Asha noticed that Binodini had no reticence in dealing with Rajalakshmi. Rajalakshmi, too, seemed to make much of Binodini, especially for Asha’s benefit. Every now and then, she would burst into effusive praise of Binodini, particularly in Asha’s hearing. Asha saw that Binodini was well versed in all kinds of domestic skills. Mastery came naturally and easily to her; she had no qualms about setting the domestic staff to work, rebuking them or ordering them about. Observing all this, Asha felt that she was utterly inferior to Binodini.
So when this paragon took the initiative and sought her friendship, the diffident Asha was overwhelmed with joy. Like a magic tree conjured up by a sorcerer, the seeds of their affection sprouted, grew green, and blossomed, all in one day.
‘Come, my friend, let’s create a ritual bond of friendship,’ Asha proposed.
Binodini smiled, ‘What name would you give to our bond of friendship?’
Asha named Ganga water, bakul blossoms, and several other auspicious items.
‘All that stuff is outdated; these terms of affection are no longer admirable.’
‘What name would you like?’
‘Chokher bali. A constant irritant, like a grain of sand in the eye,’ laughed Binodini.
Asha was more inclined towards a name that would be melodious to the ear, but upon Binodini’s advice, she accepted this abusive term of endearment. ‘Chokher Bali!’ she repeated, throwing her arms round Binodini’s neck. Then she collapsed in giggles.
11
Asha was in acute need of a companion. Even a celebration of love requires more than two participants—a few ordinary spectators are needed to savour the sweetness of the romance.
Like a drunkard thirsting for fiery spirit, Binodini, starved of love, began avidly devouring the history of the newly wedded bride’s first flush of love. Her mind was intoxicated, her blood on fire.
In the stillness of the afternoon, when Ma slept; when the household staff vanished into the resting-room on the ground floor; when Mahendra, prodded by Bihari, went to college for a short while; when, occasionally, the shrill cry of a kite could be heard very faintly from the sun-scorched blueness of the far horizon—at such times, Asha would recline on the floor of the secluded bedchamber, her hair spread out on a pillow, and Binodini would lie on her stomach, her bosom resting on another pillow, listening to the murmured narrative with rapt attention. And as she listened, her ears would turn red, and her breathing would grow rapid. Binodini would ask questions to ferret out even the most inconsequential details. She wanted the same things repeated over and over again, and when the tale was finished, she would resort to fantasy: ‘So, my friend, what if things had happened thus, and what would you have done if matters had taken a different course?’ Asha, too, would enjoy prolonging their discussion of her marital bliss by pursuing these improbable, fanciful lines of thought.
‘Now, my dear Chokher Bali, what if you had been married to Bihari Babu?’ Binodini would wonder.
‘No, my dear, don’t say such a thing. For shame! I feel very embarrassed. But it would have been nice if he had married you; there was such a proposal, after all.’
‘Many people proposed many things to me. If they didn’t materialize, it’s for the best; I am better off as I am.’
Asha would argue with her. How could she accept that Binodini’s situation was better than her own? ‘Imagine what it would have been like, my dear Bali, for you to have married my husband. It almost happened, after all.’
Indeed, it had almost happened. Then why didn’t it? This bed that was now Asha’s had once lain in wait for Binodini—looking around this well decorated bedchamber, Binodini would find it impossible to forget that fact. Now, she was a mere guest in this room—here today, gone tomorrow.
In the evening, Binodini would set about dressing Asha’s hair with exquisite skill, and send her off, beautifully attired, for her union with her husband. It was as if her imagination, like a veiled woman, followed the bedecked bride into the empty bedchamber, on her rendezvous with the besotted young lover. But sometimes, she would simply not let Asha go. She would say, ‘Come now, why don’t you sit here a while longer? Your husband will not run away. He’s the pet deer of our neighbourhood, not the mythical forest deer, after all.’ With such words and artful manoeuvres, she would try to detain Asha and cause a delay.
Mahendra would get very angry. ‘Your friend and companion makes no move to leave,’ he would complain. ‘When will she return to her own home?’
‘You must not be angry with my Chokher Bali,’ Asha would plead anxiously. ‘You have no idea how much she loves to hear about you, how lovingly she tends to my appearance before sending me to you.’
Rajalakshmi would not allow Asha to do any housework, but Binodini got her interested in domestic work. Almost all day, Binodini would work tirelessly, and she would not let Asha off, either. Step by step, Binodini created such a chain of tasks that Asha found it difficult to escape. At the thought of Asha’s husband fretting and fuming by himself in a corner of the empty room on the terrace, Binodini would smile heartlessly to herself. In desperation, Asha would beg, ‘Let me go now, Chokher Bali, he will be angry with me again.’
