Murli the bearer appeared to say that the master wanted Nabin in the office room.
That immediately put Nabin in a bad mood. He had reckoned that Madhusudan would come straight to the bedroom from work today. The boat seemed to have run aground.
After he left, Motir-ma said softly, ‘Do remember one thing, our big brother loves you.’
‘That’s what is so strange to me,’ Kumu said.
‘Why do you say that? Is he made of stone?’
‘I am not worthy of him.’
‘There is no man on earth you are not worthy of.’
‘He is so powerful, so well-respected, so mature. He is a great man. How little can he get from me? In the few days I have been here, I have realized what a greenhorn I am. That is why I am most frightened when he is in the loving mood. I find myself hollow. How can I serve him with such fraud? Last night I thought of myself as a ‘bearing post’ mail; if you opened it, there might not even be a letter.’
‘You make me laugh, Didi. I know he is a great businessman and no one can match his business acumen. But you have not come to manage his business that you should be worried about your fitness. If he ever speaks to you honestly he will admit that it is he who is not worthy of you.’
‘He did say as much to me the other day.’
‘And you did not believe him.’
‘No. On the contrary I was scared. He had misjudged me and he is bound to realize his mistake some day.’
‘Why did you think so?’
‘Shall I tell you? This marriage of mine, it is I who made it happen—but out of what a childish illusion! Whatever beguiled me then was entirely false. Yet with what utter conviction, what stubbornness I went into it: nobody could have stopped me. Dada knew that, so he did not stop me, but I was aware that he was extremely worried and apprehensive. Even then I didn’t curb myself. I was such a fool. From now on not only do I suffer but I make others suffer too, and curse myself as the sole cause of all this suffering.’
Motir-ma did not have any answer. She asked, ‘Tell me, Didi, what made you decide in favour of this marriage?’
‘I knew for certain then, that it didn’t matter whether the husband was good or bad, he was only a token to prove the glory of the devoted woman. I had not the slightest doubt that whomsoever the god of marriage, Prajapati, chose for me, I was bound to love him. From my childhood I had watched my mother read the puranas, heard the commentators and concluded that it was easy indeed to conform to the holy scriptures.’
‘But, Didi, the scriptures were not written for nineteen-year-old maidens.’
‘I do realize now that love is a bonus in this world. One has to jettison it and cling to religion to keep afloat in the sea of mundane living. If religion does not bear fruit and flower, its dry stalks at least help you keep afloat.’
Motir-ma let her speak on without interruption.
45
MADHUSUDAN REACHED HIS OFFICE TO HEAR SOME UNPLEASANT NEWS. A big bank in Madras they had dealings with, had failed. Then the gossip reached him that one of his employees was meddling with the books behind his back. So far no one had dared entertain any doubt about his integrity, but once somebody had given a lead, the charmed protection of no one ever having raised a question regarding it was gone. It was easy to find small lapses in a big job; successful generals win victories in spite of many little reverses. That was how Madhusudan had always won his battles so far, and no one picked on his lapses selectively. Now they had made a selection of those, put the list out in the open and went about saying in self-praise, ‘We would never have made these mistakes.’ Who was there to remind them that Madhusudan had set sail in a leaky boat and the great thing was that he had reached the shore? And today those very people whom he had safely brought ashore were busy examining the many leaks in the boat and shuddering. It was easy to confuse common men with these isolated criticisms. It was easy because they were only interested in profits, but were not prepared to analyse. And if by any chance they sat in judgment they became deadly. Madhusudan was derisively contemptuous of and angry with these idiots. But where idiots are in the majority there is no way but to compromise with them. The man who climbs a rickety old ladder to the top is threatened from time to time with its creaking and swaying, but cannot do away with the prop. If he is incensed and feels ready to kick, it would only make matters worse.
