Tagore Omnibus, Volume 1

by Rabindranath Tagore

  ‘Oh very well. She may know about orchids better than me or even you. Even then, I still say the orchid room is yours and mine only, Sarala has no place there. Give your whole garden to her if that is what you really desire; but keep away from her just a bit that is absolutely dedicated to me. After all these years I can surely claim at least this little bit. It is my ill fortune that I lie here like this, and so . . .’

  Overcome by helplessness and despair, Neerja left her sentence incomplete and turned her face into the pillow and wept restlessly.

  Aditya was stunned. It was as if he had been in a dream all these days and was awakened with a start by Neerja’s harsh words and the raw display of her grief. He realized that her outburst, her weeping, all of it was the result of an agony of many days. It was as if the cyclonic storm of pain had been building up with increased momentum in Neerja’s mind every day, and Aditya had not recognized it even for a moment. So foolish he had been, he had actually thought Neerja was pleased that Sarala was taking care of the garden. Especially so since she was unparalleled in selecting seasonal blossoms to decorate the flower beds. Suddenly he remembered—once when on some occasion he had praised Sarala and said, ‘Not even I could prepare the kamini hedges so attractively,’ with a sardonic laugh Neerja had retorted, ‘My dear sir, if you commend more than one deserves, ultimately you harm the person.’ Aditya recalled now that, if Neerja could pick some fault with Sarala’s knowledge of botany she would repeat it with relish. He clearly remembered how Neerja would search English books for lesser known flowers with outlandish names and then innocently question Sarala; when Sarala failed to provide the correct answer, Neerja would hardly cease chortling in glee, ‘What a great pundit! She doesn’t even know it’s called Cassia javanica! Even my Hola gardener knows that.’

  Aditya sat and pondered over the matter for some time. Then he took Neerja’s hand and said, ‘Don’t cry, Neeru, tell me what I should do. Do you want me to ask Sarala to stop working in the garden?’

  Neerja snatched away her hand, saying, ‘I want nothing, nothing at all. It is your garden. You keep anybody you want there, it’s entirely up to you!’

  ‘Neeru, how could you say that—my garden! Is it not yours as well? When did such a division grow between us?’

  ‘From the time you have the run of the entire world and I, just this corner of the room. With my broken self what strength have I to compete with your astonishing Sarala? Where is my strength that I may care for you, or care for the garden?’

  ‘Neeru, so many times you yourself have called Sarala and consulted her on several matters regarding the garden. Don’t you remember how, just a few years ago, the two of you grafted a Pomelo and Colombo lime just to surprise me?’

  ‘She was not so arrogant then. Providence chose to throw me into the dark shadows completely which is why suddenly you find that—she knows this, she knows that, she is peerless in her knowledge of orchids. I never had to hear such things in the old days. Then today, in my days of misery, why are you comparing us like this? How can I rival her today? What have I to match her now?’

  ‘Neeru, I never expected such words from you. It seems as if all that you are saying now are not my Neeru’s words, they are spoken by somebody else.

  ‘No, I am just so, the same Neeru. You could not understand her, all this time. That is my greatest grief. When after our marriage I learnt that this garden was as precious as your life, I never let a division grow between it and myself. Otherwise I would have picked a fight with that garden, I wouldn’t have been able to bear its closeness to you. It would have become my rival. But you know very well that my constant effort has been to make it one and the same with me. I have become completely inseparable from it.’

  ‘I know that, of course. You are there in everything I have.’

  ‘Leave all that talk. Today I saw an intruder easily enter the garden—that was till now solely ours. Nothing hurt anywhere. Could you think of cutting open my body to let in somebody else’s heart? Is not the garden my body? Would I have done this if I was in your place?’

  ‘What would you have done?’

  ‘Shall I tell you what I would have done? The garden may have been ruined; the business might have collapsed; I would have kept ten gardeners instead of one, but I would not have let another woman in—especially one who thinks that she knows more about gardening than me. Why should you use her vanity to insult me every day—that too, when I am disabled and dying, when I have no way to prove my competence? Shall I say why this was possible for you?’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Because you love her more than me!You had hidden this all the time.’

