Bipradas smiled and said, ‘Kumu, look into that leather case of mine—you will find some more photos. If you wish to grant a favour to your devotee you will have no difficulty.’
Soon after Kumu took Nabin in, Kalu entered Bipradas’s room. He said, ‘I have sent a telegram to Mejo Babu to come soon.’
‘From me?’
‘Yes, in our name, Dada; I knew you would dither till the last, meanwhile time is running short. According to the doctors you can’t bear so much strain.’
The doctors had said that there was some problem with his heart and he needed both physical and mental rest. At one time he had overindulged in his wrestling act: that combined with the present mental stress and anxiety had led to this situation.
Bipradas was not sure that forcing Subodh to return like this was such a good idea. He was deep in thought. Kalu said, ‘Borrobabu, it is no use thinking so much. We have to take some final decision right now about the property, and it can’t be done without Subodh. We can’t mortgage our lives to the Marwaris at twelve percent rate of interest. They also demand a deduction of two lakh rupees in advance. On top of this, there is also brokerage to be paid.’
‘All right, let Subodh come, but do you think he will?’
‘He may be a big English gentleman now, but he cannot ignore your wire. You needn’t worry on that count. But you must send Khuki back to her in-laws without delay.’
Bipradas remained silent for a while and then said, ‘There is some problem about sending her until Madhusudan says so.’
‘Why? She is not his hired labour for cutting the jute crop. She does not have to wait for anyone’s orders to go to her rightful home.’
Nabin had his meal and came to Bipradas alone. Bipradas asked him, ‘Kumu is fond of you. Isn’t that so?’
‘Yes she is, because I am so undeserving.’
‘I want to ask you a few things about her. Please be frank with me,’
‘I have nothing to hide from you, sir.’
‘I feel there is something not so straight about Kumu’s coming here.’
‘You are right. Even those whom one knows to be above reproach do get unfairly treated in this world.’
‘So she has been insulted.’
‘It is the shame that brings me here, since I can’t do anything about it but touch your feet and beg forgiveness.’
‘Is there any harm if she goes back to her husband tonight itself?’
‘To tell you the truth, I dare not advise you to do it.’
Bipradas did not press Nabin for the exact details. He thought it would not be fair to ask him. Nor did he feel like questioning Kumu. So he fretted within himself. He called Kalu and questioned him, ‘Kaluda, you have been to their house, perhaps you may know something about Madhusudan’s frame of mind?’
‘I have got some inkling, but I don’t want to tell you anything unless I have the whole picture. Just wait for a couple of days and I shall be able to get you some information.’
Bipradas was sick with apprehension and since there was no remedy at hand, his heart was torn in agony.
50
KUMU’S CLOSEST WISH WAS FULFILLED, SHE WAS BACK IN HER FAMILIAR room embraced by her brother’s affection, but she missed her easy natural place. Sometimes she sulked and felt that she should go back, because she could clearly sense the question on everyone’s lips, ‘Why doesn’t she go back? What is the matter with her?’ In the midst of her brother’s deep affection, there was this one anxiety, which could not be discussed openly because she herself was the subject, yet it was a closed book to her.
The afternoon sun was fading. Kumu sat near the bedroom window. The crows were noisy, carriages could be heard along the road and a variety of noises came from the neighbourhood. The air of spring however failed to bring colour to the bricks and stones of the houses around. A restless wind scattered the afternoon light by playing on the thick green leaves of an almond tree which nearly screened the house in front. It is in times like this that a tame deer wants to rush into the unknown forest ahead. It is when the wind has the touch of spring and the whole earth seems to eagerly look towards the blue sky beyond the horizon. In such a time everything around appears unreal and only that appears real whose abode is unknown, and when you try to paint its portrait the palette of colours spills all over the sky; its figure flickers everywhere in land and water like a beacon and disappears in a flash.
She was restless today, wishing to get away from it all, including herself. But how fenced in she was! Even here, in her own house. In her thoughts even death appeared desirable. She imagined herself trudging to her tryst with her dark god, beyond the banks of the dark Yamuna, day after day on an endless road, full of suffering. She recalled that she had come here to nurse her brother’s illness and now she was only aggravating it. Whatever she did would have a contrary effect. She covered her face in her palms and sobbed to her heart’s content. When she was calmer she decided to go back. She would cope with whatever happened—after all there was always the final release—cool, dark and delectable. The more she thought about death the more she felt that life would not be totally unbearable. She began to hum—
‘Pathapar rayani andheri
kunjapar deep ujiyari.’
(The night is dark on the road but the lamp burns bright in the grove at the end.)
She had put her brother to sleep in the afternoon. It was time now for his medicine and food. When she came to his room she found Bipradas with a portfolio on his lap writing a long letter to Subodh, in English. She scolded him a little, ‘Dada, you haven’t had your full sleep today.’
Bipradas said, ‘You are convinced that one rests if one sleeps. But when one feels like writing a letter, then that is what gives one rest.’
Kumu guessed that the letter concerned her. What a lucky sister to kill one brother with anxiety on this side of the sea and worry the other at the other end of the ocean ! After she finished serving tea she put it to her brother gently, ‘I have been here long enough, now I should go back home.’
