‘People will laugh at him.’
‘That is no reason why I should put up with this unfair punishment heaped on you.’
‘But Didi, this is not your fault, we have brought it upon ourselves.’
‘How?’
‘We are the ones who told you about the letter.’
‘How is that a crime when it was I who wanted the news?’
‘But to tell you without his knowledge was certainly wrong.’
‘All right, both of us have been at fault, so let us share the penalty equally also.’
‘Right, we shall order a palanquin for you too. The master’s orders are not to stop you. Let me now help you pack. You are in a sweat.’
So both of them started to pack. Then there was the squeak of an approaching pair of shoes. Motir-ma made herself scarce.
Madhusudan came in and said straightaway, ‘Borrobou, you cannot go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I say so.’
‘All right then, I shall not go. What more do you wish me to do?’
‘Stop packing your things.’
‘Very well. I am stopping right now.’
She got up and left the room. He shouted after her, ‘Listen to me!’ She came back and said, ‘I am listening.’
He had nothing to say, yet he thought for a while and said, ‘I have bought you a ring.’
‘You have forbidden me to wear the ring I really wanted. Now I don’t need any other.’
‘No harm in looking at it.’
He opened the boxes, one after the other. Kumu sat without a word.
‘You may take whichever you like.’
‘I shall wear whatever you order me to wear.’
‘I think all three will suit your fingers.’
‘If you so order me, I shall wear all three.’
‘May I put them on you?’
‘Do.’
Madhusudan put them on her fingers. She asked, ‘Any more orders?’
He said, ‘Borrobou, why are you angry with me?’
She replied, ‘I am not angry at all,’ and left the room.
Madhusudan was upset. He said, ‘Where are you off to? Listen to me please.’
Kumu turned back and asked, ‘What do you want to say?’
Madhusudan was at a loss for words. His face was red. He said with disgust, ‘All right, you may go,’ and added angrily, ‘Leave the rings here.’
She took off all the three rings and kept them on the teapoy.
Madhusudan barked, ‘Go away!’
Kumu left immediately.
He men decided to definitely go back to work, although it was well past office time. The English assistants had left for the tennis court. The senior clerks were about to go home. Madhusudan entered his office at this juncture and plunged himself into work. He worked till it was past six, then seven, till eight at night, when he closed his registers and got up.
37
SO FAR, NO STRAND HAD EVER BEEN MISSED IN MADHUSUDAN’S DAILY routine; every moment of the day, every day of the week was predictably regulated. Now, with Kumu’s entry into his life, everything was in a chaos of uncertainty. For instance, right now on his way back home he had no idea how the night would turn out to be. He crept into the house in fear, and ate his dinner quietly, but did not have the courage to go to his bedroom immediately, as was his wont. For a while he paced up and down in the veranda outside on the south of the house. When it was nine, his usual bedtime, he went in. He was determined to go to bed at the normal time tonight, without fail. He entered the empty bedroom, pulled down the mosquito curtain and fell heavily on the bed; but sleep would not come to him. As the night advanced, the starved being inside him began to emerge slowly. There was no one to chase it away, no sentinel around.
The clock struck one and still he could not get a wink of sleep. He could lie awake no longer; he got up and wondered where Kumu could be. He took off his shoes and walked softly along the corridor downstairs. As he approached Nabin’s room he heard voices. Perhaps the husband and the wife were discussing details of the next day’s impending departure. He listened carefully at the door. There was a murmur, though one could not make out the words. But it was clearly two female voices talking in whispers. Then it must be Kumu opening her heart to Motir-ma the night before they parted. He was so angry and aggrieved that he felt like kicking the door open and creating a rumpus. But where was Nabin then? He must be somewhere outside, he thought.
A dim light was on in the latticed corridor leading outside. When he reached that spot he noticed Shyama draped in a red shawl. Madhusudan was embarrassed, so he lost his temper. ‘What are you doing here so late at night?’ he shot at her.
Shyama said, ‘I was sleeping, then I heard footsteps outside. So I thought . . .’
