Bankimchandra Omnibus: Volume - 1: v. 1

by Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay

  Govindalal said, ‘There is no one here; come with me.’

  Rohini slowly and sadly returned home with Govindalal.

  9

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE HOUSE, GOVINDALAL FORBADE THE SERVANTS TO come upstairs. The maestro had already gone back to his lodgings.

  Govindalal took Rohini to their bedroom and closed the door. She stood before him, trembling like a reed in a stream.

  ‘Rohini,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to have a few words with you.’

  ‘What about?

  ‘What are you to me?

  ‘Nothing. I am your servant so long as you let me serve you, otherwise I am nothing.

  ‘You are not my servant. I was yours. My princely fortune, my princely estate, my unstained character—I sacrificed everything for you. Who are you, Rohini, that I left everything for you and now live in exile? Who are you, Rohini, that I deserted Bhramar, incomparable Bhramar, who was my happiness and nectar in sorrow, for you? Why?’ Unable to control his anger and sorrow, Govindalal kicked her. Rohini sat down and wept without a word. He did not see her tears.

  ‘Rohini, stand up.’

  She stood up.

  ‘One day you tried to kill yourself. Have you still the courage to die?’

  Rohini, at that moment, wanted to die. She said in a feeble voice, ‘Why shouldn’t I wish to die now, my fate is sealed.’

  ‘Then wait here, don’t move.’

  Rohini stood there while Govindalal got hold of a pistol case and took out a pistol. It was loaded, as it always was. He held it in front of her and said, ‘Well, have you the courage to die?’

  Rohini was thinking. She could not remember the day she had gone to drown herself in the Varuni, easily and calmly. She was then very unhappy, so she had had the courage. Now she thought, ‘Why should I die? If he wants to leave me, let him do so. I shall never forget him, but that’s no reason to die. If I live, I shall at least have the pleasure of thinking of him; I will be poor, but I shall have the pleasure of thinking of him and the happy days that I spent in Prasadpur. That is some kind of happiness and some kind of hope. Why should I die?’

  Rohini said, ‘I don’t want to die. Don’t kill me. If you don’t want me, let me go, please.’

  Govindalal raised the pistol, aimed it at her forehead, and said, ‘I will let you go.’

  ‘Don’t kill me,’ Rohini cried out. ‘I am young, I have just tasted happiness. I’ll never come near you, never cross your path again; I’ll leave you at once. Do not kill me.’

  The click of the pistol was heard, then a bang, and all was dark. The lifeless body of Rohini felt on the floor. Govindalal threw down the gun and ran out of the house.

  The servants, hearing the gunshot, rushed upstairs. They saw her body on the floor. It was like a lotus ravaged by the fingernails of a boy. Govindalal was nowhere to be seen.

  10

  Second Year

  THAT NIGHT, THE VILLAGE WATCHMAN REPORTED AT THE POLICE STATION that a murder had been committed in the indigo planter’s house in Prasadpur. Fortunately for Govindalal, the police station was twelve miles away and so the police inspector could not get to the scene of the crime to begin investigations till nine o’clock the next morning. He made an on-the-spot investigation, examined the body and then sent in a report. He put the body, duly sheeted and tied, in a bullock cart, and sent it, in charge of the watchman, to the morgue. He then took his bath and his midday meal and at his leisure began searching for the murderer. But where was the murderer? Govindalal did not re-enter the house after he had killed Rohini. Who could say how far he had gone in the night that had passed? He had not been seen by anyone, anywhere. In Prasadpur, no one knew Govindalal’s true identity. He was known there as Chunilal Datta. Not even his own servants knew where he had come from. The inspector spent a few days interrogating a few people. But nobody could help him. In the end, he sent in a report that the culprit had absconded.

  Then a very able detective inspector called Fichel Khan was sent in from Jessore. There is no need to describe in detail Fichel Khan’s methods of investigation. But after thoroughly searching the house, he found a number of letters and that helped him identify the culprit and his native village. Needless to say, Fichel Khan went to Haridragram in disguise; but Govindalal was not there. The detective inspector returned without success.

