Tagore Omnibus, Volume 1

by Rabindranath Tagore

  Binodini carried on with her sewing as she said, ‘Not at all.’

  Mahendra said, ‘I’ll arrange for all the furniture to be delivered within the next couple of days; but until then you must bear with the discomfort.’

  Binodini said, ‘Oh no, you cannot do that—you will not bring in another piece of furniture into this house. The ones that are there are already excessive.’

  Mahendra said, ‘And am I included in that list?’

  Binodini said, ‘It’s good to have some humility—don’t think of yourself as “excessive”.’

  As he gazed at Binodini, lost in her work with her head bent low, in that furtive lamplight Mahendra felt the thrill of the romance course through his veins once again.

  If he had been at home, he would have thrown himself at her feet—but this was not home and so he couldn’t do that. Binodini was vulnerable, very much within his reach and if he did not restrain himself now, it would be the worst kind of baseness.

  Binodini said, ‘Why have you brought your books and clothes here?’

  Mahendra said, ‘I happen to consider them essentials—they don’t exactly belong to the category of “excessive”.’

  Binodini said, ‘I know, but why here?’

  Mahendra said, ‘You’re right—essential things are a misfit here. Binod, if you throw the books out on the street, I shan’t say a word. But please don’t throw me out as well.’ He used this pretext to move a little closer to Binodini and place the bundle of books at her feet.

  Binodini didn’t look up from her sewing as she replied gravely, ‘Thakurpo, you cannot stay in this house.’

  Mahendra grew impatient as his renewed enthusiasm was thwarted; he spoke ardently, ‘Why Binod, why do you wish to push me away? I have left everything for you and is this what I get?’

  Binodini said, ‘I will not allow you to leave everything for my sake.’

  Mahendra exclaimed, ‘Now it is no longer in your hands—my life, my family have gone away from me—only you remain, Binod! Binod—Binod—’ Mahendra lay flat on the ground, gripped her feet and covered them with innumerable kisses.

  Binodini snatched her feet away and stood up as she said, ‘Mahendra, don’t you remember your promise?’

  Mahendra exerted immense will power and checked himself. ‘I remember. I promised I shall only do as you wish and never cross your wishes. I shall keep my word. Tell me, what should I do?’

  Binodini said, ‘You must go and stay in your own home.’

  Mahendra said, ‘Am I the only surplus object here, Binod? If that is so, why did you drag me here? What is the point of hunting that prey which you do not like to devour? Tell me honestly—have I surrendered to you of my own free will or have you hunted me down at your will? Why should I endure you playing such games with me? Yet, I shall keep my word—I will go back and stay in that house where I have crushed my own place underfoot so callously.’

  Binodini sat on the floor and carried on with her sewing without saying a word.

  Mahendra fixed her face in an unwavering glance for a while and said, ‘Heartless, Binod, you are heartless. I am unfortunate indeed to have loved you so.’

  Binodini made a wrong stitch, held it up to the lamp and began to undo it with great care. At that moment, Mahendra wanted to grab her pitiless heart in his callused fist and crush it to death. He wanted to confront this silent cruelty and unyielding disregard with sheer brute force and bring it to heel.

  He walked out of the room and came back immediately to say, ‘If I go away, who will look after you, all alone here?’

  Binodini said, ‘Don’ t worry about that. Aunty has sacked Khemi, the maid, and she has joined me here today. The two of us will lock the door and be quite safe inside.’

  With his anger, Mahendra’s attraction for Binodini intensified. He longed to crush her body to his bosom with all his might and wreak havoc on it. In order to escape this terrible urge, Mahendra rushed out of the house.

  As he walked the streets, Mahendra vowed to retaliate with equal disregard against Binodini’s indifference. Even at her most vulnerable, when Mahendra was her sole recourse, she chose to show him such patent indifference so coolly and fearlessly—such humiliation was perhaps seldom meted out to a man. Mahendra’s pride lay shattered and yet it refused to die; it only continued to feel tormented and battered. Mahendra said, ‘Am I so pathetic? How dare she treat me thus! Who does she have to call her own, except me?’