Bipradas tried to guess from her look what she really meant. The clear understanding that the brother and sister had between them so far, seemed to have changed. Now each had to grope about to reach the other’s mind. He stopped writing, made her sit by his side and stroked her hand, without a word. Kumu could follow that language. The worldly knots in their relationship had hardened but the affection they had for each other had not. Her eyes filled with tears but she made an effort to hold them back. Kumu thought to herself that she should not overburden this love so she repeated her plea, ‘Dada, I have decided to go back.’
Bipradas did not know what to say, because it was better that she go, it was also her duty. He sat quietly. The dog woke up and put his paws on her lap, begging for a leftover piece of Bipradas’s toast.
Bearer Ramswarup came and announced that Mukherjee Babu had come. Kumu was worried. She said, ‘Dada, you have not slept well today, you will only tire yourself arguing with Kaluda. Let me go instead and listen to what he has to say and I shall report to you in due time.’
‘You feel you are a great doctor! Do you think the patient is at ease if someone else listens to what is meant for him?’
‘All right, I won’t, but neither should you, at least not today.’
‘Kumu, an English poet has said that an unheard song is sweeter than the one heard. A piece of news may be tedious but the unheard one may be more tiring, so it is better to get it over with right away.’
‘All right, but I shall be back within a quarter of an hour, and if I find you two still talking, I shall start playing my esraj—Raag Bhimpalashi!’
‘I agree.’
In half an hour she entered the room with the instrument in her hand but she put it by in a corner when she noticed the look on her brother’s face. She sat next to him, held his hand firmly, and asked, ‘What is the matter, Dada?’
A deep sorrow was rooted in the restlessness that Kumu noticed in her brother these days
. Bipradas had suffered much in his life but no one had ever seen him perturbed. He had never allowed his troubles to gather within himself, by being interested in many things such as reading, music, watching stars through a telescope, horse-riding, or collecting unknown plants from all over, and planting them in his garden. This time because of his illness he had closely confined himself to limited activities. Now he yearned for company, got upset if he did not get his letters regularly and soon his thoughts turned dark. That was also why Kumu’s affection for her brother had turned more maternal—how did her serious and self-possessed brother come to present a childlike aspect—such unconcern, such restlessness and such obstinacy? At the same time such grave unhappiness and anxiety.
But when she entered the room she found that her brother was no longer in that daze. There was a fire in his eyes like the third eye of Shiva the destroyer. It had nothing to do with his personal sorrow, but he must have confronted some evil which he wanted to extinguish. Bipradas did not offer any reply but sat gazing intently at the wall opposite.
Kumu repeated her question, ‘Tell me, Dada, what is wrong?’
Bipradas kept looking in the distance and said, ‘When you try to avoid pain it only gets hold of you more strongly. It has to be accepted and faced squarely.’
‘If you advise me how, I shall certainly be able to accept it.’
‘I can see clearly that dishonouring women is at the heart of our society. It is not just a personal problem of a particular woman.’
Kumu could not quite follow him.
He continued, ‘So far, I felt the pain as solely ours, now I understand it is to be fought as a common cause.’
Bipradas’s pale face was suffused with red. He threw aside the silk embroidered pillow from his lap and was about to get up and sit on the seat next to his bed. Kumu caught his hand and said, ‘Be calm, Dada, do not get up, it will make you ill.’ And she practically forced him to lean on the pile of pillows behind him.
Bipradas clutched the end of his cover and said, ‘Just because women have no other way but to bear all this, they are being outraged all the time. The time has come for them to say we shall no longer tolerate this. Kumu, can you consider this as your permanent home and stay here?You certainly cannot go back to that house.’
Bipradas had gathered a lot from Kalu today.
The relationship that had developed between Madhusudan and Shyamasundari was out in the open. Both parties were equally unabashed. The very thought that people may find them guilty made them bolder. Because there was nothing delicate in this relationship they did not find it necessary to hide anything from each other or care for public opinion. It was rumoured that sometimes Madhusudan had even hit Shyamasundari and when she quarrelled loudly he was heard calling her names and telling her to get out of his house. But that made little difference. Madhusudan had maintained his full control over Shyama. If ever she tried to grab anything more than what Madhusudan let her have, she was rebuffed. Shyama coveted and wanted to get into the position that Motir-ma held and she wanted to run the house, but she was thwarted there as well. Madhusudan trusted Motir-ma completely but he didn’t trust Shyama. Shyama had not touched his fancy, he had only developed a crude addiction to her. More like a much-used, coarse and soiled winter quilt, lacking in any fancywork, and not worth picking up even if it slipped onto the floor from the bed. But it offered warm comfort. Shyama did not need any managing. Besides, the certain knowledge that she sincerely thought him superior in every respect and was prepared to do anything for him, was soothing to his pride, something which got a daily jolt during Kumu’s stay.
Kalu did not have to probe much to discover Madhusudan’s recent history. Everyone in that household had discussed it—so much so that they had stopped gossiping about it.
