Gora

by Rabindranath Tagore

  ‘What stupidity, and what a terrible penalty!’ exclaimed Binoy, on their way back.

  ‘Don’t console yourself Binoy, that you can distance yourself from this stupidity,’ Gora warned him. ‘If you could clearly discern the enormity of such stupidity and the magnitude of its repercussions, you wouldn’t try to brush it off with a mere expression of regret!’

  Gora’s pace increased with his agitation. Without answering, Binoy tried to match his speed.

  ‘Our entire breed has sold out to falsehood,’ Gora continued. ‘There is no end to the things they fear—gods, demons, tetanus, sneezes, Thursdays, the conjunction of three lunar days on one calendar day. How would they understand the boldness with which one must tackle the realities of this world? And you and I imagine that we are not of their party, simply because we have studied a few pages of science! Know this for certain: a select few can never protect themselves with textbook knowledge from the seductions of self-debasement all around them. So long as they fail to recognize the supremacy of tradition in worldly life, so long as they remain bound by false fears, even our educated members cannot escape their influence.’

  ‘And what if educated members were indeed able to escape such influences?’ demanded Binoy. ‘How many educated people do we have, indeed! Not that others must progress in order to promote the educated. Rather, the glory of the educated lies in using their education for the advancement of others.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I want to say!’ cried Gora, grasping Binoy’s hand. ‘But I’ve repeatedly observed that your respectability and education makes all of you arrogant enough to remain very comfortable with your distance from the masses. That’s why I wish to caution you that without freeing the people beneath you, there can be no freedom for yourselves, either! If there’s a hole in the hull of a boat, its mast, however high, can never wander free of care!’

  Binoy marched beside Gora without replying.

  ‘No, Binoy, I can never accept this easily!’ Gora exclaimed suddenly, after walking in silence for a while. ‘That ojha who killed my Nanda—his assault wounds me, wounds my entire nation. I cannot view such matters as minor, scattered incidents.’

  Binoy still made no reply.

  ‘Binoy, I quite understand what you’re thinking!’ roared Gora. ‘You think there is no remedy for such things, or that the time for such remedies is far away. You think no power on earth can shake the burden of the fear and falsehood, heavy as the Himalayas, oppressing all of Bharatvarsha! But I can’t think like that. If I did, I wouldn’t survive. There must be a remedy for whatever hurts my country, however massive and strong the assailant might be. And it’s because I firmly believe that the remedy lies in our hands, that I can withstand all the sorrows, adversities and humiliations all around me.’

  ‘I lack the courage to sustain my belief in front of this vast, tremendous, nationwide suffering,’ confessed Binoy.

  ‘Darkness is vast, the lamp’s flame tiny. I have more faith in this tiny flame than in that vast darkness,’ Gora asserted. ‘I can never believe in the permanence of misery. It’s constantly assailed from within and without, by the entire world’s powers of knowledge and vitality. However small each of us might be, we shall side with the supporters of this knowledge and vitality. If that kills us, we’ll die with the certainty that our side will win. We shall not rest in comfort upon the nation’s moribund state, taking it to be supreme and all-powerful. I believe banking on the devil and fearing ghosts are exactly the same, for they leave us with no urge to seek true treatment for our malaise. False fears and false ojhas—both together are out to destroy us. Binoy, I urge you repeatedly, not for a single moment, even in your dreams, to think it impossible that our nation will definitely gain freedom, that it will not always remained shackled by ignorance, and that the merchant ships of the British will not always hold us in tow. Bearing this firmly in mind, we must be ever-ready. You are content, all of you, to bank upon some future date when Bharatvarsha will start fighting for independence. I tell you the fight has already begun, and it rages, every moment. There can be nothing more cowardly than for you to remain complacent at such a time.’

  ‘Look, Gora,’ argued Binoy, ‘one difference I see between you and the rest of us is that you seem to discover anew, every day, all that occurs daily in the streets and alleys of our nation, things that have been happening for a long time. Like our own breathing process, these things don’t draw our attention; they arouse neither hope nor despair in us, neither joy nor sorrow. My days pass in utter emptiness; amidst my surroundings, I feel neither my own presence nor my nation’s.’

