Tagore Omnibus, Volume 1

by Rabindranath Tagore

  The two friends came out on the streets, let the carriage go and started walking. Mahendra said, ‘Behari, don’t let go of this girl.’

  Behari avoided a direct answer and said, ‘The girl reminded me of her aunt; perhaps she’d be just as charming and good-natured.’

  Mahendra said, ‘So, perhaps now the load I placed on your shoulders doesn’t seem quite so heavy?’

  Behari said, ‘No, it seems bearable.’

  Mahendra said, ‘But I don’t want to put you to any trouble. Let me relieve you of your burden—what do you say?’

  Behari cast a solemn glance at Mahendra and said, ‘Mahin da, are you serious? There’s still time. If you marry her, Aunty will be the happiest. She would then have the girl close to her all the time.’

  Mahendra said, ‘Are you mad? If that were possible, it would have happened long ago.’

  Behari didn’t raise any further objections and went his way. Mahendra took a long-winded route home and walked back slowly. Rajlakshmi was busy frying puris and Annapurna had not yet returned from her niece’s.

  Mahendra went up to the terrace all by himself and lay down on a mat. The half moon was casting its own silent, unique spells upon the concrete skyscape of Kolkata. When Rajlakshmi came to call him for dinner, Mahendra replied lazily, ‘I don’t feel like getting up.’

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘Let me send it up here then?’

  Mahendra said, ‘I don’t want dinner tonight. I have already eaten.’

  Rajlakshmi asked, ‘Where did you eat?’

  Mahendra said, ‘That’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.’

  Rajlakshmi was miffed at her son’s inexplicable behaviour and made as if to leave. But Mahendra composed himself in a minute and spoke out repentantly, ‘Mother, please send my meal up here.’

  Mother answered, ‘What’s the point if you are not hungry?’

  A small emotional scene ensued between mother and son following which Mahendra had to sit down to eat again.

  3

  THAT NIGHT MAHENDRA DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. EARLY THE NEXT MORNING he landed up at Behari’s house and said, ‘Behari, I gave it a lot of thought and finally came to the conclusion that Aunty wishes me to marry her niece.’

  Behari said, ‘She has made that wish known to you many times in many ways—there was no need to give it fresh thought.’

  Mahendra said, ‘Yes , well, that’s why I feel that if I don’t marry Asha she will be a little hurt.’

  Behari said, ‘It’s possible.’

  Mahendra said, ‘I feel that would be very wrong of me.’

  Behari spoke up with a trace of unnatural enthusiasm, ‘Great news, that is wonderful—if you say yes, there’s nothing more to be said. It would have been even better if you had woken up to your duty yesterday.’

  Mahendra said, ‘Well, better late than never.’

  The moment Mahendra let the thought of marriage take hold of his mind it was difficult for him to show even the slightest patience. He felt that the deed should be done without any further ado.

  He went to Rajlakshmi and said, ‘Mother, I am agreeable to your wish—I’m ready for marriage.’

  Rajlakshmi said to herself, ‘Now I know why Mejo-bou rushed off to see her niece the other day and why Mahendra dressed up and left too.’

  She felt angry at the entire universe; in spite of her repeated requests, it was Annapurna’s plan that had succeeded! She said, ‘Let me look for a good match for you.’

  Mahendra said, ‘Oh, that has been arranged.’ He told Rajlakshmi about Asha.

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘Let me tell you, child, that girl will not do.’

  Mahendra controlled his feelings and spoke mildly, ‘Why Mother, isn’t she a nice girl?’

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘She has no one to call her own. If I bring her in, I will have no relatives and family to look to from her side.’

  Mahendra said, ‘I wouldn’t mind that, but Mother, I rather liked the girl.’

  Rajlakshmi’s heart grew harder at the sight of her son’s persistence. She went to Annapurna and said, ‘You want to get that orphaned, unlucky girl married to my only son so that you can control him, don’t you? What audacity, what treachery!’

  Annapurna wailed, ‘There’s no talk of Mahin marrying her; I do not know what he has felt prompted to tell you.’

  Rajlakshmi didn’t believe her one bit. Annapurna sent for Behari and implored him with tears in her eyes, ‘Wasn’t everything arranged with you? Why did you turn it all around? You will have to give your consent once again. If you don’t help me, I will be greatly embarrassed. The girl is very nice, she won’t be unworthy of you.’