Madhusudan’s attitude towards his business was that of a lioness who forgets her own hunger when her cubs are threatened. The company was his own creation. His attachment to it was not just mercenary. Those who have the creative ability find themselves deeply fulfilled in their own creation, and when that is in jeopardy then all other joys, sorrows and desires in life become trivial. In his middle age he had recognized that he felt very intensely the need for love; and this passion having surfaced at the wrong time took a virulent form. The shock was none too small in Madhusudan’s case, but now its sting was gone. Kumu’s entire being, its magnetism was pulling him with a strong force these few days, but suddenly it lost its grip. Her unattainable love, her mesmerizing personality, all paled into insignificance with the advent of these business problems in Madhusudan’s life.
As soon as Nabin entered the office room, Madhusudan asked, ‘Do you know if my private book of accounts has been accessed by any outsider?’
Nabin was startled. He said, ‘How is that possible?’
‘You have to find out if anyone has been frequenting the accountant’s room.’
‘But our Ratikanta is very reliable. He can’t possibly . . .’
‘There is reason to suspect that someone has been contacting his office in his absence. Find out very discreetly who are the persons involved.’
A servant announced dinner but Madhusudan ignored him and asked Nabin to send for his carriage right away.
Nabin said, ‘Won’ t you have your dinner? It is getting late.’
‘I shall dine out. Have a lot of work in hand.’
Nabin went out with his head down, deep in thought. The plot he had so carefully laid seemed to have gone awry.
Suddenly Madhusudan called him back, handed him a letter and said, ‘Give this to Kumu.’
Nabin saw it was from Bipradas. It had arrived that morning and Madhusudan had obviously planned to give it to Kumu himself. His plan must have been to bring a gift like this everytime in an attempt at reconciliation, but the sudden storm in the office had obviously ruined this loving plan of his.
The public must have had enough confidence in the bank that failed in Madras. That Ghoshal & Co had transactions with the bank was known to the partners and Directors and they had never entertained any doubt whatever. But the moment things went wrong they started saying, ‘We had been sceptical all along.’
Madhusudan guessed that as with every crisis, during this critical phase that his company was going through, instead of putting in concerted efforts to save the business, there would surface from all quarters a strong desire to blame someone (especially him) for the failure and that if there were jealous scores to settle, the business would keel over. It was too early to determine the extent of loss arising from the failure of the bank but it was clear that it would help the attempt to tarnish his reputation. Anyway, times were bad, so he had to forget about all else now and concentrate on tackling this issue.
Nabin came back and found his wife still talking to Kumu. He announced, ‘Bourani, here is a letter from your brother.’
Kumu got up with a start and took it. Her hands were trembling as she opened it. She feared it would be carrying some bad news. Maybe he was so ill that he couldn’t make the trip to Kolkata at all. She opened and read the letter very slowly and then she was silent for a while. Her face showed some hurt somewhere. She told Nabin, ‘Dada has been in Kolkata since three this afternoon.’
‘He has come only today. He may have . . .’
‘He has written to say that he was to have come after a few days but had to come today on some urgent work.’
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p; She did not say anything more. Towards the end of the letter, Bipradas had added that he would himself come to see her as soon as he got better and she need not worry on that count. The earlier letter also had the same direction. But why? What had she done? It was almost clearly asking her not to visit him in his house. She felt like lying down on the floor and crying her heart out. But she stifled her tears and sat in a stony silence.
Nabin gathered that there was something in that letter which had hit her hard. Looking at her face Nabin’s heart was filled with pity. He said, ‘Bourani, you must go and see him.’
She said, ‘No, I shall not go,’ and burst into tears. She covered her face in her palms and sobbed. Motir-ma drew her to herself. Kumu added in a choked voice, ‘He has asked me not to come.’
Nabin said, ‘No, Bourani, you must have misunderstood him.’
Kumu shook her head emphatically to indicate that she had made no mistake in understanding him.
‘Shall I tell you where you are mistaken? Bipradas Babu must have anticipated that my brother would not permit you to see him. Lest you try and lest you be humiliated he has made it easier for you this way.’