  Aditya sat stupefied for a while, his hands clutching his hair.Then he said in dazed tones, ‘Neeru, you have known me these ten years, in happiness and grief, in various conditions, in all kinds of work; despite all our years together, if you can say all this then I shall not answer you. I am leaving. If I stay here you will be sick. I shall move to the Japanese room next to the Fernery. Send word if you need me.’

  5

  ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POOL, BEHIND THE CHALTA TREE THE MOON rose, throwing deep shadows across the water. On the near bank the new leaves of the basanti tree were rosy like a the eyes of a babe just awakened, and its flowers were the hue of molten gold. Their deep aroma hung densely like a heavy fog. The fireflies glowed on the boughs of the jarul tree. On the stone-embanked slope, on a platform sat Sarala, absolutely still. There was no breeze, no leaves trembled, the water was framed in black shadow like a mirror of polished silver.

  The question came from behind her. ‘May I join you?’

  Sarala replied in soft tones, ‘Come.’

  Romen sat down on the flight of stairs leading to the pool, near her feet. Sarala was embarrassed and said, ‘Where are you sitting, come up here, Romenda.’

  Romen remarked, ‘Don’t you know the deities are worshipped with eulogies from their feet upwards? If there is a place by your side I shall sit there later. Give me your hand; let me pay my address in the English style.’

  He kissed Sarala’s hand and said, ‘Accept my salutations, empress.’

  Then he stood up and smeared some dry red colour on her temple.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘Don’t you know today is Holi? Your trees and boughs are splashed with colour. Spring does not colour people in the same way, but their hearts are coloured. You must express these hues, or, forest goddess, you shall remain banished forever in the asoka grove, away from your beloved.’

  ‘Where do I have the skills to banter with you?’

  ‘Why do we need words! The male bird sings, the female just listens and that itself is response enough. Now let me sit beside you.’

  He sat by her. For a long time they sat silently. Suddenly Sarala asked, ‘Romenda, how does one go to jail? I need to know.’

  ‘Now there are so many ways of going to jail that it would be difficult to tell you a way of not getting there. These days it is the white man’s flute that does not let us rest at home.’

  ‘No, I am not joking. After much thought I’ve realized my liberation lies there.’

  ‘Tell me frankly what you mean.’

  ‘I will tell you every thing. You would have understood completely if you had seen Aditda’s face.’

  ‘I gathered something, some indirect suggestion.’

  ‘This evening I was alone on the veranda. A catalogue of pictures of flowers had arrived from America; I was glancing through it. Every evening by four-thirty, after tea, Aditda calls me to work in the garden. Today I saw him pacing restlessly; he didn’t even look up at the gardeners who were working. It seemed as if he wished to come to my balcony, but he hesitated and went back. That tall well-built man with his powerful stride, his energetic way of speech and of work, always alert, a stern master but with a compassionate smile—today, he was walking differently, he did not look up, staying engrossed in his thoughts. After a long time he came slowly up to me. Any other d
ay he would glance at his watch and say “It’s time” and I would rise and go. Today, instead of saying this, he slowly pulled up a chair and remarked, “Looking at the catalogue, eh?” Taking the catalogue from my hands he began turning its pages. It didn’t seem to me that he was looking at anything. He glanced up at me suddenly as if he had resolved to express something urgent without any further delay. Then again he looked down and said, “See Sori, what a large nasturtium!” His voice held deep weariness. For a long time nothing more was said, just the pages were turned. Once more he glanced up abruptly at my face and immediately shut the book and threw it on my lap—then rose to go. I asked, “Won’t you go to the garden?” Aditda replied, “No, my dear, I have to go out, there’s work.” And as if tearing himself away, he left.’

  ‘What had Aditda come to tell you? What do you reckon?’

  ‘He had come to say, “You have already ruined one garden, now it’s been ordered, it’s your fate that you shall ruin another.”’

  ‘If that happens, Sori, then I shan’t be free to go to jail.’