  Behari said, ‘Aunty, you don’t have to tell me that. Since she is your niece, there is no question of my disapproval. But Mahin da . . .’

  Annapurna said, ‘No, my child, there is no way she can marry Mahin. Let me be very honest with you—I’ll be happiest if she marries you. I wouldn’t consent to a match between her and Mahin.’

  Behari said, ‘Aunty, if you don’t give your consent, the matter is settled.’ He went to Rajlakshmi and said, ‘Mother, Aunty’s niece’s wedding is fixed with me. There are no women in my family and so I had to be shameless enough to come and give you the news myself.’

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘Really, Behari? This makes me very happy. She is a very good girl. Don’t let her go.’

  Behari said, ‘Why would I? Mahin da himself went and fixed this match for me.’

  All this got Mahendra well and truly worked up. He was so upset with his mother and aunt that he left home and took up a room in a students’ hostel. Rajlakshmi went to Annapurna in tears. ‘Mejo-bou, it looks like my son is about to leave the house in misery. Please do something.’

  Annapurna said, ‘Didi, please be patient; his anger will evaporate in a few days.’

  Rajlakshmi said, You don’t know him. He can go to any extent if he doesn’t get what he wants. You must do whatever you can and get him married to your niece.’

  Annapurna said, ‘Didi, how can I do that? I have given my word to Behari.’

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘That word can be taken back.’ She sent for Behari and said, ‘Son, I will find you a better match—you’ll have to let this girl go. She isn’t worthy of you.’

  Behari said, ‘No, Mother, that’s not possible. It is all fixed.’

  So Rajlakshmi went to Annapurna again and said, ‘I beg of you, Mejobou, please help me. If you tell Behari, he’ll do it.’

  Annapurna said to Behari, ‘Son, I hate to say this to you and I don’t know how to say it. I would have been happiest if Asha were to marry you. But you know all that is happening—’

  Behari said, ‘I understand, Aunty. I will do as you say. But never, ever again will you request me to marry anyone.’

  Behari left. Annapurna’s eyes filled with tears. But she brushed them away for fear of bringing ill luck on Mahendra. She told herself again and again that whatever happened was for the best.

  Thus the day of the wedding drew close, even as a silent, cruel battle of emotions raged between Rajlakshmi, Annapurna and Mahendra.The lights came on, the music played loudly and there was feasting and merry-making all around.

  Asha stepped into her new home, decked in bridal finery, swathed in fetching shyness. Her gentle, trembling heart did not envision even a single thorn lining the fabric of her cosy haven. On the contrary, she was filled with joy that she was coming home to her aunt Annapurna, the closest thing to a mother that she had ever known.

  After the wedding, Rajlakshmi called Mahendra and said, ‘I think Bouma should go and stay with her uncle for a while now.’

  Mahendra asked, ‘Why, Mother?’

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘Your exams are coming up and you may not be able to concentrate.’

  Mahendra said, ‘I am not a child. I know how to look after myself.’

  Rajlakshmi said, ‘May be. But it’s only a matter of another year.’

  Mahendra said, ‘If she had her parents, I wouldn’
t mind sending her to them. But I refuse to send her away to her uncle’s house.’

  Rajlakshmi muttered to herself, ‘My, my, we are devoted, aren’t we? Mother-in-law has no say in the matter! Married for a day and already tied to her apron strings. In our days when our husbands married us, such shameless fawning was unheard of.’

  Mahendra said confidently, ‘Don’t worry, Mother! My exams will be fine.’

  4

  RAJLAKSHMI BEGAN TO TEACH HER NEW DAUGHTER-IN-LAW THE household duties with untold enthusiasm. Asha’s days were spent in the store-room, kitchen and puja room. At night Rajlakshmi took her in to sleep in her own room, so that the young girl wouldn’t miss her relatives too much.

  After much deliberation Annapurna decided to keep her distance from her niece.

  Mahendra’s state was like that of the greedy child who watches the adult chewing the sugarcane stick dry, unable to do a thing about it. He could barely tolerate the vision of his newly wedded young wife being crushed under the wheels of household duties.

