I am asleep. The very moment I wakeup in the morning, I find that the bloom has gone from the faceof the sky. What is it? What has happened?

My mind has become so sensitive, that even my past life, whichcame to me in the disguise of happiness, seems to wring my veryheart with its falsehood; and the shame and sorrow which arecoming close to me are losing their cover of privacy, all themore because they try to veil their faces. My heart has becomeall eyes. The things that should not be seen, the things I donot want to see--these I must see. 

The day has come at last when my ill-starred life has to revealits destitution in a long-drawn series of exposures. Thispenury, all unexpected, has taken its seat in the heart whereplenitude seemed to reign. The fees which I paid to delusion forjust nine years of my youth have now to be returned with interestto Truth till the end of my days. 

What is the use of straining to keep up my pride? What harm if Iconfess that I have something lacking in me? Possibly it is thatunreasoning forcefulness which women love to find in men. But isstrength mere display of muscularity? Must strength have noscruples in treading the weak underfoot?

But why all these arguments? Worthiness cannot be earned merelyby disputing about it. And I am unworthy, unworthy, unworthy. 

What if I am unworthy? The true value of love is this, that itcan ever bless the unworthy with its own prodigality. For theworthy there are many rewards on God's earth, but God hasspecially reserved love for the unworthy. 

Up till now Bimala was my home-made Bimala, the product of theconfined space and the daily routine of small duties. Did thelove which I received from her, I asked myself, come from thedeep spring of her heart, or was it merely like the dailyprovision of pipe water pumped up by the municipal steam-engineof society?

I longed to find Bimala blossoming fully in all her truth andpower. But the thing I forgot to calculate was, that one mustgive up all claims based on conventional rights, if one wouldfind a person freely revealed in truth. 

Why did I fail to think of this? Was it because of the husband'spride of possession over his wife? No. It was because I placedthe fullest trust upon love. I was vain enough to think that Ihad the power in me to bear the sight of truth in its awfulnakedness. It was tempting Providence, but still I clung to myproud determination to come out victorious in the trial. 

Bimala had failed to understand me in one thing. She could notfully realize that I held as weakness all imposition of force. Only the weak dare not be just. They shirk their responsibilityof fairness and try quickly to get at results through the short-cuts of injustice. Bimala has no patience with patience. Sheloves to find in men the turbulent, the angry, the unjust. Herrespect must have its element of fear. 

I had hoped that when Bimala found herself free in the outerworld she would be rescued from her infatuation for tyranny. Butnow I feel sure that this infatuation is deep down in her nature. Her love is for the boisterous. From the tip of her tongue tothe pit of her stomach she must tingle with red pepper in orderto enjoy the simple fare of life. But my determination was, never to do my duty with frantic impetuosity, helped on by thefiery liquor of excitement. I know Bimala finds it difficult torespect me for this, taking my scruples for feebleness--and sheis quite angry with me because I am not running amuck crying__Bande Mataram__. 

For the matter of that, I have become unpopular with all mycountrymen because I have not joined them in their carousals. They are certain that either I have a longing for some title, orelse that I am afraid of the police. The police on their sidesuspect me of harbouring some hidden design and protesting toomuch in my mildness. 

What I really feel is this, that those who cannot find food fortheir enthusiasm in a knowledge of their country as it actuallyis, or those who cannot love men just because they are men--whoneeds must shout and deify their country in order to keep uptheir excitement--these love excitement more than their country. 

To try to give our infatuation a higher place than Truth is asign of inherent slavishness. Where our minds are free we findourselves lost. Our moribund vitality must have for its ridereither some fantasy, or someone in authority, or a sanction fromthe pundits, in order to make it move. So long as we areimpervious to truth and have to be moved by some hypnoticstimulus, we must know that we lack the capacity for self-government. Whatever may be our condition, we shall either needsome imaginary ghost or some actual medicine-man to terrorizeover us. 

The other day when Sandip accused me of lack of imagination, saying that this prevented me from realizing my country in avisible image, Bimala agreed with him. I did not say anything inmy defence, because to win in argument does not lead tohappiness. Her difference of opinion is not due to anyinequality of intelligence, but rather to dissimilarity ofnature. 

They accuse me of being unimaginative--that is, according tothem, I may have oil in my lamp, but no flame. Now this isexactly the accusation which I bring against them. I would sayto them: "You are dark, even as the flints are. You must come toviolent conflicts and make a noise in order to produce yoursparks. But their disconnected flashes merely assist your pride, and not your clear vision. "

I have been noticing for some time that there is a gross cupidityabout Sandip. His fleshly feelings make him harbour delusionsabout his religion and impel him into a tyrannical attitude inhis patriotism. His intellect is keen, but his nature is coarse, and so he glorifies his selfish lusts under high-sounding names. The cheap consolations of hatred are as urgently necessary forhim as the satisfaction of his appetites. Bimala has oftenwarned me, in the old days, of his hankering after money. Iunderstood this, but I could not bring myself to haggle withSandip. I felt ashamed even to own to myself that he was tryingto take advantage of me. 

It will, however, be difficult to explain to Bimala today thatSandip's love of country is but a different phase of his covetousself-love. Bimala's hero-worship of Sandip makes me hesitate allthe more to talk to her about him, lest some touch of jealousymay lead me unwittingly into exaggeration. It may be that thepain at my heart is already making me see a distorted picture ofSandip. And yet it is better perhaps to speak out than to keepmy feelings gnawing within me. 

II

I have known my master these thirty years. Neither calumny, nordisaster, nor death itself has any terrors for him. Nothingcould have saved me, born as I was into the traditions of thisfamily of ours, but that he has established his own life in thecentre of mine, with its peace and truth and spiritual vision, thus making it possible for me to realize goodness in its truth. 

My master came to me that day and said: "Is it necessary todetain Sandip here any longer?"

His nature was so sensitive to all omens of evil that he had atonce understood. He was not easily moved, but that day he feltthe dark shadow of trouble ahead. Do I not know how well heloves me?

At tea-time I said to Sandip: "I have just had a letter fromRangpur. They are complaining that I am selfishly detaining you. When will you be going there?"

Bimala was pouring out the tea. Her face fell at once. Shethrew just one enquiring glance at Sandip. 

"I have been thinking, " said Sandip, "that this wandering up anddown means a tremendous waste of energy. I feel that if I couldwork from a centre I could achieve more permanent results. "

With this he looked up at Bimala and asked: "Do you not think sotoo?"

Bimala hesitated for a reply and then said: "Both ways seem good--to do the work from a centre, as well as by travelling about. That in which you find greater satisfaction is the way for you. "

"Then let me speak out my mind, " said Sandip. "I have never yetfound any one source of inspiration suffice me for good. That iswhy I have been constantly moving about, rousing enthusiasm inthe people, from which in turn I draw my own store of energy. Today you have given me the message of my country. Such fire Ihave never beheld in any man. I shall be able to spread the fireof enthusiasm in my country by borrowing it from you. No, do notbe ashamed. You are far above all modesty and diffidence. Youare the Queen Bee of our hive, and we the workers shall rallyaround you. You shall be our centre, our inspiration. "

Bimala flushed all over with bashful pride and her hand shook asshe went on pouring out the tea. 

Another day my master came to me and said: "Why don't you two goup to Darjeeling for a change? You are not looking well. Haveyou been getting enough sleep?"

I asked Bimala in the evening whether she would care to have atrip to the Hills. I knew she had a great longing to see theHimalayas. But she refused . .. The country's Cause, I suppose!

I must not lose my faith: I shall wait. The passage from thenarrow to the larger world is stormy. When she is familiar withthis freedom, then I shall know where my place is. If I discoverthat I do not fit in with the arrangement of the outer world, then I shall not quarrel with my fate, but silently take my leave. .. Use force? But for what? Can force prevail against Truth?

Sandip's Story

I

The impotent man says: "That which has come to my share is mine. "And the weak man assents. But the lesson of the whole world is:"That is really mine which I can snatch away. " My country doesnot become mine simply because it is the country of my birth. Itbecomes mine on the day when I am able to win it by force. 

Every man has a natural right to possess, and therefore greed isnatural. It is not in the wisdom of nature that we should becontent to be deprived. What my mind covets, my surroundingsmust supply. This is the only true understanding between ourinner and outer nature in this world. Let moral ideals remainmerely for those poor anaemic creatures of starved desire whosegrasp is weak. Those who can desire with all their soul andenjoy with all their heart, those who have no hesitation orscruple, it is they who are the anointed of Providence. Naturespreads out her riches and loveliest treasures for their benefit. They swim across streams, leap over walls, kick open doors, tohelp themselves to whatever is worth taking. In such a gettingone can rejoice; such wresting as this gives value to the thingtaken. 

Nature surrenders herself, but only to the robber. For shedelights in this forceful desire, this forceful abduction. Andso she does not put the garland of her acceptance round the lean, scraggy neck of the ascetic. The music of the wedding march isstruck. The time of the wedding I must not let pass. My hearttherefore is eager. For, who is the bridegroom? It is I. Thebridegroom's place belongs to him who, torch in hand, can come intime. The bridegroom in Nature's wedding hall comes unexpectedand uninvited. 

Ashamed? No, I am never ashamed! I ask for whatever I want, andI do not always wait to ask before I take it. Those who aredeprived by their own diffidence dignify their privation by thename of modesty. The world into which we are born is the worldof reality. When a man goes away from the market of real thingswith empty hands and empty stomach, merely filling his bag withbig sounding words, I wonder why he ever came into this hardworld at all. Did these men get their appointment from theepicures of the religious world, to play set tunes on sweet, pious texts in that pleasure garden where blossom airy nothings?I neither affect those tunes nor do I find any sustenance inthose blossoms. 

What I desire, I desire positively, superlatively. I want toknead it with both my hands and both my feet; I want to smear itall over my body; I want to gorge myself with it to the full. The scrannel pipes of those who have worn themselves out by theirmoral fastings, till they have become flat and pale like starvedvermin infesting a long-deserted bed, will never reach my ear. 

I would conceal nothing, because that would be cowardly. But ifI cannot bring myself to conceal when concealment is needful, that also is cowardly. Because you have your greed, you buildyour walls. Because I have my greed, I break through them. Youuse your power: I use my craft. These are the realities of life. On these depend kingdoms and empires and all the greatenterprises of men. 

As for those __avatars__ who come down from their paradise totalk to us in some holy jargon--their words are not real. Therefore, in spite of all the applause they get, these sayingsof theirs only find a place in the hiding corners of the weak. 

They are despised by those who are strong, the rulers of theworld. Those who have had the courage to see this have wonsuccess, while those poor wretches who are dragged one way bynature and the other way by these ava tars, they set one foot inthe boat of the real and the other in the boat of the unreal, andthus are in a pitiable plight, able neither to advance nor tokeep their place. 

There are many men who seem to have been born only with anobsession to die. Possibly there is a beauty, like that of asunset, in this lingering death in life which seems to fascinatethem. Nikhil lives this kind of life, if life it may be called. Years ago, I had a great argument with him on this point. 

"It is true, " he said, "that you cannot get anything except byforce. But then what is this force? And then also, what is thisgetting? The strength I believe in is the strength ofrenouncing. "

"So you, " I exclaimed, "are infatuated with the glory ofbankruptcy. "

"Just as desperately as the chick is infatuated about thebankruptcy of its shell, " he replied. "The shell is real enough, yet it is given up in exchange for intangible light and air. Asorry exchange, I suppose you would call it?"

When once Nikhil gets on to metaphor, there is no hope of makinghim see that he is merely dealing with words, not with realities. Well, well, let him be happy with his metaphors. We are theflesh-eaters of the world; we have teeth and nails; we pursue andgrab and tear. We are not satisfied with chewing in the eveningthe cud of the grass we have eaten in the morning. Anyhow, wecannot allow your metaphor-mongers to bar the door to oursustenance. In that case we shall simply steal or rob, for wemust live. 

People will say that I am starting some novel theory just becausethose who are moving in this world are in the habit of talkingdifferently though they are really acting up to it all the time. Therefore they fail to understand, as I do, that this is the onlyworking moral principle. In point of fact, I know that my ideais not an empty theory at all, for it has been proved inpractical life. I have found that my way always wins over thehearts of women, who are creatures of this world of reality anddo not roam about in cloud-land, as men do, in idea-filledballoons. 

Women find in my features, my manner, my gait, my speech, amasterful passion--not a passion dried thin with the heat ofasceticism, not a passion with its face turned back at every stepin doubt and debate, but a full-blooded passion. It roars androlls on, like a flood, with the cry: "I want, I want, I want. "Women feel, in their own heart of hearts, that this indomitablepassion is the lifeblood of the world, acknowledging no law butitself, and therefore victorious. For this reason they have sooften abandoned themselves to be swept away on the flood-tide ofmy passion, recking naught as to whether it takes them to life orto death. This power which wins these women is the power ofmighty men, the power which wins the world of reality. 

Those who imagine the greater desirability of another worldmerely shift their desires from the earth to the skies. Itremains to be seen how high their gushing fountain will play, andfor how long. But this much is certain: women were not createdfor these pale creatures--these lotus-eaters of idealism. 

"Affinity!" When it suited my need, I have often said that Godhas created special pairs of men and women, and that the union ofsuch is the only legitimate union, higher than all unions made bylaw. The reason of it is, that though man wants to follownature, he can find no pleasure in it unless he screens himselfwith some phrase--and that is why this world is so overflowingwith lies. 

"Affinity!" Why should there be only one? There may be affinitywith thousands. It was never in my agreement with nature that Ishould overlook all my innumerable affinities for the sake ofonly one. I have discovered many in my own life up to now, yetthat has not closed the door to one more--and that one is clearlyvisible to my eyes. She has also discovered her own affinity tome. 

And then?

Then, if I do not win I am a coward. 

Chapter Three

Bimala's Story

VI

I WONDER what could have happened to my feeling of shame. Thefact is, I had no time to think about myself. My days and nightswere passing in a whirl, like an eddy with myself in the centre. No gap was left for hesitation or delicacy to enter. 

One day my sister-in-law remarked to my husband: "Up to now thewomen of this house have been kept weeping. Here comes the men'sturn. 

"We must see that they do not miss it, " she continued, turning tome. "I see you are out for the fray, Chota [12] Rani! Hurl yourshafts straight at their hearts. "

Her keen eyes looked me up and down. Not one of the colours intowhich my toilet, my dress, my manners, my speech, had blossomedout had escaped her. I am ashamed to speak of it today, but Ifelt no shame then. Something within me was at work of which Iwas not even conscious. I used to overdress, it is true, butmore like an automaton, with no particular design. No doubt Iknew which effort of mine would prove specially pleasing toSandip Babu, but that required no intuition, for he would discussit openly before all of them. 

One day he said to my husband: "Do you know, Nikhil, when I firstsaw our Queen Bee, she was sitting there so demurely in her gold-bordered __sari__. Her eyes were gazing inquiringly intospace, like stars which had lost their way, just as if she hadbeen for ages standing on the edge of some darkness, looking outfor something unknown. But when I saw her, I felt a quiver runthrough me. It seemed to me that the gold border of her__sari__ was her own inner fire flaming out and twining roundher. That is the flame we want, visible fire! Look here, QueenBee, you really must do us the favour of dressing once more as aliving flame. "

So long I had been like a small river at the border of a village. My rhythm and my language were different from what they are now. But the tide came up from the sea, and my breast heaved; my banksgave way and the great drumbeats of the sea waves echoed in mymad current. I could not understand the meaning of that sound inmy blood. Where was that former self of mine? Whence camefoaming into me this surging flood of glory? Sandip's hungryeyes burnt like the lamps of worship before my shrine. All hisgaze proclaimed that I was a wonder in beauty and power; and theloudness of his praise, spoken and unspoken, drowned all othervoices in my world. Had the Creator created me afresh, Iwondered? Did he wish to make up now for neglecting me so long?I who before was plain had become suddenly beautiful. I whobefore had been of no account now felt in myself all thesplendour of Bengal itself. 

For Sandip Babu was not a mere individual. In him was theconfluence of millions of minds of the country. When he calledme the Queen Bee of the hive, I was acclaimed with a chorus ofpraise by all our patriot workers. After that, the loud jests ofmy sister-in-law could not touch me any longer. My relationswith all the world underwent a change. Sandip Babu made it clearhow all the country was in need of me. I had no difficulty inbelieving this at the time, for I felt that I had the power to doeverything. Divine strength had come to me. It was somethingwhich I had never felt before, which was beyond myself. I had notime to question it to find out what was its nature. It seemedto belong to me, and yet to transcend me. It comprehended thewhole of Bengal. 

Sandip Babu would consult me about every little thing touchingthe Cause. At first I felt very awkward and would hang back, butthat soon wore off. Whatever I suggested seemed to astonish him. He would go into raptures and say: "Men can only think. Youwomen have a way of understanding without thinking. Woman wascreated out of God's own fancy. Man, He had to hammer intoshape. "

Letters used to come to Sandip Babu from all parts of the countrywhich were submitted to me for my opinion. Occasionally hedisagreed with me. But I would not argue with him. Then after aday or two--as if a new light had suddenly dawned upon him--hewould send for me and say: "It was my mistake. Your suggestionwas the correct one. " He would often confess to me that whereverhe had taken steps contrary to my advice he had gone wrong. ThusI gradually came to be convinced that behind whatever was takingplace was Sandip Babu, and behind Sandip Babu was the plaincommon sense of a woman. The glory of a great responsibilityfilled my being. 

My husband had no place in our counsels. Sandip Babu treated himas a younger brother, of whom personally one may be very fond andyet have no use for his business advice. He would tenderly andsmilingly talk about my husband's childlike innocence, sayingthat his curious doctrine and perversities of mind had a flavourof humour which made them all the more lovable. It was seeminglythis very affection for Nikhil which led Sandip Babu to forbearfrom troubling him with the burden of the country. 

Nature has many anodynes in her pharmacy, which she secretlyadministers when vital relations are being insidiously severed, so that none may know of the operation, till at last one awakesto know what a great rent has been made. When the knife was busywith my life's most intimate tie, my mind was so clouded withfumes of intoxicating gas that I was not in the least aware ofwhat a cruel thing was happening. Possibly this is woman'snature. When her passion is roused she loses her sensibility forall that is outside it. When, like the river, we women keep toour banks, we give nourishment with all that we have: when weoverflow them we destroy with all that we are. 

------

12. Bimala. The younger brother's wife, was the __Chota__ orJunior Rani. 

Sandip's Story

II

I can see that something has gone wrong. I got an inkling of itthe other day. 

Ever since my arrival, Nikhil's sitting-room had become a thingamphibious--half women's apartment, half men's: Bimala had accessto it from the zenana, it was not barred to me from the outerside. If we had only gone slow, and made use of our privilegeswith some restraint, we might not have fallen foul of otherpeople. But we went ahead so vehemently that we could not thinkof the consequences. 

Whenever Bee comes into Nikhil's room, I somehow get to know ofit from mine. There are the tinkle of bangles and other littlesounds; the door is perhaps shut with a shade of unnecessaryvehemence; the bookcase is a trifle stiff and creaks if jerkedopen. When I enter I find Bee, with her back to the door, everso busy selecting a book from the shelves. And as I offer toassist her in this difficult task she starts and protests; andthen we naturally get on to other topics. 

The other day, on an inauspicious [13] Thursday afternoon, Isallied forth from my room at the call of these same sounds. There was a man on guard in the passage. I walked on without somuch as glancing at him, but as I approached the door he puthimself in my way saying: "Not that way, sir. "

"Not that way! Why?"

"The Rani Mother is there. "

"Oh, very well. Tell your Rani Mother that Sandip Babu wants tosee her. "

"That cannot be, sir. It is against orders. "

I felt highly indignant. "I order you!" I said in a raisedvoice. 

"Go and announce me. "

The fellow was somewhat taken aback at my attitude. In themeantime I had neared the door. I was on the point of reachingit, when he followed after me and took me by the arm saying: "No, sir, you must not. "

What! To be touched by a flunkey! I snatched away my arm andgave the man a sounding blow. At this moment Bee came out of theroom to find the man about to insult me. 

I shall never forget the picture of her wrath! That Bee isbeautiful is a discovery of my own. Most of our people would seenothing in her. Her tall, slim figure these boors would call"lanky". But it is just this lithesomeness of hers that Iadmire--like an up-leaping fountain of life, coming direct out ofthe depths of the Creator's heart. Her complexion is dark, butit is the lustrous darkness of a sword-blade, keen andscintillating. 

"Nanku!" she commanded, as she stood in the doorway, pointingwith her finger, "leave us. "

"Do not be angry with him, " said I. "If it is against orders, itis I who should retire. "

Bee's voice was still trembling as she replied: "You must not go. Come in. "

It was not a request, but again a command! I followed her in, and taking a chair fanned myself with a fan which was on thetable. Bee scribbled something with a pencil on a sheet of paperand, summoning a servant, handed it to him saying: "Take this tothe Maharaja. "

"Forgive me, " I resumed. "I was unable to control myself, andhit that man of yours. 

"You served him right, " said Bee. 

"But it was not the poor fellow's fault, after all. He was onlyobeying his orders. "

Here Nikhil came in, and as he did so I left my seat with a rapidmovement and went and stood near the window with my back to theroom. 

"Nanku, the guard, has insulted Sandip Babu, " said Bee to Nikhil. 

Nikhil seemed to be so genuinely surprised that I had to turnround and stare at him. Even an outrageously good man fails inkeeping up his pride of truthfulness before his wife--if she bethe proper kind of woman. 

"He insolently stood in the way when Sandip Babu was coming inhere, " continued Bee. "He said he had orders . .. "

"Whose orders?" asked Nikhil. 

"How am I to know?" exclaimed Bee impatiently, her eyes brimmingover with mortification. 

Nikhil sent for the man and questioned him. "It was not myfault, " Nanku repeated sullenly. "I had my orders. "

"Who gave you the order?"

"The Bara Rani Mother. "

We were all silent for a while. After the man had left, Beesaid: "Nanku must go!"

Nikhil remained silent. I could see that his sense of justicewould not allow this. There was no end to his qualms. But thistime he was up against a tough problem. Bee was not the woman totake things lying down. She would have to get even with hersister-in-law by punishing this fellow. And as Nikhil remainedsilent, her eyes flashed fire. She knew not how to pour herscorn upon her husband's feebleness of spirit. Nikhil left theroom after a while without another word. 

The next day Nanku was not to be seen. On inquiry, I learnt thathe had been sent off to some other part of the estates, and thathis wages had not suffered by such transfer. 

I could catch glimpses of the ravages of the storm raging overthis, behind the scenes. All I can say is, that Nikhil is acurious creature, quite out of the common. 

The upshot was, that after this Bee began to send for me to thesitting-room, for a chat, without any contrivance, or pretence ofits being an accident. Thus from bare suggestion we came tobroad hint: the implied came to be expressed. The daughter-in-law of a princely house lives in a starry region so remote fromthe ordinary outsider that there is not even a regular road forhis approach. What a triumphal progress of Truth was this which, gradually but persistently, thrust aside veil after veil ofobscuring custom, till at length Nature herself was laid bare. 

Truth? Of course it was the truth! The attraction of man andwoman for each other is fundamental. The whole world of matter, from the speck of dust upwards, is ranged on its side. And yetmen would keep it hidden away out of sight, behind a tissue ofwords; and with home-made sanctions and prohibitions make of it adomestic utensil. Why, it's as absurd as melting down the solarsystem to make a watch-chain for one's son-in-law! [14]

When, in spite of all, reality awakes at the call of what is butnaked truth, what a gnashing of teeth and beating of breasts isthere! But can one carry on a quarrel with a storm? It nevertakes the trouble to reply, it only gives a shaking. 

I am enjoying the sight of this truth, as it gradually revealsitself. These tremblings of steps, these turnings of the face, are sweet to me: and sweet are the deceptions which deceive notonly others, but also Bee herself. When Reality has to meet theunreal, deception is its principal weapon; for its enemies alwaystry to shame Reality by calling it gross, and so it needs musthide itself, or else put on some disguise. The circumstances aresuch that it dare not frankly avow: "Yes, I am gross, because Iam true. I am flesh. I am passion. I am hunger, unashamed andcruel. "

All is now clear to me. The curtain flaps, and through it I cansee the preparations for the catastrophe. The little red ribbon, which peeps through the luxuriant masses of her hair, with itsflush of secret longing, it is the lolling tongue of the redstorm cloud. I feel the warmth of each turn of her __sari__, each suggestion of her raiment, of which even the wearer may notbe fully conscious. 

Bee was not conscious, because she was ashamed of the reality; towhich men have given a bad name, calling it Satan; and so it hasto steal into the garden of paradise in the guise of a snake, andwhisper secrets into the ears of man's chosen consort and makeher rebellious; then farewell to all ease; and after that comesdeath!

My poor little Queen Bee is living in a dream. She knows notwhich way she is treading. It would not be safe to awaken herbefore the time. It is best for me to pretend to be equallyunconscious. 

The other day, at dinner, she was gazing at me in a curious sortof way, little realizing what such glances mean! As my eyes methers, she turned away with a flush. "You are surprised at myappetite, " I remarked. "I can hide everything, except that I amgreedy! Anyhow, why trouble to blush for me, since I amshameless?"

This only made her colour more furiously, as she stammered: "No, no, I was only. .. "

"I know, " I interrupted. "Women have a weakness for greedy men;for it is this greed of ours which gives them the upper hand. The indulgence which I have always received at their hands hasmade me all the more shameless. I do not mind your watching thegood things disappear, not one bit. I mean to enjoy every one ofthem. "

The other day I was reading an English book in which sex-problemswere treated in an audaciously realistic manner. I had left itlying in the sitting-room. As I went there the next afternoon, for something or other, I found Bee seated with this book in herhand. When she heard my footsteps she hurriedly put it down andplaced another book over it--a volume of Mrs Hemans's poems. 

"I have never been able to make out, " I began, "why women are soshy about being caught reading poetry. We men--lawyers, mechanics, or what not--may well feel ashamed. If we must readpoetry, it should be at dead of night, within closed doors. Butyou women are so akin to poesy. The Creator Himself is a lyricpoet, and Jayadeva [15] must have practised the divine art seatedat His feet. "

Bee made no reply, but only blushed uncomfortably. She made asif she would leave the room. Whereupon I protested: "No, no, pray read on. I will just take a book I left here, and runaway. " With which I took up my book from the table. "Lucky youdid not think of glancing over its pages, " I continued, "or youwould have wanted to chastise me. "

"Indeed! Why?" asked Bee. 

"Because it is not poetry, " said I. "Only blunt things, bluntlyput, without any finicking niceness. I wish Nikhil would readit. "

Bee frowned a little as she murmured: "What makes you wish that?"

"He is a man, you see, one of us. My only quarrel with him isthat he delights in a misty vision of this world. Have you notobserved how this trait of his makes him look on __Swadeshi__as if it was some poem of which the metre must be kept correct atevery step? We, with the clubs of our prose, are the iconoclastsof metre. "

"What has your book to do with __Swadeshi__?"

"You would know if you only read it. Nikhil wants to go by made-up maxims, in __Swadeshi__ as in everything else; so he knocksup against human nature at every turn, and then falls to abusingit. He never will realize that human nature was created longbefore phrases were, and will survive them too. "

Bee was silent for a while and then gravely said: "Is it not apart of human nature to try and rise superior to itself?"

I smiled inwardly. "These are not your words", I thought tomyself. "You have learnt them from Nikhil. You are a healthyhuman being. Your flesh and blood have responded to the call ofreality. You are burning in every vein with life-fire--do I notknow it? How long should they keep you cool with the wet towelof moral precepts?"

"The weak are in the majority, " I said aloud. "They arecontinually poisoning the ears of men by repeating theseshibboleths. Nature has denied them strength--it is thus thatthey try to enfeeble others. "

"We women are weak, " replied Bimala. "So I suppose we must joinin the conspiracy of the weak. "

"Women weak!" I exclaimed with a laugh. "Men belaud you asdelicate and fragile, so as to delude you into thinkingyourselves weak. But it is you women who are strong. Men make agreat outward show of their so-called freedom, but those who knowtheir inner minds are aware of their bondage. They havemanufactured scriptures with their own hands to bind themselves;with their very idealism they have made golden fetters of womento wind round their body and mind. If men had not thatextraordinary faculty of entangling themselves in meshes of theirown contriving, nothing could have kept them bound. But as foryou women, you have desired to conceive reality with body andsoul. You have given birth to reality. You have suckled realityat your breasts. "

Bee was well read for a woman, and would not easily give in to myarguments. "If that were true, " she objected, "men would nothave found women attractive. "

"Women realize the danger, " I replied. "They know that men lovedelusions, so they give them full measure by borrowing their ownphrases. They know that man, the drunkard, values intoxicationmore than food, and so they try to pass themselves off as anintoxicant. As a matter of fact, but for the sake of man, womanhas no need for any make-believe. "

"Why, then, are you troubling to destroy the illusion?"

"For freedom. I want the country to be free. I want humanrelations to be free. "

------

13. According to the Hindu calendar [Trans. ]. 

14. The son-in-law is the pet of a Hindu household. 

15. A Vaishnava poet (Sanskrit) whose lyrics of the adoration ofthe Divinity serve as well to express all shades of human passion[Trans. ]. 

III

I was aware that it is unsafe suddenly to awake a sleep-walker. But I am so impetuous by nature, a halting gait does not suit me. I knew I was overbold that day. I knew that the first shock ofsuch ideas is apt to be almost intolerable. But with women it isalways audacity that wins. 

Just as we were getting on nicely, who should walk in butNikhil's old tutor Chandranath Babu. The world would have beennot half a bad place to live in but for these schoolmasters, whomake one want to quit in disgust. The Nikhil type wants to keepthe world always a school. This incarnation of a school turnedup that afternoon at the psychological moment. 

We all remain schoolboys in some corner of our hearts, and I, even I, felt somewhat pulled up. As for poor Bee, she at oncetook her place solemnly, like the topmost girl of the class onthe front bench. All of a sudden she seemed to remember that shehad to face her examination. 

Some people are so like eternal pointsmen lying in wait by theline, to shunt one's train of thought from one rail to another. 

Chandranath Babu had no sooner come in than he cast about forsome excuse to retire, mumbling: "I beg your pardon, I. .. "

Before he could finish, Bee went up to him and made a profoundobeisance, saying: "Pray do not leave us, sir. Will you not takea seat?" She looked like a drowning person clutching at him forsupport--the little coward!

But possibly I was mistaken. It is quite likely that there was atouch of womanly wile in it. She wanted, perhaps, to raise hervalue in my eyes. She might have been pointedly saying to me:"Please don't imagine for a moment that I am entirely overcome byyou. My respect for Chandranath Babu is even greater. "

Well, indulge in your respect by all means! Schoolmasters thriveon it. But not being one of them, I have no use for that emptycompliment. 

Chandranath Babu began to talk about __Swadeshi__. I thoughtI would let him go on with his monologues. There is nothing likeletting an old man talk himself out. It makes him feel that heis winding up the world, forgetting all the while how far awaythe real world is from his wagging tongue. 

But even my worst enemy would not accuse me of patience. Andwhen Chandranath Babu went on to say: "If we expect to gatherfruit where we have sown no seed, then we . .. " I had tointerrupt him. 

"Who wants fruit?" I cried. "We go by the Author of the Gitawho says that we are concerned only with the doing, not with thefruit of our deeds. "

"What is it then that you do want?" asked Chandranath Babu. 

"Thorns!" I exclaimed, "which cost nothing to plant. "

"Thorns do not obstruct others only, " he replied. "They have away of hurting one's own feet. "

"That is all right for a copy-book, " I retorted. "But the realthing is that we have this burning at heart. Now we have only tocultivate thorns for other's soles; afterwards when they hurt uswe shall find leisure to repent. But why be frightened even ofthat? When at last we have to die it will be time enough to getcold. While we are on fire let us seethe and boil. "

Chandranath Babu smiled. "Seethe by all means, " he said, "but donot mistake it for work, or heroism. Nations which have got onin the world have done so by action, not by ebullition. Thosewho have always lain in dread of work, when with a start theyawake to their sorry plight, they look to short-cuts and scampingfor their deliverance. "

I was girding up my loins to deliver a crushing reply, whenNikhil came back. Chandranath Babu rose, and looking towardsBee, said: "Let me go now, my little mother, I have some work toattend to. "

As he left, I showed Nikhil the book in my hand. "I was tellingQueen Bee about this book, " I said. 

Ninety-nine per cent of people have to be deluded with lies, butit is easier to delude this perpetual pupil of the schoolmasterwith the truth. He is best cheated openly. So, in playing withhim, the simplest course was to lay my cards on the table. 

Nikhil read the title on the cover, but said nothing. "Thesewriters, " I continued, "are busy with their brooms, sweeping awaythe dust of epithets with which men have covered up this world ofours. So, as I was saying, I wish you would read it. "

"I have read it, " said Nikhil. 

"Well, what do you say?"

"It is all very well for those who really care to think, butpoison for those who shirk thought. "

"What do you mean?"