  Suddenly he remembered—Behari. In the flash of a second his passion turned to ashes. So Binodini had placed all her faith in Behari! He was just a pretext, he was the stepping-stone on which she placed her feet, only to crush it underfoot every single moment. That was what gave her the strength to insult him! Mahendra became convinced that Binodini was in touch with Behari through letters and had received his reassurance.

  So, he set off for Behari s house. When he finally banged on Behari s door, the night was all but over. After much banging and shouting the bearer opened the door and announced that his master was not at home.

  Mahendra was shell-shocked. He thought, ‘All the time that I was walking the streets like a madman, Behari was with Binodini. This is the reason why Binodini humiliated me so heartlessly and I, fool that I am, stormed out in a huff and left her alone, just as she wished.’

  Mahendra asked of the old, familiar bearer, ‘Bhoju, when did your master leave the house?’

  Bhoju replied, ‘Oh , about four or five days ago; he has gone somewhere to the west.’

  Relief flooded through Mahendra and he thought, ‘Now I must lie down and rest a bit—I am too tired to walk any more.’ He walked up the stairs, went into Behari’s room, lay upon the couch and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

  The same night that Mahendra had come and kicked up a ruckus in Behari’s house asking after Binodini, Behari had decided to leave for the west without having a particular destination in mind. He felt that if he stayed on, his conflicts with his old friend would take such an ugly turn that he would regret it all his life.

  The next day when Mahendra woke up, it was nearly eleven. His glance fell upon the teapoy before him and he saw that a note to Behari, addressed in Binodini’s hand, lay on it, a marble paperweight holding it in place. He picked the note up hastily and saw that it was unopened. It was awaiting Behari’s return. Mahendra opened it with trembling hands and read the letter. This was the same letter that Binodini had written to Behari from her village, to which she hadn’t received a reply.

  Every alphabet in the letter bared its teeth at Mahendra. Ever since their childhood, Behari had always stood in Mahendra’s shadow. In terms of love and affection, he only received the stale leftovers from the godly Mahendra’s plate. Today, Mahendra himself was the seeker and Behari was indifferent; and yet, Binodini had pushed Mahendra aside and chosen this undeserving oaf of a Behari over him! Mahendra had also got a few letters from Binodini. But compared to this letter to Behari, those were mere artifice, a vain and vacuous attempt to pacify the gormless.

  Mahendra recalled Binodini’s eagerness to send him to the post office to update her present address there, and he now knew why. Binodini was waiting for a reply from Behari, with her heart and soul fixed upon it.

  In keeping with the past, Bhoju brought him tea and breakfast from the shop around the corner despite his master being absent. Mahendra forgot all about his bath. His eyes drifted over Binodini’s inciting letter with compulsive haste, just as the traveller covers the flaming hot desert sands in hurried steps. Mahendra made promises to never set eyes upon Binodini again. But he realized that if a few more days passed without a response, Binodini would arrive at Behari’s house and she would be relieved to know the truth of the matter. That prospect was anathema to him.

  So Mahendra pocketed the letter and just before dusk he arrived at the flat in Patoldanga.

  Binodini took pity on Mahendra’s deplorable condition. She realized that he must have spent the night walking the streets, without a wink
of sleep. She asked, ‘Didn’t you go home last night?’

  Mahendra said, ‘No.’

  Binodini got worked up. ‘Haven’t you eaten all day?’ The nurturing heart in Binodini prompted her to go and arrange a meal for him.

  Mahendra said, ‘Forget it—I have already eaten.’

  Binodini pressed him, ‘Where have you eaten?’

  Mahendra said, ‘At Behari’s.’

  In an instant Binodini’s face turned pallid. After a moment s pause she controlled her emotions and asked, ‘Is everything all right with Behari-thakurpo?’

  Mahendra said, ‘Quite so. He has gone west.’ The way he said it implied that Behari had left that very day.

  Binodini’s face fell once again. But she composed herself valiantly and said, ‘I have never seen such a restless soul before. Has he heard all about us? Is Thakurpo very angry?’

  Mahendra said, ‘Why else would someone go away to the west in this desperate heat?’

  Binodini asked, ‘Did he say anything about me?’

  Mahendra said, ‘What is there to say? Here’s the letter.’

  Mahendra handed the letter to Binodini and began to scan her face with eagle eyes for every reaction.