Madhusudan roared at her, ‘Your audacity is overstepping the limit. Don’t you fool me, I warn you! Go to bed.’
Shyamasundari had indeed been taking bolder and bolder steps the last few days. She realized now that she was caught on the wrong foot at the wrong hour. She looked plaintively at him and then turned her face to wipe her tears. She started to go back, but turned and said, ‘I don’t have to fool you, brother. How can we sleep when we see the goings-on? After all, we are not new in this house. How can we bear all this silently?’ Then she left.
Madhusudan stood silently for a while and then started to go to the office room outside, but ran straight into the night guard. His own iron rules left no way for him to walk about by himself. One was under watchful eyes everywhere. It was unprecedented for the Rajabahadur to come out to the veranda barefoot, like an apparition. The guard could not make him out from a distance; he challenged, ‘Who goes there?’ As he went near and saw his master, he bit his tongue, bowed low and said, ‘Any orders, sir?’
Madhusudan said, ‘I just came to see if everything was all right,’ words not unexpected of him.
When he went into the office room he found that his hunch was right. There was Nabin fast asleep on the couch, hugging a bolster. Madhusudan lit a gaslamp; but that did not wake up Nabin. He got up in a scare only when Madhusudan pushed him back. Madhusudan did not ask for any explanation but told Nabin, ‘Go just now and tell Borrobou that I will see her in the bedroom.’ And he left.
In a little while Kumu entered the bedroom. Madhusudan stared at her. She was wearing an ordinary red-bordered sari, the end of which was veiled over her head, but in the dim light of this solitary room she was a stunning presence. She went and sat on the sofa in the corner of the room.
Madhusudan lost no time to go and sit at her feet. She felt embarrassed and tried to get up but he quickly pulled her to her seat and said, ‘Don’t get up. Just listen to me. Please forgive me, I have been guilty.’
Kumu was taken aback at this unexpected humility on his part. Madhusudan added, ‘I shall ask Nabin and Mejobou not to go to Rajabpur. They will stay on in your service.’
Kumu didn’t know what to say. Madhusudan had made up his mind to win her back even if he had to swallow his pride. He took her hand and said, ‘I shall be back soon. Please promise that you will not go away.’
‘No, I won’t, she said.
Madhusudan went downstairs. It was not difficult for Kumudini to deal with Madhusudan when he was mean and rough, but she did not know how to respond to this new politeness, this humbling of himself. The offering she brought with her in her heart when she had been newly married had all gone to dust. She could never pick up those lost feelings again. She began to pray, ‘Priya priyayarhasi deb sodhum.’ Madhusudan came back with Nabin and Motir-ma and addressed them in Kumu’s presence, ‘I asked you yesterday to go back to Rajabpur, but that will not be necessary. I appoint you look after Borrobou from tomorrow onwards.’
They were flabbergasted. Firstly, the order was totally unexpected and secondly, what was the urgency to wake them up and tell them in the middle of the night?
Madhusudan was at the end of his tether. He had made up his mind to stoop to anything to win Ku
mu’s favour that very night. He had never demeaned himself like this in his life ever. And now he was paying the highest price for what he desired most. In his own way, he let her know that he had surrendered to her unconditionally.
She was now facing a great dilemma. How was she to accept this new offer?
What did she have to offer in return? When the challenge comes from outside, one finds within oneself the strength to fight it. God himself comes to one’s aid. But if the struggle outside suddenly ceases, there is truce but treaty does not come easily. Then the inner hostility comes out. Now she could no longer take shelter behind petty sulks, nor escape to the lamproom. Praying also was meaningless.
She could be saved if she could keep Motir-ma on some pretext. But Nabin left and a dumbfounded Motir-ma followed suit. Near the doorway she turned and gave Kumu an anxious look. Who would save this girl now from the pleasure of her husband, she wondered.
Madhusudan said, ‘Borrobou, won’t you change and come to bed?’