"Those who preach 'Equal Rights of Property' should not bethieves. For, if they are, they would be preaching lies. Whenpassion is in the ascendant, this kind of book is not rightlyunderstood. "

"Passion, " I replied, "is the street lamp which guides us. Tocall it untrue is as hopeless as to expect to see better byplucking out our natural eyes. "

Nikhil was visibly growing excited. "I accept the truth ofpassion, " he said, "only when I recognize the truth of restraint. By pressing what we want to see right into our eyes we onlyinjure them: we do not see. So does the violence of passion, which would leave no space between the mind and its object, defeat its purpose. "

"It is simply your intellectual foppery, " I replied, "which makesyou indulge in moral delicacy, ignoring the savage side of truth. This merely helps you to mystify things, and so you fail to doyour work with any degree of strength. "

"The intrusion of strength, " said Nikhil impatiently, "wherestrength is out of place, does not help you in your work . .. Butwhy are we arguing about these things? Vain arguments only brushoff the fresh bloom of truth. "

I wanted Bee to join in the discussion, but she had not said aword up to now. Could I have given her too rude a shock, leavingher assailed with doubts and wanting to learn her lesson afreshfrom the schoolmaster? Still, a thorough shaking-up isessential. One must begin by realizing that things supposed tobe unshakeable can be shaken. 

"I am glad I had this talk with you, " I said to Nikhil, "for Iwas on the point of lending this book to Queen Bee to read. "

"What harm?" said Nikhil. "If I could read the book, why notBimala too? All I want to say is, that in Europe people look ateverything from the viewpoint of science. But man is neithermere physiology, nor biology, nor psychology, nor even sociology. For God's sake don't forget that. Man is infinitely more thanthe natural science of himself. You laugh at me, calling me theschoolmaster's pupil, but that is what you are, not I. You wantto find the truth of man from your science teachers, and not fromyour own inner being. "

"But why all this excitement?" I mocked. 

"Because I see you are bent on insulting man and making himpetty. "

"Where on earth do you see all that?"

"In the air, in my outraged feelings. You would go on woundingthe great, the unselfish, the beautiful in man. "

"What mad idea is this of yours?"

Nikhil suddenly stood up. "I tell you plainly, Sandip, " he said, "man may be wounded unto death, but he will not die. This is thereason why I am ready to suffer all, knowing all, with eyesopen. "

With these words he hurriedly left the room. 

I was staring blankly at his retreating figure, when the sound ofa book, falling from the table, made me turn to find Beefollowing him with quick, nervous steps, making a detour to avoidpassing too near me. 

A curious creature, that Nikhil! He feels the danger threateninghis home, and yet why does he not turn me out? I know, he iswaiting for Bimal to give him the cue. If Bimal tells him thattheir mating has been a misfit, he will bow his head and admitthat it may have been a blunder! He has not the strength of mindto understand that to acknowledge a mistake is the greatest ofall mistakes. He is a typical example of how ideas make forweakness. I have not seen another like him--so whimsical aproduct of nature! He would hardly do as a character in a novelor drama, to say nothing of real life. 

And Bee? I am afraid her dream-life is over from today. She hasat length understood the nature of the current which is bearingher along. Now she must either advance or retreat, open-eyed. The chances are she will now advance a step, and then retreat astep. But that does not disturb me. When one is on fire, thisrushing to and fro makes the blaze all the fiercer. The frightshe has got will only fan her passion. 

Perhaps I had better not say much to her, but simply select somemodern books for her to read. Let her gradually come to theconviction that to acknowledge and respect passion as the supremereality, is to be modern--not to be ashamed of it, not to glorifyrestraint. If she finds shelter in some such word as "modern", she will find strength. 

Be that as it may, I must see this out to the end of the FifthAct. I cannot, unfortunately, boast of being merely a spectator, seated in the royal box, applauding now and again. There is awrench at my heart, a pang in every nerve. When I have put outthe light and am in my bed, little touches, little glances, little words flit about and fill the darkness. When I get up inthe morning, I thrill with lively anticipations, my blood seemsto course through me to the strains of music . .. 

There was a double photo-frame on the table with Bee's photographby the side of Nikhil's. I had taken out hers. Yesterday Ishowed Bee the empty side and said: "Theft becomes necessary onlybecause of miserliness, so its sin must be divided between themiser and the thief. Do you not think so?"

"It was not a good one, " observed Bee simply, with a littlesmile. 

"What is to be done?" said I. "A portrait cannot be better thana portrait. I must be content with it, such as it is. "

Bee took up a book and began to turn over the pages. "If you areannoyed, " I went on, "I must make a shift to fill up thevacancy. "

Today I have filled it up. This photograph of mine was taken inmy early youth. My face was then fresher, and so was my mind. Then I still cherished some illusions about this world and thenext. Faith deceives men, but it has one great merit: it impartsa radiance to the features. 

My portrait now reposes next to Nikhil's, for are not the two ofus old friends?

Chapter Four

Nikhil's Story

III

I WAS never self-conscious. But nowadays I often try to take anoutside view--to see myself as Bimal sees me. What a dismallysolemn picture it makes, my habit of taking things too seriously!

Better, surely, to laugh away the world than flood it with tears. That is, in fact, how the world gets on. We relish our food andrest, only because we can dismiss, as so many empty shadows, thesorrows scattered everywhere, both in the home and in the outerworld. If we took them as true, even for a moment, where wouldbe our appetite, our sleep?

But I cannot dismiss myself as one of these shadows, and so theload of my sorrow lies eternally heavy on the heart of my world. 

Why not stand out aloof in the highway of the universe, and feelyourself to be part of the all? In the midst of the immense, age-long concourse of humanity, what is Bimal to you? Your wife?What is a wife? A bubble of a name blown big with your ownbreath, so carefully guarded night and day, yet ready to burst atany pin-prick from outside. 

My wife--and so, forsooth, my very own! If she says: "No, I ammyself"--am I to reply: "How can that be? Are you not mine?"

"My wife"--Does that amount to an argument, much less the truth?Can one imprison a whole personality within that name?

My wife!--Have I not cherished in this little world all that ispurest and sweetest in my life, never for a moment letting itdown from my bosom to the dust? What incense of worship, whatmusic of passion, what flowers of my spring and of my autumn, have I not offered up at its shrine? If, like a toy paper-boat, she be swept along into the muddy waters of the gutter--would Inot also. .. ?

There it is again, my incorrigible solemnity! Why "muddy"? What"gutter" names, called in a fit of jealousy, do not change thefacts of the world. If Bimal is not mine, she is not; and nofuming, or fretting, or arguing will serve to prove that she is. If my heart is breaking--let it break! That will not make theworld bankrupt--nor even me; for man is so much greater than thethings he loses in this life. The very ocean of tears has itsother shore, else none would have ever wept. 

But then there is Society to be considered . .. Which let Societyconsider! If I weep it is for myself, not for Society. If Bimalshould say she is not mine, what care I where my Society wife maybe?

Suffering there must be; but I must save myself, by any means inmy power, from one form of self-torture: I must never think thatmy life loses its value because of any neglect it may suffer. The full value of my life does not all go to buy my narrowdomestic world; its great commerce does not stand or fall withsome petty success or failure in the bartering of my personaljoys and sorrows. 

The time has come when I must divest Bimala of all the idealdecorations with which I decked her. It was owing to my ownweakness that I indulged in such idolatry. I was too greedy. Icreated an angel of Bimala, in order to exaggerate my ownenjoyment. But Bimala is what she is. It is preposterous toexpect that she should assume the rôle of an angel for mypleasure. The Creator is under no obligation to supply me withangels, just because I have an avidity for imaginary perfection. 

I must acknowledge that I have merely been an accident inBimala's life. Her nature, perhaps, can only find true unionwith one like Sandip. At the same time, I must not, in falsemodesty, accept my rejection as my desert. Sandip certainly hasattractive qualities, which had their sway also upon myself; butyet, I feel sure, he is not a greater man than I. If the wreathof victory falls to his lot today, and I am overlooked, then thedispenser of the wreath will be called to judgement. 

I say this in no spirit of boasting. Sheer necessity has drivenme to the pass, that to secure myself from utter desolation Imust recognize all the value that I truly possess. Therefore, through the, terrible experience of suffering let there come uponme the joy of deliverance--deliverance from self-distrust. 

I have come to distinguish what is really in me from what Ifoolishly imagined to be there. The profit and loss account hasbeen settled, and that which remains is myself--not a crippledself, dressed in rags and tatters, not a sick self to be nursedon invalid diet, but a spirit which has gone through the worst, and has survived. 

My master passed through my room a moment ago and said with hishand on my shoulder. "Get away to bed, Nikhil, the night is faradvanced. "

The fact is, it has become so difficult for me to go to bed tilllate--till Bimal is fast asleep. In the day-time we meet, andeven converse, but what am I to say when we are alone together, in the silence of the night?--so ashamed do I feel in mind andbody. 

"How is it, sir, you have not yet retired?" I asked in my turn. My master smiled a little, as he left me, saying: "My sleepingdays are over. I have now attained the waking age. "

I had written thus far, and was about to rise to go off bedwardswhen, through the window before me, I saw the heavy pall of Julycloud suddenly part a little, and a big star shine through. Itseemed to say to me: "Dreamland ties are made, and dreamland tiesare broken, but I am here for ever--the everlasting lamp of thebridal night. "

All at once my heart was full with the thought that my EternalLove was steadfastly waiting for me through the ages, behind theveil of material things. Through many a life, in many a mirror, have I seen her image--broken mirrors, crooked mirrors, dustymirrors. Whenever I have sought to make the mirror my very own, and shut it up within my box, I have lost sight of the image. But what of that. What have I to do with the mirror, or even theimage?

My beloved, your smile shall never fade, and every dawn thereshall appear fresh for me the vermilion mark on your forehead!

"What childish cajolery of self-deception, " mocks some devil fromhis dark corner--"silly prattle to make children quiet!"

That may be. But millions and millions of children, with theirmillion cries, have to be kept quiet. Can it be that all thismultitude is quieted with only a lie? No, my Eternal Love cannotdeceive me, for she is true!

She is true; that is why I have seen her and shall see her sooften, even in my mistakes, even through the thickest mist oftears. I have seen her and lost her in the crowd of life'smarket-place, and found her again; and I shall find her once morewhen I have escaped through the loophole of death. 

Ah, cruel one, play with me no longer! If I have failed to trackyou by the marks of your footsteps on the way, by the scent ofyour tresses lingering in the air, make me not weep for that forever. The unveiled star tells me not to fear. That which iseternal must always be there. 

Now let me go and see my Bimala. She must have spread her tiredlimbs on the bed, limp after her struggles, and be asleep. Iwill leave a kiss on her forehead without waking her--that shallbe the flower-offering of my worship. I believe I could forgeteverything after death--all my mistakes, all my sufferings--butsome vibration of the memory of that kiss would remain; for thewreath which is being woven out of the kisses of many asuccessive birth is to crown the Eternal Beloved. 

As the gong of the watch rang out, sounding the hour of two, mysister-in-law came into the room. "Whatever are you doing, brother dear?" [16] she cried. "For pity's sake go to bed andstop worrying so. I cannot bear to look on that awful shadow ofpain on your face. " Tears welled up in her eyes and overflowedas she entreated me thus. 

I could not utter a word, but took the dust of her feet, as Iwent off to bed. 

------

16. When a relationship is established by marriage, or by mutualunderstanding arising out of special friendship or affection, thepersons so related call each other in terms of such relationship, and not by name. [Trans. ]. 

Bimala's Story

VII

At first I suspected nothing, feared nothing; I simply feltdedicated to my country. What a stupendous joy there was in thisunquestioning surrender. Verily had I realized how, inthoroughness of self-destruction, man can find supreme bliss. 

For aught I know, this frenzy of mine might have come to agradual, natural end. But Sandip Babu would not have it so, hewould insist on revealing himself. The tone of his voice becameas intimate as a touch, every look flung itself on its knees inbeggary. And, through it all, there burned a passion which inits violence made as though it would tear me up by the roots, anddrag me along by the hair. 

I will not shirk the truth. This cataclysmal desire drew me byday and by night. It seemed desperately alluring--this makinghavoc of myself. What a shame it seemed, how terrible, and yethow sweet! Then there was my overpowering curiosity, to whichthere seemed no limit. He of whom I knew but little, who nevercould assuredly be mine, whose youth flared so vigorously in ahundred points of flame--oh, the mystery of his seethingpassions, so immense, so tumultuous!

I began with a feeling of worship, but that soon passed away. Iceased even to respect Sandip; on the contrary, I began to lookdown upon him. Nevertheless this flesh-and-blood lute of mine, fashioned with my feeling and fancy, found in him a master-player. What though I shrank from his touch, and even came toloathe the lute itself; its music was conjured up all the same. 

I must confess there was something in me which . .. What shall Isay? . .. Which makes me wish I could have died!

Chandranath Babu, when he finds leisure, comes to me. He has thepower to lift my mind up to an eminence from where I can see in amoment the boundary of my life extended on all sides and sorealize that the lines, which I took from my bounds, were merelyimaginary. 

But what is the use of it all? Do I really desire emancipation?Let suffering come to our house; let the best in me shrivel upand become black; but let this infatuation not leave me--suchseems to be my prayer. 

When, before my marriage, I used to see a brother-in-law of mine, now dead, mad with drink--beating his wife in his frenzy, andthen sobbing and howling in maudlin repentance, vowing never totouch liquor again, and yet, the very same evening, sitting downto drink and drink--it would fill me with disgust. But myintoxication today is still more fearful. The stuff has not tobe procured or poured out: it springs within my veins, and I knownot how to resist it. 

Must this continue to the end of my days? Now and again I startand look upon myself, and think my life to be a nightmare whichwill vanish all of a sudden with all its untruth. It has becomeso frightfully incongruous. It has no connection with its past. What it is, how it could have come to this pass, I cannotunderstand. 

One day my sister-in-law remarked with a cutting laugh: "What awonderfully hospitable Chota Rani we have! Her guest absolutelywill not budge. In our time there used to be guests, too; butthey had not such lavish looking after--we were so absurdly takenup with our husbands. Poor brother Nikhil is paying the penaltyof being born too modern. He should have come as a guest if hewanted to stay on. Now it looks as if it were time for him toquit . .. O you little demon, do your glances never fall, bychance, on his agonized face?"

This sarcasm did not touch me; for I knew that these women had itnot in them to understand the nature of the cause of my devotion. I was then wrapped in the protecting armour of the exaltation ofsacrifice, through which such shafts were powerless to reach andshame me. 

VIII

For some time all talk of the country's cause has been dropped. Our conversation nowadays has become full of modern sex-problems, and various other matters, with a sprinkling of poetry, both oldVaishnava and modern English, accompanied by a running undertoneof melody, low down in the bass, such as I have never in my lifeheard before, which seems to me to sound the true manly note, thenote of power. 

The day had come when all cover was gone. There was no longereven the pretence of a reason why Sandip Babu should linger on, or why I should have confidential talks with him every now andthen. I felt thoroughly vexed with myself, with my sister-in-law, with the ways of the world, and I vowed I would never againgo to the outer apartments, not if I were to die for it. 

For two whole days I did not stir out. Then, for the first time, I discovered how far I had travelled. My life felt utterlytasteless. Whatever I touched I wanted to thrust away. I feltmyself waiting--from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes--waiting for something, somebody; my blood kept tingling withsome expectation. 

I tried busying myself with extra work. The bedroom floor wasclean enough but I insisted on its being scrubbed over againunder my eyes. Things were arranged in the cabinets in one kindof order; I pulled them all out and rearranged them in adifferent way. I found no time that afternoon even to do up myhair; I hurriedly tied it into a loose knot, and went and worriedeverybody, fussing about the store-room. The stores seemedshort, and pilfering must have been going on of late, but I couldnot muster up the courage to take any particular person to task--for might not the thought have crossed somebody's mind: "Wherewere your eyes all these days!"

In short, I behaved that day as one possessed. The next day Itried to do some reading. What I read I have no idea, but aftera spell of absentmindedness I found I had wandered away, book inhand, along the passage leading towards the outer apartments, andwas standing by a window looking out upon the verandah runningalong the row of rooms on the opposite side of the quadrangle. One of these rooms, I felt, had crossed over to another shore, and the ferry had ceased to ply. I felt like the ghost of myselfof two days ago, doomed to remain where I was, and yet not reallythere, blankly looking out for ever. 

As I stood there, I saw Sandip come out of his room into theverandah, a newspaper in his hand. I could see that he lookedextraordinarily disturbed. The courtyard, the railings, infront, seemed to rouse his wrath. He flung away his newspaperwith a gesture which seemed to want to rend the space before him. 

I felt I could no longer keep my vow. I was about to move ontowards the sitting-room, when I found my sister-in-law behindme. "O Lord, this beats everything!" she ejaculated, as sheglided away. I could not proceed to the outer apartments. 

The next morning when my maid came calling, "Rani Mother, it isgetting late for giving out the stores, " I flung the keys to her, saying, "Tell Harimati to see to it, " and went on with someembroidery of English pattern on which I was engaged, seated nearthe window. 

Then came a servant with a letter. "From Sandip Babu, " said he. What unbounded boldness! What must the messenger have thought?There was a tremor within my breast as I opened the envelope. There was no address on the letter, only the words: __An urgentmatter--touching the Cause. Sandip__. 

I flung aside the embroidery. I was up on my feet in a moment, giving a touch or two to my hair by the mirror. I kept the__sari__ I had on, changing only my jacket--for one of myjackets had its associations. 

I had to pass through one of the verandahs, where my sister-in-law used to sit in the morning slicing betel-nut. I refused tofeel awkward. "Whither away, Chota Rani?" she cried. 

"To the sitting-room outside. "

"So early! A matinée, eh?"

And, as I passed on without further reply, she hummed after me aflippant song. 

IX

When I was about to enter the sitting-room, I saw Sandip immersedin an illustrated catalogue of British Academy pictures, with hisback to the door. He has a great notion of himself as an expertin matters of Art. 

One day my husband said to him: "If the artists ever want ateacher, they need never lack for one so long as you are there. "It had not been my husband's habit to speak cuttingly, butlatterly there has been a change and he never spares Sandip. 

"What makes you suppose that artists need no teachers?" Sandipretorted. 

"Art is a creation, " my husband replied. "So we should humbly becontent to receive our lessons about Art from the work of theartist. "

Sandip laughed at this modesty, saying: "You think that meeknessis a kind of capital which increases your wealth the more you useit. It is my conviction that those who lack pride only floatabout like water reeds which have no roots in the soil. "

My mind used to be full of contradictions when they talked thus. On the one hand I was eager that my husband should win inargument and that Sandip's pride should be shamed. Yet, on theother, it was Sandip's unabashed pride which attracted me so. Itshone like a precious diamond, which knows no diffidence, andsparkles in the face of the sun itself. 

I entered the room. I knew Sandip could hear my footsteps as Iwent forward, but he pretended not to, and kept his eyes on thebook. 

I dreaded his Art talks, for I could not overcome my delicacyabout the pictures he talked of, and the things he said, and hadmuch ado in putting on an air of overdone insensibility to hidemy qualms. So, I was almost on the point of retracing my steps, when, with a deep sigh, Sandip raised his eyes, and affected tobe startled at the sight of me. "Ah, you have come!" he said. 

In his words, in his tone, in his eyes, there was a world ofsuppressed reproach, as if the claims he had acquired over memade my absence, even for these two or three days, a grievouswrong. I knew this attitude was an insult to me, but, alas, Ihad not the power to resent it. 

I made no reply, but though I was looking another way, I couldnot help feeling that Sandip's plaintive gaze had planted itselfright on my face, and would take no denial. I did so wish hewould say something, so that I could shelter myself behind hiswords. I cannot tell how long this went on, but at last I couldstand it no longer. "What is this matter, " I asked, "you arewanting to tell me about?"

Sandip again affected surprise as he said: "Must there always besome matter? Is friendship by itself a crime? Oh, Queen Bee, tothink that you should make so light of the greatest thing onearth! Is the heart's worship to be shut out like a stray cur?"

There was again that tremor within me. I could feel the crisiscoming, too importunate to be put off. Joy and fear struggledfor the mastery. Would my shoulders, I wondered, be broad enoughto stand its shock, or would it not leave me overthrown, with myface in the dust?

I was trembling all over. Steadying myself with an effort Irepeated: "You summoned me for something touching the Cause, so Ihave left my household duties to attend to it. "

"That is just what I was trying to explain, " he said, with a drylaugh. "Do you not know that I come to worship? Have I not toldyou that, in you, I visualize the __Shakti__ of our country?The Geography of a country is not the whole truth. No one cangive up his life for a map! When I see you before me, then onlydo I realize how lovely my country is. When you have anointed mewith your own hands, then shall I know I have the sanction of mycountry; and if, with that in my heart, I fall fighting, it shallnot be on the dust of some map-made land, but on a lovinglyspread skirt--do you know what kind of skirt?--like that of theearthen-red __sari__ you wore the other day, with a broadblood-red border. Can I ever forget it? Such are the visionswhich give vigour to life, and joy to death!"

Sandip's eyes took fire as he went on, but whether it was thefire of worship, or of passion, I could not tell. I was remindedof the day on which I first heard him speak, when I could not besure whether he was a person, or just a living flame. 

I had not the power to utter a word. You cannot take shelterbehind the walls of decorum when in a moment the fire leaps upand, with the flash of its sword and the roar of its laughter, destroys all the miser's stores. I was in terror lest he shouldforget himself and take me by the hand. For he shook like aquivering tongue of fire; his eyes showered scorching sparks onme. 

"Are you for ever determined, " he cried after a pause, "to makegods of your petty household duties--you who have it in you tosend us to life or to death? Is this power of yours to be keptveiled in a zenana? Cast away all false shame, I pray you; snapyour fingers at the whispering around. Take your plunge todayinto the freedom of the outer world. "

When, in Sandip's appeals, his worship of the country gets to besubtly interwoven with his worship of me, then does my blooddance, indeed, and the barriers of my hesitation totter. Histalks about Art and Sex, his distinctions between Real andUnreal, had but clogged my attempts at response with somerevolting nastiness. This, however, now burst again into a glowbefore which my repugnance faded away. I felt that myresplendent womanhood made me indeed a goddess. Why should notits glory flash from my forehead with visible brilliance? Whydoes not my voice find a word, some audible cry, which would belike a sacred spell to my country for its fire initiation?

All of a sudden my maid Khema rushed into the room, dishevelled. "Give me my wages and let me go, " she screamed. "Never in all mylife have I been so . .. " The rest of her speech was drowned insobs. 

"What is the matter?"

Thako, the Bara Rani's maid, it appeared, had for no rhyme orreason reviled her in unmeasured terms. She was in such a state, it was no manner of use trying to pacify her by saying I wouldlook into the matter afterwards. 

The slime of domestic life that lay beneath the lotus bank ofwomanhood came to the surface. Rather than allow Sandip aprolonged vision of it, I had to hurry back within. 

X

My sister-in-law was absorbed in her betel-nuts, the suspicion ofa smile playing about her lips, as if nothing untoward hadhappened. She was still humming the same song. 

"Why has your Thako been calling poor Khema names?" I burst out. 

"Indeed? The wretch! I will have her broomed out of the house. What a shame to spoil your morning out like this! As for Khema, where are the hussy's manners to go and disturb you when you areengaged? Anyhow, Chota Rani, don't you worry yourself with thesedomestic squabbles. Leave them to me, and return to yourfriend. "

How suddenly the wind in the sails of our mind veers round! Thisgoing to meet Sandip outside seemed, in the light of the zenanacode, such an extraordinarily out-of-the-way thing to do that Iwent off to my own room, at a loss for a reply. I knew this wasmy sister-in-law's doing and that she had egged her maid on tocontrive this scene. But I had brought myself to such anunstable poise that I dared not have my fling. 

Why, it was only the other day that I found I could not keep upto the last the unbending hauteur with which I had demanded frommy husband the dismissal of the man Nanku. I felt suddenlyabashed when the Bara Rani came up and said: "It is really all myfault, brother dear. We are old-fashioned folk, and I did notquite like the ways of your Sandip Babu, so I only told the guard. .. But how was I to know that our Chota Rani would take this asan insult?--I thought it would be the other way about! Just myincorrigible silliness!"

The thing which seems so glorious when viewed from the heights ofthe country's cause, looks so muddy when seen from the bottom. One begins by getting angry, and then feels disgusted. 

I shut myself into my room, sitting by the window, thinking howeasy life would be if only one could keep in harmony with one'ssurroundings. How simply the senior Rani sits in her verandahwith her betel-nuts and how inaccessible to me has become mynatural seat beside my daily duties! Where will it all end, Iasked myself? Shall I ever recover, as from a delirium, andforget it all; or am I to be dragged to depths from which therecan be no escape in this life? How on earth did I manage to letmy good fortune escape me, and spoil my life so? Every wall ofthis bedroom of mine, which I first entered nine years ago as abride, stares at me in dismay. 

When my husband came home, after his M. A. Examination, hebrought for me this orchid belonging to some far-away land beyondthe seas. From beneath these few little leaves sprang such acascade of blossoms, it looked as if they were pouring forth fromsome overturned urn of Beauty. We decided, together, to hang ithere, over this window. It flowered only that once, but we havealways been in hope of its doing so once more. Curiously enoughI have kept on watering it these days, from force of habit, andit is still green. 

It is now four years since I framed a photograph of my husband inivory and put it in the niche over there. If I happen to lookthat way I have to lower my eyes. Up to last week I usedregularly to put there the flowers of my worship, every morningafter my bath. My husband has often chided me over this. 

"It shames me to see you place me on a height to which I do notbelong, " he said one day. 

"What nonsense!"

"I am not only ashamed, but also jealous!"

"Just hear him! Jealous of whom, pray?"

"Of that false me. It only shows that I am too petty for you, that you want some extraordinary man who can overpower you withhis superiority, and so you needs must take refuge in making foryourself another 'me'. "

"This kind of talk only makes me angry, " said I. 

"What is the use of being angry with me?" he replied. "Blameyour fate which allowed you no choice, but made you take meblindfold. This keeps you trying to retrieve its blunder bymaking me out a paragon. "

I felt so hurt at the bare idea that tears started to my eyesthat day. And whenever I think of that now, I cannot raise myeyes to the niche. 

For now there is another photograph in my jewel case. The otherday, when arranging the sitting-room, I brought away that doublephoto frame, the one in which Sandip's portrait was next to myhusband's. To this portrait I have no flowers of worship tooffer, but it remains hidden away under my gems. It has all thegreater fascination because kept secret. I look at it now andthen with doors closed. At night I turn up the lamp, and sitwith it in my hand, gazing and gazing. And every night I thinkof burning it in the flame of the lamp, to be done with it forever; but every night I heave a sigh and smother it again in mypearls and diamonds. 

Ah, wretched woman! What a wealth of love was twined round eachone of those jewels! Oh, why am I not dead?

Sandip had impressed it on me that hesitation is not in thenature of woman. For her, neither right nor left has anyexistence--she only moves forward. When the women of our countrywake up, he repeatedly insisted, their voice will be unmistakablyconfident in its utterance of the cry: "I want. "

"I want!" Sandip went on one day--this was the primal word atthe root of all creation. It had no maxim to guide it, but itbecame fire and wrought itself into suns and stars. Itspartiality is terrible. Because it had a desire for man, itruthlessly sacrificed millions of beasts for millions of years toachieve that desire. That terrible word "I want" has taken fleshin woman, and therefore men, who are cowards, try with all theirmight to keep back this primeval flood With their earthen dykes. They are afraid lest, laughing and dancing as it goes, it shouldwash away all the hedges and props of their pumpkin field. Men, in every age, flatter themselves that they have secured thisforce within the bounds of their convenience, but it gathers andgrows. Now it is calm and deep like a lake, but gradually itspressure will increase, the dykes will give way, and the forcewhich has so long been dumb will rush forward with the roar: "Iwant!"

These words of Sandip echo in my heart-beats like a war-drum. They shame into silence all my conflicts with myself. What do Icare what people may think of me? Of what value are that orchidand that niche in my bedroom? What power have they to belittleme, to put me to shame? The primal fire of creation burns in me. 

I felt a strong desire to snatch down the orchid and fling it outof the window, to denude the niche of its picture, to lay bareand naked the unashamed spirit of destruction that raged withinme. My arm was raised to do it, but a sudden pang passed throughmy breast, tears started to my eyes. I threw myself down andsobbed: "What is the end of all this, what is the end?"

Sandip's Story

IV

When I read these pages of the story of my life I seriouslyquestion myself: Is this Sandip? Am I made of words? Am Imerely a book with a covering of flesh and blood?

The earth is not a dead thing like the moon. She breathes. Herrivers and oceans send up vapours in which she is clothed. Sheis covered with a mantle of her own dust which flies about theair. The onlooker, gazing upon the earth from the outside, cansee only the light reflected from this vapour and this dust. Thetracks of the mighty continents are not distinctly visible. 

The man, who is alive as this earth is, is likewise alwaysenveloped in the mist of the ideas which he is breathing out. His real land and water remain hidden, and he appears to be madeof only lights and shadows. 

It seems to me, in this story of my life, that, like a livingplant, I am displaying the picture of an ideal world. But I amnot merely what I want, what I think--I am also what I do notlove, what I do not wish to be. My creation had begun before Iwas born. I had no choice in regard to my surroundings and somust make the best of such material as comes to my hand. 

My theory of life makes me certain that the Great is cruel To bejust is for ordinary men--it is reserved for the great to beunjust. The surface of the earth was even. The volcano buttedit with its fiery horn and found its own eminence--its justicewas not towards its obstacle, but towards itself. Successfulinjustice and genuine cruelty have been the only forces by whichindividual or nation has become millionaire or monarch. 

That is why I preach the great discipline of Injustice. I say toeveryone: Deliverance is based upon injustice. Injustice is thefire which must keep on burning something in order to save itselffrom becoming ashes. Whenever an individual or nation becomesincapable of perpetrating injustice it is swept into the dust-binof the world. 

As yet this is only my idea--it is not completely myself. Thereare rifts in the armour through which something peeps out whichis extremely soft and sensitive. Because, as I say, the bestpart of myself was created before I came to this stage ofexistence. 

From time to time I try my followers in their lesson of cruelty. One day we went on a picnic. A goat was grazing by. I askedthem: "Who is there among you that can cut off a leg of thatgoat, alive, with this knife, and bring it to me?" While theyall hesitated, I went myself and did it. One of them fainted atthe sight. But when they saw me unmoved they took the dust of myfeet, saying that I was above all human weaknesses. That is tosay, they saw that day the vaporous envelope which was my idea, but failed to perceive the inner me, which by a curious freak offate has been created tender and merciful. 

In the present chapter of my life, which is growing in interestevery day round Bimala and Nikhil, there is also much thatremains hidden underneath. This malady of ideas which afflictsme is shaping my life within: nevertheless a great part of mylife remains outside its influence; and so there is set up adiscrepancy between my outward life and its inner design which Itry my best to keep concealed even from myself; otherwise it maywreck not only my plans, but my very life. 

Life is indefinite--a bundle of contradictions. We men, with ourideas, strive to give it a particular shape by melting it into aparticular mould--into the definiteness of success. All theworld-conquerors, from Alexander down to the Americanmillionaires, mould themselves into a sword or a mint, and thusfind that distinct image of themselves which is the source oftheir success. 

The chief controversy between Nikhil and myself arises from this:that though I say "know thyself", and Nikhil also says "knowthyself", his interpretation makes this "knowing" tantamount to"not knowing". 

"Winning your kind of success, " Nikhil once objected, "is successgained at the cost of the soul: but the soul is greater thansuccess. "

I simply said in answer: "Your words are too vague. "

"That I cannot help, " Nikhil replied. "A machine is distinctenough, but not so life. If to gain distinctness you try to knowlife as a machine, then such mere distinctness cannot stand fortruth. The soul is not as distinct as success, and so you onlylose your soul if you seek it in your success. "

"Where, then, is this wonderful soul?"

"Where it knows itself in the infinite and transcends itssuccess. "

"But how does all this apply to our work for the country?"

"It is the same thing. Where our country makes itself the finalobject, it gains success at the cost of the soul. Where itrecognizes the Greatest as greater than all, there it may misssuccess, but gains its soul. "

"Is there any example of this in history?"

"Man is so great that he can despise not only the success, butalso the example. Possibly example is lacking, just as there isno example of the flower in the seed. But there is the urgenceof the flower in the seed all the same. "

It is not that I do not at all understand Nikhil's point of view;that is rather where my danger lies. I was born in India and thepoison of its spirituality runs in my blood. However loudly Imay proclaim the madness of walking in the path of self-abnegation, I cannot avoid it altogether. 

This is exactly how such curious anomalies happen nowadays in ourcountry. We must have our religion and also our nationalism; our__Bhagavadgita__ and also our __Bande Mataram__. The result is thatboth of them suffer. It is like performing with an English militaryband, side by side with our Indian festive pipes. I must make itthe purpose of my life to put an end to this hideous confusion. 