  He went to Annapurna and said, ‘Aunty, I cannot stand the way mother is working the new bride half to death.’

  Annapurna knew that Rajlakshmi was overdoing things. But she said, ‘Why Mahin, it’s a good thing to teach the bride some household chores. It’s better than her reading novels, sewing or sitting around doing nothing like these modern girls.’

  Mahendra got worked up and said, ‘A modern girl will be a modern girl, be it good or bad. If my wife can read a novel and appreciate it like me, I don’t see what’s wrong with it.’

  Rajlakshmi heard her son in Annapurna’s room, dropped whatever she was doing and rushed in. She asked sharply, ‘What are you two discussing?’

  Excited beyond words, Mahendra replied, ‘Nothing, Mother, I just can’t stand by and watch my wife working like a slave.’

  Rajlakshmi controlled the burning spikes that jabbed within and answered in her most acerbic voice, ‘And what, pray, should her ladyship do?’

  Mahendra said, ‘I will teach her to read.’

  Rajlakshmi left the room without a word and a moment later she returned, pulling Asha by the hand. ‘Here, take your bride and teach her to read.’

  She then turned to Annapurna and bowed in mock obeisance, ‘Forgive me, Mejo-bou, I didn’t realize the true worth of your niece. I have stained her soft hands with turmeric in the kitchen; now you can wash them out carefully and hand her over to Mahin—she can put her feet up and study. I am always there to do the slave-work.’ Rajlakshmi stomped into her room, slammed the door shut and bolted it noisily. Annapurna sank to the floor under the weight of her misery. Asha failed to get the full implications of this unexpected family spat; but she turned pale with shame, fear and wretchedness. Mahendra felt very angry as he thought to himself, ‘Enough is enough. I must take my wife’s life in my own hands, or it won’t be right.’

  These newly emerged feelings of duty fanned the flames of desire like a friendly breeze which bore away his college-work, exams, friends, social sense and all else. Mahendra was fired by the enthusiasm to teach his wife and he went into his room and shut the door, paying no heed to work or people.

  A piqued Rajlakshmi thought, ‘If Mahendra and his bride come and bang on my door, I will not answer. Let me see how he manages without his mother.’

  Days passed and no repentant footfall sounded by the door.

  Rajlakshmi decided that if he came to beg forgiveness, she’d forgive him, or he would be too hurt. But there were no entreaties for mercy.

  Then Rajlakshmi decided to go to Mahendra’s room and say that she had forgiven him. Just because the son was upset, the mother didn’t have to be the same way.

  Mahendra had a small room all to himself on the second-floor terrace, where he studied and slept. All these days Rajlakshmi had totally neglected cleaning his room, making the bed, putting his clothes away. Her heart was in turmoil since she had not performed her usual motherly duties. One afternoon she decided to go upstairs and tidy up his room while he was away in college; the minute he walked in, he’d know his mother had been there.

  Rajlakshmi mounted the stairs. The door to Mahendra’s room lay open and when she stood before it, she felt shock ripple through her. Mahendra was lying on the mattress on the floor, sleeping, and Asha sat with her back to the door, caressing his feet. Rajlakshmi was revolted at this blatant display of conjugal affections in broad daylight, with the door ajar. She went downstairs silently.

  5

  WHEN LONG-FAMISHED MUSTARD CROPS RECEIVE A SUDDEN BURST OF rain, they make up for lost time and flourish in leaps and bounds, laying spontaneous claims to the earth around them. That is how it was with Asha. She had never truly felt that she belonged in the household to which she was related by blood. But after she came into this unfamiliar house, suddenly an intimate relationship, involving total trust, was hers for the asking; when her husband crowned the hitherto neglected orphan with his own hands, she didn’t hesitate to rise to the occasion and take what was offered. She brushed aside the hesitant shyness of the new bride and took her rightful place at her husband’s feet with artless pride and joy.

  That afternoon, when Rajlakshmi spotted this newly arrived stranger-girl occupying her pride of place with such unconscious, easy grace, she came downstairs fuming and fretting indignantly. Since she was burning up with wrath, she went to singe Annapurna too. She said, ‘Mejo-bou, just go and have a look at the royal heritage, the kind of thing your ladyship has learnt in her family. If only the elder men of this house were alive—’

  Annapurna moaned in agonized distress, ‘Didi, she is your daughter-in-law and you must scold her and teach her as you please. Why drag me into it?’