  After leaving Rohini to her fate on that cruel deadly night, Nisakar returned to their lodgings in Prasadpur Bazaar, where Madhavinath was waiting for him. Madhavinath had not gone himself as Govindalal would have recognized him. Nisakar told him what had happened. Madhavinath said, ‘You should not have done that. He might kill her.’ The two friends stayed on secretly in Prasadpur, awaiting further news. Next morning, they heard that Chunilal Datta had indeed murdered his wife and absconded. This greatly alarmed and distressed them. They were worried about Govindalal. But they heard that the inspector had failed to discover Govindalal’s whereabouts. Somewhat relieved, but still unhappy, they returned to their respective homes.

  11

  Third Year

  BHRAMAR DID NOT DIE. I DO NOT KNOW WHY. ONE OF THE SADDEST ASPECTS of this world is that no one dies at the right time, that everyone dies at the wrong time—either too early or too late. That may have been the reason why Bhramar did not die. However that may be, Bhramar had recovered from her serious illness and was not living at her father’s house any more.

  Madhavinath brought news of Govindalal. He told his wife, who secretly communicated the news to their elder daughter, Yamini. Yamini told Bhramar about it privately.

  Yamini said to Bhramar, ‘He can now come and live in Haridragram. He should be out of danger here.’

  ‘Why would he be in no danger here?’

  ‘He lived in Prasadpur under an assumed name, no one knew him as Govindalal Babu of Haridragram.’

  Bhramar said, ‘Have you not heard? The police came to the village looking for him; so they must know’

  ‘Suppose they do know. He will have money when he takes possession of his property, and Father says that the police are open to bribery.’

  Bhramar burst out in tears, and said, ‘Who will give him this advice? We need to find him. Father traced him once; he could do it again, couldn’t he?’

  ‘How can Father find him, when the police, who are so good at tracing people, have failed? But I think that Govindalal Babu will return to his native village of his own accord. He hasn’t done so already because people will find out that he was living in Prasadpur. He will come now.’

  ‘I have no such hope.’

  ‘But he will come.’

  Bhramar said, ‘If it is safe for him to come, I pray with all my heart that he comes back. But if it is safer for him not to come, I pray with all my heart that he may never again set foot in Haridragram. May God direct him to whichever is the safer course.’

  Yamini said, ‘Sister, it is my view that you should go and live in Haridragram. Who knows, one of these days he might turn up there. He is in need of money. Suppose he does not trust the employees of the estate and so does not show himself to them? Won’t he go away if he does not see you there?’

  ‘I am so ill, my life so uncertain, who will look after me there?’

  Yamini said, ‘If you so wish, then one of us will come with you. In any case, you should be on the spot.’

  Bhramar thought over Yamini’s suggestion, then agreed. ‘Yes, I will go to Haridragram. Tell Mother to make the arrangements to send me there tomorrow There is no need for any of you to come now, but you must come if I am in trouble.’

  ‘What trouble, sister?’

  Bhramar replied, weeping, ‘If he comes back.’

  Yamini said, ‘How can that be a problem? What greater joy can you have than to recover your lost treasure?’

  ‘Joy! I have no joy any more, sister.’

  Bhramar said no more. Yamini understood nothing of her feelings, nothing of her heart’s sorrow Bhramar had a
premonition of what would happen in the future, but Yamini could not see that. Yamini did not understand that Bhramar could not forget that Govindalal was a murderer.

  12

  Fifth Year

  BHRAMAR WENT TO LIVE IN HER FATHER-IN-LAW’S HOUSE. THERE SHE LIVED in daily expectation of her husband’s return. Days and months passed—he did not return, nor was there any news of him. Thus the third year passed and so also the fourth. Meanwhile, Bhramar’s cough and asthma got worse and she began to waste away rapidly. Yama, the god of Death, was approaching so swiftly that she feared she would never see her husband again.