  Suddenly, Gora’s face reddened, the veins swelling on his forehead. Fists clenched, he began to run down the middle of the street, chasing a coach and pair. ‘Stop the carriage!’ he thundered, startling all the pedestrians. With a single backward glance, the babu sporting a heavy watch-chain, who had been driving the carriage at speed, lashed his spirited horses and vanished from sight in an instant.

  An elderly Muslim had been carrying on his head a basketful of fruit, vegetables, eggs, bread, butter and other provisions for his English master’s kitchen. The babu with the watch-chain had sounded his horn, warning him to move out of the carriage’s path. But as the old man did not hear, the carriage almost crushed him. He escaped with his life, but the basket, with all its contents, went tumbling across the street. The incensed babu, turning around in his coach-box, abused him as ‘a damned swine,’ and lashed him on the face, drawing blood. ‘Allah!’ sighed the old man, and began to gather some of the still-intact items back into his basket. Gora walked back and began to collect the scattered things, returning them to the basket.

  ‘Why bother, babu, these things are useless now,’ protested the Muslim porter, acutely embarrassed at such behaviour from a respectable bhadra pedestrian. Gora understood the futility of his action, and also that it shamed the person being helped; in fact, such efforts meant little in terms of actual assistance. But then the man in the street could not understand that this was one bhadralok’s attempt to restore equilibrium by coming down to the level of a common man who had been unjustly insulted by another bhadralok.

  ‘You can’t bear this loss,’ said Gora, once the basket was full. ‘Come home with me and I shall buy everything at its full price. But let me tell you baba, Allah will never forgive you for enduring this insult without a word.’

  ‘Allah will punish the guilty one,’ the Muslim declared. ‘Why would he penalize me?’

  ‘He who tolerates injustice is also guilty, for he generates injustice in the world. You will not understand my words, but remember still that meekness is not true religion, for it encourages evildoers. Because your Mohammad understood this, he didn’t preach in the guise of a meek person.’

  Since his own home was not close by, Gora brought the Muslim to Binoy’s house.

  ‘Take out some money,’ he urged Binoy, standing near his chest of drawers.

  ‘Why so anxious?’ Binoy asked. ‘You go make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get the money.’

  Suddenly, he couldn’t find the keys. Impatiently, Gora yanked at the fragile drawer, and the lock gave way. As the drawer fell open, a photograph of Poreshbabu’s family first caught his eye. Binoy had procured it from his young friend Satish. Having obtained the money, Gora dispatched the Muslim, but said nothing about the photograph. Observing Gora’s silence, Binoy too was unable to mention it, although exchanging a few remarks about it would have relieved him.

  ‘I’m off,’ announced Gora suddenly.

  ‘Wah, how can you go alone!’ protested Binoy. ‘Ma has invited me to dinner at your place, after all. So I’m off, too.’

  They set out together, the two of them. Gora said nothing, the rest of the way. The picture in the drawer had suddenly reminded him once again that a major stream of Binoy’s emotional life had taken a course completely unrelated to Gora’s. That the main current might eventually flow this way, diverted from their friendship which was its now
dwindling source, was a vague fear secretly weighing upon Gora’s innermost heart. All these days, the two friends had not differed in their thought and behaviour, but now this was hard to sustain. In one area of his life, Binoy was becoming independent. Binoy realized why Gora had fallen silent, but felt embarrassed to break down that wall by force. He, too, felt that Gora’s heart had come up against a real obstacle that threatened to separate them.

  Arriving at Gora’s house, they immediately saw Mahim at the door, gazing at the street.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded, seeing the two friends. ‘You stayed up all of last night. I wondered whether you two had fallen asleep somewhere on the pavement! It’s not early, is it? Go, Binoy, have a bath.’

  Having urged Binoy to his bath, Mahim turned to Gora.

  ‘Look, Gora,’ he importuned. ‘Think about what I said. If you suspect Binoy of being unorthodox, then where in today’s market shall we find a Hindu bridegroom? We want not only a Hindu, but also an educated one, after all! True, the product of Hindu orthodoxy and education combined is not quite what the Hindu scriptures might decree, but it’s not a bad thing either. If you had a daughter, your opinions on this would surely coincide with mine.’