The news stung Bipradas like a flaming arrow. Madhusudan had made no attempt to conceal his shameless affair! It was so easy to insult one’s wife in public; there was so little outside protest against anyone torturing his wife! Society has devised a thousand instruments of torment to compel a helpless wife to obey her husband, but no mandate to save her from his tortures. The way this cruel shame and anguish were being perpetuated in every home, through the ages, came clearly to him in a flash. There was the attempt to stifle this pain with the glorious plaster of satihood, but none to uproot it altogether. Women in their world were so cheap, so trivial!
To his sister who was blissfully unaware of the state of her own marriage, Bipradas continued, ‘Kumu, it is not difficult to bear an insult but it is wrong to do so. You have to demand the respect due to you, on behalf of all the women. If society chooses to chastise you for it, let it.’
Kumu said, ‘What disrespect are you referring to? I can’t quite follow you.’
‘So you do not know all that is going on?’
‘No, I don’t.’
Bipradas was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘I am carrying within me the anguish of dishonour to all women. Do you know why?’
Kumu kept looking at him. He went on, ‘I can never forget what my mother suffered her whole life because of our amoral society.’
Brother and sister differed slightly on this point. Kumu was specially fond of her father. She knew how soft and kind he was at heart. She would always remember that his was a great personality in spite of all his faults. In fact she secretly held her mother responsible for the tragic end to his life.
Bipradas also respected his father’s greatness, but he could never forgive him for the fact that he never checked himself from repeated lapses which were a public insult to their mother. In fact, he was proud of the fact that their mother did not condone them.
He said, ‘The disrespect to my mother was disrespect to all women. You must forget your personal sorrow, and stand up against this insult. You must never surrender.’
Kumu lowered her face and said softly, ‘But, Dada, don’t forget that Father loved Mother very dearly. That kind of love can cover many sins.’
‘I agree, but in spite of his love how easily he could shame Mother! His sin was a social evil. I can never forgive society for this. Society has no love, it has only rulings.’
‘Dada, have you heard something?’
‘Yes, I have. I will tell you by and by.’
‘That’s better, because I feel this kind of talk today will only make you feel worse.’
‘On the contrary, Kumu. All these days my health was giving way under sorrow and sadness. Now, when my mind is prepared for a lifelong battle I feel stronger from within.’
‘What battle, Dada?’
‘Against the society which has so grossly cheated women of their dues.’
‘What can you do to society?’
‘I can defy it. I have to think out what else I can do. The struggle begins from today. You have your place in this house, not by anyone’s favour. You will stay on here in your own right.’
‘All right, be that as it may. You stop talking now.’
Somebody came and announced that Motir-ma had come.
51
KUMU TOOK MOTIR-MA TO HER OWN BEDROOM. AS THEY TALKED, IT BECAME dark. The bearer came to light the lamp but Kumu asked him not to.
Kumu heard everything from Motir-ma and kept quiet.
‘It is like a haunted house,’ said Motir-ma, ‘It is impossible to live there. Aren’t you coming back?’
‘Have I been asked?’
‘No, it may have escaped him altogether. But you have to come.’
‘What can I do? I cannot satisfy him. In a way it is all due to me, but there was no help. What I could offer him was unacceptable to him. Now what is the point of my going empty-handed?’
‘What are you saying, Bourani? The household belongs to you ! You can’t let it go by default.’
‘What do you mean by “household”? A house, things, people? I feel ashamed to claim them as my own. Does one crave for outward things when one has lost rights over the interior?’
‘Do you mean to say you are never
coming back?’
‘I am at a loss to understand anything. Earlier I would have prayed to my deity, asked for an omen, or I’d have consulted a soothsayer. But all those things have been washed away. In the beginning everything seemed to bode well, but none of it came to pass. It has occurred to me many times today that had I depended on my brother’s judgement rather than on my god I’d not have faced this calamity. There may be room for doubt in my mind but even then my heart belongs to my Lord. I come back again and again and throw myself at His feet.’
‘Your words scare me. Have you given up the idea of coming home?’
‘It is difficult to imagine that I shall never get back, at the same time it is not easy to promise that I will.’
‘Well, let me talk to your Dada. Let us hear what he thinks. I hope I can meet him.’
‘Come, I will take you right away.’
As she entered his room Motir-ma stopped in her tracks. He reminded her of a dark ruined temple after an earthquake where silence and darkness reigned. She touched his feet and sat down on the floor.
Bipradas rushed to offer her a chair.
Motir-ma shook her head to mean she was all right where she was. Her eyes were aglow under her veil. She realized that his condition was causing Kumu great pain.
In order to make things light, Kumu said, ‘Dada, she has come specially to get your opinion.’
Motir-ma protested, ‘No no, taking his advice is only secondary. I have really come to pay my respects.’
Kumu continued, ‘She wanted to know if you thought it proper for me to go back.’
Bipradas sat up and said, ‘That is someone else’s house. How can Kumu go and live there?’ The fire contained in those words might not have raged so fiercely had he uttered them in anger, and though his voice was even and his face showed no excitement, his dark anger came across quite clearly.
The Tagore Omnibus, Volume One Page 72