  Sarala smiled sadly and replied, ‘Can I block the road to jail? The King Emperor himself shall leave it open.’

  ‘You will lie on the road like a blossom shaken from the boughs and I will triumphantly jangle my chains and march to prison, can that ever be? If this transpires, I’ll have to learn to be a decent man at this age.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I will declare war on your unlucky planets—and drive them away from your birth chart. And then I shall take long leave, maybe even beyond the Kalapani.’

  ‘I cannot hide anything from you, Romenda. One thing has become clear to me recently. Shall I tell you about it, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘I shall mind if you don’t tell me.’

  ‘From childhood I have been brought up with Aditda. Not like brother and sister but like two brothers; side by side we ploughed the soil, cut down the trees. My aunt and mother died of typhoid within a few days of each other; I was six then. My father died two years later. Uncle wanted so much that I keep his garden blooming with all my heart. He had moulded me in that way. He could never mistrust anyone. He had no doubt that the friends to whom he had loaned money would repay him one day and release the garden from debt.You probably know some of this history, yet today I feel like telling you the whole story from the beginning.’

  ‘Everything seems new to me.’

  ‘Then, as you know, it all sank. When I was pulled ashore Fate brought me to Aditda’s side. We were together again, two brothers, two friends. Since then I have been sheltered by Aditda, that is just as true as the fact that I have provided a refuge for him. The effort has not been any less on my part, this I can say with confidence. So I had no reason to be contrite. It was as if I had returned to a younger age, an age when the two of us used to be together. This is how it could have continued forever . . . but what is the use of saying any more.’

  ‘Finish what you were saying.’

  ‘Abruptly I was jolted and made to realize with a shock that I am much older now. The veil covering the past when we used to work together had blown away in a moment. You must know it all, Romenda, nothing about me escapes your sight. Boudidi’s antipathy towards me used to puzzle me, I could not understand why she felt the way she did. All this time I never recognized myself; Boudidi’s aversion was the flame that lit up my own essence, and I came face to face with a new truth. Do you understand me?’

  ‘The submerged affections of your childhood have been brought to the surface.’

  ‘What can I do, tell me. How can I escape myself?’ Saying this, Sarala clutched Romen’s hand.

  Romen was quiet. Sarala continued, ‘As long as I am here, my wrongdoing increases!’

  ‘Wrong-doing towards whom?’

  ‘Towards Boudidi.’

  ‘Look here, Sarala, I don’t believe in this conventional wisdom. On what basis are you denying your affections for Aditda? Your feelings for each other are rooted in the togetherness that you both shared so many years ago. How can you judge who has claims over that time? Where was Boudi then?’

  ‘What are you saying, Romenda! How can one indulge oneself at the cost of another! We have to think of Aditda too.’

  ‘We do, certainly. Do you think the jolt that shocked you left him untouched?’

  ‘Is that Romen?’ called a voice behind them.

  ‘Yes Dada.’ Romen rose.

  ‘Your Boudidi is asking for you. The ayah just told me.’

  Romen left. Sarala was about to follow, when Aditya said, ‘Don’t go, Sori, sit a while.’ Sarala’s heart ached, looking at Aditya’s face. The hardworking, unselfish, absentminded mass of a man seemed to be tossed about now like a rudderless boat amidst the waves.

  Aditya said, ‘We began this worldly life as one. So simple was our togetherness that it was impossible to imagine that there could ever be a division between us. Is that not so, Sori?’

  ‘What is joined at the shoot is divided as it grows, there is no way not to accept this, Aditda.’

  ‘That is the external separation, the visually perceived division! The inside cannot be broken in the essence. Today you are being pushed away from me. I could never imagine I would be so struck—Sori, do you realize what has come upon us so suddenly?’

  ‘I know. I knew—before you did.’

  ‘Can you bear it, Sori?’

  ‘I will have to bear it.’

  ‘I wonder if women are able to bear more than men.’

  ‘You men battle against suffering; women tolerate sorrow over the ages. Except for tears and tolerance we have no other recourse.’