  ‘Very well,’ replied Gora, ‘Binoy will probably have no objections.’

  ‘Listen to this! Who’s afraid of Binoy’s objections? It’s your objections I fear. Ask Binoy yourself, just once: that’s all I want, even if it proves useless.’

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘Now I can go ahead and order sandesh from the sweet shop and yoghurt and kheer from the milkman,’ gloated Mahim to himself.

  ‘Dada is really plaguing us about your marriage with Shashimukhi,’ Gora said to Binoy when he found the opportunity. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Tell me first what you would desire.’

  ‘Not a bad idea, I’d say!’

  ‘You didn’t think it a good idea earlier! It was more or less understood that neither of us would marry.’

  ‘It is now understood that you will marry, but I won’t.’

  ‘Why? Why must the same journey yield different outcomes?’

  ‘It’s to preclude different outcomes that the present arrangement is intended. Our Maker has created some of us to be easily weighed down, while others remain casually carefree. For two such beings to move in tandem, one must be loaded with some ballast, in order to balance their weight. If you marry and assume some responsibilities, you and I can match our steps.’

  ‘If that is your intention, add extra weight to my side of the scales,’ smiled Binoy.

  ‘You have no objection to the weight itself, I hope?’

  ‘For the sake of balance, one can manage with anything at hand. A stone, a clod, anything.’

  Why Gora expressed enthusiasm about the marriage proposal, Binoy was left in no doubt. He felt privately amused, guessing that Gora was anxious lest his friend marry into Poreshbabu’s family. Not for an instant had the idea or likelihood of such a marriage occurred to Binoy. It was totally impossible. Anyhow, he consented readily to marry Shashimukhi, thinking that such a move would completely uproot such bizarre fears, restoring the health and peace of his friendship with Gora, and removing all cause for embarrassment about his mingling with Poreshbabu’s family. After lunch, they spent the day making up for lost sleep. There was no further discussion between the two friends that day. But as the veil of dusk descended, at the hour when lovers mutually unveil their hearts, Binoy observed, gazing directly at the sky from the terrace:

  ‘Look Gora, I want to say something. I think there is a serious lack in our patriotism. We see only half of Bharatvarsha.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘We see Bharatvarsha only as a land of men; we don’t notice women at all.’

  ‘So, like the English, would you like to see women everywhere, indoors and out, on earth, in water and in space, at meals, feasts and work, everywhere? As a result, you will notice women rather than men, and it will destroy your balance of vision.’

  ‘No, no, you can’t dismiss my words like that. Why ask whether I’ll adopt the English point of view? I say it’s true that in our own country, we don’t give women enough place in our thoughts. About you, I can declare you don’t spend a moment’s thought on women. You know the nation as a place without women. Such knowledge can never be true.’

  ‘In seeing and knowing my mother, I have simultaneously seen and known all the women of my country.’

  ‘That was just a well-put statement to delude yourself with. When members of a household gaze with long familiarity at women performing domestic chores, they don’t really see the women at all. If we could view our nation’s women outside our domestic needs, we would perceive our nation in its beauty and wholeness. We would see an image of the nation easy to die for. At least we would never behave mistakenly as if the women of our country are nowhere to be found. I know you will be incensed if I attempt any sort of comparison with English society. That is not what I wish to do. I don’t know how and to what extent our women can appear in public without loss of dignity, but we must admit the seclusion of women has reduced swadesh, our own nation, to a half-truth, incapable of infusing our hearts with love and power in their complete forms.’

  ‘How did you make this sudden discovery, so recently?’ Gora asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s indeed a recent discovery, and a sudden one,’ Binoy acknowledged. ‘I was blind to such an immense reality, for so long! I count myself fortunate to have discovered it. Because we see the peasant only as farm labour, and the weaver only as fabric producer, we dismiss them as lowly and uncouth, not recognizing them as complete human beings, and this rich-poor divide weakens the nation. For very similar reasons, our entire nation’s growth remains stunted because we imprison the women of our country within their routine of cooking and grinding, regarding them reductively as merely the female sex.’

