The Tagore Omnibus, Volume One

by Rabindranath Tagore

  Motir-ma whispered something. She wanted Kumu to sit by her side and convey her words to her brother. But Kumu did not agree. She said, ‘You better raise your voice and say what you have to say yourself.’

  So Motir-ma became a little more articulate and said, ‘Please tell him that what is yours can never be made over to anyone else, whosoever may try to take over.’

  Bipradas said, ‘That is not true. She is only a dependant there. She has no right of her own. If she were turned out, some may criticize, but they would do nothing to stop it. All the penalty is only meant for her. One could still accept dependency, if it were at least magnanimous.’

  Motir-ma had no answer to this. She believed that when her husband’s protection was threatened, it was the wife’s people who had to be the supplicants. Here it seemed to be the reverse!

  After a pause, she added, ‘But women can’t live outside the shelter of her own home. Men can float about, but women need stability.’

  ‘Where is this stability? In the midst of dishonour? Take it from me, whoever created Kumu created her with utmost respect. No one is so superior that he can ignore her, not even the King-Emperor.’

  Motir-ma was genuinely fond of Kumu, respected her too, but it did not sound right to her ears that a woman’s worth could be such that her pride should surpass her husband’s. Let there be quarrels with the husband, let there even be much insult and suffering on the part of the wife, it was even understandable that some wives may hang themselves to escape it, but to be totally independent of the husband and stand on her own was, according to Motir-ma, a kind of arrogance. Why should women have so much vanity? Madhusudan may be absolutely unworthy of her, he may have been grievously wrong, but still he was a man. By virtue of being a man he was somewhere naturally superior to his wife—a fact that was unarguable. Could one win a case against the Maker?

  She said finally, ‘Some day or the other, she has to go back. There does not seem to be any way out for her.’

  ‘“Has to go” is a phrase meant for a slave, not for a human being.’

  ‘The wife does become a property in a sacramental marriage. The day you go round the sacred fire seven times with the groom, your body and mind are bound to him for ever. There is no escape. It is worse than death. Once you are born a woman you may not reverse the course of a woman’s fate.

  Bipradas then realized that women themselves valued women the least. They were not even aware that this was the reason why it was so easy for men to dishonour women in every home. The women themselves had put out their own light. And then they lived in perpetual fear and anxiety, oppressed by unworthy men, and accepted that the highest attainment in a woman’s life was to bear all of this silently, without protest. So much violation of human rights could not be allowed any longer. Those whom society had degraded so much were now pulling the society down with them.

  Kumu was sitting next to his bed with her head down. Bipradas did not answer Motir-ma, but put his hand on Kumu’s head and said, ‘Try and understand what I am trying to tell you. Wherever power comes to one without effort, where it is never tested, and where one does not have to prove worthy of retaining it, there, power only leads to degradation. I have explained this to you often enough, but you would not give up your traditional beliefs, and in the end it is you who is suffering. When you used to feed Brahmins to earn merit I did not stop you, but tried to explain to you time and again that taking someone’s superiority for granted without question does harm not only to that person but lowers the standard of superiority in the entire society. Why does not one ever pause to think that by such blind reverence we only show disrespect for our own humanity? You are somewhat familiar with writings in English—can’t you see that the world is up in arms against this kind of sectarian, fundamentalist, insensitive exercise of power? The time has come to smash the cosy retreat of deliberate, blind slavery, which men have long preserved under the cloak of high-sounding words.’

  Kumu said, with her head still held down, ‘Dada, is it your view that the wife may surpass her husband?’

  ‘I am against any transgression, Kumu. But my view is that the husband too must not suppress the wife.’

  ‘Even if he does, should the wife also . . .’

  Bipradas did not let her finish. He went on, ‘If the wife tolerates that wrongdoing then she is accepting injustice to all women. This is how every individual adds to the sum of misery and paves the way for oppression.’

  Motir-ma added impatiently, ‘Our Bourani is a sati, she is like Lakshmi, no amount of insult can touch her.’