Kumu got up slowly and shut herself up in the bathroom, trying to prolong her moments of freedom. She sat on a stool close to the wall. Her tormented body seemed to be seeking refuge within herself. Madhusudan was looking at the clock from time to time, trying to figure out how long it would take for her to undress. Meanwhile he looked at himself in the mirror, brushed the unruly hair on the top of his head and poured a lot of lavender water on himself.
A quarter of an hour went by, time enough for a change of clothes. He crept up to the bathroom door and tried to listen. But there was no sign of life. Perhaps, he thought, she was doing up her hair. Even Madhusudan was aware that women liked to dress up, so one had to be patient. Half an hour was over. He went again and put his ear to the bathroom door, but still there was not a sound. So he came back, sat on the chair and stared at the painting he had ordered from abroad which hung on the wall facing the bed. Suddenly he got up impatiently, went to the door and said, ‘Borrobou, are you still at it?’
The door opened soon and Kumudini came out, as if sleepwalking. She was still in the same clothes. Surely this was not her night dress. Wearing a nearly full sleeved, brown serge blouse, she was leaning hesitantly, with her left hand against one door. An exquisite picture. A perfectly rounded arm wearing an old-fashioned gold bangle with the figure of a two-headed sea animal. Must have belonged to her mother. This heavy thick pair of bangles had endowed her delicate hand with a rich elegance which she carried with such ease that there was no suggestion of ostentation. It was a revelation to Madhusudan. He was struck by her grand elegance. He could not but be convinced that at long last the wealth that he created over the years had acquired class.The picture of this girl standing silently at the door post made him feel that he was not rich enough to deserve her. She would have befitted this place only if he were a King-Emperor. He could see clearly that her nature had been nurtured since her birth in an ambience of a proud family tradition. She seemed to be standing there with the heritage of all the years that preceded her own birth. Not just anyone from outside could enter those precincts where Bipradas reigned supreme. Like Kumudini, he also had around him an aura of unselfconscious pride.
And that is precisely what Madhusudan could not stomach.There was no arrogance in Bipradas—only a great distance, an aura. It was unthinkable, even for a close relation, to come and slap him on the back and ask him familiarly, Hey, how are you, my friend?’ What irked Madhusudan most was the feeling of inferiority that welled up in him whenever he faced Bipradas. It was the same subtle reason which prevented him from forcing Kumu, that made him withdraw from his own domain where he was the rightful master. But in this case he did not feel anger, instead his strong attraction for Kumu became all the more uncontrollable. He could make out that Kumu was not yet ready for him tonight, that she was standing behind an invisible curtain. But how beautiful! What a white glow of purity! As if a clear dawn was breaking upon a desolate peak of ice.
Madhusudan approached her and said gently, ‘Won’ t you come to bed Borrobou?’
Kumu was taken by surprise. She had expected him to be angry and insulting. Suddenly she recalled a very familiar voice from the past—the way her father sweetly addressed her mother: ‘Borrobou’. At the same time she also remembered how her mother had ignored it and gone away. Her eyes filled with tears—she sat down on the floor near Madhusudan’s feet and cried out, ‘Please forgive me.’
Madhusudan quickly pulled her up and seated her on the sofa and said, ‘Why, what have you done that I should forgive you?’
Kumu said, ‘I am still not ready in my mind. Do give me some more time.’
Madhusudan stiffened. ‘Make yourself clear. What do you want time for?’
‘I don’t know. It is difficult to explain to anyone.’
Madhusudan’s voice was drained of all sweetness. He said, ‘It is nothing so difficult. You are trying to say that you do not like me.’
Now she was in a fix. What he said was true, yet not entirely so. She had made up her mind to offer all that she had, only the offering was not at hand yet. Perhaps it would come in time provided there was no hindrance on the way. At the same time she could not deny that she was empty-handed.
She said, ‘I am begging for more time because I do not want to cheat you in any way.’
Madhusudan was losing his patience. He said sternly, ‘Will time help at all? Or is it that you need to consult your brother before you can start living with your own husband?’
He really believed so. He throught she was only waiting for her brother’s word and that she was a puppet in the hands of her brother. He added mockingly, ‘Is your Dada your guru?’