  Binodini took the letter hastily and found that the envelope was open and the writing on the envelope was hers, addressed to Behari. She took it out of the envelope and found that it was her letter. She turned it this way and that and failed to find even a line of reply from Behari.

  After a few moments’ silence Binodini asked Mahendra, ‘Have you read the letter?’

  The look on her face frightened Mahendra and the lie slipped out easily, ‘No.’

  Binodini tore the letter into tiny bits and threw it out of the window.

  Mahendra said, ‘I am going home.’

  Binodini did not answer him.

  Mahendra said, ‘I shall do exactly as you wish. I will stay at home for seven days. On my way to college every day I’ll look into the matters here and leave the rest in Khemi’s hands. I shall not disturb you by seeking an audience.’

  It was hard to tell if Binodini heard a single word Mahendra spoke; there was no answer. She stared out of the open window, into the dark sky.

  Mahendra collected his things and left the house.

  Binodini sat in the deserted house, alone and immovable—until finally, perhaps to revive her senses forcibly, she tore off her sari and began to whip herself with it ruthlessly. Khemi heard the sounds and came running, ‘Bou-thakurun, what are you doing?’

  Binodini snarled, ‘You get out of here,’ and shooed Khemi out of the room. Then she slammed the door noisily, bunched up her fists, threw herself on the ground and howled like a wounded animal. Eventually, she wore herself out and lay in a faint under the open window all night long.

  When the sun rose the next morning, she was gripped by suspicion: suppose Behari hadn’t left the city and Mahendra had said that to her merely to delude her? Binodini summoned Khemi immediately and said, ‘Khemi, go to Behari-thakurpo’s house immediately and find out how they are doing.’

  Khemi returned an hour later and said, ‘All the doors and windows of Beharibabu’s house are firmly shut. When I banged on the door the bearer said from within that the master wasn’t at home—he had gone west.’

  Now Binodini’s doubts were laid to rest.

  42

  WHEN RAJLAKSHMI HEARD THAT MAHENDRA HAD LEFT HOME THAT SAME night, she was displeased with her daughter-in-law. Rajlakshmi thought Asha’s condemnation must have driven her son away. So she asked Asha, ‘Why did Mahendra go away last night?’

  Asha looked at the floor as she said, ‘I don’t know, Mother.’

  Rajlakshmi thought this was merely Asha’s wounded ego speaking. Disgruntled, she said, ‘If you don’t know, who would? Did you say anything to him?’

  Asha merely said, ‘No.’

  Rajlakshmi didn’t believe her. This was impossible. She asked, ‘What time did Mahin leave last night?’

  Asha cringed in discomfiture and said, ‘I don’t know.’

  Rajlakshmi was furious. ‘You don’t know anything! My little china doll! Very smart, aren’t you?’

  Rajlakshmi blamed Asha’s behaviour and inadequate personality for Mahendra’s actions and spoke her mind vehemently. Asha accepted the insult with her head bowed, went away to her room and began to cry. She thought, ‘I scarcely know why my husband loved me once upon a time and now that he doesn’t, I don’t know how to win his love back.’ When you were loved, your heart told you how to please him. But how would she know how to win the heart of someone who didn’t love her? How on earth was she supposed to make a brazen attempt at winning back the affections of someone who loved another woman instead?

  At dusk the family priest and his sister, Acharya-thakurun, came to the house. Rajlakshmi had sent for them in order to conduct some prayers to a favourable constellation for her son. Rajlakshmi requested the priest to read her daughter-in-law s palm, but that was just a pretext for her to present the unfortunate Asha to the priest. The poor girl cringed in shame when her disgrace was being discussed in public. She sat down, palm extended and eyes lowered. Suddenly, Rajlakshmi heard the soft tread of shoes outside the room, along the dark veranda. Someone was trying to sneak past the door. Rajlakshmi called out, ‘Who is it?’

  At first there was no response. When she called out again, ‘Who goes there?’ Mahendra stepped in silently.

  Far from being thrilled, Asha’s heart brimmed over with sadness for Mahendra. He now had to walk into his own house in stealth. Asha was all the more embarrassed because the priest and his sister were seated there. For her, the censorious gaze of the whole world actually seemed greater than her own personal sorrow. Rajlakshmi murmured to Asha, ‘Bou-ma, tell Parvati to bring Mahin’s dinner upstairs.’ Asha replied, ‘I’ll get it, Mother.’ She wanted to shield Mahendra even from the gaze of the servants.

