5. Panchalis were moral tales from traditional Bengal. In the nineteeenth century, one of the authors and singers of panchalis was Dasharath Roy.
6. Vaishnavis often invoke the name of Radha when they meet, or enter someone’s house.
7. Gopal Ure and Nidhu Babu were famous singers of popular (often considered vulgar by the bhadralok) songs in nineteenth-century Kolkata.
8. After a serious devotional song, a khemta, sensual dancing music of nineteenth-century Kolkata, would be considered most inappropriate.
9. Ishvar Chandra Vidyasagar (1820–91) was a nineteenth-century Bengali social reformer and a great Sanskrit scholar. He started a campaign for widow remarriage; he proved through his researches that although custom did not permit it, widow remarriage was allowed by the ancient Hindu shastras. In 1856, he persuaded the government to enact a law to legalize widow remarriage.
10. Bhattacharya Brahmins were mostly priests famous for their Sanskrit scholarship.
11. ‘Govinda the Prince’ was a drama popular in Kolkata in the early nineteenth century.
12. This is a parody of a Sanskrit hymn invoking the goddess Durga.
13. It was an old custom in rural Bengal for women to establish formal friendships by giving each other pet names. ‘Ganga Water’ is such a name.
14. Vidyasundara is part of an eighteenth-century narrative poem by Bharatchandra, often staged as a drama. It was notorious for its erotic poetry.
15. ‘Horses’s eggs’ means nonsense, a mare’s nest.
16. ‘Wish-juice’ is the English of ‘ishti rasa’, which is how Hira’s grandmother hears the English word ‘hysteria’; and she hears ‘castor-oil’ as ‘kestha rasa’, which means ‘Krishna juice’.
Indira
1
I Am to Go to My Father-in-law’s House
I WAS GOING, AT LAST, TO MY FATHER-IN-LAW’S HOUSE. I HAD TURNED nineteen, but I had not yet taken up my position as wife in that house. The reason for this was that my father was rich and my father-in-law was poor. Several days after the wedding, my father-in-law sent people to fetch me, but my father did not let me go. He said, ‘Tell her father-in-law that my son-in-law must first learn how to earn some money—then he may take the bride: if he takes her now, will he be able to feed her?’ Hearing this, my husband was extremely mortified—he was then twenty years of age, and he resolved that he would himself earn enough to support a family. With this in mind, he travelled to the west. There was then no railway—the way to the west was very difficult. He went on foot, without money, without any attendant, he was long on the way and finally he reached the Punjab. He who could do this could also make money. My husband started to make money—he started to send money home—but for seven or eight years he did not come home or ask for any news of me. I was overcome with anger. How much money did we need? I was very angry with my father and mother—why had they raised the disgraceful issue of earning money? Was money more important than my happiness! There was a lot of money in my father’s house—I used to squander it. I used to think, ‘One day I will spread out money to lie on, and see if that is happiness?’ One day I said to my mother, ‘Mother, I will spread out money to sleep on.’ My mother said, ‘Where has this lunatic come from!’ My mother understood. I cannot say what tricks or strategems she employed, but a little before the history I am beginning to narrate, my husband came home. The rumour sprang up that he had returned with untold wealth from working in a commissariat (have I got that word right?).1 My father-in-law wrote to my father, ‘By your blessing, Upendra (my husband’s name was Upendra—I have used his name; may older women forgive me, but the present custom permits me to refer to him as ‘my Upendra’) is competent to support his bride. I have sent a palanquin and bearers; please send the bride to this house. Otherwise, if you permit it, I will arrange another alliance for my son.’
My father saw that here indeed was a newly-risen important man. The interior of the palanquin was covered with brocade; on top were bits of silver; on the handles were silver sharks’ heads. The servant women who had come wore silk and had necklaces of thick gold beads. Four black-bearded men from Bhojpur had come with the palanquin.
My father, Haramohan Datta, of an old aristocratic line, laughed and said, ‘Mother Indira! I can no longer keep you. Go now, and I will come soon to fetch you.2 Mind that you don’t laugh at the upstart.’