  Bipradas now raised his voice in excitement. ‘You are concerned only with your idea of satilakshmi, why don’t you ever think of the plight of the bully who daily exercises the license you are giving him, to oppress her?’ Kumu got up, began stroking his hair and said, ‘Dada, you have talked much today, you should stop now. What you call freedom, comes through knowledge and that is just not in our blood. We cling to men, and we also cling to our beliefs and we are unable to untie the knot. The more we are hurt, the more we go round and round and get enmeshed. You men know a lot and that liberates your mind, we women believe a lot and that fills the emptiness in our lives. When you explain things to me, maybe I can see my mistake. But to know your weaknesses is not the same as giving them up. Like the tendrils of a creeper, our possessiveness clings to everything, good and bad alike, and then we can not let go of them.’

  Bipradas said, ‘That is precisely why the cowards and bullies of this world do not lack in women devotees. They recognize the evil as evil all right, yet they follow them as the holiest of the holy.’

  Kumu said, ‘What can we do, Dada, we have been created to embrace the mundane with both our hands. We hold on to a big tree as well as to a straw. It takes us as much time to accept a guru as to yield to a charlatan. No one can save us from a life of suffering. So I often think, if suffering is our inescapable lot, then we have to accept it and find a way of transcending it. That is why women stick to religion so desperately.’

  Bipradas kept quiet.

  His silence hurt her, because she knew it weighed more heavily than all his talk.

  As they came out, Motir-ma asked her, ‘What have you decided, Bourani?’

  Kumu said, ‘I can’t come. Besides, I have no permission to get back.’

  Motir-ma was somewhat peeved with her. Not that she herself was a great admirer of her in-laws’ family, but, long years of belonging had won that family her loyalty. She could not bear the thought that any daughter-in-law of that house should transgress its bounds. The sense of what she then told Kumu was like this, ‘It has to be accepted from the start that men by nature lack compassion and self-control. We are not the creators of the world, we have to make do with what we get. We have to run households by taking for granted that “they are like that”. Because, a household belongs to the woman. It does not matter whether the husband is good or bad. If one does not accept this truth, death is the only way out.’

  Kumu said with a smile, ‘Maybe that is so, but what is wrong with death?’

  Motir-ma anxiously responded, ‘Don’t say such things!’

  Kumu did not know that recently in their neighbourhood, a seventeen-year old bride had committed suicide by swallowing some acid. Her husband had a Master’s degree and held a good post in a Government office. His mother had complained to him that the wife had lost a silver hair comb and so he went and kicked his wife. Motir-ma remembered the incident and shuddered.

  Nabin arrived on the scene. Kumu was delighted to see him. She said, ‘I knew that we would see you soon.’

  Nabin laughed and said, ‘Bourani is well versed in logic. She first saw Mrs Smoke and did not find it difficult to infer that Mr Fire would follow suit.’

  Motir-ma said, ‘Bourani, you have spoilt him. He knows that you like to see him and he is so proud of that.’

  Nabin rejoined, ‘The one who may also be glad to see me is no less powerful. My creator may be regretting his own ha
ndiwork but neither the gods nor men know what my spouse thinks of me.’

  ‘The two of you may bandy words. I do not wish to be a third person to spoil the fun. I am off now,’ said Kumu.

  Motir-ma said, ‘My dear, who is the third person here? Do you think he spent money in hiring a carriage just to come and see me?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. But let me order something for him to eat.’ Kumu left.

  52

  MOTIR-MA ASKED HIM, ‘IS THERE ANY NEWS?’