  Meanwhile, Mahendra was quite upset when he found the family priest and his sister in the room. He couldn’t bear the throught that his mother and his wife were conniving with these illiterate oafs in order to control him by occult methods. To add to it, when Acharya-thakurun asked him in a honeyed voice, ‘How are you, my son,’ Mahendra was hard put to sit there any longer. He didn’t respond to the question and spoke to Rajlakshmi, ‘Mother, I’m going upstairs.’

  Rajlakshmi thought he wanted to go up and have a few words in private with his wife. Delighted at the prospect, she rushed to the kitchen and said to Asha, ‘Go on, go upstairs quickly—I believe Mahin wants something.’

  Asha went upstairs with a beating heart and faltering steps. From what Rajlakshmi had said, Asha had thought that Mahendra had sent for her. But she simply couldn’t walk into the room uninvited. Instead she stood at the threshold, in the dark, and gazed at Mahendra.

  He was lying on the mattress upon the floor, staring desolately at the beams on the ceiling. This was the same Mahendra she had known, everything about him was the same, yet what a change there was! There was a time when Mahendra had turned this tiny room into heaven for Asha. Why then was he insulting the same room, drenched as it was in happy memories? If you are so sad, so restless, and so piqued, please do not sit upon that bed, Mahendra! If you do not remember those fulfilling, profound nights, the intense afternoons, the fancy-free monsoon days, the overpowering spring evenings swept by a mild breeze, the endless, unlimited, countless conversations that you have had in this room, there are many other rooms to choose from in this house—but do not tarry here a moment longer.

  The longer Asha stood there staring at Mahendra, the more she felt that he had just come from Binodini’s arms—her touch clung to his body, his eyes held her image, her voice rang in his ears and his heart was filled with desire for her. How could Asha gift her chaste devotion to this Mahendra, how could she say, ‘Come unto my steadfast heart, come and place your feet upon the spotless lilies of my chaste wifely devotion’? She couldn’t bring herself to follow her aunt’s advice, t
he words of the holy texts and religious sermons. She no longer perceived this Mahendra—dispossessed of conjugal loyalties—as her god. Today, Asha immersed her deity and let go of her devotion in Binodini’s oceans muddied by sin; in the dark of that loveless night, the drums of farewell echoed in solemn and sombre tones in her ears, in her heart and mind, in her veins, all around her, in the stars of her sky, in her very own terrace, in her own room, on her own bed.

  Binodini’s Mahendra was like a strange man for Asha, or something even worse—even with a stranger she wouldn’t feel such terrible shame. She simply couldn’t bring herself to enter the room.

  At one point Mahendra’s careless eyes slid down from the ceiling and came to rest on the wall in front of him. Asha followed his gaze and found her own photograph adorning the wall, right beside Mahendra’s. She wanted to cover it, tear it off the wall and take it away. She began to curse herself for not noticing it earlier; she should have thrown it away. Asha felt Mahendra was laughing at it and along with him, the image of Binodini that he held in his heart, was also casting an oblique glance at the photograph through her arched brows and smiling in cruel mockery.

  Finally, Mahendra’s gaze dropped from the wall and roamed around the room. These days whenever Asha had the time to spare from attending to her mother-in-law, she studied until late in the night, wishing to rid herself of her ignorance. Her textbooks and notebooks were neatly arranged in a corner of the room. Suddenly, Mahendra picked out one idly and began to glance through it. Asha wanted to scream and snatch it away from him violently. She could barely stand still as she visualized Mahendra’s contemptuous gaze taking in her childish scrawls. Quickly she walked towards the stairs, without making any attempt to hide her presence.

  Mahendra’s dinner was ready. Rajlakshmi was under the impression that he was busy talking to Asha and so she didn’t feel like disturbing him by calling him for his meal. But when she saw Asha coming downstairs, she laid out the dinner and sent word to Mahendra. The minute he went down to eat, Asha ran into the bedroom, tore her own photograph into bits and threw it over the terrace wall, picked up her books and took them away with her.