I want the western military style to prevail, not the Indian. We shall then not be ashamed of the flag of our passion, whichmother Nature has sent with us as our standard into thebattlefield of life. Passion is beautiful and pure--pure as thelily that comes out of the slimy soil. It rises superior to itsdefilement and needs no Pears' soap to wash it clean. 

V

A question has been worrying me the last few days. Why am Iallowing my life to become entangled with Bimala's? Am I adrifting log to be caught up at any and every obstacle?

Not that I have any false shame at Bimala becoming an object ofmy desire. It is only too clear how she wants me, and so I lookon her as quite legitimately mine. The fruit hangs on the branchby the stem, but that is no reason why the claim of the stemshould be eternal. Ripe fruit cannot for ever swear by itsslackening stem-hold. All its sweetness has been accumulated forme; to surrender itself to my hand is the reason of itsexistence, its very nature, its true morality. So I must pluckit, for it becomes me not to make it futile. 

But what is teasing me is that I am getting entangled. Am I notborn to rule?--to bestride my proper steed, the crowd, and driveit as I will; the reins in my hand, the destination known only tome, and for it the thorns, the mire, on the road? This steed nowawaits me at the door, pawing and champing its bit, its neighingfilling the skies. But where am I, and what am I about, lettingday after day of golden opportunity slip by?

I used to think I was like a storm--that the torn flowers withwhich I strewed my path would not impede my progress. But I amonly wandering round and round a flower like a bee--not a storm. So, as I was saying, the colouring of ideas which man giveshimself is only superficial. The inner man remains as ordinaryas ever. If someone, who could see right into me, were to writemy biography, he would make me out to be no different from thatlout of a Panchu, or even from Nikhil!

Last night I was turning over the pages of my old diary . .. Ihad just graduated, and my brain was bursting with philosophy. Even so early I had vowed not to harbour any illusions, whetherof my own or other's imagining, but to build my life on a solidbasis of reality. But what has since been its actual story?Where is its solidity? It has rather been a network, where, though the thread be continuous, more space is taken up by theholes. Fight as I may, these will not own defeat. Just as I wascongratulating myself on steadily following the thread, here I ambadly caught in a hole! For I have become susceptible tocompunctions. 

"I want it; it is here; let me take it"--This is a clear-cut, straightforward policy. Those who can pursue its course withvigour needs must win through in the end. But the gods would nothave it that such journey should be easy, so they have deputedthe siren Sympathy to distract the wayfarer, to dim his visionwith her tearful mist. 

I can see that poor Bimala is struggling like a snared deer. What a piteous alarm there is in her eyes! How she is torn withstraining at her bonds! This sight, of course, should gladdenthe heart of a true hunter. And so do I rejoice; but, then, I amalso touched; and therefore I dally, and standing on the brink Iam hesitating to pull the noose fast. 

There have been moments, I know, when I could have bounded up toher, clasped her hands and folded her to my breast, unresisting. Had I done so, she would not have said one word. She was awarethat some crisis was impending, which in a moment would changethe meaning of the whole world. Standing before that cavern ofthe incalculable but yet expected, her face went pale and hereyes glowed with a fearful ecstasy. Within that moment, when itarrives, an eternity will take shape, which our destiny awaits, holding its breath. 

But I have let this moment slip by. I did not, withuncompromising strength, press the almost certain into theabsolutely assured. I now see clearly that some hidden elementsin my nature have openly ranged themselves as obstacles in mypath. 

That is exactly how Ravana, whom I look upon as the real hero ofthe __Ramayana__, met with his doom. He kept Sita in hisAsoka garden, awaiting her pleasure, instead of taking herstraight into his harem. This weak spot in his otherwise grandcharacter made the whole of the abduction episode futile. Another such touch of compunction made him disregard, and belenient to, his traitorous brother Bibhisan, only to get himselfkilled for his pains. 

Thus does the tragic in life come by its own. In the beginningit lies, a little thing, in some dark under-vault, and ends byoverthrowing the whole superstructure. The real tragedy is, thatman does not know himself for what he really is. 

VI

Then again there is Nikhil. Crank though he be, laugh at him asI may, I cannot get rid of the idea that he is my friend. Atfirst I gave no thought to his point of view, but of late it hasbegun to shame and hurt me. Therefore I have been trying to talkand argue with him in the same enthusiastic way as of old, but itdoes not ring true. It is even leading me at times into such alength of unnaturalness as to pretend to agree with him. Butsuch hypocrisy is not in my nature, nor in that of Nikhil either. This, at least, is something we have in common. That is why, nowadays, I would rather not come across him, and have taken tofighting shy of his presence. 

All these are signs of weakness. No sooner is the possibility ofa wrong admitted than it becomes actual, and clutches you by thethroat, however you may then try to shake off all belief in it. What I should like to be able to tell Nikhil frankly is, thathappenings such as these must be looked in the face--as greatRealities--and that which is the Truth should not be allowed tostand between true friends. 

There is no denying that I have really weakened. It was not thisweakness which won over Bimala; she burnt her wings in the blazeof the full strength of my unhesitating manliness. Wheneversmoke obscures its lustre she also becomes confused, and drawsback. Then comes a thorough revulsion of feeling, and she fainwould take back the garland she has put round my neck, butcannot; and so she only closes her eyes, to shut it out of sight. 

But all the same I must not swerve from the path I have chalkedout. It would never do to abandon the cause of the country, especially at the present time. I shall simply make Bimala onewith my country. The turbulent west wind which has swept awaythe country's veil of conscience, will sweep away the veil of thewife from Bimala's face, and in that uncovering there will be noshame. The ship will rock as it bears the crowd across theocean, flying the pennant of __Bande Mataram__, and it willserve as the cradle to my power, as well as to my love. 

Bimala will see such a majestic vision of deliverance, that herbonds will slip from about her, without shame, without her evenbeing aware of it. Fascinated by the beauty of this terriblewrecking power, she will not hesitate a moment to be cruel. Ihave seen in Bimala's nature the cruelty which is the inherentforce of existence--the cruelty which with its unrelenting mightkeeps the world beautiful. 

If only women could be set free from the artificial fetters putround them by men, we could see on earth the living image ofKali, the shameless, pitiless goddess. I am a worshipper ofKali, and one day I shall truly worship her, setting Bimala onher altar of Destruction. For this let me get ready. 

The way of retreat is absolutely closed for both of us. We shalldespoil each other: get to hate each other: but never more befree. 

Chapter Five

Nikhil's Story

IV

EVERYTHING is rippling and waving with the flood of August. Theyoung shoots of rice have the sheen of an infant's limbs. Thewater has invaded the garden next to our house. The morninglight, like the love of the blue sky, is lavished upon the earth. .. Why cannot I sing? The water of the distant river isshimmering with light; the leaves are glistening; the rice-fields, with their fitful shivers, break into gleams of gold; andin this symphony of Autumn, only I remain voiceless. Thesunshine of the world strikes my heart, but is not reflectedback. 

When I realize the lack of expressiveness in myself, I know why Iam deprived. Who could bear my company day and night without abreak? Bimala is full of the energy of life, and so she hasnever become stale to me for a moment, in all these nine years ofour wedded life. 

My life has only its dumb depths; but no murmuring rush. I canonly receive: not impart movement. And therefore my company islike fasting. I recognize clearly today that Bimala has beenlanguishing because of a famine of companionship. 

Then whom shall I blame? Like Vidyapati I can only lament:

/* It is August, the sky breaks into a passionate rain; Alas, empty is my house. */

My house, I now see, was built to remain empty, because its doorscannot open. But I never knew till now that its divinity hadbeen sitting outside. I had fondly believed that she hadaccepted my sacrifice, and granted in return her boon. But, alas, my house has all along been empty. 

Every year, about this time, it was our practice to go in ahouse-boat over the broads of Samalda. I used to tell Bimalathat a song must come back to its refrain over and over again. The original refrain of every song is in Nature, where the rain-laden wind passes over the rippling stream, where the greenearth, drawing its shadow-veil over its face, keeps its ear closeto the speaking water. There, at the beginning of time, a manand a woman first met--not within walls. And therefore we twomust come back to Nature, at least once a year, to tune our loveanew to the first pure note of the meeting of hearts. 

The first two anniversaries of our married life I spent inCalcutta, where I went through my examinations. But from thenext year onwards, for seven years without a break, we havecelebrated our union among the blossoming water-lilies. Nowbegins the next octave of my life. 

It was difficult for me to ignore the fact that the same month ofAugust had come round again this year. Does Bimala remember it, I wonder?--she has given me no reminder. Everything is muteabout me. 

/* It is August, the sky breaks into a passionate rain; Alas, empty is my house. */

The house which becomes empty through the parting of lovers, still has music left in the heart of its emptiness. But thehouse that is empty because hearts are asunder, is awful in itssilence. Even the cry of pain is out of place there. 

This cry of pain must be silenced in me. So long as I continueto suffer, Bimala will never have true freedom. I must free hercompletely, otherwise I shall never gain my freedom from untruth. .. 

I think I have come to the verge of understanding one thing. Manhas so fanned the flame of the loves of men and women, as to makeit overpass its rightful domain, and now, even in the name ofhumanity itself, he cannot bring it back under control. Man'sworship has idolized his passion. But there must be no morehuman sacrifices at its shrine . .. 

I went into my bedroom this morning, to fetch a book. It is longsince I have been there in the day-time. A pang passed throughme as I looked round it today, in the morning light. On theclothes rack was hanging a __sari__ of Bimala's, crinkledready for wear. On the dressing-table were her perfumes, hercomb, her hair-pins, and with them, still, her vermilion box!Underneath were her tiny gold-embroidered slippers. 

Once, in the old days, when Bimala had not yet overcome herobjections to shoes, I had got these out from Lucknow, to tempther. The first time she was ready to drop for very shame, to goin them even from the room to the verandah. Since then she hasworn out many shoes, but has treasured up this pair. When firstshowing her the slippers, I chaffed her over a curious practiceof hers; "I have caught you taking the dust of my feet, thinkingme asleep! These are the offerings of my worship to ward thedust off the feet of my wakeful divinity. " "You must not saysuch things, " she protested, "or I will never wear your shoes!"

This bedroom of mine--it has a subtle atmosphere which goesstraight to my heart. I was never aware, as I am today, how mythirsting heart has been sending out its roots to cling roundeach and every familiar object. The severing of the main root, Isee, is not enough to set life free. Even these little slippersserve to hold one back. 

My wandering eyes fall on the niche. My portrait there islooking the same as ever, in spite of the flowers scattered roundit having been withered black! Of all the things in the roomtheir greeting strikes me as sincere. They are still here simplybecause it was not felt worth while even to remove them. Nevermind; let me welcome truth, albeit in such sere and sorry garb, and look forward to the time when I shall be able to do sounmoved, as does my photograph. 

As I stood there, Bimal came in from behind. I hastily turned myeyes from the niche to the shelves as I muttered: "I came to getAmiel's Journal. " What need had Ito volunteer an explanation? Ifelt like a wrong-doer, a trespasser, prying into a secret notmeant for me. I could not look Bimal in the face, but hurriedaway. 

V

I had just made the discovery that it was useless to keep up apretence of reading in my room outside, and also that it wasequally beyond me to busy myself attending to anything at all--sothat all the days of my future bid fair to congeal into one solidmass and settle heavily on my breast for good--when Panchu, thetenant of a neighbouring __zamindar__, came up to me with abasketful of cocoa-nuts and greeted me with a profound obeisance. 

"Well, Panchu, " said I. "What is all this for?"

I had got to know Panchu through my master. He was extremelypoor, nor was I in a position to do anything for him; so Isupposed this present was intended to procure a tip to help thepoor fellow to make both ends meet. I took some money from mypurse and held it out towards him, but with folded hands heprotested: "I cannot take that, sir!"

"Why, what is the matter?"

"Let me make a clean breast of it, sir. Once, when I was hardpressed, I stole some cocoa-nuts from the garden here. I amgetting old, and may die any day, so I have come to pay themback. "

Amiel's Journal could not have done me any good that day. Butthese words of Panchu lightened my heart. There are more thingsin life than the union or separation of man and woman. The greatworld stretches far beyond, and one can truly measure one's joysand sorrows when standing in its midst. 

Panchu was devoted to my master. I know well enough how hemanages to eke out a livelihood. He is up before dawn every day, and with a basket of __pan__ leaves, twists of tobacco, coloured cotton yarn, little combs, looking-glasses, and othertrinkets beloved of the village women, he wades through the knee-deep water of the marsh and goes over to the Namasudra quarters. There he barters his goods for rice, which fetches him a littlemore than their price in money. If he can get back soon enoughhe goes out again, after a hurried meal, to the sweetmeatseller's, where he assists in beating sugar for wafers. As soonas he comes home he sits at his shell-bangle making, plodding onoften till midnight. All this cruel toil does not earn, forhimself and his family, a bare two meals a day during much morethan half the year. His method of eating is to begin with a goodfilling draught of water, and his staple food is the cheapestkind of seedy banana. And yet the family has to go with only onemeal a day for the rest of the year. 

At one time I had an idea of making him a charity allowance, "But, " said my master, "your gift may destroy the man, it cannotdestroy the hardship of his lot. Mother Bengal has not only thisone Panchu. If the milk in her breasts has run dry, that cannotbe supplied from the outside. "

These are thoughts which give one pause, and I decided to devotemyself to working it out. That very day I said to Bimal: "Let usdedicate our lives to removing the root of this sorrow in ourcountry. "

"You are my Prince Siddharta, [17] I see, " she replied with asmile. "But do not let the torrent of your feelings end bysweeping me away also!"

"Siddharta took his vows alone. I want ours to be a jointarrangement. "

The idea passed away in talk. The fact is, Bimala is at heartwhat is called a "lady". Though her own people are not well off, she was born a Rani. She has no doubts in her mind that there isa lower unit of measure for the trials and troubles of the "lowerclasses". Want is, of course, a permanent feature of theirlives, but does not necessarily mean "want" to them. Their verysmallness protects them, as the banks protect the pool; bywidening bounds only the slime is exposed. 

The real fact is that Bimala has only come into my home, not intomy life. I had magnified her so, leaving her such a large place, that when I lost her, my whole way of life became narrow andconfined. I had thrust aside all other objects into a corner tomake room for Bimala--taken up as I was with decorating her anddressing her and educating her and moving round her day andnight; forgetting how great is humanity and how nobly precious isman's life. When the actualities of everyday things get thebetter of the man, then is Truth lost sight of and freedommissed. So painfully important did Bimala make the mereactualities, that the truth remained concealed from me. That iswhy I find no gap in my misery, and spread this minute point ofmy emptiness over all the world. And so, for hours on thisAutumn morning, the refrain has been humming in my ears:

/* It is the month of August, and the sky breaks into a passionate rain; Alas, my house is empty. */

------

17. The name by which Buddha was known when a Prince, beforerenouncing the world. 

Bimala's Story

XI

The change which had, in a moment, come over the mind of Bengalwas tremendous. It was as if the Ganges had touched the ashes ofthe sixty thousand sons of Sagar [18] which no fire couldenkindle, no other water knead again into living clay. The ashesof lifeless Bengal suddenly spoke up: "Here am I. "

I have read somewhere that in ancient Greece a sculptor had thegood fortune to impart life to the image made by his own hand. Even in that miracle, however, there was the process of formpreceding life. But where was the unity in this heap of barrenashes? Had they been hard like stone, we might have had hopes ofsome form emerging, even as Ahalya, though turned to stone, atlast won back her humanity. But these scattered ashes must havedropped to the dust through gaps in the Creator's fingers, to beblown hither and thither by the wind. They had become heaped up, but were never before united. Yet in this day which had come toBengal, even this collection of looseness had taken shape, andproclaimed in a thundering voice, at our very door: "Here I am. "

How could we help thinking that it was all supernatural? Thismoment of our history seemed to have dropped into our hand like ajewel from the crown of some drunken god. It had no resemblanceto our past; and so we were led to hope that all our wants andmiseries would disappear by the spell of some magic charm, thatfor us there was no longer any boundary line between the possibleand the impossible. Everything seemed to be saying to us: "It iscoming; it has come!"

Thus we came to cherish the belief that our history needed nosteed, but that like heaven's chariot it would move with its owninherent power--At least no wages would have to be paid to thecharioteer; only his wine cup would have to be filled again andagain. And then in some impossible paradise the goal of ourhopes would be reached. 

My husband was not altogether unmoved, but through all ourexcitement it was the strain of sadness in him which deepened anddeepened. He seemed to have a vision of something beyond thesurging present. 

I remember one day, in the course of the arguments he continuallyhad with Sandip, he said: "Good fortune comes to our gate andannounces itself, only to prove that we have not the power toreceive it--that we have not kept things ready to be able toinvite it into our house. "

"No, " was Sandip's answer. "You talk like an atheist because youdo not believe in our gods. To us it has been made quite visiblethat the Goddess has come with her boon, yet you distrust theobvious signs of her presence. "

"It is because I strongly believe in my God, " said my husband, "that I feel so certain that our preparations for his worship arelacking. God has power to give the boon, but we must have powerto accept it. "

This kind of talk from my husband would only annoy me. I couldnot keep from joining in: "You think this excitement is only afire of drunkenness, but does not drunkenness, up to a point, give strength?"

"Yes, " my husband replied. "It may give strength, but notweapons. "

"But strength is the gift of God, " I went on. "Weapons can besupplied by mere mechanics. "

My husband smiled. "The mechanics will claim their wages beforethey deliver their supplies, " he said. 

Sandip swelled his chest as he retorted: "Don't you trouble aboutthat. Their wages shall be paid. "

"I shall bespeak the festive music when the payment has beenmade, not before, " my husband answered. 

"You needn't imagine that we are depending on your bounty for themusic, " said Sandip scornfully. "Our festival is above all moneypayments. "

And in his thick voice he began to sing:

/* "My lover of the unpriced love, spurning payments, Plays upon the simple pipe, bought for nothing, Drawing my heart away. "*/

Then with a smile he turned to me and said: "If I sing, QueenBee, it is only to prove that when music comes into one's life, the lack of a good voice is no matter. When we sing merely onthe strength of our tunefulness, the song is belittled. Now thata full flood of music has swept over our country, let Nikhilpractise his scales, while we rouse the land with our crackedvoices:

/* "My house cries to me: Why go out to lose your all? My life says: All that you have, fling to the winds! If we must lose our all, let us lose it: what is it worth after all? If I must court ruin, let me do it smilingly; For my quest is the death-draught of immortality. */

"The truth is, Nikhil, that we have all lost our hearts. Nonecan hold us any longer within the bounds of the easily possible, in our forward rush to the hopelessly impossible. 

/* "Those who would draw us back, They know not the fearful joy of recklessness. They know not that we have had our call From the end of the crooked path. All that is good and straight and trim-- Let it topple over in the dust. "*/

I thought that my husband was going to continue the discussion, but he rose silently from his seat and left us. 

The thing that was agitating me within was merely a variation ofthe stormy passion outside, which swept the country from one endto the other. The car of the wielder of my destiny was fastapproaching, and the sound of its wheels reverberated in mybeing. I had a constant feeling that something extraordinarymight happen any moment, for which, however, the responsibilitywould not be mine. Was I not removed from the plane in whichright and wrong, and the feelings of others, have to beconsidered? Had I ever wanted this--had I ever been waiting orhoping for any such thing? Look at my whole life and tell methen, if I was in any way accountable. 

Through all my past I had been consistent in my devotion--butwhen at length it came to receiving the boon, a different godappeared! And just as the awakened country, with its __BandeMataram__, thrills in salutation to the unrealized futurebefore it, so do all my veins and nerves send forth shocks ofwelcome to the unthought-of, the unknown, the importunateStranger. 

One night I left my bed and slipped out of my room on to the openterrace. Beyond our garden wall are fields of ripening rice. Through the gaps in the village groves to the North, glimpses ofthe river are seen. The whole scene slept in the darkness likethe vague embryo of some future creation. 

In that future I saw my country, a woman like myself, standingexpectant. She has been drawn forth from her home corner by thesudden call of some Unknown. She has had no time to pause orponder, or to light herself a torch, as she rushes forward intothe darkness ahead. I know well how her very soul responds tothe distant flute-strains which call her; how her breast risesand falls; how she feels she nears it, nay it is already hers, sothat it matters not even if she run blindfold. She is no mother. There is no call to her of children in their hunger, no home tobe lighted of an evening, no household work to be done. So; shehies to her tryst, for this is the land of the Vaishnava Poets. She has left home, forgotten domestic duties; she has nothing butan unfathomable yearning which hurries her on--by what road, towhat goal, she recks not. 

I, also, am possessed of just such a yearning. I likewise havelost my home and also lost my way. Both the end and the meanshave become equally shadowy to me. There remain only theyearning and the hurrying on. Ah! wretched wanderer through thenight, when the dawn reddens you will see no trace of a way toreturn. But why return? Death will serve as well. If the Darkwhich sounded the flute should lead to destruction, why troubleabout the hereafter? When I am merged in its blackness, neitherI, nor good and bad, nor laughter, nor tears, shall be any more!

------

18. The condition of the curse which had reduced them to asheswas such that they could only be restored to life if the streamof the Ganges was brought down to them. [Trans. ]. 

XII

In Bengal the machinery of time being thus suddenly run at fullpressure, things which were difficult became easy, one followingsoon after another. Nothing could be held back any more, even inour corner of the country. In the beginning our district wasbackward, for my husband was unwilling to put any compulsion onthe villagers. "Those who make sacrifices for their country'ssake are indeed her servants, " he would say, "but those whocompel others to make them in her name are her enemies. Theywould cut freedom at the root, to gain it at the top. "

But when Sandip came and settled here, and his followers began tomove about the country, speaking in towns and market-places, waves of excitement came rolling up to us as well. A band ofyoung fellows of the locality attached themselves to him, someeven who had been known as a disgrace to the village. But theglow of their genuine enthusiasm lighted them up, within as wellas without. It became quite clear that when the pure breezes ofa great joy and hope sweep through the land, all dirt and decayare cleansed away. It is hard, indeed, for men to be frank andstraight and healthy, when their country is in the throes ofdejection. 

Then were all eyes turned on my husband, from whose estates aloneforeign sugar and salt and cloths had not been banished. Eventhe estate officers began to feel awkward and ashamed over it. And yet, some time ago, when my husband began to import country-made articles into our village, he had been secretly and openlytwitted for his folly, by old and young alike. When__Swadeshi__ had not yet become a boast, we had despised itwith all our hearts. 

My husband still sharpens his Indian-made pencils with hisIndian-made knife, does his writing with reed pens, drinks hiswater out of a bell-metal vessel, and works at night in the lightof an old-fashioned castor-oil lamp. But this dull, milk-and-water __Swadeshi__ of his never appealed to us. Rather, wehad always felt ashamed of the inelegant, unfashionable furnitureof his reception-rooms, especially when he had the magistrate, orany other European, as his guest. 

My husband used to make light of my protests. "Why allow suchtrifles to upset you?" he would say with a smile. 

"They will think us barbarians, or at all events wanting inrefinement. "

"If they do, I will pay them back by thinking that theirrefinement does not go deeper than their white skins. "

My husband had an ordinary brass pot on his writing-table whichhe used as a flower-vase. It has often happened that, when I hadnews of some European guest, I would steal into his room and putin its place a crystal vase of European make. "Look here, Bimala, " he objected at length, "that brass pot is as unconsciousof itself as those blossoms are; but this thing protests itspurpose so loudly, it is only fit for artificial flowers. "

The Bara Rani, alone, pandered to my husband's whims. Once shecomes panting to say: "Oh, brother, have you heard? Such lovelyIndian soaps have come out! My days of luxury are gone by;still, if they contain no animal fat, I should like to try some. "

This sort of thing makes my husband beam all over, and the houseis deluged with Indian scents and soaps. Soaps indeed! They aremore like lumps of caustic soda. And do I not know that what mysister-in-law uses on herself are the European soaps of old, while these are made over to the maids for washing clothes?

Another time it is: "Oh, brother dear, do get me some of thesenew Indian pen-holders. "

Her "brother" bubbles up as usual, and the Bara Rani's roombecomes littered with all kinds of awful sticks that go by thename of __Swadeshi__ pen-holders. Not that it makes anydifference to her, for reading and writing are out of her line. Still, in her writing-case, lies the selfsame ivory pen-holder, the only one ever handled. 

The fact is, all this was intended as a hit at me, because Iwould not keep my husband company in his vagaries. It was nogood trying to show up my sister-in-law's insincerity; myhusband's face would set so hard, if I barely touched on it. Oneonly gets into trouble, trying to save such people from beingimposed upon!

The Bara Rani loves sewing. One day I could not help blurtingout: "What a humbug you are, sister! When your 'brother' ispresent, your mouth waters at the very mention of __Swadeshi__scissors, but it is the English-made article every time when youwork. "

"What harm?" she replied. "Do you not see what pleasure itgives him? We have grown up together in this house, since he wasa boy. I simply cannot bear, as you can, the sight of the smileleaving his face. Poor dear, he has no amusement except thisplaying at shop-keeping. You are his only dissipation, and youwill yet be his ruin!"

"Whatever you may say, it is not right to be double-faced, " Iretorted. 

My sister-in-law laughed out in my face. "Oh, our artless littleChota Rani!--straight as a schoolmaster's rod, eh? But a womanis not built that way. She is soft and supple, so that she maybend without being crooked. "

I could not forget those words: "You are his dissipation, andwill be his ruin!" Today I feel--if a man needs must have someintoxicant, let it not be a woman. 

XIII

Suksar, within our estates, is one of the biggest trade centresin the district. On one side of a stretch of water there is helda daily bazar; on the other, a weekly market. During the rainswhen this piece of water gets connected with the river, and boatscan come through, great quantities of cotton yarns, and woollenstuffs for the coming winter, are brought in for sale. 

At the height of our enthusiasm, Sandip laid it down that allforeign articles, together with the demon of foreign influence, must be driven out of our territory. 

"Of course!" said I, girding myself up for a fight. 

"I have had words with Nikhil about it, " said Sandip. "He tellsme, he does not mind speechifying, but he will not havecoercion. "

"I will see to that, " I said, with a proud sense of power. Iknew how deep was my husband's love for me. Had I been in mysenses I should have allowed myself to be torn to pieces ratherthan assert my claim to that, at such a time. But Sandip had tobe impressed with the full strength of my __Shakti__. 

Sandip had brought home to me, in his irresistible way, how thecosmic Energy was revealed for each individual in the shape ofsome special affinity. Vaishnava Philosophy, he said, speaks ofthe __Shakti__ of Delight that dwells in the heart ofcreation, ever attracting the heart of her Eternal Lover. Menhave a perpetual longing to bring out this __Shakti__ from thehidden depths of their own nature, and those of us who succeed indoing so at once clearly understand the meaning of the musiccoming to us from the Dark. He broke out singing:

/* "My flute, that was busy with its song, Is silent now when we stand face to face. My call went seeking you from sky to sky When you lay hidden; But now all my cry finds its smile In the face of my beloved. "*/

Listening to his allegories, I had forgotten that I was plain andsimple Bimala. I was __Shakti__; also an embodiment ofUniversal joy. Nothing could fetter me, nothing was impossiblefor me; whatever I touched would gain new life. The world aroundme was a fresh creation of mine; for behold, before my heart'sresponse had touched it, there had not been this wealth of goldin the Autumn sky! And this hero, this true servant of thecountry, this devotee of mine--this flaming intelligence, thisburning energy, this shining genius--him also was I creating frommoment to moment. Have I not seen how my presence pours freshlife into him time after time?

The other day Sandip begged me to receive a young lad, Amulya, anardent disciple of his. In a moment I could see a new lightflash out from the boy's eyes, and knew that he, too, had avision of __Shakti__ manifest, that my creative force hadbegun its work in his blood. "What sorcery is this of yours!"exclaimed Sandip next day. "Amulya is a boy no longer, the wickof his life is all ablaze. Who can hide your fire under yourhome-roof? Every one of them must be touched up by it, sooner orlater, and when every lamp is alight what a grand carnival of a__Dewali__ we shall have in the country!"

Blinded with the brilliance of my own glory I had decided togrant my devotee this boon. I was overweeningly confident thatnone could baulk me of what I really wanted. When I returned tomy room after my talk with Sandip, I loosed my hair and tied itup over again. Miss Gilby had taught me a way of brushing it upfrom the neck and piling it in a knot over my head. This stylewas a favourite one with my husband. "It is a pity, " he oncesaid, "that Providence should have chosen poor me, instead ofpoet Kalidas, for revealing all the wonders of a woman's neck. The poet would probably have likened it to a flower-stem; but Ifeel it to be a torch, holding aloft the black flame of yourhair. " With which he . .. But why, oh why, do I go back to allthat?

I sent for my husband. In the old days I could contrive ahundred and one excuses, good or bad, to get him to come to me. Now that all this had stopped for days I had lost the art ofcontriving. 

Nikhil's Story

VI

Panchu's wife has just died of a lingering consumption. Panchumust undergo a purification ceremony to cleanse himself of sinand to propitiate his community. The community has calculatedand informed him that it will cost one hundred and twenty-threerupees. 

"How absurd!" I cried, highly indignant. "Don't submit to this, Panchu. What can they do to you?"

Raising to me his patient eyes like those of a tired-out beast ofburden, he said: "There is my eldest girl, sir, she will have tobe married. And my poor wife's last rites have to be putthrough. "

"Even if the sin were yours, Panchu, " I mused aloud, "you havesurely suffered enough for it already. "

"That is so, sir, " he naïvely assented. "I had to sell part ofmy land and mortgage the rest to meet the doctor's bills. Butthere is no escape from the offerings I have to make theBrahmins. "

What was the use of arguing? When will come the time, Iwondered, for the purification of the Brahmins themselves who canaccept such offerings?

After his wife's illness and funeral, Panchu, who had beentottering on the brink of starvation, went altogether beyond hisdepth. In a desperate attempt to gain consolation of some sorthe took to sitting at the feet of a wandering ascetic, andsucceeded in acquiring philosophy enough to forget that hischildren went hungry. He kept himself steeped for a time in theidea that the world is vanity, and if of pleasure it has none, pain also is a delusion. Then, at last, one night he left hislittle ones in their tumble-down hovel, and started off wanderingon his own account. 

I knew nothing of this at the time, for just then a veritableocean-churning by gods and demons was going on in my mind. Nordid my master tell me that he had taken Panchu's desertedchildren under his own roof and was caring for them, though alonein the house, with his school to attend to the whole day. 

After a month Panchu came back, his ascetic fervour considerablyworn off. His eldest boy and girl nestled up to him, crying:"Where have you been all this time, father?" His youngest boyfilled his lap; his second girl leant over his back with her armsaround his neck; and they all wept together. "O sir!" sobbedPanchu, at length, to my master. "I have not the power to givethese little ones enough to eat--I am not free to run away fromthem. What has been my sin that I should be scourged so, boundhand and foot?"

In the meantime the thread of Panchu's little trade connectionshad snapped and he found he could not resume them. He clung onto the shelter of my master's roof, which had first received himon his return, and said not a word of going back home. "Lookhere, Panchu, " my master was at last driven to say. "If youdon't take care of your cottage, it will tumble down altogether. I will lend you some money with which you can do a bit ofpeddling and return it me little by little. "

Panchu was not excessively pleased--was there then no such thingas charity on earth? And when my master asked him to write out areceipt for the money, he felt that this favour, demanding areturn, was hardly worth having. My master, however, did notcare to make an outward gift which would leave an inwardobligation. To destroy self-respect is to destroy caste, was hisidea. 

After signing the note, Panchu's obeisance to my master fell offconsiderably in its reverence--the dust-taking was left out. Itmade my master smile; he asked nothing better than that courtesyshould stoop less low. "Respect given and taken truly balancesthe account between man and man, " was the way he put it, "butveneration is overpayment. "

Panchu began to buy cloth at the market and peddle it about thevillage. He did not get much of cash payment, it is true, butwhat he could realize in kind, in the way of rice, jute, andother field produce, went towards settlement of his account. Intwo month's time he was able to pay back an instalment of mymaster's debt, and with it there was a corresponding reduction inthe depth of his bow. He must have begun to feel that he hadbeen revering as a saint a mere man, who had not even risensuperior to the lure of lucre. 

While Panchu was thus engaged, the full shock of the__Swadeshi__ flood fell on him. 

VII

It was vacation time, and many youths of our village and itsneighbourhood had come home from their schools and colleges. They attached themselves to Sandip's leadership with enthusiasm, and some, in their excess of zeal, gave up their studiesaltogether. Many of the boys had been free pupils of my schoolhere, and some held college scholarships from me in Calcutta. They came up in a body, and demanded that I should banish foreigngoods from my Suksar market. 

I told them I could not do it. 

They were sarcastic: "Why, Maharaja, will the loss be too muchfor you?"

I took no notice of the insult in their tone, and was about toreply that the loss would fall on the poor traders and theircustomers, not on me, when my master, who was present, interposed. 

"Yes, the loss will be his--not yours, that is clear enough, " hesaid. 