Kumu felt instant relief. She lifted her wet eyelashes and looked at Nabin tenderly as she realized that Nabin was perfectly right. She blamed herself for doubting her brother even for a brief moment. She felt strong again. She need not rush to him now. She would wait for him to come. It was better that way.
Motir-ma patted her gently and said, ‘Look at this, a little crosswind from Dada and her sea of sulk is in full swell.’
Nabin said, ‘Then may I arrange for you to go tomorrow?’
‘No, there is no need for that.’
‘You may have no need. But I have!’
‘How does it concern you?’
‘Well , your brother may have the wrong impression about my brother. I can’t let it pass, I must defend my brother. I won’t be stopped by you. You have to go tomorrow.’
Kumu started laughing.
‘But Bourani, it is no laughing matter. Any slur on our family also reflects on you. Now wash up and come and have your dinner. My brother is to dine tonight with the Manager. I believe he won’t come inside the house tonight. I saw his bed being made in the office room.’
Kumu felt much relief at this news, and immediately felt ashamed to be so greatly relieved.
Later in the night Motir-ma told her husband, ‘You have assured Didi already, but what will you do now?’
‘Why? What Nabin says he does. Bourani has to go. We shall see what happens then.’
These newly titled Rajas were extremely conscious of their family prestige. They were usually of the opinion that following her marriage into their family the new bride had now acquired a higher status than her maiden home, so there could be no question of her going to her previous home. It was better to let her forget her past. In such a dilemma, if it became impossible to appease both parties, one had to give way. Nabin gave this matter of the silent one-upmanship between Madhusudan and Bipradas some thought and decided who had to step down. Even a few days ago, it was unthinkable on his part to interfere in a domain where his brother had exclusive rights.
The couple discussed all this at length, and decided that Madhusudan should be approached to let Kumu go to see her brother in the morning for a little while. Once she was there it would not be difficult to cook up some reason for her to overstay by a few days.
Madhusudan came home late at night with a bundle of papers. Nabin peeped into the office room and found his brother still awake, at the writing desk with his glasses on and a blue pencil in hand, busy taking notes or marking passages in one document or the other. Boldly, Nabin went in and asked him, ‘Dada, can I do anything for you?’ ‘No’ was Madhusudan’s brief reply. He wanted to come to grips fully with this crisis in the business—the whole affair had to be crystal clear to himself. Taking help from anyone else would only weaken his position.
Nabin left the room as he could not find any opening to talk. And it did not seem likely to happen soon. But he was determined to send Kumu home the next morning. So he had to get Madhusudan’s permission tonight itself.
He came back later carrying a lamp in his hand and said, ‘There isn’t enough light for you to work.’
Madhusudan felt that the second light helped, but even then gave no further opportunity to Nabin to start a conversation. So Nabin had to beat a retreat.
A little later he appeared again. This time he brought in his brother’s favourite hookah which he had lit and placed the long tube on the table by his side. Madhusudan felt that this was also welcome. So he put down the pencil for a while and puffed at his hookah.
This gave Nabin the chance to ask, ‘Dada, aren’t you going to bed? Bourani may be awake waiting up for you.’
The words ‘waiting up for you’ went home straight. It was like a small bird settling on the mast of a ship tossing in a storm, which for a moment brought the picture of a quiet peaceful island in the midst of a turbulent sea. But there was no time for such thoughts. The ship had to be steered home.
Madhusudan was perturbed at this weakness of his mind, but he suppressed it and told Nabin, ‘Ask Borrobou to go to sleep. I shall sleep here tonight.’
‘Shall I bring her here?’
Madhusudan objected violently, ‘No! No! No!’
Nabin was undeterred. He said, ‘But she is waiting to plead with you.’
Madhusudan said rudely, ‘I have no time to listen to pleas.’
‘You may have no time, but she too has very little time.’
‘Why? What is the matter?’