  ‘Yes, there is. That is why I came post-haste to consult you. After you left for this house, Dada came suddenly into my room—exceptionally bad-tempered. A cheap gilt ash-tray had disappeared from his desk. Its present owner must have thought it to be made of gold, otherwise why should he or she risk retribution in the next life? You know how Dada cannot bear the loss of the most trivial item—it is as if the very foundation of his huge property is being shaken. This morning, before leaving for his office, he ordered me to send Shyama back home. I had started on that sacred task with great enthusiasm. My plan was to complete my job before he came back from office. But around half-past one he suddenly barged into my room and said, “Hold it for now.” As he was going out his glance fell on the portrait of Bourani on my desk. He stopped. I knew he was feeling shy to straighten his gaze and look directly at the photograph. So I said, “Dada, wait here for a while, I shall bring and show you a Dacca sari. It is a present for Motir-ma’s sister-in-law, who is expecting a baby. But I have a feeling Ganeshram is cheating me. I want to check it with you. In my estimate it should not be as much as thirteen rupees. At best it could be nine or nine and a half.”’

  Motir-ma was surprised. She said, ‘How did you ever think of it? My sister-in-law has no chance of having another baby in the near future. Her youngest is only a month and a half old. I find you these days capable of making up any story. Where did you learn this art?’

  ‘The same place from where our great poet Kali das got it. Direct from the Muse, our goddess of learning, Bani Binapani.’

  ‘It will be difficult to live with you, so long as the Muse does not leave you alone.’

  ‘It is my vow to visit hell before I go to Paradise, like Yudhistir in our epic. That would be my gift to Bourani.’

  ‘But tell me how did you get hold of your nine-and-a-half rupee sari that very moment?’

  ‘Nowhere. After about twenty minutes I came back and reported that Ganeshram had taken back the sari without waiting for my approval. From Dada ‘s face it was apparent that the portrait had by now entered his head and taken the shape of a dream. I don’t know why, but I am the only one in the whole world with whom Dada has some feeling of delicacy. If it were anyone else in front of Dada he would have grabbed the picture without a moment’s thought about who was watching him.’

  ‘You are no less greedy. You could have presented it to him.’

  ‘In fact, I have given it to him, but not with an easy mind. I told him, “Dada, how about making an oil-painting from this photograph to hang in your bedroom?” He pretended to be disinterested and said, “We’ll see,” and went up with the picture. I am not sure what followed. Maybe he didn’t go back to work, nor do I have any hope of getting back the photo.’

  ‘Since you are willing to give up paradise for the sake of your Bourani, the loss of a photograph shouldn’t matter,’ said Motir-ma teasingly.

  ‘Paradise may be doubtful, but the picture was real to me. It was rarely that such a picture happens. It had captured that very rare moment when the grace of heavens was fully reflected on her face. On some nights I have got up and lit a lamp to look at it. It seemed that the inner beauty was more apparent in the light of a lamp.’

  ‘Aren’t you a little afraid of being so effusive in front of me?’

  ‘If I were afraid then you would have real cause to worry. The truth is that I am amazed at her sight. I wonder how her presence became possible in our family. I am thrilled that I call her our Bourani and that she sits down and feeds an inconsequential chap like me. How on earth did all this happen with such ease? My brother is the least fortunate in our family. What he got so easily, he lost by trying to possess it too closely.’

  ‘Good heavens, there is no stopping you once you start on your Bourani!’

  ‘Mejobou, I know it hurts you slightly.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Yes, a little bit. In this context let me remind you that all that you said when you saw Bourani’s brother for the first time at the Noornagar railway station could be called in plain language “gushing”.’

  ‘All right, let us stop that debate. Now tell me what you came to tell me.

  ‘I believe Dada will send for her any day now. That she came here eagerly and never talked of going back has also hurt his pride greatly. Poor Dada is unable to understand that the bird has no fascination for a golden cage. The foolish bird! The ungrateful bird!’

  ‘Good. Let him send for her. That was the understanding.’

  ‘I think she should go before she is sent for. Let that little margin of pride be with Dada. Besides Bipradas Babu also wanted her to go. It is I who advised him against it then.’

  Motir-ma gave no indication of the conversation that she had earlier with Bipradas about this. She merely said, ‘Go and find out from him.’

  ‘That’s what I will do. He will be pleased to hear of the developments.’

  Kumu asked from outside the door, ‘May I come in?’

  Motir-ma said, ‘Your brother-in-law is anxiously waiting for you.’

  ‘Yes, I have been waiting for ages and ages, and now I am blessed with your presence.’