I answered my father’s words in my mind. I said, ‘I think my spirit has become an upstart; may you understand this, and not laugh.’
My younger sister Kamini understood, I think. She said, ‘Didi! When will you come back?’ I pinched her cheek.
Kamini said, ‘Didi, do you know anything about your father-in-law’s house?’
I said, ‘I do. It is in a delightful forest; there, the god of Love, with arrows of parijat flowers, makes people’s lives complete. As soon as women set foot there they become heavenly nymphs, and men become sheep. There, the kokil always sings, the south wind blows in the winter, and the full moon rises in the new moon’s place.’
Kamini laughed and said, ‘Oh, go on with you!’
2
I Go to My Father-in-law’s House
WITH THIS BLESSING FROM MY SISTER, I SET OUT FOR MY FATHER-IN-LAW’S house. My father-in-law’s house was at Manoharpur. My father’s house was at Maheshpur. There were twenty miles of road between the two villages; therefore, we set out after the morning meal, and I knew that it would take two or three hours after dark for us to arrive.
On that account, a few tears came to my eyes. I would not be able to see well at night what he was like. And he would not be able to see well at night what I was like. My mother had dressed my hair with great care—twenty miles of travelling would loosen my chignon, my hair would all fall out of place. I would perspire within the palanquin and become ugly. The red tint of paan on my lips would dry from thirst, tiredness would deprive my body of grace. You are laughing? I adjure you not to laugh: I was in the fulness of youth, going for the first time to my father-in-law’s house.
On the road, there was a wide lake called the Black Lake. It was nearly a mile across. Its banks were as tall as hills. There was a path through them. On all sides were banyan trees. Their shade was cool, the water of the lake was like blue clouds; the sight was very appealing. Few people came there. There was only one shop on the landing. The village that was nearby was also called Black Lake.
People were afraid to come to this lake alone. For fear of brigands, people preferred to come here only in groups. So people called it ‘Brigand Lake’. It was said that the shopkeeper was an ally of the brigands.
I was not afraid of all this. There were many people with me—there were sixteen bearers, four guards, and several other people.
When we reached there, it was midday. The bearers said, ‘If we don’t have some refreshment, we can’t go on.’ The guards forbade this—they said, ‘This is not a good place.’ The bearers answered, ‘There are so many of us—why should we be afraid?’ The people with me had not eaten anything all this time. Finally, they all agreed with the bearers.
The palanquin was put down on the landing, under a banyan tree. I was enraged. Here I was, obeying my father-in-law, and coming speedily, and here the bearers were, putting down the palanquin, stretching their legs, twirling their dirty napkins and taking the air! But shame! Women are very selfish! I was travelling on others’ shoulders; they were bearing me on their shoulders; I was travelling in the flush of youth to see my husband—they were travelling with empty bellies, in pursuit of a handful of rice; was I angry at them for twirling their dirty napkins and taking a little air! Shame, O youth!
Thinking this over, I became aware after a while that my people had left the palanquin. Then, taking courage, I opened the door a little and looked at the lake. I saw that the bearers were all sitting in front of the shop, under a banyan tree, eating. That spot was about half an acre away from me. I saw that in front of me, like a dense cloud, the lake was spread out; on all sides, as
high as a line of hills, yet with a beautiful covering of soft, deep green grass, were its banks. On the stretch of earth between the banks and the water were rows of tall banyan trees; many young heifers were grazing on the banks; water-birds were disporting themselves on the water; the gentle waves from a gentle wind were breaking like crystal; sometimes the water-moss and the leaves and flowers of the water-plants swayed with the knock of the small waves. I could see that the guards had descended to the water and were bathing—white strings of pearls were scattered over the water from the beating of their limbs.
I looked at the sky—what beautiful blueness! How beautiful was the diversity of forms that the layers of white clouds made against each other—how graceful against the sky were the small, soaring birds, like a collection of dark dots scattered amongst the blueness! It came into my mind to wonder, was there not some knowledge whereby a human being could become a bird? If I could have become a bird, I would instantly have flown up to reach the ever-desired place!