Kumudini stood up and said, ‘Yes, my Dada is my guru.’
‘So it is like that.You won’t change or come to bed without his approval.’
Kumudini froze. She tightened her fist stiffly.
‘Then let me get his permission by telegram. It is quite late already.’
Kumu started for the terrace without a word.
Madhusudan bawled at her, ‘Don’ t go out. I am ordering you.’
Kumu turned round and said, ‘What do you want?’
‘Change and come to bed. I give you five minutes only.’
She went into the bathroom, changed her sari and draped herself in a thick sheet, waiting for his next order. Madhusudan recognized the battle dress. He was getting angrier, but could not decide on the next course of action. He never lost his practical sense even when he was blind with rage. He said, ‘You tell me what you want to do now.
‘Whatever you order me to.’
Madhusudan sat down in despair. That wife of his in a sheet looked like a woman in widow’s weeds. It seemed as if there was a silent expanse of the sea of death between her and her husband. You could not cross this ocean by bluster. How did one sail in it? What kind of wind would be favourable? Would such a thing ever happen? He sat quietly as he brooded over such questions. There was no sound in the room except the ticking of the clock. Kumudini did not leave the room but she turned and continued to stare across the terrace, motionless like a picture. The maudlin voice of a drunkard singing could be heard from the crossing of the road ahead. The peace of the night was being disturbed by the incessant moaning of a dog tied up in the neighbour’s kennel.
Time stood like an yawning abyss. The whole of Madhusudan’s well-oiled machine seemed to have come to a grinding halt. He had a big agenda for the next morning—a meeting of the Board of Directors during which some knotty resolutions had to be cleverly passed without too much opposition. But all those weighty matters were without any substance for him now. Normally he would note down his strategy the night before. But all such thoughts vanished before the stark reality facing him, which was tire picture of a woman draped in a white sheet arrested in her tracks on the way out to the darkness of the terrace. After a while he heaved a deep sigh. The whole room seemed to suddenly wake up from its stupor. He quickly got up, went to Kumu and said, ‘Borrobou, have you a heart o
f stone?’
That word worked like magic on her. She suddenly saw a reflection of her mother’s life illuminated in her own life. Perhaps it was in her blood to react in the way her mother responded to this address easily, so often in the past. So she turned abruptly, facing him. Madhusudan said plaintively, ‘I know I am unworthy of you, but will you not take pity on me?’
Kumudini was flustered. She said, ‘Please do not talk that way. What a shame!’ She bent down to touch his feet and said, ‘I am at your service. You have only to order me.’
Madhusudan picked her up and pressed her to his bosom. Kumudini felt stifled in his embrace but she did not try to free herself. He said in a choked voice, ‘No, I shall never order you, but still, do come to me.’
Kumudini blushed scarlet. She lowered her gaze and said, ‘It will make my task easier if you ordered me. I am incapable of doing anything on my own.’
‘Right. Then you take off that sheet. I can’t stand it.’
With much hesitation she took it off.
She had on a plain striped sari. The thin black stripes wound endlessly round her slender figure like a stream, as if some dark, insatiate eyes had left their restless track following her body. Madhusudan was charmed, but at the same time did not fail to notice that the sari was not a gift from this house. It might suit her very well but it was cheap and belonged to her own home. In the dressing room adjoining their bathroom there was a huge mahogany wall cupboard with a mirror set with emeralds and stacked with expensive saris for her, from even before the wedding. But obviously, she was too proud to care for those. He remembered the incident of the three rings—the disdain with which she rejected them in favour of an unlucky sapphire. There was such a vast difference between her concern for him and for Bipradas. All these thoughts hit him like a strong burst of a gale as soon as she took off her wrap. But alas! She was so beautiful, so exquisitely beautiful! Even this spirited disdain became her like an ornament. Only a girl like her could spurn all wealth. She was born magnificently rich in simplicity. She did not have to keep count of her riches.
Tagore Omnibus, Volume 1 Page 64