‘Wait, just finish this little task,’ Binodini would insist. ‘It won’t take much longer.’
After a while, Asha would again grow restless. ‘No, my friend, this time he will be really furious. Please let me go.’
‘So what if he’s a little angry? Love loses its flavour unless rage is added to desire; it’s just like adding chillies and pepper to spice up a vegetable dish.’
It was Binodini who truly understood the taste of chilli and pepper; she only lacked the vegetable dish to go with them. Every vein in her body seemed to be on fire. Her eyes rained sparks on whatever they beheld. ‘Such a comfortable home and such an amorous husband! I could have made a kingdom of this home, a slave of this husband. Would the house have been in such a condition then, or the man of the house been reduced to such a state? And to have this babe in arms, this toy doll in my place!’
Casting her arms round Asha’s neck, Binodini would ask: ‘Dear Chokher Bali, tell me, what did you say to each other last night? Did you say the words I had taught you? I forget all other cravings when I hear about your mutual love.’
12
One day, in exasperation, Mahendra sent for his mother and demanded, ‘Is this a good idea? Is it necessary to take on the added responsibility of having a young widow from another family stay with us? I don’t approve: who knows what crisis may befall us?’
‘But she is our Bipin’s wife. I don’t consider her a stranger.’
Mahendra said, ‘No, Ma, it is not a good idea. I don’t think it is right to keep her here.’
Rajalakshmi was well aware that Mahendra’s opinion was not easy to ignore. She sent for Bihari. ‘O Bihari, please try explaining to Mahendra. It’s because Bipin’s wife is here that I get some rest in my old age. She may belong to another family, but I have never received such devoted care even from those I call my own.’
Without answering Rajalakshmi, Bihari went to Mahendra and asked, ‘Mahinda, have you been thinking about Binodini?’
‘I can’t sleep nights for thinking of her,’ smiled Mahendra. ‘Ask your Bouthan, my preoccupation with Binodini has driven out all other concerns from my mind.’
From behind her veil, Asha silently remonstrated with Mahendra.
‘What’s this! A second Bishabriksha, another tale of adulterous love!’
‘Exactly. Now Chuni is desperate to get rid of her.’
From behind the veil, Asha’s eyes again showered him with rebuke.
‘Even if you were to send her away, it woudn’t take her long to return. Get the widow married; that will draw her poison,’ Bihari suggested.
‘In the story, Kunda was married off, too,’ Mahendra pointed out.
‘Let it be, forget that comparison. I think about Binodini sometimes. After all, she can’t remain here with you forever. Exiling h
er for a lifetime in the wilderness that I visited would also be a very harsh punishment.’
Binodini had never come before Mahendra until now, but Bihari had seen her. Bihari had understood that she was not a woman to be condemned to the jungle. But he feared that the flame of a prayer lamp that illuminated the home could also set the house on fire.
Mahendra teased Bihari a great deal on this subject. Bihari answered him with suitable rejoinders. But he understood that this was not a woman to be trifled with, nor could she be ignored.
‘Listen, my child, don’t make such demands upon my daughter-in-law,’ Rajalakshmi warned Binodini. ‘Having grown up in a provincial household, you don’t know the ways of the modern world. You are an intelligent woman, think carefully about how to conduct yourself.’
After this, Binodini made a great show of keeping Asha at arm’s length. ‘Who am I, after all?’ she would say. ‘If people in my situation don’t know how to behave with dignity, who knows what might happen one day?’
Asha wept and pleaded, but Binodini remained steadfast in her resolve. Asha’s heart grew full to bursting with untold confidences, but Binodini paid no heed.
Meanwhile, Mahendra’s embrace seemed to have slackened, and his devoted gaze overcome with fatigue. The disorder and indiscipline that had once appeared comical to him had now begun to annoy him slightly. He was frequently exasperated with Asha’s ineptness in domestic matters, but he would not say so directly. But even though he did not express his feelings, Asha knew in her heart that the glory of their uninterrupted conjugal bliss was fading. Mahendra’s amorous attentions struck a false chord—part false exaggeration, part self-deception.
At such a time, there was no recourse save flight, no cure save separation. By natural feminine instinct, Asha tried to stay away from Mahendra nowadays. But where could she go, except to Binodini?
Awakening from the fevered sleep of newly wedded love, Mahendra slowly changed his position as it were, to attend once more to practical concerns and his own education. Retrieving his medical textbooks from all sorts of improbable places, he dusted them, and prepared to air the jackets and trousers he wore to college.
13
When Binodini remained elusive, Asha thought of a strategy. She asked Binodini, ‘My dear Bali, why do you never appear before my husband? Why play hide and seek?’
‘For shame!’ was Binodini’s brief but spirited reply.
‘Why? Ma tells me that you belong to our family.’