  ‘Just as day and night are the two halves of time, so are men and women the two halves of human society,’ Gora asserted. ‘In normal social situations, woman remains invisible like the night, all her actions concealed and private. We exclude the night from our work-time. But that doesn’t halt any of the night’s profound operations. Behind the veil of rest, the night secretly heals our losses, and nurtures us. But in abnormal social situations, night is turned into day, with machines operated by the light of gas-lamps, nightlong revelry by lamplight—but what’s the result? The night’s natural, private processes are destroyed, fatigue sets in, there’s no restoration of injury or loss, and people become overwrought. Similarly, if we drag women into the public workplace, it disrupts their private activities, ruining social health and peace, driving society into a kind of frenzy. This frenzy may be mistaken for power, but it is only the power to destroy. Power has two aspects, one manifest, the other not manifested, one involving effort, the other rest, one productive, the other abstemious. If this balance is destroyed, power grows turbulent, and such turmoil is not beneficial. Man and woman represent two aspects of social power; man is power manifest, but the magnitude of his strength does not lie in its visibility; woman’s power remains unexpressed, and to try constantly to express this secret power is to propel society towards swift bankruptcy by expending all its stored-up capital. That is why I say, if we men perform the holy sacrifice while women take charge of the grain-store, the yajna ritual will be successful, despite the women’s invisibility. Those who try to expend all forms of power for the same purpose, at the same place and in the same way, must be insane.’

  ‘Gora, I don’t want to contradict you. But you, too, have not contradicted what I said. Actually …’

  ‘Look, Binoy, if we say much more on this subject, it will be merely for the sake of argument. I admit I’m not as aware of the opposite sex as you have lately become, hence you can never make me feel what you are experiencing. So, why not accept for now that on this subject, our opinions differ?’

  Gora dismissed the matter. But seeds, even when
blown away, land on the soil, and then there is nothing to stop them from sprouting at a suitable time. Up until now, Gora had completely excluded women from his life’s arena; even in his dreams, he had not regarded this as a lack or loss. Today, witnessing Binoy’s change of attitude, he had become aware of women’s special presence and influence in society. But because he could not determine the place of women or what purpose they served in society, he was reluctant to argue with Binoy about these things. He could neither ignore nor master this subject, hence he wanted to avoid discussing it.

  ‘Binoy, I hear your marriage to Shashimukhi has been fixed?’ asked Anandamoyi that night, calling Binoy aside when he was leaving for home.

  ‘Yes Ma, Gora is the go-between in this auspicious matter,’ smiled Binoy, embarrassed.

  ‘Shashimukhi is a nice girl, but don’t act impulsively, bachha. I know you, Binoy. You are acting in a hurry because you are somewhat doubtful. You still have time to think. You are old enough, baba—don’t take such a serious step lightly.’

  She gently patted him on the shoulder. Without a word, he walked away slowly.

  ~18~

  On his way home, Binoy reflected upon Anandamoyi’s words. Up until now, he had never disregarded anything she said. That night, his heart felt heavy.

  Next morning, he awakened to a sense of freedom. He felt he had bought his freedom from Gora’s friendship at a very price. In exchange for the lifelong bondage which he had accepted in agreeing to marry Shashimukhi, he had gained the right to loosen his ties in another area of his life. Gora had, very unjustly, suspected Binoy of being tempted to leave his own community to marry into a Brahmo family. Binoy obtained his freedom by offering his marriage to Shashimukhi as a permanent security against this false suspicion. After this, he began to frequent Poresh’s house without any constraint.

  It was not at all difficult for Binoy to make himself at home where the company was to his liking. Once he had discarded his qualms about Gora, he quickly grew intimate with everyone in Poreshbabu’s household, as if he had long been part of the family. Only Lalita, as long as she suspected Sucharita of having developed a weakness for Binoy, seemed to have armed her heart for battle against him. But when she saw clearly that Sucharita was not particularly partial to Binoy, she dropped her resentment with immense relief. Now she had no reason not to regard Binoybabu as a remarkably decent person.