"But for one's country . . "

"The country does not mean the soil, but the men on it, "interrupted my master again. "Have you yet wasted so much as aglance on what was happening to them? But now you would dictatewhat salt they shall eat, what clothes they shall wear. Whyshould they put up with such tyranny, and why should we letthem?"

"But we have taken to Indian salt and sugar and cloth ourselves. "

"You may do as you please to work off your irritation, to keep upyour fanaticism. You are well off, you need not mind the cost. The poor do not want to stand in your way, but you insist ontheir submitting to your compulsion. As it is, every moment oftheirs is a life-and-death struggle for a bare living; you cannoteven imagine the difference a few pice means to them--so littlehave you in common. You have spent your whole past in a superiorcompartment, and now you come down to use them as tools for thewreaking of your wrath. I call it cowardly. "

They were all old pupils of my master, so they did not venture tobe disrespectful, though they were quivering with indignation. They turned to me. "Will you then be the only one, Maharaja, toput obstacles in the way of what the country would achieve?"

"Who am I, that I should dare do such a thing? Would I notrather lay down my life to help it?"

The M. A. Student smiled a crooked smile, as he asked: "May weenquire what you are actually doing to help?"

"I have imported Indian mill-made yarn and kept it for sale in mySuksar market, and also sent bales of it to markets belonging toneighbouring __zamindars__. "

"But we have been to your market, Maharaja, " the same studentexclaimed, "and found nobody buying this yarn. "

"That is neither my fault nor the fault of my market. It onlyshows the whole country has not taken your vow. "

"That is not all, " my master went on. "It shows that what youhave pledged yourselves to do is only to pester others. You wantdealers, who have not taken your vow, to buy that yarn; weavers, who have not taken your vow, to make it up; then their wareseventually to be foisted on to consumers who, also, have nottaken your vow. The method? Your clamour, and the__zamindars'__ oppression. The result: all righteousnessyours, all privations theirs!"

"And may we venture to ask, further, what your share of theprivation has been?" pursued a science student. 

"You want to know, do you?" replied my master. "It is Nikhilhimself who has to buy up that Indian mill yarn; he has had tostart a weaving school to get it woven; and to judge by his pastbrilliant business exploits, by the time his cotton fabrics leavethe loom their cost will be that of cloth-of-gold; so they willonly find a use, perhaps, as curtains for his drawing-room, eventhough their flimsiness may fail to screen him. When you gettired of your vow, you will laugh the loudest at their artisticeffect. And if their workmanship is ever truly appreciated atall, it will be by foreigners. "

I have known my master all my life, but have never seen him soagitated. I could see that the pain had been silentlyaccumulating in his heart for some time, because of hissurpassing love for me, and that his habitual self-possession hadbecome secretly undermined to the breaking point. 

"You are our elders, " said the medical student. "It is unseemlythat we should bandy words with you. But tell us, pray, finally, are you determined not to oust foreign articles from yourmarket?"

"I will not, " I said, "because they are not mine. "

"Because that will cause you a loss!" smiled the M. A. Student. 

"Because he, whose is the loss, is the best judge, " retorted mymaster. 

With a shout of __Bande Mataram__ they left us. 

Chapter Six

Nikhil's Story

VIII

A FEW days later, my master brought Panchu round to me. His__zamindar__, it appeared, had fined him a hundred rupees, andwas threatening him with ejectment. 

"For what fault?" I enquired. 

"Because, " I was told, "he has been found selling foreign cloths. He begged and prayed Harish Kundu, his __zamindar__, to lethim sell off his stock, bought with borrowed money, promisingfaithfully never to do it again; but the __zamindar__ wouldnot hear of it, and insisted on his burning the foreign stuffthere and then, if he wanted to be let off. Panchu in hisdesperation blurted out defiantly: "I can't afford it! You arerich; why not buy it up and burn it?" This only made HarishKundu red in the face as he shouted: "The scoundrel must betaught manners, give him a shoe-beating!" So poor Panchu gotinsulted as well as fined. 

"What happened to the cloth?"

"The whole bale was burnt. "

"Who else was there?"

"Any number of people, who all kept shouting __BandeMataram__. Sandip was also there. He took up some of theashes, crying: 'Brothers! This is the first funeral pyre lightedby your village in celebration of the last rites of foreigncommerce. These are sacred ashes. Smear yourselves with them intoken of your __Swadeshi__ vow. '"

"Panchu, " said I, turning to him, "you must lodge a complaint. "

"No one will bear me witness, " he replied. 

"None bear witness?--Sandip! Sandip!"

Sandip came out of his room at my call. "What is the matter?"he asked. 

"Won't you bear witness to the burning of this man's cloth?"

Sandip smiled. "Of course I shall be a witness in the case, " hesaid. "But I shall be on the opposite side. "

"What do you mean, " I exclaimed, "by being a witness on this orthat side? Will you not bear witness to the truth?"

"Is the thing which happens the only truth?"

"What other truths can there be?"

"The things that ought to happen! The truth we must build upwill require a great deal of untruth in the process. Those whohave made their way in the world have created truth, not blindlyfollowed it. "

"And so--"

"And so I will bear what you people are pleased to call falsewitness, as they have done who have created empires, built upsocial systems, founded religious organizations. Those who wouldrule do not dread untruths; the shackles of truth are reservedfor those who will fall under their sway. Have you not readhistory? Do you not know that in the immense cauldrons, wherevast political developments are simmering, untruths are the mainingredients?"

"Political cookery on a large scale is doubtless going on, but--"

"Oh, I know! You, of course, will never do any of the cooking. You prefer to be one of those down whose throats the hotchpotchwhich is being cooked will be crammed. They will partitionBengal and say it is for your benefit. They will seal the doorsof education and call it raising the standard. But you willalways remain good boys, snivelling in your corners. We bad men, however, must see whether we cannot erect a defensivefortification of untruth. "

"It is no use arguing about these things, Nikhil, " my masterinterposed. "How can they who do not feel the truth within them, realize that to bring it out from its obscurity into the light isman's highest aim--not to keep on heaping material outside?"

Sandip laughed. "Right, sir!" said he. "Quite a correct speechfor a schoolmaster. That is the kind of stuff I have read inbooks; but in the real world I have seen that man's chiefbusiness is the accumulation of outside material. Those who aremasters in the art, advertise the biggest lies in their business, enter false accounts in their political ledgers with theirbroadest-pointed pens, launch their newspapers daily laden withuntruths, and send preachers abroad to disseminate falsehood likeflies carrying pestilential germs. I am a humble follower ofthese great ones. When I was attached to the Congress party Inever hesitated to dilute ten per cent of truth with ninety percent of untruth. And now, merely because I have ceased to belongto that party, I have not forgotten the basic fact that man'sgoal is not truth but success. "

"True success, " corrected my master. 

"Maybe, " replied Sandip, "but the fruit of true success ripensonly by cultivating the field of untruth, after tearing up thesoil and pounding it into dust. Truth grows up by itself likeweeds and thorns, and only worms can expect to get fruit fromit!" With this he flung out of the room. 

My master smiled as he looked towards me. "Do you know, Nikhil, "he said, "I believe Sandip is not irreligious--his religion is ofthe obverse side of truth, like the dark moon, which is still amoon, for all that its light has gone over to the wrong side. "

"That is why, " I assented, "I have always had an affection forhim, though we have never been able to agree. I cannot contemnhim, even now; though he has hurt me sorely, and may yet hurt memore. "

"I have begun to realize that, " said my master. "I have longwondered how you could go on putting up with him. I have, attimes, even suspected you of weakness. I now see that though youtwo do not rhyme, your rhythm is the same. "

"Fate seems bent on writing __Paradise Lost__ in blank verse, in my case, and so has no use for a rhyming friend!" I remarked, pursuing his conceit. 

"But what of Panchu?" resumed my master. 

"You say Harish Kundu wants to eject him from his ancestralholding. Supposing I buy it up and then keep him on as mytenant?"

"And his fine?"

"How can the __zamindar__ realize that if he becomes mytenant?"

"His burnt bale of cloth?"

"I will procure him another. I should like to see anyoneinterfering with a tenant of mine, for trading as he pleases!"

"I am afraid, sir, " interposed Panchu despondently, "while youbig folk are doing the fighting, the police and the law vultureswill merrily gather round, and the crowd will enjoy the fun, butwhen it comes to getting killed, it will be the turn of only poorme!"

"Why, what harm can come to you?"

"They will burn down my house, sir, children and all!"

"Very well, I will take charge of your children, " said my master. "You may go on with any trade you like. They shan't touch you. "

That very day I bought up Panchu's holding and entered intoformal possession. Then the trouble began. 

Panchu had inherited the holding of his grandfather as his solesurviving heir. Everybody knew this. But at this juncture anaunt turned up from somewhere, with her boxes and bundles, herrosary, and a widowed niece. She ensconced herself in Panchu'shome and laid claim to a life interest in all he had. 

Panchu was dumbfounded. "My aunt died long ago, " he protested. 

In reply he was told that he was thinking of his uncle's firstwife, but that the former had lost no time in taking to himself asecond. 

"But my uncle died before my aunt, " exclaimed Panchu, still moremystified. "Where was the time for him to marry again?"

This was not denied. But Panchu was reminded that it had neverbeen asserted that the second wife had come after the death ofthe first, but the former had been married by his uncle duringthe latter's lifetime. Not relishing the idea of living with aco-wife she had remained in her father's house till her husband'sdeath, after which she had got religion and retired to holyBrindaban, whence she was now coming. These facts were wellknown to the officers of Harish Kundu, as well as to some of histenants. And if the __zamindar's__ summons should beperemptory enough, even some of those who had partaken of themarriage feast would be forthcoming!

IX

One afternoon, when I happened to be specially busy, word came tomy office room that Bimala had sent for me. I was startled. 

"Who did you say had sent for me?" I asked the messenger. 

"The Rani Mother. "

"The Bara Rani?"

"No, sir, the Chota Rani Mother. "

The Chota Rani! It seemed a century since I had been sent for byher. I kept them all waiting there, and went off into the innerapartments. When I stepped into our room I had another shock ofsurprise to find Bimala there with a distinct suggestion of beingdressed up. The room, which from persistent neglect had latterlyacquired an air of having grown absent-minded, had regainedsomething of its old order this afternoon. I stood theresilently, looking enquiringly at Bimala. 

She flushed a little and the fingers of her right hand toyed fora time with the bangles on her left arm. Then she abruptly brokethe silence. "Look here! Is it right that ours should be theonly market in all Bengal which allows foreign goods?"

"What, then, would be the right thing to do?" I asked. 

"Order them to be cleared out!"

"But the goods are not mine. "

"Is not the market yours?"

"It is much more theirs who use it for trade. "

"Let them trade in Indian goods, then. "

"Nothing would please me better. But suppose they do not?"

"Nonsense! How dare they be so insolent? Are you not . .. "

"I am very busy this afternoon and cannot stop to argue it out. But I must refuse to tyrannize. "

"It would not be tyranny for selfish gain, but for the sake ofthe country. "

"To tyrannize for the country is to tyrannize over the country. But that I am afraid you will never understand. " With this Icame away. 

All of a sudden the world shone out for me with a freshclearness. I seemed to feel it in my blood, that the Earth hadlost the weight of its earthiness, and its daily task ofsustaining life no longer appeared a burden, as with a wonderfulaccess of power it whirled through space telling its beads ofdays and nights. What endless work, and withal what illimitableenergy of freedom! None shall check it, oh, none can ever checkit! From the depths of my being an uprush of joy, like awaterspout, sprang high to storm the skies. 

I repeatedly asked myself the meaning of this outburst offeeling. At first there was no intelligible answer. Then itbecame clear that the bond against which I had been frettinginwardly, night and day, had broken. To my surprise I discoveredthat my mind was freed from all mistiness. I could seeeverything relating to Bimala as if vividly pictured on a camerascreen. It was palpable that she had specially dressed herselfup to coax that order out of me. Till that moment, I had neverviewed Bimala's adornment as a thing apart from herself. Buttoday the elaborate manner in which she had done up her hair, inthe English fashion, made it appear a mere decoration. Thatwhich before had the mystery of her personality about it, and waspriceless to me, was now out to sell itself cheap. 

As I came away from that broken cage of a bedroom, out into thegolden sunlight of the open, there was the avenue of bauhinias, along the gravelled path in front of my verandah, suffusing thesky with a rosy flush. A group of starlings beneath the treeswere noisily chattering away. In the distance an empty bullockcart, with its nose on the ground, held up its tail aloft--one ofits unharnessed bullocks grazing, the other resting on the grass, its eyes dropping for very comfort, while a crow on its back waspecking away at the insects on its body. 

I seemed to have come closer to the heartbeats of the great earthin all the simplicity of its daily life; its warm breath fell onme with the perfume of the bauhinia blossoms; and an anthem, inexpressibly sweet, seemed to peal forth from this world, whereI, in my freedom, live in the freedom of all else. 

We, men, are knights whose quest is that freedom to which ourideals call us. She who makes for us the banner under which wefare forth is the true Woman for us. We must tear away thedisguise of her who weaves our net of enchantment at home, andknow her for what she is. We must beware of clothing her in thewitchery of our own longings and imaginings, and thus allow herto distract us from our true quest. 

Today I feel that I shall win through. I have come to thegateway of the simple; I am now content to see things as theyare. I have gained freedom myself; I shall allow freedom toothers. In my work will be my salvation. 

I know that, time and again, my heart will ache, but now that Iunderstand its pain in all its truth, I can disregard it. Nowthat I know it concerns only me, what after all can be its value?The suffering which belongs to all mankind shall be my crown. 

Save me, Truth! Never again let me hanker after the falseparadise of Illusion. If I must walk alone, let me at leasttread your path. Let the drum-beats of Truth lead me to Victory. 

Sandip's Story

VII

Bimala sent for me that day, but for a time she could not utter aword; her eyes kept brimming up to the verge of overflowing. Icould see at once that she had been unsuccessful with Nikhil. She had been so proudly confident that she would have her ownway--but I had never shared her confidence. Woman knows man wellenough where he is weak, but she is quite unable to fathom himwhere he is strong. The fact is that man is as much a mystery towoman as woman is to man. If that were not so, the separation ofthe sexes would only have been a waste of Nature's energy. 

Ah pride, pride! The trouble was, not that the necessary thinghad failed of accomplishment, but that the entreaty, which hadcost her such a struggle to make, should have been refused. Whata wealth of colour and movement, suggestion and deception, groupthemselves round this "me" and "mine" in woman. That is justwhere her beauty lies--she is ever so much more personal thanman. When man was being made, the Creator was a schoolmaster--His bag full of commandments and principles; but when He came towoman, He resigned His headmastership and turned artist, withonly His brush and paint-box. 

When Bimala stood silently there, flushed and tearful in herbroken pride, like a storm-cloud, laden with rain and chargedwith lightning, lowering over the horizon, she looked soabsolutely sweet that I had to go right up to her and take herby the hand. It was trembling, but she did not snatch it away. 

"Bee, " said I, "we two are colleagues, for our aims are one. Let us sit down and talk it over. "

I led her, unresisting, to a seat. But strange! at that verypoint the rush of my impetuosity suffered an unaccountable check--just as the current of the mighty Padma, roaring on in itsirresistible course, all of a sudden gets turned away from thebank it is crumbling by some trifling obstacle beneath thesurface. When I pressed Bimala's hand my nerves rang music, liketuned-up strings; but the symphony stopped short at the firstmovement. 

What stood in the way? Nothing singly; it was a tangle of amultitude of things--nothing definitely palpable, but only thatunaccountable sense of obstruction. Anyhow, this much has becomeplain to me, that I cannot swear to what I really am. It isbecause I am such a mystery to my own mind that my attraction formyself is so strong! If once the whole of myself should becomeknown to me, I would then fling it all away--and reach beatitude!

As she sat down, Bimala went ashy pale. She, too, must haverealized what a crisis had come and gone, leaving her unscathed. The comet had passed by, but the brush of its burning tail hadovercome her. To help her to recover herself I said: "Obstaclesthere will be, but let us fight them through, and not be down-hearted. Is not that best, Queen?"

Bimala cleared her throat with a little cough, but simply tomurmur: "Yes. "

"Let us sketch out our plan of action, " I continued, as I drew apiece of paper and a pencil from my pocket. 

I began to make a list of the workers who had joined us fromCalcutta and to assign their duties to each. Bimala interruptedme before I was through, saying wearily: "Leave it now; I willjoin you again this evening" and then she hurried out of theroom. It was evident she was not in a state to attend toanything. She must be alone with herself for a while--perhapslie down on her bed and have a good cry!

When she left me, my intoxication began to deepen, as the cloudcolours grow richer after the sun is down. I felt I had let themoment of moments slip by. What an awful coward I had been! Shemust have left me in sheer disgust at my qualms--and she wasright!

While I was tingling all over with these reflections, a servantcame in and announced Amulya, one of our boys. I felt likesending him away for the time, but he stepped in before I couldmake up my mind. Then we fell to discussing the news of thefights which were raging in different quarters over cloth andsugar and salt; and the air was soon clear of all fumes ofintoxication. I felt as if awakened from a dream. I leapt to myfeet feeling quite ready for the fray--Bande Mataram!

The news was various. Most of the traders who were tenants ofHarish Kundu had come over to us. Many of Nikhil's officialswere also secretly on our side, pulling the wires in ourinterest. The Marwari shopkeepers were offering to pay apenalty, if only allowed to clear their present stocks. Onlysome Mahomedan traders were still obdurate. 

One of them was taking home some German-made shawls for hisfamily. These were confiscated and burnt by one of our villageboys. This had given rise to trouble. We offered to buy himIndian woollen stuffs in their place. But where were cheapIndian woollens to be had? We could not very well indulge him inCashmere shawls! He came and complained to Nikhil, who advisedhim to go to law. Of course Nikhil's men saw to it that thetrial should come to nothing, even his law-agent being on ourside!

The point is, if we have to replace burnt foreign clothes withIndian cloth every time, and on the top of that fight through alaw-suit, where is the money to come from? And the beauty of itis that this destruction of foreign goods is increasing theirdemand and sending up the foreigner's profits--very like whathappened to the fortunate shopkeeper whose chandeliers the nabobdelighted in smashing, tickled by the tinkle of the breakingglass. 

The next problem is--since there is no such thing as cheap andgaudy Indian woollen stuff, should we be rigorous in our boycottof foreign flannels and memos, or make an exception in theirfavour?

"Look here!" said I at length on the first point, "we are notgoing to keep on making presents of Indian stuff to those whohave got their foreign purchases confiscated. The penalty isintended to fall on them, not on us. If they go to law, we mustretaliate by burning down their granaries!--What startles you, Amulya? It is not the prospect of a grand illumination thatdelights me! You must remember, this is War. If you are afraidof causing suffering, go in for love-making, you will never dofor this work!"

The second problem I solved by deciding to allow no compromisewith foreign articles, in any circumstance whatever. In the goodold days, when these gaily coloured foreign shawls were unknown, our peasantry used to manage well enough with plain cottonquilts--they must learn to do so again. They may not look asgorgeous, but this is not the time to think of looks. 

Most of the boatmen had been won over to refuse to carry foreigngoods, but the chief of them, Mirjan, was still insubordinate. 

"Could you not get his boat sunk?" I asked our manager here. 

"Nothing easier, sir, " he replied. "But what if afterwards I amheld responsible?"

"Why be so clumsy as to leave any loophole for responsibility?However, if there must be any, my shoulders will be there to bearit. "

Mirjan's boat was tied near the landing-place after its freighthad been taken over to the market-place. There was no one on it, for the manager had arranged for some entertainment to which allhad been invited. After dusk the boat, loaded with rubbish, washoled and set adrift. It sank in mid-stream. 

Mirjan understood the whole thing. He came to me in tears to begfor mercy. "I was wrong, sir--" he began. 

"What makes you realize that all of a sudden?" I sneered. 

He made no direct reply. "The boat was worth two thousandrupees, " he said. "I now see my mistake, and if excused thistime I will never . .. " with which he threw himself at my feet. 

I asked him to come ten days later. If only we could pay himthat two thousand rupees at once, we could buy him up body andsoul. This is just the sort of man who could render us immenseservice, if won over. We shall never be able to make any headwayunless we can lay our hands on plenty of money. 

As soon as Bimala came into the sitting-room, in the evening, Isaid as I rose up to receive her: "Queen! Everything is ready, success is at hand, but we must have money. 

"Money? How much money?"

"Not so very much, but by hook or by crook we must have it!"

"But how much?"

"A mere fifty thousand rupees will do for the present. "

Bimala blenched inwardly at the figure, but tried not to show it. How could she again admit defeat?

"Queen!" said I, "you only can make the impossible possible. Indeed you have already done so. Oh, that I could show you theextent of your achievement--then you would know it. But the timefor that is not now. Now we want money!"

"You shall have it, " she said. 

I could see that the thought of selling her jewels had occurredto her. So I said: "Your jewels must remain in reserve. One cannever tell when they may be wanted. " And then, as Bimala staredblankly at me in silence, I went on: "This money must come fromyour husband's treasury. "

Bimala was still more taken aback. After a long pause she said:"But how am Ito get his money?"

"Is not his money yours as well?"

"Ah, no!" she said, her wounded pride hurt afresh. 

"If not, " I cried, "neither is it his, but his country's, whom hehas deprived of it, in her time of need!"

"But how am Ito get it?" she repeated. 

"Get it you shall and must. You know best how. You must get itfor Her to whom it rightfully belongs. __Bande Mataram__!These are the magic words which will open the door of his ironsafe, break through the walls of his strong-room, and confoundthe hearts of those who are disloyal to its call. Say __BandeMataram__, Bee!"

"__Bande Mataram__!"

Chapter Seven

Sandip's Story

VIII

WE are men, we are kings, we must have our tribute. Ever sincewe have come upon the Earth we have been plundering her; and themore we claimed, the more she submitted. From primeval days havewe men been plucking fruits, cutting down trees, digging up thesoil, killing beast, bird and fish. From the bottom of the sea, from underneath the ground, from the very jaws of death, it hasall been grabbing and grabbing and grabbing--no strong-box inNature's store-room has been respected or left unrifled. The onedelight of this Earth is to fulfil the claims of those who aremen. She has been made fertile and beautiful and completethrough her endless sacrifices to them. But for this, she wouldbe lost in the wilderness, not knowing herself, the doors of herheart shut, her diamonds and pearls never seeing the light. 

Likewise, by sheer force of our claims, we men have opened up allthe latent possibilities of women. In the process ofsurrendering themselves to us, they have ever gained their truegreatness. Because they had to bring all the diamonds of theirhappiness and the pearls of their sorrow into our royal treasury, they have found their true wealth. So for men to accept is trulyto give: for women to give is truly to gain. 

The demand I have just made from Bimala, however, is indeed alarge one! At first I felt scruples; for is it not the habit ofman's mind to be in purposeless conflict with itself? I thoughtI had imposed too hard a task. My first impulse was to call herback, and tell her I would rather not make her life wretched bydragging her into all these troubles. I forgot, for the moment, that it was the mission of man to be aggressive, to make woman'sexistence fruitful by stirring up disquiet in the depth of herpassivity, to make the whole world blessed by churning up theimmeasurable abyss of suffering! This is why man's hands are sostrong, his grip so firm. Bimala had been longing with all herheart that I, Sandip, should demand of her some great sacrifice--should call her to her death. How else could she be happy? Hadshe not waited all these weary years only for an opportunity toweep out her heart--so satiated was she with the monotony of herplacid happiness? And therefore, at the very sight of me, herheart's horizon darkened with the rain clouds of her impendingdays of anguish. If I pity her and save her from her sorrows, what then was the purpose of my being born a man?

The real reason of my qualms is that my demand happens to be formoney. That savours of beggary, for money is man's, not woman's. That is why I had to make it a big figure. A thousand or twowould have the air of petty theft. Fifty thousand has all theexpanse of romantic brigandage. Ah, but riches should reallyhave been mine! So many of my desires have had to halt, againand again, on the road to accomplishment simply for want ofmoney. This does not become me! Had my fate been merely unjust, it could be forgiven--but its bad taste is unpardonable. It isnot simply a hardship that a man like me should be at his wit'send to pay his house rent, or should have to carefully count outthe coins for an Intermediate Class railway ticket--it is vulgar!

It is equally clear that Nikhil's paternal estates are asuperfluity to him. For him it would not have been at allunbecoming to be poor. He would have cheerfully pulled in thedouble harness of indigent mediocrity with that precious masterof his. I should love to have, just for once, the chance tofling about fifty thousand rupees in the service of my countryand to the satisfaction of myself. I am a nabob born, and it isa great dream of mine to get rid of this disguise of poverty, though it be for a day only, and to see myself in my truecharacter. I have grave misgivings, however, as to Bimala evergetting that fifty thousand rupees within her reach, and it willprobably be only a thousand or two which will actually come tohand. Be it so. The wise man is content with half a loaf, orany fraction for that matter, rather than no bread. I mustreturn to these personal reflections of mine later. News comesthat I am wanted at once. Something has gone wrong . .. 

It seems that the police have got a clue to the man who sankMirjan's boat for us. He was an old offender. They are on histrail, but he should be too practised a hand to be caughtblabbing. However, one never knows. Nikhil's back is up, andhis manager may not be able to have things his own way. 

"If I get into trouble, sir, " said the manager when I saw him, "Ishall have to drag you in!"

"Where is the noose with which you can catch me?" I asked. 

"I have a letter of yours, and several of Amulya Babu's. " Icould not see that the letter marked "urgent" to which I had beenhurried into writing a reply was wanted urgently for this purposeonly! I am getting to learn quite a number of things. 

The point now is, that the police must be bribed and hush-moneypaid to Mirjan for his boat. It is also becoming evident thatmuch of the cost of this patriotic venture of ours will find itsway as profit into the pockets of Nikhil's manager. However, Imust shut my eyes to that for the present, for is he not shouting__Bande Mataram__ as lustily as I am?

This kind of work has always to be carried on with leaky vesselswhich let as much through as they fetch in. We all have a hiddenfund of moral judgement stored away within us, and so I was aboutto wax indignant with the manager, and enter in my diary a tiradeagainst the unreliability of our countrymen. But, if there be agod, I must acknowledge with gratitude to him that he has givenme a clear-seeing mind, which allows nothing inside or outside itto remain vague. I may delude others, but never myself. So Iwas unable to continue angry. 

Whatever is true is neither good nor bad, but simply true, andthat is Science. A lake is only the remnant of water which hasnot been sucked into the ground. Underneath the cult of __BandeMataram__, as indeed at the bottom of all mundane affairs, there is a region of slime, whose absorbing power must bereckoned with. The manager will take what he wants; I also havemy own wants. These lesser wants form a part of the wants of thegreat Cause--the horse must be fed and the wheels must be oiledif the best progress is to be made. 

The long and short of it is that money we must have, and thatsoon. We must take whatever comes the readiest, for we cannotafford to wait. I know that the immediate often swallows up theultimate; that the five thousand rupees of today may nip in thebud the fifty thousand rupees of tomorrow. But I must accept thepenalty. Have I not often twitted Nikhil that they who walk inthe paths of restraint have never known what sacrifice is? It iswe greedy folk who have to sacrifice our greed at every step!

Of the cardinal sins of man, Desire is for men who are men--butDelusion, which is only for cowards, hampers them. Becausedelusion keeps them wrapped up in past and future, but is thevery deuce for confounding their footsteps in the present. Thosewho are always straining their ears for the call of the remote, to the neglect of the call of the imminent, are like Sakuntala[19] absorbed in the memories of her lover. The guest comesunheeded, and the curse descends, depriving them of the veryobject of their desire. 

The other day I pressed Bimala's hand, and that touch still stirsher mind, as it vibrates in mine. Its thrill must not bedeadened by repetition, for then what is now music will descendto mere argument. There is at present no room in her mind forthe question "why?" So I must not deprive Bimala, who is one ofthose creatures for whom illusion is necessary, of her fullsupply of it. 

As for me, I have so much else to do that I shall have to becontent for the present with the foam of the wine cup of passion. O man of desire! Curb your greed, and practise your hand on theharp of illusion till you can bring out all the delicate nuancesof suggestion. This is not the time to drain the cup to thedregs. 

------

19. Sakuntala, after the king, her lover, went back to hiskingdom, promising to send for her, was so lost in thoughts ofhim, that she failed to hear the call of her hermit guest whothereupon cursed her, saying that the object of her love wouldforget all about her. [Trans. ]. 

IX

Our work proceeds apace. But though we have shouted ourselveshoarse, proclaiming the Mussulmans to be our brethren, we havecome to realize that we shall never be able to bring them whollyround to our side. So they must be suppressed altogether andmade to understand that we are the masters. They are now showingtheir teeth, but one day they shall dance like tame bears to thetune we play. 

"If the idea of a United India is a true one, " objects Nikhil, "Mussulmans are a necessary part of it. "

"Quite so, " said I, "but we must know their place and keep themthere, otherwise they will constantly be giving trouble. "

"So you want to make trouble to prevent trouble?"

"What, then, is your plan?"

"There is only one well-known way of avoiding quarrels, " saidNikhil meaningly. 

I know that, like tales written by good people, Nikhil'sdiscourse always ends in a moral. The strange part of it is thatwith all his familiarity with moral precepts, he still believesin them! He is an incorrigible schoolboy. His only merit is hissincerity. The mischief with people like him is that they willnot admit the finality even of death, but keep their eyes alwaysfixed on a hereafter. 

I have long been nursing a plan which, if only I could carry itout, would set fire to the whole country. True patriotism willnever be roused in our countrymen unless they can visualize themotherland. We must make a goddess of her. My colleagues sawthe point at once. "Let us devise an appropriate image!" theyexclaimed. "It will not do if you devise it, " I admonishedthem. "We must get one of the current images accepted asrepresenting the country--the worship of the people must flowtowards it along the deep-cut grooves of custom. "

But Nikhil's needs must argue even about this. "We must not seekthe help of illusions, " he said to me some time ago, "for what webelieve to be the true cause. "

"Illusions are necessary for lesser minds, " I said, "and to thisclass the greater portion of the world belongs. That is whydivinities are set up in every country to keep up the illusionsof the people, for men are only too well aware of theirweakness. "

"No, " he replied. "God is necessary to clear away our illusions. The divinities which keep them alive are false gods. "

"What of that? If need be, even false gods must be invoked, rather than let the work suffer. Unfortunately for us, ourillusions are alive enough, but we do not know how to make themserve our purpose. Look at the Brahmins. In spite of ourtreating them as demi-gods, and untiringly taking the dust oftheir feet, they are a force going to waste. 

"There will always be a large class of people, given togrovelling, who can never be made to do anything unless they arebespattered with the dust of somebody's feet, be it on theirheads or on their backs! What a pity if after keeping Brahminssaved up in our armoury for all these ages--keen and serviceable--they cannot be utilized to urge on this rabble in the time ofour need. "

But it is impossible to drive all this into Nikhil's head. Hehas such a prejudice in favour of truth--as though there existssuch an objective reality! How often have I tried to explain tohim that where untruth truly exists, there it is indeed thetruth. This was understood in our country in the old days, andso they had the courage to declare that for those of littleunderstanding untruth is the truth. For them, who can trulybelieve their country to be a goddess, her image will do duty forthe truth. With our nature and our traditions we are unable torealize our country as she is, but we can easily bring ourselvesto believe in her image. Those who want to do real work must notignore this fact. 

Nikhil only got excited. "Because you have lost the power ofwalking in the path of truth's attainment, " he cried, "you keepwaiting for some miraculous boon to drop from the skies! That iswhy when your service to the country has fallen centuries intoarrears all you can think of is, to make of it an image andstretch out your hands in expectation of gratuitous favours. "

"We want to perform the impossible, " I said. "So our countryneeds must be made into a god. "

"You mean you have no heart for possible tasks, " replied Nikhil. "Whatever is already there is to be left undisturbed; yet theremust be a supernatural result:"

"Look here, Nikhil, " I said at length, thoroughly exasperated. 

"The things you have been saying are good enough as morallessons. These ideas have served their purpose, as milk forbabes, at one stage of man's evolution, but will no longer do, now that man has cut his teeth. 

"Do we not see before our very eyes how things, of which we nevereven dreamt of sowing the seed, are sprouting up on every side?By what power? That of the deity in our country who is becomingmanifest. It is for the genius of the age to give that deity itsimage. Genius does not argue, it creates. I only give form towhat the country imagines. 

"I will spread it abroad that the goddess has vouchsafed me adream. I will tell the Brahmins that they have been appointedher priests, and that their downfall has been due to theirdereliction of duty in not seeing to the proper performance ofher worship. Do you say I shall be uttering lies? No, say I, itis the truth--nay more, the truth which the country has so longbeen waiting to learn from my lips. If only I could get theopportunity to deliver my message, you would see the stupendousresult. "

"What I am afraid of, " said Nikhil, "is, that my lifetime islimited and the result you speak of is not the final result. Itwill have after-effects which may not be immediately apparent. "

"I only seek the result, " said I, "which belongs to today. "

"The result I seek, " answered Nikhil, "belongs to all time. "

Nikhil may have had his share of Bengal's greatest gift--imagination, but he has allowed it to be overshadowed and nearlykilled by an exotic conscientiousness. Just look at the worshipof Durga which Bengal has carried to such heights. That is oneof her greatest achievements. I can swear that Durga is apolitical goddess and was conceived as the image of the__Shakti__ of patriotism in the days when Bengal was prayingto be delivered from Mussulman domination. What other provinceof India has succeeded in giving such wonderful visual expressionto the ideal of its quest?