Again I looked towards the lake—and now I became a little nervous. I saw that alongwith the bearers, all the other people accompnaying me had gone down to bathe as well. The two women with me—one from my father-in-law’s house, one from my father’s—were both in the water. A little fear came into my mind: no one was near me, the place was evil; this was not good. What was I to do; I was a girl from a respectable family: I could not put out my head to call someone.
At this point, I thought I heard a sound from the other side of the palanquin. It was as if something heavy had fallen from a branch of the banyan tree above. I opened the door panel on that side a little and looked. I saw that it was a black, monstrously-shaped man! In fear I closed the door; but then I realized that it would be better to leave the door open—but before I could open the door again, another man jumped down from the tree. As I watched, another, and another! In this way, four men almost simultaneously jumped down from the tree and lifted the palanquin to their shoulders. Then they ran off with it, panting.
I could see my guards running from the water, raising an outcry.
Then I realized that I had fallen into the hands of brigands. Then what was the use of modesty? I opened the doors of the palanquin. I wondered whether I could escape by jumping, but I saw that all the people with me were running after the palanquin, making a great uproar. That raised my hopes. But these hopes were quickly dashed. A great number of brigands jumped down from the nearby trees and showed themselves. I have said that there were rows of banyan trees beside the water. The brigands were taking the palanquin through those trees. Men leaped down from all those trees. Some had bamboo clubs in their hands, some had branches of trees.
Seeing so many men, the people with me fell back. Then, bereft of hope, I determined to jump. But the palanquin was being carried along at such a speed that leaping from it was likely to give a severe jolt. Moreover, a brigand, showing me a club, told me, ‘If you jump I’ll break your head.’ Therefore, I desisted.
I saw that one of the guards, in the lead, had reached and seized the palanquin; then one of the brigands struck him off with a club. He fell unconscious to the ground. I did not see him get up again. Perhaps he never did get up again.
Seeing this, the remaining guards gave up. Those carrying me took me away without hindrance. They carried me thus until dusk, and then finally put the palanquin down. I saw that the place where they had put it down was dense forest—and dark. The brigands lit a torch. Then they said to me, ‘Give us everything you’ve got, or we’ll kill you.’ I gave them my ornaments and other things—and I took off the ornaments on my limbs and gave them away too. I only left the bangles on my arm—but they snatched those from me as well. They gave me a torn, dirty piece of cloth; putting that on, I removed my costly garments and handed these over. Having taken everything I had, the brigands broke up the palanquin and took off the silver. Finally, they lit a fire and burnt the broken-up palanquin, and hid all signs of brigandry.
Then they too went away, and seeing that they were leaving me in that deep forest, in the dark night, to the mercy of the wild animals, I started to weep. I said, ‘I fall at your feet, take me with you.’ I had become desirous of even the brigands’ company.
An old brigand said, in a sympathetic manner, ‘Child, how can we take such a beautiful girl with us? It would instantly proclaim us as brigands—people would instantly seize us.’
A young brigand said, ‘Never mind if I go to jail for taking her, I can’t let her go.’ I cannot write what else he said—and now I cannot even bring it to mind. The old brigand was the leader of that group. He shook his club at the young one and said, ‘I will leave you here with this club in your broken head. Are we capable of such sin?’ Then they went away.
3
The Pleasure of Travelling to My Father-in-law’s House
HAS SUCH A THING EVER HAPPENED? HAS ANYONE EVER SUFFERED SUCH danger, such misery? There I had been, going to see my husband for the first time—wearing jewelled ornaments on every limb, hair bound up with so much longing, pure lips reddened with paan prepared with longing, virginal body made delightful with fragrances, nineteen years old, going to see my husband for the first time, thinking as I went of what I would say as I offered this priceless jewel at his feet; and suddenly into this, what a thunderbolt! They snatched all my ornaments away—so be it; made me wear a torn, dirty, ill-smelling cloth—so be it; left me to the mercy of tigers and bears—so be it; I was dying of hunger and thirst—let it be so—I no longer wanted life: if life left me now, that would be good; but if life did not leave me, if I lived, then where would I go? And I had not seen him—I supposed that I would not see my father and mother again, either! I could not weep enough.