  ‘You will be torn from me—I cannot let it happen. I will not. This is wrong, cruelly wrong.’

  Saying this he clenched his fist towards heaven as if warring with an invisible foe. Sarala took Aditya’s hand on her lap and stroked it gently. She spoke softly, as if to herself. ‘It’s not a question of right and wrong, Aditda. When the ties of a relationship become twisted into a noose it hurts many people at once, for the rope is tugged at from so many directions. Who is to be blamed for that!’

  ‘You can bear it, I know. I remember an occasion. What splendid hair you had then. Even now. You were vain about your hair and everyone indulged this vanity of yours. Once I quarrelled with you. In the afternoon as you slept with your hair spread on the pillow, with a pair of scissors I snipped off an elbow’s length of the hair. You woke immediately and stood up; your dark eyes glowed darker. You just said, “You think you can get away with that?” Saying this you snatched the scissors from my hand and cut off your tresses right up to your neck. Uncle was shocked. He exclaimed, “What is this!”You told him calmly, “I feel hot.” He just smiled a little and accepted your explanation. He asked no questions, did not scold you, just took the scissors and trimmed your hair evenly. He was your uncle after all.’

  Sarala laughed, ‘You and your brains! Do you think that was me forgiving you? Not at all. That day I tricked you more than you tricked me. Tell me if that isn’t true.’

  ‘Absolutely. I could all but weep to see you shorn of your tresses. The next day I could hardly face you for shame. I just sat quietly in my study. You entered and, holding me by the hand, dragged me out to work in the garden, as if nothing had happened. I recall another day: that time when in the month of Phalgun an untimely storm blew away the roof of the room where the paddy seed was spread; you came then and . . .’

  ‘Stop, no need to say more, Aditda.’ She sighed. ‘Those days can never come back.’ She rose hurriedly.

  Aditya clutched her hand, ‘No, don’t go, don’t go now, there will be a time to leave, and then . . .’

  Getting agitated now, he said, ‘A time to leave! Why? What crime has been committed! Jealousy! These ten years I faced the test of domesticity and now this is the result! Jealous of what! In that case I must erase the history of twenty-three years, ever since we met!’

  ‘I cannot speak for all the twenty-three years
, Aditda, but at the end of all these years is there no reason for someone to be envious? We must speak the truth. What is the point in deceiving ourselves? Let there be nothing unclear between us.’

  Aditya sat still for a while; then said, ‘There is nothing unclear any more. In my heart I realize life means nothing without you. He whom I got you from in life’s first season, He is the only one who can snatch you away from me.’

  ‘Don’t say such things, Aditda, don’t increase our grief. Let me think calmly.’

  ‘Thoughts cannot carry us to the past. When we two began life on Uncle’s lap we did so without thinking. Today can one use a weeding-tool to uproot those days? I don’t know about you, but I at least don’t have the capacity to do that.’

  ‘I beg of you, don’t make me any weaker. Don’t make the road to salvation inaccessible.’

  Aditya clasped Sarala’s hands and declared, ‘There can be no road to salvation, I shall not keep that path open. That I can say I love you so easily and so honestly today fills my heart with happiness. What had been a bud for twenty-three years has, with divine grace, blossomed now. I tell you, to crush that is cowardly, it is a crime.’

  ‘Hush, hush, don’t say any more! At least for tonight—forgive, forgive me.’

  ‘Sori, I am the blessed receiver, to the last day of my life I shall be the one deserving your mercy. Why was I blind! Why didn’t I recognize you, why did I marry someone else? You didn’t; so many men desired you, they wanted to marry you, I know that for a fact.’

  ‘Uncle had dedicated me to caring for his garden, otherwise maybe . . .’

  ‘No, no, in the depths of your mind the truth shone and you were bound to it willingly. Why didn’t you make me aware too? Why did we go our separate ways?’

  ‘Let it be, let it be, who can you fight to deny what must be accepted! What is gained by struggling against shadows like this! Tomorrow in the daytime we will decide something.’

  ‘All right, I shall be quiet. But in this moonlight I shall leave something with you that will speak for me.’