Nothing betrayed Nikhil's loss of the divine gift of imaginationmore conclusively than his reply to me. "During the Mussulmandomination, " he said, "the Maratha and the Sikh asked for fruitfrom the arms which they themselves took up. The Bengalicontented himself with placing weapons in the hands of hisgoddess and muttering incantations to her; and as his country didnot really happen to be a goddess the only fruit he got was thelopped-off heads of the goats and buffaloes of the sacrifice. The day that we seek the good of the country along the path ofrighteousness, He who is greater than our country will grant ustrue fruition. "

The unfortunate part of it is that Nikhil's words sound so finewhen put down on paper. My words, however, are not meant to bescribbled on paper, but to be scored into the heart of thecountry. The Pandit records his Treatise on Agriculture inprinter's ink; but the cultivator at the point of his ploughimpresses his endeavour deep in the soil. 

X

When I next saw Bimala I pitched my key high without further ado. "Have we been able, " I began, "to believe with all our heart inthe god for whose worship we have been born all these millions ofyears, until he actually made himself visible to us?

"How often have I told you, " I continued, "that had I not seenyou I never would have known all my country as One. I know notyet whether you rightly understand me. The gods are invisibleonly in their heaven--on earth they show themselves to mortalmen. "

Bimala looked at me in a strange kind of way as she gravelyreplied: "Indeed I understand you, Sandip. " This was the firsttime she called me plain Sandip. 

"Krishna, " I continued, "whom Arjuna ordinarily knew only as thedriver of his chariot, had also His universal aspect, of which, too, Arjuna had a vision one day, and that day he saw the Truth. I have seen your Universal Aspect in my country. The Ganges andthe Brahmaputra are the chains of gold that wind round and roundyour neck; in the woodland fringes on the distant banks of thedark waters of the river, I have seen your collyrium-darkenedeyelashes; the changeful sheen of your __sari__ moves for mein the play of light and shade amongst the swaying shoots ofgreen corn; and the blazing summer heat, which makes the wholesky lie gasping like a red-tongued lion in the desert, is nothingbut your cruel radiance. 

"Since the goddess has vouchsafed her presence to her votary insuch wonderful guise, it is for me to proclaim her worshipthroughout our land, and then shall the country gain new life. 'Your image make we in temple after temple. ' [20] But this ourpeople have not yet fully realized. So I would call on them inyour name and offer for their worship an image from which noneshall be able to withhold belief. Oh give me this boon, thispower. "

Bimala's eyelids drooped and she became rigid in her seat like afigure of stone. Had I continued she would have gone off into atrance. When I ceased speaking she opened wide her eyes, andmurmured with fixed gaze, as though still dazed: "O Traveller inthe path of Destruction! Who is there that can stay yourprogress? Do I not see that none shall stand in the way of yourdesires? Kings shall lay their crowns at your feet; the wealthyshall hasten to throw open their treasure for your acceptance;those who have nothing else shall beg to be allowed to offertheir lives. O my king, my god! What you have seen in me I knownot, but I have seen the immensity of your grandeur in my heart. Who am I, what am I, in its presence? Ah, the awful power ofDevastation! Never shall I truly live till it kills me utterly!I can bear it no longer, my heart is breaking!"

Bimala slid down from her seat and fell at my feet, which sheclasped, and then she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. 

This is hypnotism indeed--the charm which can subdue the world!No materials, no weapons--but just the delusion of irresistiblesuggestion. Who says "Truth shall Triumph"? [21] Delusionshall win in the end. The Bengali understood this when heconceived the image of the ten-handed goddess astride her lion, and spread her worship in the land. Bengal must now create a newimage to enchant and conquer the world. __Bande Mataram__!

I gently lifted Bimala back into her chair, and lest reactionshould set in, I began again without losing time: "Queen! TheDivine Mother has laid on me the duty of establishing her worshipin the land. But, alas, I am poor!"

Bimala was still flushed, her eyes clouded, her accents thick, asshe replied: "You poor? Is not all that each one has yours?What are my caskets full of jewellery for? Drag away from me allmy gold and gems for your worship. I have no use for them!"

Once before Bimala had offered up her ornaments. I am notusually in the habit of drawing lines, but I felt I had to drawthe line there. [22] I know why I feel this hesitation. It isfor man to give ornaments to woman; to take them from her woundshis manliness. 

But I must forget myself. Am I taking them? They are for theDivine Mother, to be poured in worship at her feet. Oh, but itmust be a grand ceremony of worship such as the country has neverbeheld before. It must be a landmark in our history. It shallbe my supreme legacy to the Nation. Ignorant men worship gods. I, Sandip, shall create them. 

But all this is a far cry. What about the urgent immediate? Atleast three thousand is indispensably necessary--five thousandwould do roundly and nicely. But how on earth am I to mentionmoney after the high flight we have just taken? And yet time isprecious!

I crushed all hesitation under foot as I jumped up and made myplunge: "Queen! Our purse is empty, our work about to stop!"

Bimala winced. I could see she was thinking of that impossiblefifty thousand rupees. What a load she must have been carryingwithin her bosom, struggling under it, perhaps, through sleeplessnights! What else had she with which to express her lovingworship? Debarred from offering her heart at my feet, shehankers to make this sum of money, so hopelessly large for her, the bearer of her imprisoned feelings. The thought of what shemust have gone through gives me a twinge of pain; for she is nowwholly mine. The wrench of plucking up the plant by the roots isover. It is now only careful tending and nurture that is needed. 

"Queen!" said I, "that fifty thousand rupees is not particularlywanted just now. I calculate that, for the present, fivethousand or even three will serve. "

The relief made her heart rebound. "I shall fetch you fivethousand, " she said in tones which seemed like an outburst ofsong--the song which Radhika of the Vaishnava lyrics sang:

/* For my lover will I bind in my hair The flower which has no equal in the three worlds!*/

--it is the same tune, the same song: five thousand will I bring!That flower will I bind in my hair!

The narrow restraint of the flute brings out this quality ofsong. I must not allow the pressure of too much greed to flattenout the reed, for then, as I fear, music will give place to thequestions "Why?" "What is the use of so much?" "How am I to getit?"--not a word of which will rhyme with what Radhika sang! So, as I was saying, illusion alone is real--it is the flute itself;while truth is but its empty hollow. Nikhil has of late got ataste of that pure emptiness--one can see it in his face, whichpains even me. But it was Nikhil's boast that he wanted theTruth, while mine was that I would never let go illusion from mygrasp. Each has been suited to his taste, so why complain?

To keep Bimala's heart in the rarefied air of idealism, I cutshort all further discussion over the five thousand rupees. Ireverted to the demon-destroying goddess and her worship. Whenwas the ceremony to be held and where? There is a great annualfair at Ruimari, within Nikhil's estates, where hundreds ofthousands of pilgrims assemble. That would be a grand place toinaugurate the worship of our goddess!

Bimala waxed intensely enthusiastic. This was not the burning offoreign cloth or the people's granaries, so even Nikhil couldhave no objection--so thought she. But I smiled inwardly. Howlittle these two persons, who have been together, day and night, for nine whole years, know of each other! They know somethingperhaps of their home life, but when it comes to outside concernsthey are entirely at sea. They had cherished the belief that theharmony of the home with the outside was perfect. Today theyrealize to their cost that it is too late to repair their neglectof years, and seek to harmonize them now. 

What does it matter? Let those who have made the mistake learntheir error by knocking against the world. Why need I botherabout their plight? For the present I find it wearisome to keepBimala soaring much longer, like a captive balloon, in regionsethereal. I had better get quite through with the matter inhand. 

When Bimala rose to depart and had neared the door I remarked inmy most casual manner: "So, about the money . .. "

Bimala halted and faced back as she said: "On the expiry of themonth, when our personal allowances become due . .. "

"That, I am afraid, would be much too late. "

"When do you want it then?"

"Tomorrow. 

"Tomorrow you shall have it. "

------

20. A line from Bankim Chatterjee's national song __BandeMataram__. 

21. A quotation from the Upanishads. 

22. There is a world of sentiment attached to the ornaments wornby women in Bengal. 

They are not merely indicative of the love and regard of thegiver, but the wearing of them symbolizes all that is held bestin wifehood--the constant solicitude for her husband's welfare, the successful performance of the material and spiritual dutiesof the household entrusted to her care. When the husband dies, and the responsibility for the household changes hands, then areall ornaments cast aside as a sign of the widow's renunciation ofworldly concerns. At any other time the giving up of omaments isalways a sign of supreme distress and as such appeals acutely tothe sense of chivalry of any Bengali who may happen to witness it[Trans. ]. 

Chapter Eight

Nikhil's Story

X

PARAGRAPHS and letters against me have begun to come out in thelocal papers; cartoons and lampoons are to follow, I am told. Jets of wit and humour are being splashed about, and the liesthus scattered are convulsing the whole country. They know thatthe monopoly of mud-throwing is theirs, and the innocent passer-by cannot escape unsoiled. 

They are saying that the residents in my estates, from thehighest to the lowest, are in favour of __Swadeshi__, but theydare not declare themselves, for fear of me. The few who havebeen brave enough to defy me have felt the full rigour of mypersecution. I am in secret league with the police, and inprivate communication with the magistrate, and these franticefforts of mine to add a foreign title of my own earning to theone I have inherited, will not, it is opined, go in vain. 

On the other hand, the papers are full of praise for thosedevoted sons of the motherland, the Kundu and the Chakravarti__zamindars__. If only, say they, the country had a few moreof such staunch patriots, the mills of Manchester would have, hadto sound their own dirge to the tune of __Bande Mataram__. 

Then comes a letter in blood-red ink, giving a list of thetraitorous __zamindars__ whose treasuries have been burnt downbecause of their failing to support the Cause. Holy Fire, itgoes on to say, has been aroused to its sacred function ofpurifying the country; and other agencies are also at work to seethat those who are not true sons of the motherland do cease toencumber her lap. The signature is an obvious __nom-de-plume__. 

I could see that this was the doing of our local students. So Isent for some of them and showed them the letter. 

The B. A. Student gravely informed me that they also had heardthat a band of desperate patriots had been formed who would stickat nothing in order to clear away all obstacles to the success of__Swadeshi__. 

"If, " said I, "even one of our countrymen succumbs to theseoverbearing desperadoes, that will indeed be a defeat for thecountry!"

"We fail to follow you, Maharaja, " said the history student. "'Our country, " I tried to explain, "has been brought to death'sdoor through sheer fear--from fear of the gods down to fear ofthe police; and if you set up, in the name of freedom, the fearof some other bogey, whatever it may be called; if you wouldraise your victorious standard on the cowardice of the country bymeans of downright oppression, then no true lover of the countrycan bow to your decision. "

"Is there any country, sir, " pursued the history student, "wheresubmission to Government is not due to fear?"

"The freedom that exists in any country, " I replied, "may bemeasured by the extent of this reign of fear. Where its threatis confined to those who would hurt or plunder, there theGovernment may claim to have freed man from the violence of man. But if fear is to regulate how people are to dress, where theyshall trade, or what they must eat, then is man's freedom of willutterly ignored, and manhood destroyed at the root. "

"Is not such coercion of the individual will seen in othercountries too?" continued the history student. 

"Who denies it?" I exclaimed. "But in every country man hasdestroyed himself to the extent that he has permitted slavery toflourish. "

"Does it not rather show, " interposed a Master of Arts, "thattrading in slavery is inherent in man--a fundamental fact of hisnature?"

"Sandip Babu made the whole thing clear, " said a graduate. "Hegave us the example of Harish Kundu, your neighbouring__zamindar__. From his estates you cannot ferret out a singleounce of foreign salt. Why? Because he has always ruled with aniron hand. In the case of those who are slaves by nature, thelack of a strong master is the greatest of all calamities. "

"Why, sir!" chimed in an undergraduate, "have you not heard ofthe obstreperous tenant of Chakravarti, the other __zamindar__close by--how the law was set on him till he was reduced to utterdestitution? When at last he was left with nothing to eat, hestarted out to sell his wife's silver ornaments, but no one daredbuy them. Then Chakravarti's manager offered him five rupees forthe lot. They were worth over thirty, but he had to accept orstarve. After taking over the bundle from him the manager coollysaid that those five rupees would be credited towards his rent!We felt like having nothing more to do with Chakravarti or hismanager after that, but Sandip Babu told us that if we threw overall the live people, we should have only dead bodies from theburning-grounds to carry on the work with! These live men, hepointed out, know what they want and how to get it--they are bornrulers. Those who do not know how to desire for themselves, mustlive in accordance with, or die by virtue of, the desires of suchas these. Sandip Babu contrasted them--Kundu and Chakravarti--with you, Maharaja. You, he said, for all your good intentions, will never succeed in planting __Swadeshi__ within yourterritory. "

"It is my desire, " I said, "to plant something greater than__Swadeshi__. I am not after dead logs but living trees--andthese will take time to grow. "

"I am afraid, sir, " sneered the history student, "that you willget neither log nor tree. Sandip Babu rightly teaches that inorder to get, you must snatch. This is taking all of us sometime to learn, because it runs counter to what we were taught atschool. I have seen with my own eyes that when a rent-collectorof Harish Kundu's found one of the tenants with nothing whichcould be sold up to pay his rent, he was made to sell his youngwife! Buyers were not wanting, and the __zamindar's__ demandwas satisfied. I tell you, sir, the sight of that man's distressprevented my getting sleep for nights together! But, feel it asI did, this much I realized, that the man who knows how to getthe money he is out for, even by selling up his debtor's wife, isa better man than I am. I confess it is beyond me--I am aweakling, my eyes fill with tears. If anybody can save ourcountry it is these Kundus and these Chakravartis and theirofficials!"

I was shocked beyond words. "If what you say be true, " I cried, "I clearly see that it must be the one endeavour of my life tosave the country from these same Kundus and Chakravartis andofficials. The slavery that has entered into our very bones isbreaking out, at this opportunity, as ghastly tyranny. You havebeen so used to submit to domination through fear, you have cometo believe that to make others submit is a kind of religion. Myfight shall be against this weakness, this atrocious cruelty!"These things, which are so simple to ordinary folk, get sotwisted in the minds of our B. A. 's and M. A. 's, the only purposeof whose historical quibbles seems to be to torture the truth!

XI

I am worried over Panchu's sham aunt. It will be difficult todisprove her, for though witnesses of a real event may be few oreven wanting, innumerable proofs of a thing that has not happenedcan always be marshalled. The object of this move is, evidently, to get the sale of Panchu's holding to me set aside. Beingunable to find any other way out of it, I was thinking ofallowing Panchu to hold a permanent tenure in my estates andbuilding him a cottage on it. But my master would not have it. I should not give in to these nefarious tactics so easily, heobjected, and offered to attend to the matter himself. 

"You, sir!" I cried, considerably surprised. 

"Yes, I, " he repeated. 

I could not see, at all clearly, what my master could do tocounteract these legal machinations. That evening, at the timehe usually came to me, he did not turn up. On my makinginquiries, his servant said he had left home with a few thingspacked in a small trunk, and some bedding, saying he would beback in a few days. I thought he might have sallied forth tohunt for witnesses in Panchu's uncle's village. In that case, however, I was sure that his would be a hopeless quest . .. 

During the day I forget myself in my work. As the late autumnafternoon wears on, the colours of the sky become turbid, and sodo the feelings of my mind. There are many in this world whoseminds dwell in brick-built houses--they can afford to ignore thething called the outside. But my mind lives under the trees inthe open, directly receives upon itself the messages borne by thefree winds, and responds from the bottom of its heart to all themusical cadences of light and darkness. 

While the day is bright and the world in the pursuit of itsnumberless tasks crowds around, then it seems as if my life wantsnothing else. But when the colours of the sky fade away and theblinds are drawn down over the windows of heaven, then my hearttells me that evening falls just for the purpose of shutting outthe world, to mark the time when the darkness must be filled withthe One. This is the end to which earth, sky, and watersconspire, and I cannot harden myself against accepting itsmeaning. So when the gloaming deepens over the world, like thegaze of the dark eyes of the beloved, then my whole being tellsme that work alone cannot be the truth of life, that work is notthe be-all and the end-all of man, for man is not simply a serf--even though the serfdom be of the True and the Good. 

Alas, Nikhil, have you for ever parted company with that self ofyours who used to be set free under the starlight, to plunge intothe infinite depths of the night's darkness after the day's workwas done? How terribly alone is he, who misses companionship inthe midst of the multitudinousness of life. 

The other day, when the afternoon had reached the meeting-pointof day and night, I had no work, nor the mind for work, nor wasmy master there to keep me company. With my empty, driftingheart longing to anchor on to something, I traced my stepstowards the inner gardens. I was very fond of chrysanthemums andhad rows of them, of all varieties, banked up in pots against oneof the garden walls. When they were in flower, it looked like awave of green breaking into iridescent foam. It was some timesince I had been to this part of the grounds, and I was beguiledinto a cheerful expectancy at the thought of meeting mychrysanthemums after our long separation. 

As I went in, the full moon had just peeped over the wall, herslanting rays leaving its foot in deep shadow. It seemed as ifshe had come a-tiptoe from behind, and clasped the darkness overthe eyes, smiling mischievously. When I came near the bank ofchrysanthemums, I saw a figure stretched on the grass in front. My heart gave a sudden thud. The figure also sat up with a startat my footsteps. 

What was to be done next? I was wondering whether it would do tobeat a precipitate retreat. Bimala, also, was doubtless castingabout for some way of escape. But it was as awkward to go as tostay! Before I could make up my mind, Bimala rose, pulled theend of her __sari__ over her head, and walked off towards theinner apartments. 

This brief pause had been enough to make real to me the cruelload of Bimala's misery. The plaint of my own life vanished fromme in a moment. I called out: "Bimala!"

She started and stayed her steps, but did not turn back. I wentround and stood before her. Her face was in the shade, themoonlight fell on mine. Her eyes were downcast, her handsclenched. 

"Bimala, " said I, "why should I seek to keep you fast in thisclosed cage of mine? Do I not know that thus you cannot but pineand droop?"

She stood still, without raising her eyes or uttering a word. 

"I know, " I continued, "that if I insist on keeping you shackledmy whole life will be reduced to nothing but an iron chain. Whatpleasure can that be to me?"

She was still silent. 

"So, " I concluded, "I tell you, truly, Bimala, you are free. Whatever I may or may not have been to you, I refuse to be yourfetters. " With which I came away towards the outer apartments. 

No, no, it was not a generous impulse, nor indifference. I hadsimply come to understand that never would I be free until Icould set free. To try to keep Bimala as a garland round myneck, would have meant keeping a weight hanging over my heart. Have I not been praying with all my strength, that if happinessmay not be mine, let it go; if grief needs must be my lot, let itcome; but let me not be kept in bondage. To clutch hold of thatwhich is untrue as though it were true, is only to throttleoneself. May I be saved from such self-destruction. 

When I entered my room, I found my master waiting there. Myagitated feelings were still heaving within me. "Freedom, sir, "I began unceremoniously, without greeting or inquiry, "freedom isthe biggest thing for man. Nothing can be compared to it--nothing at all!"

Surprised at my outburst, my master looked up at me in silence. 

"One can understand nothing from books, " I went on. "We read inthe scriptures that our desires are bonds, fettering us as wellas others. But such words, by themselves, are so empty. It isonly when we get to the point of letting the bird out of its cagethat we can realize how free the bird has set us. Whatever wecage, shackles us with desire whose bonds are stronger than thoseof iron chains. I tell you, sir, this is just what the world hasfailed to understand. They all seek to reform something outsidethemselves. But reform is wanted only in one's own desires, nowhere else, nowhere else!"

"We think, " he said, "that we are our own masters when we get inour hands the object of our desire--but we are really our ownmasters only when we are able to cast out our desires from ourminds. "

"When we put all this into words, sir, " I went on, "it soundslike some bald-headed injunction, but when we realize even alittle of it we find it to be __amrita__--which the gods havedrunk and become immortal. We cannot see Beauty till we let goour hold of it. It was Buddha who conquered the world, notAlexander--this is untrue when stated in dry prose--oh when shallwe be able to sing it? When shall all these most intimate truthsof the universe overflow the pages of printed books and leap outin a sacred stream like the Ganges from the Gangotrie?"

I was suddenly reminded of my master's absence during the lastfew days and of my ignorance as to its reason. I felt somewhatfoolish as I asked him: "And where have you been all this while, sir?"

"Staying with Panchu, " he replied. 

"Indeed!" I exclaimed. "Have you been there all these days?"

"Yes. I wanted to come to an understanding with the woman whocalls herself his aunt. She could hardly be induced to believethat there could be such an odd character among the gentlefolk asthe one who sought their hospitality. When she found I reallymeant to stay on, she began to feel rather ashamed of herself. 'Mother, ' said I, 'you are not going to get rid of me, even ifyou abuse me! And so long as I stay, Panchu stays also. For yousee, do you not, that I cannot stand by and see his motherlesslittle ones sent out into the streets?'

"She listened to my talks in this strain for a couple of dayswithout saying yes or no. This morning I found her tying up herbundles. 'We are going back to Brindaban, ' she said. 'Let ushave our expenses for the journey. ' I knew she was not going toBrindaban, and also that the cost of her journey would besubstantial. So I have come to you. "

"The required cost shall be paid, " I said. 

"The old woman is not a bad sort, " my master went on musingly. "Panchu was not sure of her caste, and would not let her touchthe water-jar, or anything at all of his. So they werecontinually bickering. When she found I had no objection to hertouch, she looked after me devotedly. She is a splendid cook!

"But all remnants of Panchu's respect for me vanished! To thelast he had thought that I was at least a simple sort of person. But here was I, risking my caste without a qualm to win over theold woman for my purpose. Had I tried to steal a march on her bytutoring a witness for the trial, that would have been adifferent matter. Tactics must be met by tactics. But stratagemat the expense of orthodoxy is more than he can tolerate!

"Anyhow, I must stay on a few days at Panchu's even after thewoman leaves, for Harish Kundu may be up to any kind of devilry. He has been telling his satellites that he was content to havefurnished Panchu with an aunt, but I have gone the length ofsupplying him with a father. He would like to see, now, how manyfathers of his can save him!"

"We may or may not be able to save him, " I said; "but if weshould perish in the attempt to save the country from thethousand-and-one snares--of religion, custom and selfishness--which these people are busy spreading, we shall at least diehappy. "

Bimala's Story

XIV

Who could have thought that so much would happen in this onelife? I feel as if I have passed through a whole series ofbirths, time has been flying so fast, I did not feel it move atall, till the shock came the other day. 

I knew there would be words between us when I made up my mind toask my husband to banish foreign goods from our market. But itwas my firm belief that I had no need to meet argument byargument, for there was magic in the very air about me. Had notso tremendous a man as Sandip fallen helplessly at my feet, likea wave of the mighty sea breaking on the shore? Had I calledhim? No, it was the summons of that magic spell of mine. AndAmulya, poor dear boy, when he first came to me--how the currentof his life flushed with colour, like the river at dawn! Trulyhave I realized how a goddess feels when she looks upon theradiant face of her devotee. 

With the confidence begotten of these proofs of my power, I wasready to meet my husband like a lightning-charged cloud. Butwhat was it that happened? Never in all these nine years have Iseen such a far-away, distraught look in his eyes--like thedesert sky--with no merciful moisture of its own, no colourreflected, even, from what it looked upon. I should have been sorelieved if his anger had flashed out! But I could find nothingin him which I could touch. I felt as unreal as a dream--a dreamwhich would leave only the blackness of night when it was over. 

In the old days I used to be jealous of my sister-in-law for herbeauty. Then I used to feel that Providence had given me nopower of my own, that my whole strength lay in the love which myhusband had bestowed on me. Now that I had drained to the dregsthe cup of power and could not do without its intoxication, Isuddenly found it dashed to pieces at my feet, leaving me nothingto live for. 

How feverishly I had sat to do my hair that day. Oh, shame, shame on me, the utter shame of it! My sister-in-law, whenpassing by, had exclaimed: "Aha, Chota Rani! Your hair seemsready to jump off. Don't let it carry your head with it. "

And then, the other day in the garden, how easy my husband foundit to tell me that he set me free! But can freedom--emptyfreedom--be given and taken so easily as all that? It is likesetting a fish free in the sky--for how can I move or liveoutside the atmosphere of loving care which has always sustainedme?

When I came to my room today, I saw only furniture--only thebedstead, only the looking-glass, only the clothes-rack--not theall-pervading heart which used to be there, over all. Instead ofit there was freedom, only freedom, mere emptiness! A dried-upwatercourse with all its rocks and pebbles laid bare. Nofeeling, only furniture!

When I had arrived at a state of utter bewilderment, wonderingwhether anything true was left in my life, and whereabouts itcould be, I happened to meet Sandip again. Then life struckagainst life, and the sparks flew in the same old way. Here wastruth--impetuous truth--which rushed in and overflowed allbounds, truth which was a thousand times truer than the Bara Raniwith her maid, Thako and her silly songs, and all the rest ofthem who talked and laughed and wandered about . .. 

"Fifty thousand!" Sandip had demanded. 

"What is fifty thousand?" cried my intoxicated heart. "Youshall have it!"

How to get it, where to get it, were minor points not worthtroubling over. Look at me. Had I not risen, all in one moment, from my nothingness to a height above everything? So shall allthings come at my beck and call. I shall get it, get it, get it--there cannot be any doubt. 

Thus had I come away from Sandip the other day. Then as I lookedabout me, where was it--the tree of plenty? Oh, why does thisouter world insult the heart so?

And yet get it I must; how, I do not care; for sin there cannotbe. Sin taints only the weak; I with my __Shakti__ am beyondits reach. Only a commoner can be a thief, the king conquers andtakes his rightful spoil . .. I must find out where the treasuryis; who takes the money in; who guards it. 

I spent half the night standing in the outer verandah peering atthe row of office buildings. But how to get that fifty thousandrupees out of the clutches of those iron bars? If by some__mantram__ I could have made all those guards fall dead intheir places, I would not have hesitated--so pitiless did I feel!

But while a whole gang of robbers seemed dancing a war-dancewithin the whirling brain of its Rani, the great house of theRajas slept in peace. The gong of the watch sounded hour afterhour, and the sky overhead placidly looked on. 

At last I sent for Amulya. 

"Money is wanted for the Cause, " I told him. "Can you not get itout of the treasury?"

"Why not?" said he, with his chest thrown out. 

Alas! had I not said "Why not?" to Sandip just in the same way?The poor lad's confidence could rouse no hopes in my mind. 

"How will you do it?" I asked. 

The wild plans he began to unfold would hardly bear repetitionoutside the pages of a penny dreadful. 

"No, Amulya, " I said severely, "you must not be childish. "

"Very well, then, " he said, "let me bribe those watchmen. "

"Where is the money to come from?"

"I can loot the bazar, " he burst out, without blenching. 

"Leave all that alone. I have my ornaments, they will serve. 

"But, " said Amulya, "it strikes me that the cashier cannot bebribed. Never mind, there is another and simpler way. "

"What is that?"

"Why need you hear it? It is quite simple. "

"Still, I should like to know. "

Amulya fumbled in the pocket of his tunic and pulled out, first asmall edition of the __Gita__, which he placed on the table--and then a little pistol, which he showed me, but said nothingfurther. 

Horror! It did not take him a moment to make up his mind to killour good old cashier! [23] To look at his frank, open face onewould not have thought him capable of hurting a fly, but howdifferent were the words which came from his mouth. It was clearthat the cashier's place in the world meant nothing real to him;it was a mere vacancy, lifeless, feelingless, with only stockphrases from the __Gita--Who kills the body kills naught! __

"Whatever do you mean, Amulya?" I exclaimed at length. "Don'tyou know that the dear old man has got a wife and children andthat he is . .. "

"Where are we to find men who have no wives and children?" heinterrupted. "Look here, Maharani, the thing we call pity is, atbottom, only pity for ourselves. We cannot bear to wound our owntender instincts, and so we do not strike at all--pity indeed!The height of cowardice!"

To hear Sandip's phrases in the mouth of this mere boy staggeredme. So delightfully, lovably immature was he--of that age whenthe good may still be believed in as good, of that age when onereally lives and grows. The Mother in me awoke. 

For myself there was no longer good or bad--only death, beautifulalluring death. But to hear this stripling calmly talk ofmurdering an inoffensive old man as the right thing to do, mademe shudder all over. The more clearly I saw that there was nosin in his heart, the more horrible appeared to me the sin of hiswords. I seemed to see the sin of the parents visited on theinnocent child. 

The sight of his great big eyes shining with faith and enthusiasmtouched me to the quick. He was going, in his fascination, straight to the jaws of the python, from which, once in, therewas no return. How was he to be saved? Why does not my countrybecome, for once, a real Mother--clasp him to her bosom and cryout: "Oh, my child, my child, what profits it that you shouldsave me, if so it be that I should fail to save you?"

I know, I know, that all Power on earth waxes great under compactwith Satan. But the Mother is there, alone though she be, tocontemn and stand against this devil's progress. The Mothercares not for mere success, however great--she wants to givelife, to save life. My very soul, today, stretches out its handsin yearning to save this child. 

A while ago I suggested robbery to him. Whatever I may now sayagainst it will be put down to a woman's weakness. They onlylove our weakness when it drags the world in its toils!

"You need do nothing at all, Amulya, I will see to the money, " Itold him finally. When he had almost reached the door, I calledhim back. 

"Amulya, " said I, "I am your elder sister. Today is not theBrothers' Day [24] according to the calendar, but all the days inthe year are really Brothers' Days. My blessing be with you: mayGod keep you always. "

These unexpected words from my lips took Amulya by surprise. Hestood stock-still for a time. Then, coming to himself, heprostrated himself at my feet in acceptance of the relationshipand did me reverence. When he rose his eyes were full of tears. .. O little brother mine! I am fast going to my death--let metake all your sin away with me. May no taint from me evertarnish your innocence!

I said to him: "Let your offering of reverence be that pistol!"

"What do you want with it, sister?"

"I will practise death. "

"Right, sister. Our women, also, must know how to die, to dealdeath!" with which Amulya handed me the pistol. The radiance ofhis youthful countenance seemed to tinge my life with the touchof a new dawn. I put away the pistol within my clothes. Maythis reverence-offering be the last resource in my extremity . .. 

The door to the mother's chamber in my woman's heart once opened, I thought it would always remain open. But this pathway to thesupreme good was closed when the mistress took the place of themother and locked it again. The very next day I saw Sandip; andmadness, naked and rampant, danced upon my heart. 

What was this? Was this, then, my truer self? Never! I hadnever before known this shameless, this cruel one within me. Thesnake-charmer had come, pretending to draw this snake from withinthe fold of my garment--but it was never there, it was his allthe time. Some demon has gained possession of me, and what I amdoing today is the play of his activity--it has nothing to dowith me. 

This demon, in the guise of a god, had come with his ruddy torchto call me that day, saying: "I am your Country. I am yourSandip. I am more to you than anything else of yours. __BandeMataram__!" And with folded hands I had responded: "You are myreligion. You are my heaven. Whatever else is mine shall beswept away before my love for you. __Bande Mataram__!"

Five thousand is it? Five thousand it shall be! You want ittomorrow? Tomorrow you shall have it! In this desperate orgy, that gift of five thousand shall be as the foam of wine--and thenfor the riotous revel! The immovable world shall sway under ourfeet, fire shall flash from our eyes, a storm shall roar in ourears, what is or is not in front shall become equally dim. Andthen with tottering footsteps we shall plunge to our death--in amoment all fire will be extinguished, the ashes will bescattered, and nothing will remain behind. 

------

23. The cashier is the official who is most in touch with theladies of a __zamindar's__ household, directly taking theirrequisitions for household stores and doing their shopping forthem, and so he becomes more a member of the family than theothers. [Trans. ]. 

24. The daughter of the house occupies a place of speciallytender affection in a Bengali household (perhaps in Hinduhouseholds all over India) because, by dictate of custom, shemust be given away in marriage so early. She thus takescorresponding memories with her to her husband's home, where shehas to begin as a stranger before she can get into her place. The resulting feeling, of the mistress of her new home for theone she has left, has taken ceremonial form as the Brothers' Day, on which the brothers are invited to the married sisters' houses. Where the sister is the elder, she offers her blessing andreceives the brother's reverence, and vice versa. Presents, called the offerings of reverence (or blessing), are exchanged. [Trans. ]. 

Chapter Nine

Bimala's Story

XV

FOR a time I was utterly at a loss to think of any way of gettingthat money. Then, the other day, in the light of intenseexcitement, suddenly the whole picture stood out clear before me. 