So I decided not to weep. My tears did not cease in the least, but I was making an effort—when, from some distance, came a loud roar. I thought, a tiger. A little joy came to my mind. If a tiger ate me, all suffering would come to an end. It would break my bones and drink up my blood; I thought that I would endure this; it was only physical pain. To be able to die was the greatest happiness. So I stopped weeping, became a little cheerful, and remained still, waiting for the tiger. Every time the leaves rustled, I thought, that’s the sorrow-destroying, spirit-soothing tiger coming. But much of the night passed and still the tiger did not come. I was crestfallen. Then it occurred to me that where there were jungle thickets, there could be snakes. In the hope of setting my foot on a snake’s neck, I went into the thickets and wandered around in them for some time. Alas! Seeing a person, they all fled—within the forest I heard many rustling, hissing and tapping sounds, but my feet did not fall on any snake; many thorns pierced my feet, many nettles stung them; but woe! snakes did not like them! Crestfallen, I turned back again; I had grown weary from hunger and thirst—I could no longer wander around. Seeing a clear spot, I sat down. Suddenly, a bear appeared in front of me—I thought I would die at the hands of a bear. I called out to the bear and prepared to die. But alas! The bear ignored me. She went and climbed up a tree. From the tree, after a while, came the buzzing sounds of a thousand bees. I realized that there was a beehive in that tree and the bear knew this; she had renounced me in her desire to steal honey.
At the end of the night a little sleep came—as I sat leaning against a tree, I fell asleep.
4
Now Where Do I Go?
WHEN I WOKE UP, THE CROW AND THE KOKIL WERE CALLING—RAYS OF sunlight were coming through the bamboo leaves and dressing the earth with jewels and pearls. In the light I saw first that there was nothing on my arms; the brigands, snatching all the ornaments from my arms, had dressed me as a widow. There was a bit of iron on my left arm—but nothing on my right. Weeping, I tore off a bit of creeper and bound it round my arm.3
Then, looking around in all directions, I saw that near to where I was sitting, many of the trees’ branches had been cut; some trees had been cut down completely, with only the roots remaining. I thought, woodcutters must come here. Then there must be a path t
o a village. Seeing the light of day, I once again felt the desire to live—hope dawned again—I was no more than nineteen! Looking around, I found the very faint line of a path. I followed it. As I went, the line of the path became distinct. I began to hope I would reach a village.
Then another difficulty occurred to me—I could not go into a village. The torn, worn-out bit of cloth which the brigands had given me and forced me to wear covered me only from my waist to my knees—my breast was uncovered. How could I show myself, brazen-faced, amongst people? I could not go—I would have to die where I was. This is what I decided.
But seeing the earth glowing in the sun’s rays, the flowers swaying on the creepers, I felt my desire to live strengthen again. Then I tore some leaves from the trees, threaded them together on strips of bark and tied them round my waist and neck. Modesty of a sort: but I looked like a madwoman. Then I went along the path. After a while, I heard the mooing of cows. I realized that the village was near.
But I could go no further. I had never been accustomed to walking. On top of that was my wakeful night, with its unbearable mental and physical suffering, and hunger and thirst. I lay down exhausted under a tree beside the path. I had no sooner lain down than sleep overcame me.
As I slept, I dreamed that I had gone to my father-in-law’s house up above the clouds, in the place of the gods. It seemed that the god of Love himself was my husband, and his consort was my co-wife—I was quarrelling with him over a parijat flower. At this point, someone’s touch woke me up. I saw that a young man, who looked to be of some low caste, such as a coolie or labourer, was pulling at my arm. By good fortune, a piece of wood had fallen nearby. I picked it up, swung it round, and hit the sinner on the head. I do not know where I got the strength; the man clapped his hands to his head and ran away breathlessly.
Bankimchandra Omnibus: Volume - 1: v. 1 Page 27