  In the fifth year, there was a great commotion in the village, as news of Govindalal’s arrest reached there. He had been living in Brindavan, disguised as a mendicant, but the police had apprehended him and brought him to Jessore for trial.

  The news reached Bhramar as a rumour. It originated in a letter which Govindalal had written to the chief steward, in which he had said, ‘I am about to be taken to prison. If it be thought to spend some of the income from my paternal property on my defence, then it should be done now. I know I do not deserve this and I do not wish to live. But I beg to be saved from the gallows. Tell the people in the house that you heard the news—do not let it be known that I wrote to you.’ The chief steward did as he was told, sent the news to Bhramar as a rumour, and said nothing about the letter.

  Bhramar immediately sent for her father, who lost no time in coming. Bhramar gave him fifty thousand rupees in notes and said with tears in her eyes, ‘Father, do what can be done to save him, otherwise I shall kill myself.’ Madhavinath too was crying and said, ‘My child, don’t be anxious. I’ll go to Jessore this very day. Don’t worry. There’s no proof that Govindalal committed the murder. I promise you that I’ll bring back my son-in-law and forty-eight thousand of your money.’

  At Jessore, Madhavinath discovered that the evidence against Govindalal was very strong. Inspector Fichel Khan had investigated the case and sent the witnesses. He found no trace of Rupo, Sona and others, who knew the facts of the case. Sona was with Nisakar; Rupo had left the area and nobody knew where he had gone. Since the evidence was very weak, Fichel Khan had manufactured evidence with bribes. He sent up three witnesses who had deposed before the magistrate that they had gone to the house to hear Danesh Khan sing and had with their own eyes seen Govindalal, alias Chunilal, shoot Rohini. The magistrate was an Englishman, highly esteemed by the government as a good administrator. He committed Govindalal for trial at the sessions on’the basis of the evidence produced by Fichel Khan’s witnesses.

  Govindalal was rotting in prison when Madhavinath reached Jessore. He was saddened to know the unhappy state of affairs. He got hold of the names and addresses of the witnesses and visited them at their homes. He told them, ‘My friends, what you said before the magistrate is over and done with. Now you must say something very different before the judge. You must say that you know nothing of the case. Here are five hundred rupees in cash. There will be another five hundred after the defendant is released.’

  ‘We will be punished for perjury,’ the witnesses said.

  ‘Have no fear,’ Madhavinath assured them. ‘I shall bribe witnesses to give evidence that Fichel Khan beat you up and forced you to give false evidence before the magistrate.’

  The witnesses had never seen a thousand rupees all at once. They readily agreed.

  The day of the trial arrived. The defendant stood in’the dock. After the first witness took the oath, he was asked by the government prosecutor. ‘Do you know Govindalal, alias Chunilal?’

  The witness said, ‘No, I do not think so.’

  ‘Have you ever met him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know Rohini?’

  ‘Which Rohini?’

  ‘The one who lived in Prasadpur.’

  ‘I have never been’to Prasadpur. I have never heard of the place.’

  ‘How did Rohini die?’

  ‘I heard that she committed suicide.’

  ‘Do you know anything of the murder?’

  ‘Nothing at all.’

  The prosecutor then read out the deposition’that the witness had made before the magistrate. ‘How now? Did you not say all that before the magistrate?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Why did you if you did not know anything about the murder?’

  ‘Because Fichel Khan beat me, he left no bone unbroken in my body.’

  Then’the witness shed a few tears. A few days ago, in a dispute over a plot of land, he had received a few blows from his brother, the marks of which were still visible on his body. Without blushing, he showed them to the judge as evidence of Fichel Khan’s beatings.

  Much embarrassed, the crown prosecutor called the second witness. He too had a similar story to tell. He had made some sores on his back with the juice of leadwort—anything can be done for a thousand rupees. He showed his sores to the judge as evidence of Fichel Khan’s beatings.

  The third witness followed the path trodden by the other two. The judge discharged the defendant for lack of evidence and was highly displeased with Fichel Khan. He directed the magistrate to hold an inquiry into the conduct of the detective inspector.