Every year my husband makes a reverence-offering of six thousandrupees to my sister-in-law at the time of the Durga Puja. Everyyear it is deposited in her account at the bank in Calcutta. This year the offering was made as usual, but it has not yet beensent to the bank, being kept meanwhile in an iron safe, in acorner of the little dressing-room attached to our bedroom. 

Every year my husband takes the money to the bank himself. Thisyear he has not yet had an opportunity of going to town. Howcould I fail to see the hand of Providence in this? The moneyhas been held up because the country wants it--who could have thepower to take it away from her to the bank? And how can I havethe power to refuse to take the money? The goddess revelling indestruction holds out her blood-cup crying: "Give me drink. I amthirsty. " I will give her my own heart's blood with that fivethousand rupees. Mother, the loser of that money will scarcelyfeel the loss, but me you will utterly ruin!

Many a time, in the old days, have I inwardly called the SeniorRani a thief, for I charged her with wheedling money out of mytrusting husband. After her husband's death, she often used tomake away with things belonging to the estate for her own use. This I used to point out to my husband, but he remained silent. I would get angry and say: "If you feel generous, make gifts byall means, but why allow yourself to be robbed?" Providence musthave smiled, then, at these complaints of mine, for tonight I amon the way to rob my husband's safe of my sister-in-law's money. My husband's custom was to let his keys remain in his pocketswhen he took off his clothes for the night, leaving them in thedressing-room. I picked out the key of the safe and opened it. The slight sound it made seemed to wake the whole world! Asudden chill turned my hands and feet icy cold, and I shiveredall over. 

There was a drawer inside the safe. On opening this I found themoney, not in currency notes, but in gold rolled up in paper. Ihad no time to count out what I wanted. There were twenty rolls, all of which I took and tied up in a corner of my __sari__. 

What a weight it was. The burden of the theft crushed my heartto the dust. Perhaps notes would have made it seem less likethieving, but this was all gold. 

After I had stolen into my room like a thief, it felt like my ownroom no longer. All the most precious rights which I had over itvanished at the touch of my theft. I began to mutter to myself, as though telling __mantrams: Bande Mataram, Bande Mataram__, my Country, my golden Country, all this gold is for you, for noneelse!

But in the night the mind is weak. I came back into the bedroomwhere my husband was asleep, closing my eyes as I passed through, and went off to the open terrace beyond, on which I lay prone, clasping to my breast the end of the __sari__ tied over thegold. And each one of the rolls gave me a shock of pain. 

The silent night stood there with forefinger upraised. I couldnot think of my house as separate from my country: I had robbedmy house, I had robbed my country. For this sin my house hadceased to be mine, my country also was estranged from me. Had Idied begging for my country, even unsuccessfully, that would havebeen worship, acceptable to the gods. But theft is neverworship--how then can I offer this gold? Ah me! I am doomed todeath myself, must I desecrate my country with my impious touch?The way to put the money back is closed to me. I have notthe strength to return to the room, take again that key, openonce more that safe--I should swoon on the threshold of myhusband's door. The only road left now is the road in front. Neither have I the strength deliberately to sit down and countthe coins. Let them remain behind their coverings: I cannotcalculate. 

There was no mist in the winter sky. The stars were shiningbrightly. If, thought I to myself, as I lay out there, I had tosteal these stars one by one, like golden coins, for my country--these stars so carefully stored up in the bosom of the darkness--then the sky would be blinded, the night widowed for ever, and mytheft would rob the whole world. But was not also this verything I had done a robbing of the whole world--not only of money, but of trust, of righteousness?

I spent the night lying on the terrace. When at last it wasmorning, and I was sure that my husband had risen and left theroom, then only with my shawl pulled over my head, could Iretrace my steps towards the bedroom. 

My sister-in-law was about, with her brass pot, watering herplants. When she saw me passing in the distance she cried: "Haveyou heard the news, Chota Rani?"

I stopped in silence, all in a tremor. It seemed to me that therolls of sovereigns were bulging through the shawl. I fearedthey would burst and scatter in a ringing shower, exposing to allthe servants of the house the thief who had made herselfdestitute by robbing her own wealth. 

"Your band of robbers, " she went on, "have sent an anonymousmessage threatening to loot the treasury. "

I remained as silent as a thief. 

"I was advising Brother Nikhil to seek your protection, " shecontinued banteringly. "Call off your minions, Robber Queen! Wewill offer sacrifices to your __Bande Mataram__ if you willbut save us. What doings there are these days!--but for theLord's sake, spare our house at least from burglary. "

I hastened into my room without reply. I had put my foot onquicksand, and could not now withdraw it. Struggling would onlysend me down deeper. 

If only the time would arrive when I could hand over the money toSandip! I could bear it no longer, its weight was breakingthrough my very ribs. 

It was still early when I got word that Sandip was awaiting me. Today I had no thought of adornment. Wrapped as I was in myshawl, I went off to the outer apartments. As I entered thesitting-room I saw Sandip and Amulya there, together. All mydignity, all my honour, seemed to run tingling through my bodyfrom head to foot and vanish into the ground. I should have tolay bare a woman's uttermost shame in sight of this boy! Couldthey have been discussing my deed in their meeting place? Hadany vestige of a veil of decency been left for me?

We women shall never understand men. When they are bent onmaking a road for some achievement, they think nothing ofbreaking the heart of the world into pieces to pave it for theprogress of their chariot. When they are mad with theintoxication of creating, they rejoice in destroying the creationof the Creator. This heart-breaking shame of mine will notattract even a glance from their eyes. They have no feeling forlife itself--all their eagerness is for their object. What am Ito them but a meadow flower in the path of a torrent in flood?

What good will this extinction of me be to Sandip? Only fivethousand rupees? Was not I good for something more than onlyfive thousand rupees? Yes, indeed! Did I not learn that fromSandip himself, and was I not able in the light of this knowledgeto despise all else in my world? I was the giver of light, oflife, of __Shakti__, of immortality--in that belief, in thatjoy, I had burst all my bounds and come into the open. Hadanyone then fulfilled for me that joy, I should have lived in mydeath. I should have lost nothing in the loss of my all. Do they want to tell me now that all this was false? The psalmof my praise which was sung so devotedly, did it bring me downfrom my heaven, not to make heaven of earth, but only to levelheaven itself with the dust?

XVI

"The money, Queen?" said Sandip with his keen glance full on myface. 

Amulya also fixed his gaze on me. Though not my own mother'schild, yet the dear lad is brother to me; for mother is motherall the world over. With his guileless face, his gentle eyes, his innocent youth, he looked at me. And I, a woman--of hismother's sex--how could I hand him poison, just because he askedfor it?

"The money, Queen!" Sandip's insolent demand rang in my ears. For very shame and vexation I felt I wanted to fling that gold atSandip's head. I could hardly undo the knot of my __sari__, my fingers trembled so. At last the paper rolls dropped on thetable. 

Sandip's face grew black . .. He must have thought that the rollswere of silver . .. What contempt was in his looks. What utterdisgust at incapacity. It was almost as if he could have struckme! He must have suspected that I had come to parley with him, to offer to compound his claim for five thousand rupees with afew hundreds. There was a moment when I thought he would snatchup the rolls and throw them out of the window, declaring that hewas no beggar, but a king claiming tribute. 

"Is that all?" asked Amulya with such pity welling up in hisvoice that I wanted to sob out aloud. I kept my heart tightlypressed down, and merely nodded my head. Sandip was speechless. He neither touched the rolls, nor uttered a sound. 

My humiliation went straight to the boy's heart. With a sudden, feigned enthusiasm he exclaimed: "It's plenty. It will dosplendidly. You have saved us. " With which he tore open thecovering of one of the rolls. 

The sovereigns shone out. And in a moment the black coveringseemed to be lifted from Sandip's countenance also. His delightbeamed forth from his features. Unable to control his suddenrevulsion of feeling, he sprang up from his seat towards me. What he intended I know not. I flashed a lightning glancetowards Amulya--the colour had left the boy's face as at thestroke of a whip. Then with all my strength I thrust Sandip fromme. As he reeled back his head struck the edge of the marbletable and he dropped on the floor. There he lay awhile, motionless. Exhausted with my effort, I sank back on my seat. 

Amulya's face lightened with a joyful radiance. He did not eventurn towards Sandip, but came straight up, took the dust of myfeet, and then remained there, sitting on the floor in front ofme. O my little brother, my child! This reverence of yours isthe last touch of heaven left in my empty world! I could containmyself no longer, and my tears flowed fast. I covered my eyeswith the end of my __sari__, which I pressed to my face withboth my hands, and sobbed and sobbed. And every time that I felton my feet his tender touch trying to comfort me my tears brokeout afresh. 

After a little, when I had recovered myself and taken my handsfrom my face, I saw Sandip back at the table, gathering up thesovereigns in his handkerchief, as if nothing had happened. Amulya rose to his seat, from his place near my feet, his weteyes shining. 

Sandip coolly looked up at my face as he remarked: "It is sixthousand. "

"What do we want with so much, Sandip Babu?" cried Amulya. "Three thousand five hundred is all we need for our work. "

"Our wants are not for this one place only, " Sandip replied. "Weshall want all we can get. "

"That may be, " said Amulya. "But in future I undertake to getyou all you want. Out of this, Sandip Babu, please return theextra two thousand five hundred to the Maharani. "

Sandip glanced enquiringly at me. 

"No, no, " I exclaimed. "I shall never touch that money again. Do with it as you will. "

"Can man ever give as woman can?" said Sandip, looking towardsAmulya. 

"They are goddesses!" agreed Amulya with enthusiasm. 

"We men can at best give of our power, " continued Sandip. "Butwomen give themselves. Out of their own life they give birth, out of their own life they give sustenance. Such gifts are theonly true gifts. " Then turning to me, "Queen!" said he, "ifwhat you have given us had been only money I would not havetouched it. But you have given that which is more to you thanlife itself!"

There must be two different persons inside men. One of these inme can understand that Sandip is trying to delude me; the otheris content to be deluded. Sandip has power, but no strength ofrighteousness. The weapon of his which rouses up life smites itagain to death. He has the unfailing quiver of the gods, but theshafts in them are of the demons. 

Sandip's handkerchief was not large enough to hold all the coins. "Queen, " he asked, "can you give me another?" When I gave himmine, he reverently touched his forehead with it, and thensuddenly kneeling on the floor he made me an obeisance. "Goddess!" he said, "it was to offer my reverence that I hadapproached you, but you repulsed me, and rolled me in the dust. Be it so, I accept your repulse as your boon to me, I raise it tomy head in salutation!" with which he pointed to the place wherehe had been hurt. 

Had I then misunderstood him? Could it be that his outstretchedhands had really been directed towards my feet? Yet, surely, even Amulya had seen the passion that flamed out of his eyes, hisface. But Sandip is such an adept in setting music to his chantof praise that I cannot argue; I lose my power of seeing truth;my sight is clouded over like an opium-eater's eyes. And so, after all, he gave me back twice as much in return for the blow Ihad dealt him--the wound on his head ended by making me bleed atheart. When I had received Sandip's obeisance my theft seemed togain a dignity, and the gold glittering on the table to smileaway all fear of disgrace, all stings of conscience. 

Like me Amulya also was won back. His devotion to Sandip, whichhad suffered a momentary check, blazed up anew. The flower-vaseof his mind filled once more with offerings for the worship ofSandip and me. His simple faith shone out of his eyes with thepure light of the morning star at dawn. 

After I had offered worship and received worship my sin becameradiant. And as Amulya looked on my face he raised his foldedhands in salutation and cried __Bande Mataram__! I cannotexpect to have this adoration surrounding me for ever; and yetthis has come to be the only means of keeping alive my self-respect. 

I can no longer enter my bedroom. The bedstead seems to thrustout a forbidding hand, the iron safe frowns at me. I want to getaway from this continual insult to myself which is ranklingwithin me. I want to keep running to Sandip to hear him sing mypraises. There is just this one little altar of worship whichhas kept its head above the all-pervading depths of my dishonour, and so I want to cleave to it night and day; for on whicheverside I step away from it, there is only emptiness. 

Praise, praise, I want unceasing praise. I cannot live if mywine-cup be left empty for a single moment. So, as the veryprice of my life, I want Sandip of all the world, today. 

XVII

When my husband nowadays comes in for his meals I feel I cannotsit before him; and yet it is such a shame not to be near himthat I feel I cannot do that either. So I seat myself where wecannot look at each other's face. That was how I was sitting theother day when the Bara Rani came and joined us. 

"It is all very well for you, brother, " said she, "to laugh awaythese threatening letters. But they do frighten me so. Have yousent off that money you gave me to the Calcutta bank?"

"No, I have not yet had the time to get it away, " my husbandreplied. 

"You are so careless, brother dear, you had better look out. .. "

"But it is in the iron safe right inside the inner dressing-room, " said my husband with a reassuring smile. 

"What if they get in there? You can never tell!"

"If they go so far, they might as well carry you off too!"

"Don't you fear, no one will come for poor me. The realattraction is in your room! But joking apart, don't run the riskof keeping money in the room like that. "

"They will be taking along the Government revenue to Calcutta ina few days now; I will send this money to the bank under the sameescort. "

"Very well. But see you don't forget all about it, you are soabsent-minded. "

"Even if that money gets lost, while in my room, the loss cannotbe yours, Sister Rani. "

"Now, now, brother, you will make me very angry if you talk inthat way. Was I making any difference between yours and mine?What if your money is lost, does not that hurt me? If Providencehas thought fit to take away my all, it has not left meinsensible to the value of the most devoted brother known sincethe days of Lakshman. " [25]

"Well, Junior Rani, are you turned into a wooden doll? You havenot spoken a word yet. Do you know, brother, our Junior Ranithinks I try to flatter you. If things came to that pass Ishould not hesitate to do so, but I know my dear old brother doesnot need it!"

Thus the Senior Rani chattered on, not forgetting now and then todraw her brother's attention to this or that special delicacyamongst the dishes that were being served. My head was all thetime in a whirl. The crisis was fast coming. Something must bedone about replacing that money. And as I kept asking myselfwhat could be done, and how it was to be done, the unceasingpatter of my sister-in-law's words seemed more and moreintolerable. 

What made it all the worse was, that nothing could escape mysister-in-law's keen eyes. Every now and then she was castingside glances towards me. What she could read in my face I do notknow, but to me it seemed that everything was written there onlytoo plainly. 

Then I did an infinitely rash thing. Affecting an easy, amusedlaugh I said: "All the Senior Rani's suspicions, I see, arereserved for me--her fears of thieves and robbers are only afeint. "

The Senior Rani smiled mischievously. "You are right, sistermine. A woman's theft is the most fatal of all thefts. But howcan you elude my watchfulness? Am I a man, that you shouldhoodwink me?"

"If you fear me so, " I retorted, "let me keep in your hands all Ihave, as security. If I cause you loss, you can then repayyourself. "

"Just listen to her, our simple little Junior Rani!" she laughedback, turning to my husband. "Does she not know that there arelosses which no security can make good, either in this world orin the next?"

My husband did not join in our exchange of words. When he hadfinished, he went off to the outer apartments, for nowadays hedoes not take his mid-day rest in our room. 

All my more valuable jewels were in deposit in the treasury incharge of the cashier. Still what I kept with me must have beenworth thirty or forty thousand. I took my jewel-box to the BaraRani's room and opened it out before her, saying: "I leave thesewith you, sister. They will keep you quite safe from all worry. "

The Bara Rani made a gesture of mock despair. "You positivelyastound me, Chota Rani!" she said. "Do you really suppose Ispend sleepless nights for fear of being robbed by you?"

"What harm if you did have a wholesome fear of me? Does anybodyknow anybody else in this world?"

"You want to teach me a lesson by trusting me? No, no! I ambothered enough to know what to do with my own jewels, withoutkeeping watch over yours. Take them away, there's a dear, somany prying servants are about. "

I went straight from my sister-in-law's room to the sitting-roomoutside, and sent for Amulya. With him Sandip came along too. Iwas in a great hurry, and said to Sandip: "If you don't mind, Iwant to have a word or two with Amulya. Would you. .. "

Sandip smiled a wry smile. "So Amulya and I are separate in youreyes? If you have set about to wean him from me, I must confessI have no power to retain him. "

I made no reply, but stood waiting. 

"Be it so, " Sandip went on. "Finish your special talk withAmulya. But then you must give me a special talk all to myselftoo, or it will mean a defeat for me. I can stand everything, but not defeat. My share must always be the lion's share. Thishas been my constant quarrel with Providence. I will defeat theDispenser of my fate, but not take defeat at his hands. " With acrushing look at Amulya, Sandip walked out of the room. 

"Amulya, my own little brother, you must do one thing for me, " Isaid. 

"I will stake my life for whatever duty you may lay on me, sister. "

I brought out my jewel-box from the folds of my shawl and placedit before him. "Sell or pawn these, " I said, "and get me sixthousand rupees as fast as ever you can. "

"No, no, Sister Rani, " said Amulya, touched to the quick. "Letthese jewels be. I will get you six thousand all the same. "

"Oh, don't be silly, " I said impatiently. "There is no time forany nonsense. Take this box. Get away to Calcutta by the nighttrain. And bring me the money by the day after tomorrowpositively. "

Amulya took a diamond necklace out of the box, held it up to thelight and put it back gloomily. 

"I know, " I told him, "that you will never get the proper pricefor these diamonds, so I am giving you jewels worth about thirtythousand. I don't care if they all go, but I must have that sixthousand without fail. "

"Do you know, Sister Rani, " said Amulya, "I have had a quarrelwith Sandip Babu over that six thousand rupees he took from you?I cannot tell you how ashamed I felt. But Sandip Babu would haveit that we must give up even our shame for the country. That maybe so. But this is somehow different. I do not fear to die forthe country, to kill for the country--that much __Shakti__ hasbeen given me. But I cannot forget the shame of having takenmoney from you. There Sandip Babu is ahead of me. He has noregrets or compunctions. He says we must get rid of the ideathat the money belongs to the one in whose box it happens to be--if we cannot, where is the magic of __Bande Mataram__?"

Amulya gathered enthusiasm as he talked on. He always warms upwhen he has me for a listener. "The Gita tells us, " hecontinued, "that no one can kill the soul. Killing is a mereword. So also is the taking away of money. Whose is the money?No one has created it. No one can take it away with him when hedeparts this life, for it is no part of his soul. Today it ismine, tomorrow my son's, the next day his creditor's. Since, infact, money belongs to no one, why should any blame attach to ourpatriots if, instead of leaving it for some worthless son, theytake it for their own use?"

When I hear Sandip's words uttered by this boy, I tremble allover. Let those who are snake-charmers play with snakes; if harmcomes to them, they are prepared for it. But these boys are soinnocent, all the world is ready with its blessing to protectthem. They play with a snake not knowing its nature, and when wesee them smilingly, trustfully, putting their hands within reachof its fangs, then we understand how terribly dangerous the snakeis. Sandip is right when he suspects that though I, for myself, may be ready to die at his hands, this boy I shall wean from himand save. 

"So the money is wanted for the use of your patriots?" Iquestioned with a smile. 

"Of course it is!" said Amulya proudly. "Are they not ourkings? Poverty takes away from their regal power. Do you know, we always insist on Sandip Babu travelling First Class? He nevershirks kingly honours--he accepts them not for himself, but forthe glory of us all. The greatest weapon of those who rule theworld, Sandip Babu has told us, is the hypnotism of theirdisplay. To take the vow of poverty would be for them not merelya penance--it would mean suicide. "

At this point Sandip noiselessly entered the room. I threw myshawl over the jewel-case with a rapid movement. 

"The special-talk business not yet over?" he asked with a sneerin his tone. 

"Yes, we've quite finished, " said Amulya apologetically. "It wasnothing much. "

"No, Amulya, " I said, "we have not quite finished. "

"So exit Sandip for the second time, I suppose?" said Sandip. 

"If you please. "

"And as to Sandip's re-entry. "

"Not today. I have no time. "

"I see!" said Sandip as his eyes flashed. "No time to waste, only for special talks!"

Jealousy! Where the strong man shows weakness, there the weakersex cannot help beating her drums of victory. So I repeatedfirmly: "I really have no time. "

Sandip went away looking black. Amulya was greatly perturbed. "Sister Rani, " he pleaded, "Sandip Babu is annoyed. "

"He has neither cause nor right to be annoyed, " I said with somevehemence. "Let me caution you about one thing, Amulya. Saynothing to Sandip Babu about the sale of my jewels--on yourlife. "

"No, I will not. "

"Then you had better not delay any more. You must get away bytonight's train. "

Amulya and I left the room together. As we came out on theverandah Sandip was standing there. I could see he was waitingto waylay Amulya. To prevent that I had to engage him. "What isit you wanted to tell me, Sandip Babu?" I asked. 

"I have nothing special to say--mere small talk. And since youhave not the time . . "

"I can give you just a little. "

By this time Amulya had left. As we entered the room Sandipasked: "What was that box Amulya carried away?"

The box had not escaped his eyes. I remained firm. "If I couldhave told you, it would have been made over to him in yourpresence!"

"So you think Amulya will not tell me?"

"No, he will not. "

Sandip could not conceal his anger any longer. "You think youwill gain the mastery over me?" he blazed out. "That shallnever be. Amulya, there, would die a happy death if I deigned totrample him under foot. I will never, so long as I live, allowyou to bring him to your feet!"

Oh, the weak! the weak! At last Sandip has realized that he isweak before me! That is why there is this sudden outburst ofanger. He has understood that he cannot meet the power that Iwield, with mere strength. With a glance I can crumble hisstrongest fortifications. So he must needs resort to bluster. Isimply smiled in contemptuous silence. At last have I come to alevel above him. I must never lose this vantage ground; neverdescend lower again. Amidst all my degradation this bit ofdignity must remain to me!

"I know, " said Sandip, after a pause, "it was your jewel-case. "

"You may guess as you please, " said I, "but you will get nothingout of me. 

"So you trust Amulya more than you trust me? Do you know thatthe boy is the shadow of my shadow, the echo of my echo--that heis nothing if I am not at his side?"

"Where he is not your echo, he is himself, Amulya. And that iswhere I trust him more than I can trust your echo!"

"You must not forget that you are under a promise to render upall your ornaments to me for the worship of the Divine Mother. In fact your offering has already been made. "

"Whatever ornaments the gods leave to me will be offered up tothe gods. But how can I offer those which have been stolen awayfrom me?"

"Look here, it is no use your trying to give me the slip in thatfashion. Now is the time for grim work. Let that work befinished, then you can make a display of your woman's wiles toyour heart's content--and I will help you in your game. "

The moment I had stolen my husband's money and paid it to Sandip, the music that was in our relations stopped. Not only did Idestroy all my own value by making myself cheap, but Sandip'spowers, too, lost scope for their full play. You cannot employyour marksmanship against a thing which is right in your grasp. So Sandip has lost his aspect of the hero; a tone of lowquarrelsomeness has come into his words. 

Sandip kept his brilliant eyes fixed full on my face till theyseemed to blaze with all the thirst of the mid-day sky. Once ortwice he fidgeted with his feet, as though to leave his seat, asif to spring right on me. My whole body seemed to swim, my veinsthrobbed, the hot blood surged up to my ears; I felt that if Iremained there, I should never get up at all. With a supremeeffort I tore myself off the chair, and hastened towards thedoor. 

From Sandip's dry throat there came a muffled cry: "Whither wouldyou flee, Queen?" The next moment he left his seat with a boundto seize hold of me. At the sound of footsteps outside the door, however, he rapidly retreated and fell back into his chair. Ichecked my steps near the bookshelf, where I stood staring at thenames of the books. 

As my husband entered the room, Sandip exclaimed: "I say, Nikhil, don't you keep Browning among your books here? I was justtelling Queen Bee of our college club. Do you remember thatcontest of ours over the translation of those lines fromBrowning? You don't?

/* "She should never have looked at me, If she meant I should not love her, There are plenty . .. Men you call such, I suppose . .. She may discover All her soul to, if she pleases, And yet leave much as she found them: But I'm not so, and she knew it When she fixed me, glancing round them. */

"I managed to get together the words to render it into Bengali, somehow, but the result was hardly likely to be a 'joy forever'to the people of Bengal. I really did think at one time that Iwas on the verge of becoming a poet, but Providence was kindenough to save me from that disaster. Do you remember oldDakshina? If he had not become a Salt Inspector, he would havebeen a poet. I remember his rendering to this day . .. 

"No, Queen Bee, it is no use rummaging those bookshelves. Nikhilhas ceased to read poetry since his marriage--perhaps he has nofurther need for it. But I suppose 'the fever fit of poesy', asthe Sanskrit has it, is about to attack me again. "

"I have come to give you a warning, Sandip, " said my husband. 

"About the fever fit of poesy?"

My husband took no notice of this attempt at humour. "For sometime, " he continued, "Mahomedan preachers have been aboutstirring up the local Mussulmans. They are all wild with you, and may attack you any moment. "

"Are you come to advise flight?"

"I have come to give you information, not to offer advice. "

"Had these estates been mine, such a warning would have beennecessary for the preachers, not for me. If, instead of tryingto frighten me, you give them a taste of your intimidation, thatwould be worthier both of you and me. Do you know that yourweakness is weakening your neighbouring __zamindars__ also?"

"I did not offer you my advice, Sandip. I wish you, too, wouldrefrain from giving me yours. Besides, it is useless. And thereis another thing I want to tell you. You and your followers havebeen secretly worrying and oppressing my tenantry. I cannotallow that any longer. So I must ask you to leave my territory. "

"For fear of the Mussulmans, or is there any other fear you haveto threaten me with?"

"There are fears the want of which is cowardice. In the name ofthose fears, I tell you, Sandip, you must go. In five days Ishall be starting for Calcutta. I want you to accompany me. Youmay of course stay in my house there--to that there is noobjection. "

"All right, I have still five day's time then. Meanwhile, QueenBee, let me hum to you my song of parting from your honey-hive. Ah! you poet of modern Bengal! Throw open your doors and let meplunder your words. The theft is really yours, for it is my songwhich you have made your own--let the name be yours by all means, but the song is mine. " With this Sandip struck up in a deep, husky voice, which threatened to be out of tune, a song in theBhairavi mode:

/* "In the springtime of your kingdom, my Queen, Meetings and partings chase each other in their endless hide and seek, And flowers blossom in the wake of those that droop and die in the shade. In the springtime of your kingdom, my Queen, My meeting with you had its own songs, But has not also my leave-taking any gift to offer you? That gift is my secret hope, which I keep hidden in the shadows of your flower garden, That the rains of July may sweetly temper your fiery June. "*/

His boldness was immense--boldness which had no veil, but was nakedas fire. One finds no time to stop it: it is like tryingto resist a thunderbolt: the lightning flashes: it laughs at allresistance. 

I left the room. As I was passing along the verandah towards theinner apartments, Amulya suddenly made his appearance and cameand stood before me. 

"Fear nothing, Sister Rani, " he said. "I am off tonight andshall not return unsuccessful. "

"Amulya, " said I, looking straight into his earnest, youthfulface, "I fear nothing for myself, but may I never cease to fearfor you. "

Amulya turned to go, but before he was out of sight I called himback and asked: "Have you a mother, Amulya?"

"I have. "

"A sister?"

"No, I am the only child of my mother. My father died when I wasquite little. "

"Then go back to your mother, Amulya. "

"But, Sister Rani, I have now both mother and sister. "

"Then, Amulya, before you leave tonight, come and have yourdinner here. "

"There won't be time for that. Let me take some food for thejourney, consecrated with your touch. "

"What do you specially like, Amulya?""If I had been with my mother I should have had lots of Poushcakes. Make some for me with your own hands, Sister Rani!"

------

25. Of the __Ramayana__. The story of his devotion to hiselder brother Rama and his brother's wife Sita, has become abyword. 

Chapter Ten

Nikhil's Story

XII

I LEARNT from my master that Sandip had joined forces with HarishKundu, and there was to be a grand celebration of the worship ofthe demon-destroying Goddess. Harish Kundu was extorting theexpenses from his tenantry. Pandits Kaviratna and Vidyavagishhad been commissioned to compose a hymn with a double meaning. 

My master has just had a passage at arms with Sandip over this. "Evolution is at work amongst the gods as well, " says Sandip. "The grandson has to remodel the gods created by the grandfatherto suit his own taste, or else he is left an atheist. It is mymission to modernize the ancient deities. I am born the saviourof the gods, to emancipate them from the thraldom of the past. "

I have seen from our boyhood what a juggler with ideas is Sandip. He has no interest in discovering truth, but to make a quizzicaldisplay of it rejoices his heart. Had he been born in the wildsof Africa he would have spent a glorious time inventing argumentafter argument to prove that cannibalism is the best means ofpromoting true communion between man and man. But those who dealin delusion end by deluding themselves, and I fully believe that, each time Sandip creates a new fallacy, he persuades himself thathe has found the truth, however contradictory his creations maybe to one another. 

However, I shall not give a helping hand to establish a liquordistillery in my country. The young men, who are ready to offertheir services for their country's cause, must not fall into thishabit of getting intoxicated. The people who want to exact workby drugging methods set more value on the excitement than on theminds they intoxicate. 

I had to tell Sandip, in Bimala's presence, that he must go. Perhaps both will impute to me the wrong motive. But I must freemyself also from all fear of being misunderstood. Let evenBimala misunderstand me . .. 

A number of Mahomedan preachers are being sent over from Dacca. The Mussulmans in my territory had come to have almost as much ofan aversion to the killing of cows as the Hindus. But now casesof cow-killing are cropping up here and there. I had the newsfirst from some of my Mussulman tenants with expressions of theirdisapproval. Here was a situation which I could see would bedifficult to meet. At the bottom was a pretence of fanaticism, which would cease to be a pretence if obstructed. That is justwhere the ingenuity of the move came in!

I sent for some of my principal Hindu tenants and tried to getthem to see the matter in its proper light. "We can be staunchin our own convictions, " I said, "but we have no control overthose of others. For all that many of us are Vaishnavas, thoseof us who are Shaktas go on with their animal sacrifices just thesame. That cannot be helped. We must, in the same way, let theMussulmans do as they think best. So please refrain from alldisturbance. "

"Maharaja, " they replied, "these outrages have been unknown forso long. "

"That was so, " I said, "because such was their spontaneousdesire. Let us behave in such a way that the same may becometrue, over again. But a breach of the peace is not the way tobring this about. "

"No, Maharaja, " they insisted, "those good old days are gone. This will never stop unless you put it down with a strong hand. "

"Oppression, " I replied, "will not only not prevent cow-killing, it may lead to the killing of men as well. "

One of them had had an English education. He had learnt torepeat the phrases of the day. "It is not only a question oforthodoxy, " he argued. "Our country is mainly agricultural, andcows are . .. "

"Buffaloes in this country, " I interrupted, "likewise give milkand are used for ploughing. And therefore, so long as we dancefrantic dances on our temple pavements, smeared with their blood, their severed heads carried on our shoulders, religion will onlylaugh at us if we quarrel with Mussulmans in her name, andnothing but the quarrel itself will remain true. If the cowalone is to be held sacred from slaughter, and not the buffalo, then that is bigotry, not religion. "

"But are you not aware, sir, of what is behind all this?"pursued the English-knowing tenant. "This has only becomepossible because the Mussulman is assured of safety, even if hebreaks the law. Have you not heard of the Pachur case?"

"Why is it possible, " I asked, "to use the Mussulmans thus, astools against us? Is it not because we have fashioned them intosuch with our own intolerance? That is how Providence punishesus. Our accumulated sins are being visited on our own heads. "

"Oh, well, if that be so, let them be visited on us. But weshall have our revenge. We have undermined what was the greateststrength of the authorities, their devotion to their own laws. Once they were truly kings, dispensing justice; now theythemselves will become law-breakers, and so no better thanrobbers. This may not go down to history, but we shall carry itin our hearts for all time . .. "

The evil reports about me which are spreading from paper to paperare making me notorious. News comes that my effigy has beenburnt at the river-side burning-ground of the Chakravartis, withdue ceremony and enthusiasm; and other insults are incontemplation. The trouble was that they had come to ask me totake shares in a Cotton Mill they wanted to start. I had to tellthem that I did not so much mind the loss of my own money, but Iwould not be a party to causing a loss to so many poorshareholders. 

"Are we to understand, Maharaja, " said my visitors, "that theprosperity of the country does not interest you?"

"Industry may lead to the country's prosperity, " I explained, "but a mere desire for its prosperity will not make for successin industry. Even when our heads were cool, our industries didnot flourish. Why should we suppose that they will do so justbecause we have become frantic?"

"Why not say plainly that you will not risk your money?"

"I will put in my money when I see that it is industry whichprompts you. But, because you have lighted a fire, it does notfollow that you have the food to cook over it. "

XIII

What is this? Our Chakua sub-treasury looted! A remittance ofseven thousand five hundred rupees was due from there toheadquarters. The local cashier had changed the cash at theGovernment Treasury into small currency notes for convenience incarrying, and had kept them ready in bundles. In the middle ofthe night an armed band had raided the room, and wounded Kasim, the man on guard. The curious part of it was that they had takenonly six thousand rupees and left the rest scattered on thefloor, though it would have been as easy to carry that away also. Anyhow, the raid of the dacoits was over; now the police raidwould begin. Peace was out of the question. 