  ‘My goodness, how you can go on and on spinning out words!’

  ‘True, it surprises me too.’

  ‘Come on for dinner now.’

  ‘I would like to have a word with your brother before we sit down to eat.’

  ‘No. That’s not possible.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He has talked enough for the day.’

  ‘But I’ve got some good news for him.’

  ‘Maybe, but in that case why not come tomorrow? No more conversation for him today.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow I won’t be free, something else may turn up. Please let me have just five minutes with him. I am sure he will be happy and no harm will be done.’

  ‘All right, first you finish your food, and then we’ll see.’

  At the end of the meal Kumu took him to Bipradas and found him still awake.The room was almost in darkness and the light was dim. Stars could be seen through the open window and the south wind was blowing freely. The curtains, the bedcovers and his clothes were tossing about, throwing strange shadows around. A loose sheet of newspaper was flying around aimlessly. Bipradas remained still, in the midst of this, half reclining. The shadow of the dusk and the pallor of his illness had shrouded him in such a manner that he seemed to be very far away—in another distant world altogether. He looked the loneliest man on earth.

  Nabin touched his feet and said, ‘I don’t want to disturb your rest. I have just come to say that it is time for Bourani to come back. We are all waiting for her.’

  Bipradas did not reply. He just sat still.

  Nabin said again, ‘We shall arrange to take her back as soon as you permit.’

  Meanwhile Kumu had come and sat near her brother’s feet. Bipradas looked at her and said, ‘If you think the time has come for you to go back, then you may do so, Kumu.’

  Kumu said, ‘No, Dada, I shall not go back,’ and threw herself upon his knees.

  The room was silent, but from time to time a gust of wind rattled a loose window. Outside, the leaves of the trees in the garden rustled in the breeze.

  Kumu soon got up and told Nabin, ‘It is time to go. Dada, you try to sleep.’

  Motir-ma came home and said, ‘This is going a bit too far.’

  ‘You mean to say that it is all right to be poked in the eyes but it is quite improper for the eyes to get red.’

/>   ‘No, my dear, it is all their conceit. They find nothing in this world to match their worth. They are above everyone.’

  ‘It is true that such pride does not become most people, but they are indeed a class by themselves.’

  ‘But that does not mean one can disown all relationships.’

  ‘One can’t claim a relationship by merely announcing it. We must admit that they belong to a class quite different from ours. In fact, I feel hesitant to be familiar with them only by virtue of our recent relationship.’

  ‘You must remember that however high a person may be in society, relationships have a compulsion of their own.’

  Nabin could sense a sting of envy on the part of Motir-ma in relation to Kumu. It was also true that family ties were very precious to women. So he cut short the debate and said, ‘Let’s watch for a few days. No harm in sharpening his interest a little more.’

  53

  SHYAMASUNDARI HAD EVERY REASON TO HOPE THAT HER POSITION IN THIS household was now firm; but she could not feel so yet. In the beginning she thought she had acquired the right to boss over the domestic staff, but now she was made to realize at every step that they were unwilling to accept her as the mistress. It was as if, given a chance, they would be happy to defy her. This was why Shyama would scold them without reason, send them on unnecessary errands, constantly find fault with them, nag them and abuse them. She was trying very hard to wipe out her earlier image of a nobody in this house, but found that it would not wash with any of the servants. One old servant could not bear her badgering any longer and resigned from his job. Shyama had to eat humble pie on that score. The reason was that Madhusudan had some blind superstitions concerning his fortune. He took it as an ill omen if any of the employees associated with his good times died or resigned. For a similar reason an old ink-stained desk from those times was incongruously but firmly established in the midst of the expensive modern furniture in his office room. On top of it was placed an old zinc ink-pot and a cheap English wooden pen, the same one with which he had signed his first big contract in the early days of his business. Dadhi, the Oriya employee who had resigned, belonged to those times. So Madhusudan not only ignored his resignation but even rewarded him handsomely. Shyama had to endure Dadhi’s smiling face thereafter.