  Govindalal was surprised to find the witnesses so much in his favour, but he understood it all when he saw Madhavinath in’the crowd. After being acquitted, Govindalal had to go back to prison’to await the order for his release. As he was being taken back, Madhavinath came up to him, and whispered the address of his lodgings and asked him to meet him there after Govindalal was released.

  But Govindalal did not go to his father-in-law’s lodgings after he was released. He disappeared, and nobody knew where he had gone. Madhavinath searched for him in vain. Thus, he was obliged to go back to Haridragram alone.

  13

  Sixth Year

  MADHAVINATH CAME BACK TO BHRAMAR AND TOLD HER ABOUT GOVINDALAL’S release and disappearance. After he had gone, Bhramar cried—I know not why.

  Meanwhile, Govindalal went straight to Prasadpur, where he found his house deserted and stripped. He was told that some of his possessions were stolen while others had been sold as unclaimed property. Only the house was still standing—even’the doors and door-frames had been lifted. He stayed at the bazaar a few days and sold the house, or rather whatever was left of it, for a trifle. Then he went to Calcutta. In Calcutta, he lived very modestly and secretly, unknown’to even his friends.

  But the little money he had brought from Prasadpur did not last long; after the end of a year, he realized he had no money. So he thought of writing to Bhramar—Bhramar, with whom he had not been in’touch for nearly six years.

  He sat down with pen, paper and ink. But to tell the truth, he started crying before he could put his pen’to paper. As he wept, a thought occurred to him. Bhramar might not be alive. To whom should he write then? Later he said to himself, ‘I may as well write. At the worst, my letter will come back to me. I shall know, if it comes back, that Bhramar is no more.’

  He spent a long time wondering what to write; then he thought, ‘I could not hurt her more by writing than I have done by deserting her.’ So he decided to put down anything that came to his mind. He wrote:

  Bhramar, this wicked man is writing to you after six years. You can read the letter or you can’tear it up unread. I expect you know all that has happened to me. If I say that I brought it on myself, you may think that I am trying to please you, for I am about to beg something of you. I have nothing to live on. I have kept myself alive by begging. It was possible to live by begging in places of pilgrimage. Here I get nothing and am facing starvation. I had only one refuge, my mother in Kashi. But I expect you know that she is dead and I have nowhere to go now, nothing to live on. So I thought of showing this guilty face in Haridragram, else I must die of hunger. One who deserted you, took another woman and killed her—how can I feel shame? How can a starving man feel shame? I can show you my face, but you, who are owner of a property and a ho
use and I have wronged you—can you give me refuge? Won’t you help one whom hunger has brought to your door?

  After much hesitation, Govindalal posted the letter, which reached Bhramar in due time.

  Bhramar recognized his handwriting. She trembled as she opened the letter. She entered her bedroom and closed the door. Then she read the letter over and over again as tears streamed down her face. That day she did not open her bedroom doors. When she was called to come for a meal, she replied she had a fever and did not feel like eating. As she often had fever, they all believed her.

  Next day, Bhramar got up from bed. She had not slept a wink. She really did have a fever. But she was calm and had a clear head. She had already decided what to write in reply. She did not have to think again. She had even decided how to write it.

  She did not write ‘your servant’, as was customary in addressing one’s superiors. But since a husband is to be revered in all circumstances, she used the form, ‘After a thousand salutations I beg to state’. Then she wrote:

  I have received your letter. The property is yours. Although it was left to me, I gave it to you. You may remember the deed of gift which you tore up before you left here. The copy of this deed is in’the registry office, so the gift was valid. So you can easily come back to Haridragram and enjoy your property. The house is yours. In’these last five years I have saved some money. That too is yours. Of that money, I beg a small portion of eight thousand rupees. I shall use three thousand rupees to build a house by the banks of the river Ganga and the rest to live on. I shall make all arrangements for your return and then I shall go to my father’s house. I shall stay there until my own house is built. It is not likely that we shall meet again in’this life. I am content with that, and I am sure that you too are content with it. I await your second letter.