  Like a strung bow, Rajlakshmi shrilled, ‘My daughter-in-law? As long as you are ministering to her, would she even heed me?’

  Annapurna went up to the couple’s room, making a lot of noise, startling the pair of them. She looked at Asha. ‘Is this how you are going to humiliate me, you stupid girl? Have you no shame, no sense of time or day, that you are resting here while your mother-in-law works herself to the bone? Serves me right for bringing you into this house!’ The tears fell from her eyes as she spoke. Asha stood shocked in a corner, picking at her sari, tears streaming down her face.

  Mahendra said, ‘Aunty, why do you scold her? I am the one who holds her back.’

  Annapurna said, ‘And is that a good thing you’re doing? She is young, an orphan, she has never been trained by her mother in the ways of this world. What are you teaching her?’

  Mahendra said, ‘Look, I have bought a slate, books and pen-and-paper for her. I am going to teach her to read, even if the world points fingers at me or all of you get angry.’

  Annapurna said, ‘But do you have to teach her all day long? An hour or so in the evenings would be quite enough.’

  Mahendra said, ‘It’s not so simple, Aunty. Education is time consuming.’

  Irked, Annapurna left the room. Asha took slow and hesitant footsteps to follow her. But Mahendra blocked her way, not heeding the pleading in her sad, lustrous eyes. He said, ‘Wait , we have to make up for the time I lost sleeping.’

  There may be earnest fools who might presume that Mahendra had indeed slept and wasted precious study-time; it is solely for their information that one needs to mention that Mahendra’s educational methods would not be endorsed by any school inspector.

  Asha trusted her husband. She truly believed that learning did not come easily to her and yet she must pursue it as a duty to her husband. For this precise reason, she did her best to collect her thoughts which ran helter-skelter.

  She sat on a corner of the mattress on the floor, pored over her books fervently and began to learn them by rote, swaying to the rhythm. At the other end of the bedroom, her teacher sat at a small table with his medical books open. Every once in a while he cast an oblique glance at his student, apparently to measure her concentration. Suddenly, at some point, he would slam his books shut and call Asha b
y her pet name, ‘Chuni!’ Startled, Asha would look up. Mahendra would say, ‘Bring the book to me—let me see what you are reading.’

  Asha was scared she’d be tested. There was little chance of her passing the test. Her unruly mind was seldom equal to the task of acquiring knowledge from the book of alphabets. The more she tried to learn about the bumblebee, the more the letters swam before her eyes like a pile of mustard seeds. At her teacher’s command Asha would guiltily bring the book and stand beside Mahendra’s desk. One of his arms would snake round her waist and imprison her to his side firmly; he would hold the book in the other hand and ask, ‘How much have you read today?’

  Asha would point to the lines she had read.

  Mahendra would sound forlorn. ‘Ooh, that much? Want to see how much I have read?’ He would point to the chapter heading in his medical text. Asha would widen her eyes. ‘So what were you doing all this while?’ Mahendra would caress her chin and say, ‘I was lost in somebody s thoughts—a heartless person who was in turn lost in the life and times of the bumblebee.’ Asha could have responded to this unfair accusation. But alas, modesty compelled her to accept this iniquitous defeat in the battle of love.

  This will be proof enough that Mahendra’s little school did not follow any private or public schooling methods.

  If on a certain day Asha tried to concentrate on her books while Mahendra was away, he’d sneak up from behind her and cover her eyes. Then he’d snatch away her books and say, ‘You are so cruel, you don’t think of me when I am gone?’

  Asha would say, ‘Do you want me to remain illiterate?’

  Mahendra would reply, ‘Well, thanks to you I am not very literate myself these days.’

  The words sounded harsh to Asha. She would make as if to leave and say, ‘How have I stopped you from studying?’

  Mahendra would grab her hand and say, ‘How would you know that? I can’t pore over books when you are gone as easily as you can in my absence.’

  A serious accusation! This would naturally be followed by a sudden burst of tears, like an autumnal shower, and soon enough it would disappear to reveal the sunshine of love, leaving behind a golden glow.