When I went inside, I found the news had travelled before me. "What a terrible thing, brother, " exclaimed the Bara Rani. "Whatever shall we do?"

I made light of the matter to reassure her. "We still havesomething left, " I said with a smile. "We shall manage to getalong somehow. "

"Don't joke about it, brother dear. Why are they all so angrywith you? Can't you humour them? Why put everybody out?"

"I cannot let the country go to rack and ruin, even if that wouldplease everybody. "

"That was a shocking thing they did at the burning-grounds. It'sa horrid shame to treat you so. The Chota Rani has got rid ofall her fears by dint of the Englishwoman's teaching, but as forme, I had to send for the priest to avert the omen before I couldget any peace of mind. For my sake, dear, do get away toCalcutta. I tremble to think what they may do, if you stay onhere. "

My sister-in-law's genuine anxiety touched me deeply. 

"And, brother, " she went on, "did I not warn you, it was not wellto keep so much money in your room? They might get wind of itany day. It is not the money--but who knows. .. "

To calm her I promised to remove the money to the treasury atonce, and then get it away to Calcutta with the first escortgoing. We went together to my bedroom. The dressing-room doorwas shut. When I knocked, Bimala called out: "I am dressing. "

"I wonder at the Chota Rani, " exclaimed my sister-in-law, "dressing so early in the day! One of their __Bande Mataram__meetings, I suppose. Robber Queen!" she called out in jest toBimala. "Are you counting your spoils inside?"

"I will attend to the money a little later, " I said, as I cameaway to my office room outside. 

I found the Police Inspector waiting for me. "Any trace of thedacoits?" I asked. 

"I have my suspicions. "

"On whom?"

"Kasim, the guard. "

"Kasim? But was he not wounded?"

"A mere nothing. A flesh wound on the leg. Probably self-inflicted. "

"But I cannot bring myself to believe it. He is such a trustedservant. "

"You may have trusted him, but that does not prevent his being athief. Have I not seen men trusted for twenty years together, suddenly developing. .. "

"Even if it were so, I could not send him to gaol. But whyshould he have left the rest of the money lying about?"

"To put us off the scent. Whatever you may say, Maharaja, hemust be an old hand at the game. He mounts guard during hiswatch, right enough, but I feel sure he has a finger in all thedacoities going on in the neighbourhood. "

With this the Inspector proceeded to recount the various methodsby which it was possible to be concerned in a dacoity twenty orthirty miles away, and yet be back in time for duty. 

"Have you brought Kasim here?" I asked. 

"No, " was the reply, "he is in the lock-up. The Magistrate isdue for the investigation. "

"I want to see him, " I said. 

When I went to his cell he fell at my feet, weeping. "In God'sname, " he said, "I swear I did not do this thing. "

"I do not doubt you, Kasim, " I assured him. "Fear nothing. Theycan do nothing to you, if you are innocent. "

Kasim, however, was unable to give a coherent account of theincident. He was obviously exaggerating. Four or five hundredmen, big guns, numberless swords, figured in his narrative. Itmust have been either his disturbed state of mind or a desire toaccount for his easy defeat. He would have it that this wasHarish Kundu's doing; he was even sure he had heard the voice ofEkram, the head retainer of the Kundus. 

"Look here, Kasim, " I had to warn him, "don't you be draggingother people in with your stories. You are not called upon tomake out a case against Harish Kundu, or anybody else. "

XIV

On returning home I asked my master to come over. He shook hishead gravely. "I see no good in this, " said he--"this settingaside of conscience and putting the country in its place. Allthe sins of the country will now break out, hideous andunashamed. "

"Who do you think could have . .. "

"Don't ask me. But sin is rampant. Send them all away, rightaway from here. "

"I have given them one more day. They will be leaving the dayafter tomorrow. "

"And another thing. Take Bimala away to Calcutta. She isgetting too narrow a view of the outside world from here, shecannot see men and things in their true proportions. Let her seethe world--men and their work--give her abroad vision. "

"That is exactly what I was thinking. "

"Well, don't make any delay about it. I tell you, Nikhil, man'shistory has to be built by the united effort of all the races inthe world, and therefore this selling of conscience for politicalreasons--this making a fetish of one's country, won't do. I knowthat Europe does not at heart admit this, but there she has notthe right to pose as our teacher. Men who die for the truthbecome immortal: and, if a whole people can die for the truth, itwill also achieve immortality in the history of humanity. Here, in this land of India, amid the mocking laughter of Satanpiercing the sky, may the feeling for this truth become real!What a terrible epidemic of sin has been brought into our countryfrom foreign lands. .. "

The whole day passed in the turmoil of investigation. I wastired out when I retired for the night. I left over sending mysister-in-law's money to the treasury till next morning. 

I woke up from my sleep at dead of night. The room was dark. Ithought I heard a moaning somewhere. Somebody must have beencrying. Sounds of sobbing came heavy with tears like fitfulgusts of wind in the rainy night. It seemed to me that the cryrose from the heart of my room itself. I was alone. For somedays Bimala had her bed in another room adjoining mine. I roseup and when I went out I found her in the balcony lying proneupon her face on the bare floor. 

This is something that cannot be written in words. He only knowsit who sits in the bosom of the world and receives all its pangsin His own heart. The sky is dumb, the stars are mute, the nightis still, and in the midst of it all that one sleepless cry!

We give these sufferings names, bad or good, according to theclassifications of the books, but this agony which is welling upfrom a torn heart, pouring into the fathomless dark, has it anyname? When in that midnight, standing under the silent stars, Ilooked upon that figure, my mind was struck with awe, and I saidto myself: "Who am Ito judge her?" O life, O death, O God of theinfinite existence, I bow my head in silence to the mystery whichis in you. 

Once I thought I should turn back. But I could not. I sat downon the ground near Bimala and placed my hand on her head. At thefirst touch her whole body seemed to stiffen, but the next momentthe hardness gave way, and the tears burst out. I gently passedmy fingers over her forehead. Suddenly her hands groping for myfeet grasped them and drew them to herself, pressing them againsther breast with such force that I thought her heart would break. 

Bimala's Story

XVIII

Amulya is due to return from Calcutta this morning. I told theservants to let me know as soon as he arrived, but could not keepstill. At last I went outside to await him in the sitting-room. 

When I sent him off to sell the jewels I must have been thinkingonly of myself. It never even crossed my mind that so young aboy, trying to sell such valuable jewellery, would at once besuspected. So helpless are we women, we needs must place onothers the burden of our danger. When we go to our death we dragdown those who are about us. 

I had said with pride that I would save Amulya--as if she who wasdrowning could save others. But instead of saving him, I havesent him to his doom. My little brother, such a sister have Ibeen to you that Death must have smiled on that Brothers' Daywhen I gave you my blessing--I, who wander distracted with theburden of my own evil-doing. 

I feel today that man is at times attacked with evil as with theplague. Some germ finds its way in from somewhere, and then inthe space of one night Death stalks in. Why cannot the strickenone be kept far away from the rest of the world? I, at least, have realized how terrible is the contagion--like a fiery torchwhich burns that it may set the world on fire. 

It struck nine. I could not get rid of the idea that Amulya wasin trouble, that he had fallen into the clutches of the police. There must be great excitement in the Police Office--whose arethe jewels?--where did he get them? And in the end I shall haveto furnish the answer, in public, before all the world. 

What is that answer to be? Your day has come at last, Bara Rani, you whom I have so long despised. You, in the shape of thepublic, the world, will have your revenge. O God, save me thistime, and I will cast all my pride at my sister-in-law's feet. 

I could bear it no longer. I went straight to the Bara Rani. She was in the verandah, spicing her betel leaves, Thako at herside. The sight of Thako made me shrink back for a moment, but Iovercame all hesitation, and making a low obeisance I took thedust of my elder sister-in-law's feet. 

"Bless my soul, Chota Rani, " she exclaimed, "what has come uponyou? Why this sudden reverence?"

"It is my birthday, sister, " said I. "I have caused you pain. Give me your blessing today that I may never do so again. Mymind is so small. " I repeated my obeisance and left herhurriedly, but she called me back. 

"You never before told me that this was your birthday, Chotiedarling! Be sure to come and have lunch with me this afternoon. You positively must. "

O God, let it really be my birthday today. Can I not be bornover again? Cleanse me, my God, and purify me and give me onemore trial!

I went again to the sitting-room to find Sandip there. A feelingof disgust seemed to poison my very blood. The face of his, which I saw in the morning light, had nothing of the magicradiance of genius. 

"Will you leave the room, " I blurted out. 

Sandip smiled. "Since Amulya is not here, " he remarked, "Ishould think my turn had come for a special talk. "

My fate was coming back upon me. How was Ito take away the rightI myself had given. "I would be alone, " I repeated. 

"Queen, " he said, "the presence of another person does notprevent your being alone. Do not mistake me for one of thecrowd. I, Sandip, am always alone, even when surrounded bythousands. "

"Please come some other time. This morning I am . .. "

"Waiting for Amulya?"

I turned to leave the room for sheer vexation, when Sandip drewout from the folds of his cloak that jewel-casket of mine andbanged it down on the marble table. I was thoroughly startled. "Has not Amulya gone, then?" I exclaimed. 

"Gone where?"

"To Calcutta?"

"No, " chuckled Sandip. 

Ah, then my blessing had come true, in spite of all. He wassaved. Let God's punishment fall on me, the thief, if onlyAmulya be safe. 

The change in my countenance roused Sandip's scorn. "So pleased, Queen!" sneered he. "Are these jewels so very precious? Howthen did you bring yourself to offer them to the Goddess? Yourgift was actually made. Would you now take it back?"

Pride dies hard and raises its fangs to the last. It was clearto me I must show Sandip I did not care a rap about these jewels. "If they have excited your greed, " I said, "you may have them. "

"My greed today embraces the wealth of all Bengal, " repliedSandip. "Is there a greater force than greed? It is the steedof the great ones of the earth, as is the elephant, Airauat, thesteed of Indra. So then these jewels are mine?"

As Sandip took up and replaced the casket under his cloak, Amulyarushed in. There were dark rings under his eyes, his lips weredry, his hair tumbled: the freshness of his youth seemed to havewithered in a single day. Pangs gripped my heart as I looked onhim. 

"My box!" he cried, as he went straight up to Sandip without aglance at me. "Have you taken that jewel-box from my trunk?"

"Your jewel-box?" mocked Sandip. 

"It was my trunk!"Sandip burst out into a laugh. "Your distinctions between mineand yours are getting rather thin, Amulya, " he cried. "You willdie a religious preacher yet, I see. "

Amulya sank on a chair with his face in his hands. I went up tohim and placing my hand on his head asked him: "What is yourtrouble, Amulya?"

He stood straight up as he replied: "I had set my heart, SisterRani, on returning your jewels to you with my own hand. SandipBabu knew this, but he forestalled me. "

"What do I care for my jewels?" I said. "Let them go. No harmis done. 

"Go? Where?" asked the mystified boy. 

"The jewels are mine, " said Sandip. "Insignia bestowed on me bymy Queen!"

"No, no, no, " broke out Amulya wildly. "Never, Sister Rani! Ibrought them back for you. You shall not give them away toanybody else. "

"I accept your gift, my little brother, " said I. "But let him, who hankers after them, satisfy his greed. "

Amulya glared at Sandip like a beast of prey, as he growled:"Look here, Sandip Babu, you know that even hanging has noterrors for me. If you dare take away that box of jewels . .. "

With an attempt at a sarcastic laugh Sandip said: "You also oughtto know by this time, Amulya, that I am not the man to be afraidof you. "

"Queen Bee, " he went on, turning to me, "I did not come heretoday to take these jewels, I came to give them to you. Youwould have done wrong to take my gift at Amulya's hands. Inorder to prevent it, I had first to make them clearly mine. Nowthese my jewels are my gift to you. Here they are! Patch up anyunderstanding with this boy you like. I must go. You have beenat your special talks all these days together, leaving me out ofthem. If special happenings now come to pass, don't blame me. 

"Amulya, " he continued, "I have sent on your trunks and things toyour lodgings. Don't you be keeping any belongings of yours inmy room any longer. " With this parting shot, Sandip flung out ofthe room. 

XIX

"I have had no peace of mind, Amulya, " I said to him, "ever sinceI sent you off to sell my jewels. "

"Why, Sister Rani?"

"I was afraid lest you should get into trouble with them, lestthey should suspect you for a thief. I would rather go withoutthat six thousand. You must now do another thing for me--go homeat once, home to your mother. "

Amulya produced a small bundle and said: "But, sister, I have gotthe six thousand. "

"Where from?"

"I tried hard to get gold, " he went on, without replying to myquestion, "but could not. So I had to bring it in notes. "

"Tell me truly, Amulya, swear by me, where did you get thismoney?"

"That I will not tell you. "

Everything seemed to grow dark before my eyes. "What terriblething have you done, Amulya?" I cried. "Is it then . .. "

"I know you will say I got this money wrongly. Very well, Iadmit it. But I have paid the full price for my wrong-doing. Sonow the money is mine. "

I no longer had any desire to learn more about it. My veryblood-vessels contracted, making my whole body shrink withinitself. 

"Take it away, Amulya, " I implored. "Put it back where you gotit from. "

"That would be hard indeed!"

"It is not hard, brother dear. It was an evil moment when youfirst came to me. Even Sandip has not been able to harm you as Ihave done. "

Sandip's name seemed to stab him. 

"Sandip!" he cried. "It was you alone who made me come to knowthat man for what he is. Do you know, sister, he has not spent apice out of those sovereigns he took from you? He shut himselfinto his room, after he left you, and gloated over the gold, pouring it out in a heap on the floor. 'This is not money, ' heexclaimed, 'but the petals of the divine lotus of power;crystallized strains of music from the pipes that play in theparadise of wealth! I cannot find it in my heart to change them, for they seem longing to fulfil their destiny of adorning theneck of Beauty. Amulya, my boy, don't you look at these withyour fleshly eye, they are Lakshmi's smile, the gracious radianceof Indra's queen. No, no, I can't give them up to that boor of amanager. I am sure, Amulya, he was telling us lies. The policehaven't traced the man who sank that boat. It's the manager whowants to make something out of it. We must get those lettersback from him. '

"I asked him how we were to do this; he told me to use force orthreats. I offered to do so if he would return the gold. That, he said, we could consider later. I will not trouble you, sister, with all I did to frighten the man into giving up thoseletters and burn them--it is a long story. That very night Icame to Sandip and said: 'We are now safe. Let me have thesovereigns to return them tomorrow to my sister, the Maharani. 'But he cried, 'What infatuation is this of yours? Your precioussister's skirt bids fair to hide the whole country from you. Say__Bande Mataram__ and exorcize the evil spirit. '

"You know, Sister Rani, the power of Sandip's magic. The goldremained with him. And I spent the whole dark night on thebathing-steps of the lake muttering __Bande Mataram__. 

"Then when you gave me your jewels to sell, I went again toSandip. I could see he was angry with me. But he tried not toshow it. 'If I still have them hoarded up in any box of mine youmay take them, ' said he, as he flung me his keys. They werenowhere to be seen. 'Tell me where they are, ' I said. 'I willdo so, ' he replied, 'when I find your infatuation has left you. Not now. '

"When I found I could not move him, I had to employ othermethods. Then I tried to get the sovereigns from him in exchangefor my currency notes for six thousand rupees. 'You shall havethem, ' he said, and disappeared into his bedroom, leaving mewaiting outside. There he broke open my trunk and came straightto you with your casket through some other passage. He would notlet me bring it, and now he dares call it his gift. How can Itell how much he has deprived me of? I shall never forgive him. 

"But, oh sister, his power over me has been utterly broken. Andit is you who have broken it!"

"Brother dear, " said I, "if that is so, then my life isjustified. But more remains to be done, Amulya. It is notenough that the spell has been destroyed. Its stains must bewashed away. Don't delay any longer, go at once and put back themoney where you took it from. Can you not do it, dear?"

"With your blessing everything is possible, Sister Rani. "

"Remember, it will not be your expiation alone, but mine also. Iam a woman; the outside world is closed to me, else I would havegone myself. My hardest punishment is that I must put on you theburden of my sin. "

"Don't say that, sister. The path I was treading was not yourpath. It attracted me because of its dangers and difficulties. Now that your path calls me, let it be a thousand times moredifficult and dangerous, the dust of your feet will help me towin through. Is it then your command that this money bereplaced?"

"Not my command, brother mine, but a command from above. "

"Of that I know nothing. It is enough for me that this commandfrom above comes from your lips. And, sister, I thought I had aninvitation here. I must not lose that. You must give me your__prasad__ [26] before I go. Then, if I can possibly manageit, I will finish my duty in the evening. "

Tears came to my eyes when I tried to smile as I said: "So beit. "

------

26. Food consecrated by the touch of a revered person. 

Chapter Eleven

Bimala's Story

XX

WITH Amulya's departure my heart sank within me. On whatperilous adventure had I sent this only son of his mother? OGod, why need my expiation have such pomp and circumstance?Could I not be allowed to suffer alone without inviting all thismultitude to share my punishment? Oh, let not this innocentchild fall victim to Your wrath. 

I called him back--"Amulya!"

My voice sounded so feebly, it failed to reach him. 

I went up to the door and called again: "Amulya!"

He had gone. 

"Who is there?"

"Rani Mother!"

"Go and tell Amulya Babu that I want him. "

What exactly happened I could not make out--the man, perhaps, wasnot familiar with Amulya's name--but he returned almost at oncefollowed by Sandip. 

"The very moment you sent me away, " he said as he came in, "I hada presentiment that you would call me back. The attraction ofthe same moon causes both ebb and flow. I was so sure of beingsent for, that I was actually waiting out in the passage. Assoon as I caught sight of your man, coming from your room, Isaid: 'Yes, yes, I am coming, I am coming at once!'--before hecould utter a word. That up-country lout was surprised, I cantell you! He stared at me, open-mouthed, as if he thought I knewmagic. 

"All the fights in the world, Queen Bee, " Sandip rambled on, "arereally fights between hypnotic forces. Spell cast against spell--noiseless weapons which reach even invisible targets. At last Ihave met in you my match. Your quiver is full, I know, youartful warrior Queen! You are the only one in the world who hasbeen able to turn Sandip out and call Sandip back, at your sweetwill. Well, your quarry is at your feet. What will you do withhim now? Will you give him the coup de grâce, or keep him inyour cage? Let me warn you beforehand, Queen, you will find thebeast as difficult to kill outright as to keep in bondage. Anyway, why lose time in trying your magic weapons?"

Sandip must have felt the shadow of approaching defeat, and thismade him try to gain time by chattering away without waiting fora reply. I believe he knew that I had sent the messenger forAmulya, whose name the man must have mentioned. In spite of thathe had deliberately played this trick. He was now trying toavoid giving me any opening to tell him that it was Amulya Iwanted, not him. But his stratagem was futile, for I could seehis weakness through it. I must not yield up a pin's point ofthe ground I had gained. 

"Sandip Babu, " I said, "I wonder how you can go on making theseendless speeches, without a stop. Do you get them up by heart, beforehand?"

Sandip's face flushed instantly. 

"I have heard, " I continued, "that our professional reciters keepa book full of all kinds of ready-made discourses, which can befitted into any subject. Have you also a book?"

Sandip ground out his reply through his teeth. "God has givenyou women a plentiful supply of coquetry to start with, and onthe top of that you have the milliner and the jeweller to helpyou; but do not think we men are so helpless . .. "

"You had better go back and look up your book, Sandip Babu. Youare getting your words all wrong. That's just the trouble withtrying to repeat things by rote. "

"You!" shouted Sandip, losing all control over himself. "You toinsult me thus! What is there left of you that I do not know tothe very bottom? What . .. " He became speechless. 

Sandip, the wielder of magic spells, is reduced to utterpowerlessness, whenever his spell refuses to work. From a kinghe fell to the level of a boor. Oh, the joy of witnessing hisweakness! The harsher he became in his rudeness, the more didthis joy well up within me. His snaky coils, with which he usedto snare me, are exhausted--I am free. I am saved, saved. Berude to me, insult me, for that shows you in your truth; butspare me your songs of praise, which were false. 

My husband came in at this juncture. Sandip had not theelasticity to recover himself in a moment, as he used to dobefore. My husband looked at him for a while in surprise. Hadthis happened some days ago I should have felt ashamed. Buttoday I was pleased--whatever my husband might think. I wantedto have it out to the finish with my weakening adversary. 

Finding us both silent and constrained, my husband hesitated alittle, and then took a chair. "Sandip, " he said, "I have beenlooking for you, and was told you were here. "

"I am here, " said Sandip with some emphasis. "Queen Bee sent forme early this morning. And I, the humble worker of the hive, left all else to attend her summons. "

"I am going to Calcutta tomorrow. You will come with me. 

"And why, pray? Do you take me for one of your retinue?"

"Oh, very well, take it that you are going to Calcutta, and thatI am your follower. "

"I have no business there. "

"All the more reason for going. You have too much businesshere. "

"I don't propose to stir. "

"Then I propose to shift you. "

"Forcibly?"

"Forcibly. "

"Very well, then, I will make a move. But the world is notdivided between Calcutta and your estates. There are otherplaces on the map. "

"From the way you have been going on, one would hardly havethought that there was any other place in the world except myestates. "

Sandip stood up. "It does happen at times, " he said, "that aman's whole world is reduced to a single spot. I have realizedmy universe in this sitting-room of yours, that is why I havebeen a fixture here. "

Then he turned to me. "None but you, Queen Bee, " he said, "willunderstand my words--perhaps not even you. I salute you. Withworship in my heart I leave you. My watchword has changed sinceyou have come across my vision. It is no longer __BandeMataram__ (Hail Mother), but Hail Beloved, Hail Enchantress. The mother protects, the mistress leads to destruction--but sweetis that destruction. You have made the anklet sounds of thedance of death tinkle in my heart. You have changed for me, yourdevotee, the picture I had of this Bengal of ours--'the softbreeze-cooled land of pure water and sweet fruit. ' [27] You haveno pity, my beloved. You have come to me with your poison cupand I shall drain it, either to die in agony or live triumphingover death. 

"Yes, " he continued. "The mother's day is past. O love, mylove, you have made as naught for me the truth and right andheaven itself. All duties have become as shadows: all rules andrestraints have snapped their bonds. O love, my love, I couldset fire to all the world outside this land on which you have setyour dainty feet, and dance in mad revel over the ashes . .. These are mild men. These are good men. They would do good toall--as if this all were a reality! No, no! There is no realityin the world save this one real love of mine. I do youreverence. My devotion to you has made me cruel; my worship ofyou has lighted the raging flame of destruction within me. I amnot righteous. I have no beliefs, I only believe in her whom, above all else in the world, I have been able to realize. "

Wonderful! It was wonderful, indeed. Only a minute ago I haddespised this man with all my heart. But what I had thought tobe dead ashes now glowed with living fire. The fire in him istrue, that is beyond doubt. Oh why has God made man such a mixedcreature? Was it only to show his supernatural sleight of hand?Only a few minutes ago I had thought that Sandip, whom I had oncetaken to be a hero, was only the stage hero of melodrama. Butthat is not so, not so. Even behind the trappings of thetheatre, a true hero may sometimes be lurking. 

There is much in Sandip that is coarse, that is sensuous, that isfalse, much that is overlaid with layer after layer of fleshlycovering. Yet--yet it is best to confess that there is a greatdeal in the depths of him which we do not, cannot understand--much in ourselves too. A wonderful thing is man. What greatmysterious purpose he is working out only the Terrible One [28]knows--meanwhile we groan under the brunt of it. Shiva is theLord of Chaos. He is all Joy. He will destroy our bonds. 

I cannot but feel, again and again, that there are two persons inme. One recoils from Sandip in his terrible aspect of Chaos--theother feels that very vision to be sweetly alluring. The sinkingship drags down all who are swimming round it. Sandip is justsuch a force of destruction. His immense attraction gets hold ofone before fear can come to the rescue, and then, in thetwinkling of an eye, one is drawn away, irresistibly, from alllight, all good, all freedom of the sky, all air that can bebreathed--from lifelong accumulations, from everyday cares--rightto the bottom of dissolution. 

From some realm of calamity has Sandip come as its messenger; andas he stalks the land, muttering unholy incantations, to himflock all the boys and youths. The mother, seated in the lotus-heart of the Country, is wailing her heart out; for they havebroken open her store-room, there to hold their drunken revelry. Her vintage of the draught for the immortals they would pour outon the dust; her time-honoured vessels they would smash topieces. True, I feel with her; but, at the same time, I cannothelp being infected with their excitement. 

Truth itself has sent us this temptation to test our trustinessin upholding its commandments. Intoxication masquerades inheavenly garb, and dances before the pilgrims saying: "Fools youare that pursue the fruitless path of renunciation. Its way islong, its time passing slow. So the Wielder of the Thunderbolthas sent me to you. Behold, I the beautiful, the passionate, Iwill accept you--in my embrace you shall find fulfilment. "

After a pause Sandip addressed me again: "Goddess, the time hascome for me to leave you. It is well. The work of your nearnesshas been done. By lingering longer it would only become undoneagain, little by little. All is lost, if in our greed we try tocheapen that which is the greatest thing on earth. That which iseternal within the moment only becomes shallow if spread out intime. We were about to spoil our infinite moment, when it wasyour uplifted thunderbolt which came to the rescue. Youintervened to save the purity of your own worship--and in sodoing you also saved your worshipper. In my leave-taking todayyour worship stands out the biggest thing. Goddess, I, also, setyou free today. My earthen temple could hold you no longer--every moment it was on the point of breaking apart. Today Idepart to worship your larger image in a larger temple. I cangain you more truly only at a distance from yourself. Here I hadonly your favour, there I shall be vouchsafed your boon. "

My jewel-casket was lying on the table. I held it up aloft as Isaid: "I charge you to convey these my jewels to the object of myworship--to whom I have dedicated them through you. "

My husband remained silent. Sandip left the room. 

------

27. Quotation from the National song--__Bande Mataram__. 

28. Rudra, the Terrible, a name of Shiva. [Trans. ]. 

XXI

I had just sat down to make some cakes for Amulya when the BaraRani came upon the scene. "Oh dear, " she exclaimed, "has it cometo this that you must make cakes for your own birthday?"

"Is there no one else for whom I could be making them?" I asked. 

"But this is not the day when you should think of feastingothers. It is for us to feast you. I was just thinking ofmaking something up [29] when I heard the staggering news whichcompletely upset me. A gang of five or six hundred men, theysay, has raided one of our treasuries and made off with sixthousand rupees. Our house will be looted next, they expect. "

I felt greatly relieved. So it was our own money after all. Iwanted to send for Amulya at once and tell him that he need onlyhand over those notes to my husband and leave the explanations tome. 

"You are a wonderful creature!" my sister-in-law broke out, atthe change in my countenance. "Have you then really no suchthing as fear?"

"I cannot believe it, " I said. "Why should they loot our house?"

"Not believe it, indeed! Who could have believed that they wouldattack our treasury, either?"

I made no reply, but bent over my cakes, putting in the cocoa-nutstuffing. 

"Well, I'm off, " said the Bara Rani after a prolonged stare atme. "I must see Brother Nikhil and get something done aboutsending off my money to Calcutta, before it's too late. "

She was no sooner gone than I left the cakes to take care ofthemselves and rushed to my dressing-room, shutting myselfinside. My husband's tunic with the keys in its pocket was stillhanging there--so forgetful was he. I took the key of the ironsafe off the ring and kept it by me, hidden in the folds of mydress. 

Then there came a knocking at the door. "I am dressing, " Icalled out. I could hear the Bara Rani saying: "Only a minuteago I saw her making cakes and now she is busy dressing up. Whatnext, I wonder! One of their __Bande Mataram__ meetings ison, I suppose. I say, Robber Queen, " she called out to me, "areyou taking stock of your loot?"

When they went away I hardly know what made me open the safe. Perhaps there was a lurking hope that it might all be a dream. What if, on pulling out the inside drawer, I should find therolls of gold there, just as before? . .. Alas, everything wasempty as the trust which had been betrayed. 

I had to go through the farce of dressing. I had to do my hairup all over again, quite unnecessarily. When I came out mysister-in-law railed at me: "How many times are you going todress today?"

"My birthday!" I said. 

"Oh, any pretext seems good enough, " she went on. "Many vainpeople have I seen in my day, but you beat them all hollow. "

I was about to summon a servant to send after Amulya, when one ofthe men came up with a little note, which he handed to me. Itwas from Amulya. "Sister, " he wrote, "you invited me thisafternoon, but I thought I should not wait. Let me first executeyour bidding and then come for my __prasad__. I may be alittle late. "

To whom could he be going to return that money? into what freshentanglement was the poor boy rushing? O miserable woman, youcan only send him off like an arrow, but not recall him if youmiss your aim. 

I should have declared at once that I was at the bottom of thisrobbery. But women live on the trust of their surroundings--thisis their whole world. If once it is out that this trust has beensecretly betrayed, their place in their world is lost. They havethen to stand upon the fragments of the thing they have broken, and its jagged edges keep on wounding them at every turn. To sinis easy enough, but to make up for it is above all difficult fora woman. 

For some time past all easy approaches for communion with myhusband have been closed to me. How then could I burst on himwith this stupendous news? He was very late in coming for hismeal today--nearly two o'clock. He was absent-minded and hardlytouched any food. I had lost even the right to press him to takea little more. I had to avert my face to wipe away my tears. 

I wanted so badly to say to him: "Do come into our room and restawhile; you look so tired. " I had just cleared my throat with alittle cough, when a servant hurried in to say that the PoliceInspector had brought Panchu up to the palace. My husband, withthe shadow on his face deepened, left his meal unfinished andwent out. 

A little later the Bara Rani appeared. "Why did you not send meword when Brother Nikhil came in?" she complained. "As he waslate I thought I might as well finish my bath in the meantime. However did he manage to get through his meal so soon?"

"Why, did you want him for anything?"

"What is this about both of you going off to Calcutta tomorrow?All I can say is, I am not going to be left here alone. I shouldget startled out of my life at every sound, with all thesedacoits about. Is it quite settled about your going tomorrow?"

"Yes, " said I, though I had only just now heard it; and though, moreover, I was not at all sure that before tomorrow our historymight not take such a turn as to make it all one whether we wentor stayed. After that, what our home, our life would be like, was utterly beyond my ken--it seemed so misty and phantom-like. 

In a very few hours now my unseen fate would become visible. Wasthere no one who could keep on postponing the flight of thesehours, from day to day, and so make them long enough for me toset things right, so far as lay in my power? The time duringwhich the seed lies underground is long--so long indeed that oneforgets that there is any danger of its sprouting. But once itsshoot shows up above the surface, it grows and grows so fast, there is no time to cover it up, neither with skirt, nor body, nor even life itself. 

I will try to think of it no more, but sit quiet--passive andcallous--let the crash come when it may. By the day aftertomorrow all will be over--publicity, laughter, bewailing, questions, explanations--everything. 

But I cannot forget the face of Amulya--beautiful, radiant withdevotion. He did not wait, despairing, for the blow of fate tofall, but rushed into the thick of danger. In my misery I do himreverence. He is my boy-god. Under the pretext of hisplayfulness he took from me the weight of my burden. He wouldsave me by taking the punishment meant for me on his own head. But how am Ito bear this terrible mercy of my God?

Oh, my child, my child, I do you reverence. Little brother mine, I do you reverence. Pure are you, beautiful are you, I do youreverence. May you come to my arms, in the next birth, as my ownchild--that is my prayer. 

------

29. Any dainties to be offered ceremonially should be made by thelady of the house herself. [Trans. ]. 

XXII

Rumour became busy on every side. The police were continually inand out. The servants of the house were in a great flurry. 

Khema, my maid, came up to me and said: "Oh, Rani Mother! forgoodness" sake put away my gold necklace and armlets in your ironsafe. " To whom was I to explain that the Rani herself had beenweaving all this network of trouble, and had got caught in it, too? I had to play the benign protector and take charge ofKhema's ornaments and Thako's savings. The milk-woman, in herturn, brought along and kept in my room a box in which were aBenares __sari__ and some other of her valued possessions. "Igot these at your wedding, " she told me. 

When, tomorrow, my iron safe will be opened in the presence ofthese--Khema, Thako, the milk-woman and all the rest . .. Let menot think of it! Let me rather try to think what it will be likewhen this third day of Magh comes round again after a year haspassed. Will all the wounds of my home life then be still asfresh as ever? . .. 

Amulya writes that he will come later in the evening. I cannotremain alone with my thoughts, doing nothing. So I sit downagain to make cakes for him. I have finished making quite aquantity, but still I must go on. Who will eat them? I shalldistribute them amongst the servants. I must do so this verynight. Tonight is my limit. Tomorrow will not be in my hands. 