‘News has reached that Bipradas Babu has already arrived in Kolkata so Bourani wishes tomorrow morning to . . .’
‘To go tomorrow morning?’
‘Not for long, just to . . .’
Madhusudan waved his hand and said, ‘All right, let her go, let her. No more words. You may go.’
As soon as he got his orders, Nabin hurried off. But he was hardly out on the veranda when he heard Madhusudan call him back. He was afraid that Dada might rescind his permission. But as soon as he entered Madhusudan said, ‘Borrobou will stay with her brother for some time now. You make the arrangements.’
Nabin was careful not to show the slightest enthusiasm about this proposal. On the contrary he began to scratch his head and said hesitatingly, ‘But the house will be quite empty without her.’
Madhusudan did not answer. He put the pipe down and started on his work. He knew that the way to temptation was still open, but he blocked it off resolutely.
Nabin left happily. Madhusudan’s work proceeded. But he was unaware for a long time of the other stream of consciousness running contrary to the stream of work. At some point of time the blue pencil was dropped and the pipe was on. During the daytime when Madhusudan was free of all thoughts of Kumu, he was happy to be his own master again as before. But as the night advanced he began to suspect that the enemy had not left the fortress, it was still lurking underground.
The rain had stopped and a pale moon up behind a shisum tree overwhelmed the damp night. The cold wind was making demands for the warmth of a human body next to him in bed. He clenched the blue pencil and pored over his books. But in the depth of his mind a thin small voice clearly went on chanting, ‘Bourani may be waiting up for you.’
Madhusudan had resolved to finish some work by the morning; not that it would have made much of a difference if it were done the next day also. But it was a sacred principle of his business to keep to promises made. If he ever slipped up, he could never forgive himself. So far, he had rigidly followed this rule and had been rewarded amply. But recently, Madhusudan by day was slowly turning to be slightly different from the Madhusudan by night—like the two strings of a veena. He had bent over his desk with a firm resolve, but as the night advanced a line began to buzz in his head like a bee, through a chink in that resoluteness. It said, ‘Bourani is waiting up for you’.
He got up and sta
rted for his bedroom, leaving the lights on and the books open. One had to cross a veranda to go up to the second floor; Shyamasundari was squatting on the passage near the railing. The moon was half way up the sky and enveloping her in its light. She looked like a picture from a story-book. She seemed to have come a long way out of the hard shell of close familiarity. She knew Madhusudan’s way to his bedroom lay through this passage. It was a sight which hurt her deeply and therefore also attracted her strongly. But the waiting was not entirely due to a mad desire to hurt herself with a hopeless pain, there was also a faint trace of hope—just in case something unexpected took place. It was a vigil by the wayside for a miracle to happen.
In his desire to get close to Kumu as fast as possible, Madhusudan looked askance at Shyama and went straight up. She began to hit her head on the rails bemoaning her misfortune.
Madhusudan entered to find the bedroom in darkness and no sign of anyone waiting up. There was a streak of light from the bathroom. For a moment he thought of turning back, but he could not. He put on the gaslight. But this did not wake up Kumu who was fast asleep, wrapped in a blanket. He was annoyed at this picture of comfort. He pulled open the mosquito net impatiently and flopped on the bed. The cot shook with a loud sound. She sat up, startled.
Kumu had been sleeping, secure in the knowledge that her husband would not come tonight. The expression on her face at suddenly facing him was such that it stung him to the quick. Blood rushed to his head and he said, ‘So you can’t stand the sight of me! Is that it?’
Kumu was at a loss to answer such an interrogation. It was true that her heart sank at the sight of him. Her mind was caught off guard. The feeling that she was always trying to suppress even to herself, had suddenly revealed itself. She was unaware of its strength.
Madhusudan was sarcastic, ‘So what about your plea for visiting your brother?’
Kumu was quite prepared to fall at his feet and beg forgiveness but at the mention of her brother she froze and said, ‘No.’
Tagore Omnibus, Volume 1 Page 69