I went on untiringly, frying cake after cake. Every now and thenit seemed to me that there was some noise in the direction of myrooms, upstairs. Could it be that my husband had missed the keyof the safe, and the Bara Rani had assembled all the servants tohelp him to hunt for it? No, I must not pay heed to thesesounds. Let me shut the door. 

I rose to do so, when Thako came panting in: "Rani Mother, oh, Rani Mother!"

"Oh get away!" I snapped out, cutting her short. "Don't comebothering me. "

"The Bara Rani Mother wants you, " she went on. "Her nephew hasbrought such a wonderful machine from Calcutta. It talks like aman. Do come and hear it!"

I did not know whether to laugh or to cry. So, of all things, agramophone needs must come on the scene at such a time, repeatingat every winding the nasal twang of its theatrical songs! What afearsome thing results when a machine apes a man. 

The shades of evening began to fall. I knew that Amulya wouldnot delay to announce himself--yet I could not wait. I summoned a servant and said: "Go and tell Amulya Babu to come straightin here. " The man came back after a while to say that Amulya wasnot in--he had not come back since he had gone. 

"Gone!" The last word struck my ears like a wail in thegathering darkness. Amulya gone! Had he then come like a streakof light from the setting sun, only to be gone for ever? Allkinds of possible and impossible dangers flitted through my mind. It was I who had sent him to his death. What if he was fearless?That only showed his own greatness of heart. But after this howwas Ito go on living all by myself?

I had no memento of Amulya save that pistol--his reverence-offering. It seemed to me that this was a sign given byProvidence. This guilt which had contaminated my life at itsvery root--my God in the form of a child had left with me themeans of wiping it away, and then vanished. Oh the loving gift--the saving grave that lay hidden within it!

I opened my box and took out the pistol, lifting it reverently tomy forehead. At that moment the gongs clanged out from thetemple attached to our house. I prostrated myself in salutation. 

In the evening I feasted the whole household with my cakes. "Youhave managed a wonderful birthday feast--and all by yourselftoo!" exclaimed my sister-in-law. "But you must leave somethingfor us to do. " With this she turned on her gramophone and letloose the shrill treble of the Calcutta actresses all over theplace. It seemed like a stable full of neighing fillies. 

It got quite late before the feasting was over. I had a suddenlonging to end my birthday celebration by taking the dust of myhusband's feet. I went up to the bedroom and found him fastasleep. He had had such a worrying, trying day. I raised theedge of the mosquito curtain very very gently, and laid my headnear his feet. My hair must have touched him, for he moved hislegs in his sleep and pushed my head away. 

I then went out and sat in the west verandah. A silk-cottontree, which had shed all its leaves, stood there in the distance, like a skeleton. Behind it the crescent moon was setting. Allof a sudden I had the feeling that the very stars in the sky wereafraid of me--that the whole of the night world was lookingaskance at me. Why? Because I was alone. 

There is nothing so strange in creation as the man who is alone. Even he whose near ones have all died, one by one, is not alone--companionship comes for him from behind the screen of death. Buthe, whose kin are there, yet no longer near, who has dropped outof all the varied companionship of a full home--the starryuniverse itself seems to bristle to look on him in his darkness. 

Where I am, I am not. I am far away from those who are aroundme. I live and move upon a world-wide chasm of separation, unstable as the dew-drop upon the lotus leaf. 

Why do not men change wholly when they change? When I look intomy heart, I find everything that was there, still there--onlythey are topsy-turvy. Things that were well-ordered have becomejumbled up. The gems that were strung into a necklace are nowrolling in the dust. And so my heart is breaking. 

I feel I want to die. Yet in my heart everything still lives--nor even in death can I see the end of it all: rather, in deaththere seems to be ever so much more of repining. What is to beended must be ended in this life--there is no other way out. 

Oh forgive me just once, only this time, Lord! All that you gaveinto my hands as the wealth of my life, I have made into myburden. I can neither bear it longer, nor give it up. O Lord, sound once again those flute strains which you played for me, long ago, standing at the rosy edge of my morning sky--and letall my complexities become simple and easy. Nothing save themusic of your flute can make whole that which has been broken, and pure that which has been sullied. Create my home anew withyour music. No other way can I see. 

I threw myself prone on the ground and sobbed aloud. It was formercy that I prayed--some little mercy from somewhere, someshelter, some sign of forgiveness, some hope that might bringabout the end. "Lord, " I vowed to myself, "I will lie here, waiting and waiting, touching neither food nor drink, so long asyour blessing does not reach me. "

I heard the sound of footsteps. Who says that the gods do notshow themselves to mortal men? I did not raise my face to lookup, lest the sight of it should break the spell. Come, oh come, come and let your feet touch my head. Come, Lord, and set yourfoot upon my throbbing heart, and at that moment let me die. 

He came and sat near my head. Who? My husband! At the firsttouch of his presence I felt that I should swoon. And then thepain at my heart burst its way out in an overwhelming flood oftears, tearing through all my obstructing veins and nerves. Istrained his feet to my bosom--oh, why could not their impressremain there for ever?

He tenderly stroked my head. I received his blessing. Now Ishall be able to take up the penalty of public humiliation whichwill be mine tomorrow, and offer it, in all sincerity, at thefeet of my God. 

But what keeps crushing my heart is the thought that the festiveflutes which were played at my wedding, nine years ago, welcomingme to this house, will never sound for me again in this life. What rigour of penance is there which can serve to bring me oncemore, as a bride adorned for her husband, to my place upon thatsame bridal seat? How many years, how many ages, aeons, mustpass before I can find my way back to that day of nine years ago?

God can create new things, but has even He the power to createafresh that which has been destroyed?

Chapter Twelve

Nikhil's Story

XV

TODAY we are going to Calcutta. Our joys and sorrows lie heavyon us if we merely go on accumulating them. Keeping them andaccumulating them alike are false. As master of the house I amin an artificial position--in reality I am a wayfarer on the pathof life. That is why the true Master of the House gets hurt atevery step and at last there comes the supreme hurt of death. 

My union with you, my love, was only of the wayside; it was wellenough so long as we followed the same road; it will only hamperus if we try to preserve it further. We are now leaving itsbonds behind. We are started on our journey beyond, and it willbe enough if we can throw each other a glance, or feel the touchof each other's hands in passing. After that? After that thereis the larger world-path, the endless current of universal life. 

How little can you deprive me of, my love, after all? Whenever Iset my ear to it, I can hear the flute which is playing, itsfountain of melody gushing forth from the flute-stops ofseparation. The immortal draught of the goddess is neverexhausted. She sometimes breaks the bowl from which we drink it, only to smile at seeing us so disconsolate over the triflingloss. I will not stop to pick up my broken bowl. I will marchforward, albeit with unsatisfied heart. 

The Bara Rani came and asked me: "What is the meaning, brother, of all these books being packed up and sent off in box-loads?"

"It only means, " I replied, "that I have not yet been able to getover my fondness for them. "

"I only wish you would keep your fondness for some other thingsas well! Do you mean you are never coming back home?"

"I shall be coming and going, but shall not immure myself hereany more. "

"Oh indeed! Then just come along to my room and see how manythings __I__ have been unable to shake off __my__ fondnessfor. " With this she took me by the hand and marched me off. 

In my sister-in-law's rooms I found numberless boxes and bundlesready packed. She opened one of the boxes and said: "See, brother, look at all my __pan__-making things. In this bottleI have catechu powder scented with the pollen of screw-pineblossoms. These little tin boxes are all for different kinds ofspices. I have not forgotten my playing cards and draught-boardeither. If you two are over-busy, I shall manage to make otherfriends there, who will give me a game. Do you remember thiscomb? It was one of the __Swadeshi__ combs you brought forme. .. "

"But what is all this for, Sister Rani? Why have you beenpacking up all these things?"

"Do you think I am not going with you?"

"What an extraordinary idea!"

"Don't you be afraid! I am not going there to flirt with you, nor to quarrel with the Chota Rani! One must die sooner orlater, and it is just as well to be on the bank of the holyGanges before it is too late. It is too horrible to think ofbeing cremated in your wretched burning-ground here, under thatstumpy banian tree--that is why I have been refusing to die, andhave plagued you all this time. "

At last I could hear the true voice of home. The Bara Rani cameinto our house as its bride, when I was only six years old. Wehave played together, through the drowsy afternoons, in a cornerof the roof-terrace. I have thrown down to her green amras fromthe tree-top, to be made into deliciously indigestible chutniesby slicing them up with mustard, salt and fragrant herbs. It wasmy part to gather for her all the forbidden things from thestore-room to be used in the marriage celebration of her doll;for, in the penal code of my grandmother, I alone was exempt frompunishment. And I used to be appointed her messenger to mybrother, whenever she wanted to coax something special out ofhim, because he could not resist my importunity. I also rememberhow, when I suffered under the rigorous régime of the doctors ofthose days--who would not allow anything except warm water andsugared cardamom seeds during feverish attacks--my sister-in-lawcould not bear my privation and used to bring me delicacies onthe sly. What a scolding she got one day when she was caught!

And then, as we grew up, our mutual joys and sorrows took ondeeper tones of intimacy. How we quarrelled! Sometimesconflicts of worldly interests roused suspicions and jealousies, making breaches in our love; and when the Chota Rani came inbetween us, these breaches seemed as if they would never bemended, but it always turned out that the healing forces atbottom proved more powerful than the wounds on the surface. 

So has a true relationship grown up between us, from ourchildhood up till now, and its branching foliage has spread andbroadened over every room and verandah and terrace of this greathouse. When I saw the Bara Rani make ready, with all herbelongings, to depart from this house of ours, all the ties thatbound us, to their wide-spreading ends, felt the shock. 

The reason was clear to me, why she had made up her mind to driftaway towards the unknown, cutting asunder all her lifelong bondsof daily habit, and of the house itself, which she had never leftfor a day since she first entered it at the age of nine. And yetit was this real reason which she could not allow to escape herlips, preferring rather to put forward any other paltry excuse. 

She had only this one relationship left in all the world, and thepoor, unfortunate, widowed and childless woman had cherished itwith all the tenderness hoarded in her heart. How deeply she hadfelt our proposed separation I never realized so keenly as when Istood amongst her scattered boxes and bundles. 

I could see at once that the little differences she used to havewith Bimala, about money matters, did not proceed from any sordidworldliness, but because she felt that her claims in regard tothis one relationship of her life had been overridden and itsties weakened for her by the coming in between of this otherwoman from goodness knows where! She had been hurt at every turnand yet had not the right to complain. 

And Bimala? She also had felt that the Senior Rani's claim overme was not based merely on our social connection, but went muchdeeper; and she was jealous of these ties between us, reachingback to our childhood. 

Today my heart knocked heavily against the doors of my breast. Isank down upon one of the boxes as I said: "How I should love, Sister Rani, to go back to the days when we first met in this oldhouse of ours. "

"No, brother dear, " she replied with a sigh, "I would not live mylife again--not as a woman! Let what I have had to bear end withthis one birth. I could not bear it over again. "

I said to her: "The freedom to which we pass through sorrow isgreater than the sorrow. "

"That may be so for you men. Freedom is for you. But we womenwould keep others bound. We would rather be put into bondageourselves. No, no, brother, you will never get free from ourtoils. If you needs must spread your wings, you will have totake us with you; we refuse to be left behind. That is why Ihave gathered together all this weight of luggage. It wouldnever do to allow men to run too light. "

"I can feel the weight of your words, " I said laughing, "and ifwe men do not complain of your burdens, it is because women payus so handsomely for what they make us carry. "

"You carry it, " she said, "because it is made up of many smallthings. Whichever one you think of rejecting pleads that it isso light. And so with much lightness we weigh you down . .. Whendo we start?"

"The train leaves at half past eleven tonight. There will belots of time. "

"Look here, do be good for once and listen to just one word ofmine. Take a good nap this afternoon. You know you never getany sleep in the train. You look so pulled down, you might go topieces any moment. Come along, get through your bath first. "

As we went towards my room, Khema, the maid, came up and with anultra-modest pull at her veil told us, in deprecatingly lowtones, that the Police Inspector had arrived with a prisoner andwanted to see the Maharaja. 

"Is the Maharaja a thief, or a robber, " the Bara Rani flared up, "that he should be set upon so by the police? Go and tell theInspector that the Maharaja is at his bath. "

"Let me just go and see what is the matter, " I pleaded. "It maybe something urgent. "

"No, no, " my sister-in-law insisted. "Our Chota Rani was makinga heap of cakes last night. I'll send some to the Inspector, tokeep him quiet till you're ready. " With this she pushed me intomy room and shut the door on me. 

I had not the power to resist such tyranny--so rare is it in thisworld. Let the Inspector while away the time eating cakes. Whatif business is a bit neglected?

The police had been in great form these last few days arrestingnow this one, now that. Each day some innocent person or otherwould be brought along to enliven the assembly in my office-room. One more such unfortunate, I supposed, must have been brought inthat day. But why should the Inspector alone be regaled withcakes? That would not do at all. I thumped vigorously on thedoor. 

"If you are going mad, be quick and pour some water over yourhead--that will keep you cool, " said my sister-in-law from thepassage. 

"Send down cakes for two, " I shouted. "The person who has beenbrought in as the thief probably deserves them better. Tell theman to give him a good big helping. "

I hurried through my bath. When I came out, I found Bimalsitting on the floor outside. [30] Could this be my Bimal ofold, my proud, sensitive Bimal?

What favour could she be wanting to beg, seated like this at mydoor?

As I stopped short, she stood up and said gently with downcasteyes: "I would have a word with you. "

"Come inside then, " I said. 

"But are you going out on any particular business?"

"I was, but let that be. I want to hear . .. "

"No, finish your business first. We will have our talk after youhave had your dinner. "

I went off to my sitting-room, to find the Police Inspector'splate quite empty. The person he had brought with him, however, was still busy eating. 

"Hullo!" I ejaculated in surprise. "You, Amulya?"

"It is I, sir, " said Amulya with his mouth full of cake. "I'vehad quite a feast. And if you don't mind, I'll take the restwith me. " With this he proceeded to tie up the remaining cakesin his handkerchief. 

"What does this mean?" I asked, staring at the Inspector. 

The man laughed. "We are no nearer, sir, " he said, "to solvingthe problem of the thief: meanwhile the mystery of the theftdeepens. " He then produced something tied up in a rag, whichwhen untied disclosed a bundle of currency notes. "This, Maharaja, " said the Inspector, "is your six thousand rupees!"

"Where was it found?"

"In Amulya Babu's hands. He went last evening to the manager ofyour Chakna sub-office to tell him that the money had been found. The manager seemed to be in a greater state of trepidation at therecovery than he had been at the robbery. He was afraid he wouldbe suspected of having made away with the notes and of now makingup a cock-and-bull story for fear of being found out. He askedAmulya to wait, on the pretext of getting him some refreshment, and came straight over to the Police Office. I rode off at once, kept Amulya with me, and have been busy with him the wholemorning. He refuses to tell us where he got the money from. Iwarned him he would be kept under restraint till he did so. Inthat case, he informed me he would have to lie. Very well, Isaid, he might do so if he pleased. Then he stated that he hadfound the money under a bush. I pointed out to him that it wasnot quite so easy to lie as all that. Under what bush? Wherewas the place? Why was he there?--All this would have to bestated as well. 'Don't you worry, ' he said, 'there is plenty oftime to invent all that. '"

"But, Inspector, " I said, "why are you badgering a respectableyoung gentleman like Amulya Babu?"

"I have no desire to harass him, " said the Inspector. "He is notonly a gentleman, but the son of Nibaran Babu, my school-fellow. Let me tell you, Maharaja, exactly what must have happened. Amulya knows the thief, but wants to shield him by drawingsuspicion on himself. That is just the sort of bravado he lovesto indulge in. " The Inspector turned to Amulya. "Look here, young man, " he continued, "I also was eighteen once upon a time, and a student in the Ripon College. I nearly got into gaoltrying to rescue a hack driver from a police constable. It was anear shave. " Then he turned again to me and said: "Maharaja, thereal thief will now probably escape, but I think I can tell youwho is at the bottom of it all. "

"Who is it, then?" I asked. 

"The manager, in collusion with the guard, Kasim. "

When the Inspector, having argued out his theory to his ownsatisfaction, at last departed, I said to Amulya: "If you willtell me who took the money, I promise you no one shall be hurt. "

"I did, " said he. 

"But how can that be? What about the gang of armed men?. .. "

"It was I, by myself, alone!"

What Amulya then told me was indeed extraordinary. The managerhad just finished his supper and was on the verandah rinsing outhis mouth. The place was somewhat dark. Amulya had a revolverin each pocket, one loaded with blank cartridges, the other withball. He had a mask over his face. He flashed a bull's-eyelantern in the manager's face and fired a blank shot. The manswooned away. Some of the guards, who were off duty, camerunning up, but when Amulya fired another blank shot at them theylost no time in taking cover. Then Kasim, who was on duty, cameup whirling a quarterstaff. This time Amulya aimed a bullet athis legs, and finding himself hit, Kasim collapsed on the floor. Amulya then made the trembling manager, who had come to hissenses, open the safe and deliver up six thousand rupees. Finally, he took one of the estate horses and galloped off a fewmiles, there let the animal loose, and quietly walked up here, toour place. 

"What made you do all this, Amulya?" I asked. 

"There was a grave reason, Maharaja, " he replied. 

"But why, then, did you try to return the money?"

"Let her come, at whose command I did so. In her presence Ishall make a clean breast of it. "

"And who may 'she' be?"

"My sister, the Chota Rani!"

I sent for Bimala. She came hesitatingly, barefoot, with a whiteshawl over her head. I had never seen my Bimal like this before. She seemed to have wrapped herself in a morning light. 

Amulya prostrated himself in salutation and took the dust of herfeet. Then, as he rose, he said: "Your command has beenexecuted, sister. The money is returned. "

"You have saved me, my little brother, " said Bimal. 

"With your image in my mind, I have not uttered a single lie, "Amulya continued. "My watchword __Bande Mataram__ has beencast away at your feet for good. I have also received my reward, your __prasad__, as soon as I came to the palace. "

Bimal looked at him blankly, unable to follow his last words. Amulya brought out his handkerchief, and untying it showed herthe cakes put away inside. "I did not eat them all, " he said. "I have kept these to eat after you have helped me with your ownhands. "

I could see that I was not wanted here. I went out of the room. I could only preach and preach, so I mused, and get my effigyburnt for my pains. I had not yet been able to bring back asingle soul from the path of death. They who have the power, cando so by a mere sign. My words have not that ineffable meaning. I am not a flame, only a black coal, which has gone out. I canlight no lamp. That is what the story of my life shows--my rowof lamps has remained unlit. 

------

30. Sitting on the bare floor is a sign of mourning, and so, byassociation of ideas, of an abject attitude of mind. [Trans. ]. 

XVI

I returned slowly towards the inner apartments. The Bara Rani'sroom must have been drawing me again. It had become an absolutenecessity for me, that day, to feel that this life of mine hadbeen able to strike some real, some responsive chord in someother harp of life. One cannot realize one's own existence byremaining within oneself--it has to be sought outside. 

As I passed in front of my sister-in-law's room, she came outsaying: "I was afraid you would be late again this afternoon. However. I ordered your dinner as soon as I heard you coming. It will be served in a minute. "

"Meanwhile, " I said; "let me take out that money of yours andhave it kept ready to take with us. "

As we walked on towards my room she asked me if the PoliceInspector had made any report about the robbery. I somehow didnot feel inclined to tell her all the details of how that sixthousand had come back. "That's just what all the fuss isabout, " I said evasively. 

When I went into my dressing-room and took out my bunch of keys, I did not find the key of the iron safe on the ring. What anabsurdly absent-minded fellow I was, to be sure! Only thismorning I had been opening so many boxes and things, and nevernoticed that this key was not there. 

"What has happened to your key?" she asked me. 

I went on fumbling in this pocket and that, but could give her noanswer. I hunted in the same place over and over again. Itdawned on both of us that it could not be a case of the key beingmislaid. Someone must have taken it off the ring. Who could itbe? Who else could have come into this room?

"Don't you worry about it, " she said to me. "Get through yourdinner first. The Chota Rani must have kept it herself, seeinghow absent-minded you are getting. "

I was, however, greatly disturbed. It was never Bimal's habit totake any key of mine without telling me about it. Bimal was notpresent at my meal-time that day: she was busy feasting Amulya inher own room. My sister-in-law wanted to send for her, but Iasked her not to do so. 

I had just finished my dinner when Bimal came in. I would havepreferred not to discuss the matter of the key in the Bara Rani'spresence, but as soon as she saw Bimal, she asked her: "Do youknow, dear, where the key of the safe is?"

"I have it, " was the reply. 

"Didn't I say so!" exclaimed my sister-in-law triumphantly. "Our Chota Rani pretends not to care about these robberies, butshe takes precautions on the sly, all the same. "

The look on Bimal's face made my mind misgive me. "Let the keybe, now, " I said. "I will take out that money in the evening. "

"There you go again, putting it off, " said the Bara Rani. "Whynot take it out and send it to the treasury while you have it inmind?"

"I have taken it out already, " said Bimal. 

I was startled. 

"Where have you kept it, then?" asked my sister-in-law. 

"I have spent it. "

"Just listen to her! Whatever did you spend all that money on?"

Bimal made no reply. I asked her nothing further. The Bara Raniseemed about to make some further remark to Bimala, but checkedherself. "Well, that is all right, anyway, " she said at length, as she looked towards me. "Just what I used to do with myhusband's loose cash. I knew it was no use leaving it with him--his hundred and one hangers-on would be sure to get hold of it. You are much the same, dear! What a number of ways you men knowof getting through money. We can only save it from you bystealing it ourselves! Come along now. Off with you to bed. "

The Bara Rani led me to my room, but I hardly knew where I wasgoing. She sat by my bed after I was stretched on it, and smiledat Bimal as she said: "Give me one of your pans, Chotie darling--what? You have none! You have become a regular mem-sahib. Thensend for some from my room. "

"But have you had your dinner yet?" I anxiously enquired. 

"Oh long ago, " she replied--clearly a fib. 

She kept on chattering away there at my bedside, on all manner ofthings. The maid came and told Bimal that her dinner had beenserved and was getting cold, but she gave no sign of having heardit. "Not had your dinner yet? What nonsense! It's fearfullylate. " With this the Bara Rani took Bimal away with her. 

I could divine that there was some connection between the takingout of this six thousand and the robbing of the other. But Ihave no curiosity to learn the nature of it. I shall never ask. 

Providence leaves our life moulded in the rough--its object beingthat we ourselves should put the finishing touches, shaping itinto its final form to our taste. There has always been thehankering within me to express some great idea in the process ofgiving shape to my life on the lines suggested by the Creator. In this endeavour I have spent all my days. How severely I havecurbed my desires, repressed myself at every step, only theSearcher of the Heart knows. 

But the difficulty is, that one's life is not solely one's own. He who would create it must do so with the help of hissurroundings, or he will fail. So it was my constant dream todraw Bimal to join me in this work of creating myself. I lovedher with all my soul; on the strength of that, I could not butsucceed in winning her to my purpose--that was my firm belief. 

Then I discovered that those who could simply and naturally drawtheir environment into the process of their self-creationbelonged to one species of the genus "man", --and I to another. Ihad received the vital spark, but could not impart it. Those towhom I have surrendered my all have taken my all, but not myselfwith it. 

My trial is hard indeed. Just when I want a helpmate most, I amthrown back on myself alone. Nevertheless, I record my vow thateven in this trial I shall win through. Alone, then, shall Itread my thorny path to the end of this life's journey . .. 

I have begun to suspect that there has all along been a vein oftyranny in me. There was a despotism in my desire to mould myrelations with Bimala in a hard, clear-cut, perfect form. Butman's life was not meant to be cast in a mould. And if we try toshape the good, as so much mere material, it takes a terriblerevenge by losing its life. 

I did not realize all this while that it must have been thisunconscious tyranny of mine which made us gradually drift apart. Bimala's life, not finding its true level by reason of mypressure from above, has had to find an outlet by undermining itsbanks at the bottom. She has had to steal this six thousandrupees because she could not be open with me, because she feltthat, in certain things, I despotically differed from her. 

Men, such as I, possessed with one idea, are indeed at one withthose who can manage to agree with us; but those who do not, canonly get on with us by cheating us. It is our unyieldingobstinacy, which drives even the simplest to tortuous ways. Intrying to manufacture a helpmate, we spoil a wife. 

Could I not go back to the beginning? Then, indeed, I shouldfollow the path of the simple. I should not try to fetter mylife's companion with my ideas, but play the joyous pipes of mylove and say: "Do you love me? Then may you grow true toyourself in the light of your love. Let my suggestions besuppressed, let God's design, which is in you, triumph, and myideas retire abashed. "

But can even Nature's nursing heal the open wound, into which ouraccumulated differences have broken out? The covering veil, beneath the privacy of which Nature's silent forces alone canwork, has been torn asunder. Wounds must be bandaged--can we notbandage our wound with our love, so that the day may come whenits scar will no longer be visible? It is not too late? So muchtime has been lost in misunderstanding; it has taken right up tonow to come to an understanding; how much more time will it takefor the correcting? What if the wound does eventually heal?--canthe devastation it has wrought ever be made good?

There was a slight sound near the door. As I turned over I sawBimala's retreating figure through the open doorway. She musthave been waiting by the door, hesitating whether to come in ornot, and at last have decided to go back. I jumped up andbounded to the door, calling: "Bimal. "

She stopped on her way. She had her back to me. I went and tookher by the hand and led her into our room. She threw herselfface downwards on a pillow, and sobbed and sobbed. I saidnothing, but held her hand as I sat by her head. 

When her storm of grief had abated she sat up. I tried to drawher to my breast, but she pushed my arms away and knelt at myfeet, touching them repeatedly with her head, in obeisance. Ihastily drew my feet back, but she clasped them in her arms, saying in a choking voice: "No, no, no, you must not take awayyour feet. Let me do my worship. "

I kept still. Who was I to stop her? Was I the god of herworship that I should have any qualms?

Bimala's Story

XXIII

Come, come! Now is the time to set sail towards that greatconfluence, where the river of love meets the sea of worship. Inthat pure blue all the weight of its muddiness sinks anddisappears. 

I now fear nothing--neither myself, nor anybody else. I havepassed through fire. What was inflammable has been burnt toashes; what is left is deathless. I have dedicated myself to thefeet of him, who has received all my sin into the depths of hisown pain. 

Tonight we go to Calcutta. My inward troubles have so longprevented my looking after my things. Now let me arrange andpack them. 

After a while I found my husband had come in and was taking ahand in the packing. 

"This won't do, " I said. "Did you not promise me you would havea sleep?"

"I might have made the promise, " he replied, "but my sleep didnot, and it was nowhere to be found. "

"No, no, " I repeated, "this will never do. Lie down for a while, at least. "

"But how can you get through all this alone?"

"Of course I can. "

"Well, you may boast of being able to do without me. But franklyI can't do without you. Even sleep refused to come to me, alone, in that room. " Then he set to work again. 

But there was an interruption, in the shape of a servant, whocame and said that Sandip Babu had called and had asked to beannounced. I did not dare to ask whom he wanted. The light ofthe sky seemed suddenly to be shut down, like the leaves of asensitive plant. 

"Come, Bimal, " said my husband. "Let us go and hear what Sandiphas to tell us. Since he has come back again, after taking hisleave, he must have something special to say. "

I went, simply because it would have been still more embarrassingto stay. Sandip was staring at a picture on the wall. As weentered he said: "You must be wondering why the fellow hasreturned. But you know the ghost is never laid till all therites are complete. " With these words he brought out of hispocket something tied in his handkerchief, and laying it on thetable, undid the knot. It was those sovereigns. 

"Don't you mistake me, Nikhil, " he said. "You must not imaginethat the contagion of your company has suddenly turned me honest;I am not the man to come back in slobbering repentance to returnill-gotten money. But. .. "

He left his speech unfinished. After a pause he turned towardsNikhil, but said to me: "After all these days, Queen Bee, theghost of compunction has found an entry into my hithertountroubled conscience. As I have to wrestle with it every night, after my first sleep is over, I cannot call it a phantom of myimagination. There is no escape even for me till its debt ispaid. Into the hands of that spirit, therefore, let me makerestitution. Goddess! From you, alone, of all the world, Ishall not be able to take away anything. I shall not be rid ofyou till I am destitute. Take these back!"

He took out at the same time the jewel-casket from under histunic and put it down, and then left us with hasty steps. 

"Listen to me, Sandip, " my husband called after him. 

"I have not the time, Nikhil, " said Sandip as he paused near thedoor. "The Mussulmans, I am told, have taken me for aninvaluable gem, and are conspiring to loot me and hide me away intheir graveyard. But I feel that it is necessary that I shouldlive. I have just twenty-five minutes to catch the North-boundtrain. So, for the present, I must be gone. We shall have ourtalk out at the next convenient opportunity. If you take myadvice, don't you delay in getting away either. I salute you, Queen Bee, Queen of the bleeding hearts, Queen of desolation!"

Sandip then left almost at a run. I stood stock-still; I hadnever realized in such a manner before, how trivial, how paltry, this gold and these jewels were. Only a short while ago I was sobusy thinking what I should take with me, and how I should packit. Now I felt that there was no need to take anything at all. To set out and go forth was the important thing. 

My husband left his seat and came up and took me by the hand. "It is getting late, " he said. "There is not much time left tocomplete our preparations for the journey. "

At this point Chandranath Babu suddenly came in. Finding us bothtogether, he fell back for a moment. Then he said, "Forgive me, my little mother, if I intrude. Nikhil, the Mussulmans are outof hand. They are looting Harish Kundu's treasury. That doesnot so much matter. But what is intolerable is the violence thatis being done to the women of their house. "

"I am off, " said my husband. 

"What can you do there?" I pleaded, as I held him by the hand. "Oh, sir, " I appealed to his master. "Will you not tell him notto go?"

"My little mother, " he replied, "there is no time to do anythingelse. "

"Don't be alarmed, Bimal, " said my husband, as he left us. 

When I went to the window I saw my husband galloping away onhorseback, with not a weapon in his hands. 

In another minute the Bara Rani came running in. "What have youdone, Chotie darling, " she cried. "How could you let him go?"

"Call the Dewan at once, " she said, turning to a servant. 

The Ranis never appeared before the Dewan, but the Bara Rani hadno thought that day for appearances. 

"Send a mounted man to bring back the Maharaja at once, " shesaid, as soon as the Dewan came up. 

"We have all entreated him to stay, Rani Mother, " said the Dewan, "but he refused to turn back. "

"Send word to him that the Bara Rani is ill, that she is on herdeath-bed, " cried my sister-in-law wildly. 

When the Dewan had left she turned on me with a furious outburst. "Oh, you witch, you ogress, you could not die yourself, but needsmust send him to his death! . .. "

The light of the day began to fade. The sun set behind thefeathery foliage of the blossoming __Sajna__ tree. I can seeevery different shade of that sunset even today. Two masses ofcloud on either side of the sinking orb made it look like a greatbird with fiery-feathered wings outspread. It seemed to me thatthis fateful day was taking its flight, to cross the ocean ofnight. 

It became darker and darker. Like the flames of a distantvillage on fire, leaping up every now and then above the horizon, a distant din swelled up in recurring waves into the darkness. 

The bells of the evening worship rang out from our temple. Iknew the Bara Rani was sitting there, with palms joined in silentprayer. But I could not move a step from the window. 

The roads, the village beyond, and the still more distant fringeof trees, grew more and more vague. The lake in our groundslooked up into the sky with a dull lustre, like a blind man'seye. On the left the tower seemed to be craning its neck tocatch sight of something that was happening. 

The sounds of night take on all manner of disguises. A twigsnaps, and one thinks that somebody is running for his life. Adoor slams, and one feels it to be the sudden heart-thump of astartled world. 

Lights would suddenly flicker under the shade of the distanttrees, and then go out again. Horses' hoofs would clatter, nowand again, only to turn out to be riders leaving the palacegates. 

I continually had the feeling that, if only I could die, all thisturmoil would come to an end. So long as I was alive my sinswould remain rampant, scattering destruction on every side. Iremembered the pistol in my box. But my feet refused to leavethe window in quest of it. Was I not awaiting my fate?

The gong of the watch solemnly struck ten. A little later, groups of lights appeared in the distance and a great crowd woundits way, like some great serpent, along the roads in thedarkness, towards the palace gates. 

The Dewan rushed to the gate at the sound. Just then a ridercame galloping in. "What's the news, Jata?" asked the Dewan. 

"Not good, " was the reply. 

I could hear these words distinctly from my window. Butsomething was next whispered which I could not catch. 

Then came a palanquin, followed by a litter. The doctor waswalking alongside the palanquin. 

"What do you think, doctor?" asked the Dewan. 

"Can't say yet, " the doctor replied. "The wound in the head is aserious one. "

"And Amulya Babu?"

"He has a bullet through the heart. He is done for. "

The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore. Translated [from Bengali to English] by Surendranath Tagore.