‘In this world, there is no such thing as belonging or not belonging,’ Binodini replied gravely. ‘If someone accepts you, he belongs to you—if someone regards you as a stranger, he remains a stranger, even if he is family.’
Asha knew the statement was irrefutable. Her husband was indeed unfair to Binodini; he considered her a stranger to their household and was unaccountably annoyed by her.
That evening, Asha begged her husband’s indulgence, saying, ‘You must get to know my Chokher Bali.’
‘I must say you are very brave,’ smiled Mahendra.
‘Why, what is there to fear?’
‘From your accounts of your friend’s beauty, she seems to be dangerous!’
‘Never mind, I can handle that. Jokes apart, tell me, will you meet her or not?’
Not that Mahendra was not curious to meet Binodini. In fact, lately, he was sometimes rather keen to see her. Such uncalled-for eagerness did not strike him as appropriate. When it came to matters of the heart, Mahendra had unusually rigid ideas of right and wrong. Earlier, he had never raised the subject of marriage lest it cause the slightest damage to his mother’s claim over him. Since their wedding, he had become so protective about his relationship with Asha, that he would not permit his mind to entertain the slightest curiosity about other women. He prided himself on being extremely finicky and loyal where love was concerned. In fact, having declared Bihari his friend, he would not willingly grant anyone else that status. If someone made friendly overtures, Mahendra would make a great show of ignoring him, and in his mocking rejection of the hapless person, he would demonstrate to Bihari his supreme indifference towards ordinary people. If Bihari objected to this, Mahendra would say, ‘You are capable of accepting others, Bihari; you have no dearth of friends wherever you go. But I can’t become friends with just anyone you please.’
Now, when Mahendra found himself attracted to this unknown woman, drawn to her by an irresistible eagerness and curiosity, he felt that he had fallen short of his own ideals. Ultimately, in desperation, he began to urge his mother to send Binodini away from their house.
To Asha, Mahendra said, ‘Chuni, let it be. Where do I have the time to meet your Chokher Bali? When it is time to study, I read my medical textbooks; in my spare time I have you. There is no room in my life for your friend and companion.’
‘Very well, I shall not impinge upon your time for study, but I shall give Bali a share of the time you spend with me.’
‘You may be willing to give her a share of our time, but why would I permit it?’
Mahendra claimed that Asha’s love for Binodini diminished her love for her own husband. He would proudly assert, ‘Your love lacks the singular devotion of mine.’
Asha would never accept this; she would quarrel and shed tears over it, but could never win an argument.
Not granting Binodini the slightest bit of room to come between Asha and himself became a matter of pride for Mahendra. Asha could not tolerate such pride, but today, she admitted defeat. ‘Very well, then, meet Bali only for my sake.’
Finally, having demonstrated to Asha the steadfastness and superiority of his love, Mahendra condescendingly agreed to a meeting with Binodini. But he cautioned Asha, ‘If she begins to disturb us at odd times, I shall not tolerate it.’
Early the following day, Asha went to Binodini’s bed and embraced her. ‘Amazing!’ remarked Binodini. ‘The chakori, a bird so besotted with the moon, has abandoned the moon to visit the kingdom of clouds!’
‘Such poetic phrases are beyond me, my dear. Why scatter pearls in a wilderness of weeds! Why not speak these words to the person who can answer in kind.’
‘Who would that interesting man be?’
‘My husband, your brother-in-law. No, my friend, I am not joking; he has urged me to arrange a meeting with you.’
‘Why should I rush to answer a summons issued upon the wife’s insistence!’ Binodini said to herself.
Binodini would not agree to a meeting. This placed Asha in an embarrassing position. Mahendra was secretly very offended. How could she refuse to appear before him? How could she consider him the same as other ordinary males? Any other man in his situation would have come up with all sorts of strategies to orchestrate a meeting with Binodini and get better acquainted with her. That Mahendra had not made the slightest attempt to do so should have sufficiently indicated his character to Binodini. Once she got to know him properly, she would understand the difference between Mahendra and all other men.
A couple of days earlier, Binodini, too, had told herself resentfully, ‘I have lived in this house for so long, but Mahendra does not even try to meet me. When I am in Pishima’s room, he doesn’t even enter the room on some pretext. Why such indifference? Am I an inanimate object? Am I not human? Am I not a woman? If he got to know me, he would realize the difference between Chuni and me.’
‘I shall pretend that you are away at college and bring Chokher Bali to my room,’ Asha proposed to her husband. ‘Then you can come in suddenly. She will be trapped!’
‘What offence has she committed, to deserve such harsh discipline?’
‘No, I am really very annoyed. She is averse to even meeting you. I shall not rest until I have broken her resolve.’
‘I am not devastated at having been denied a glimpse of your favourite companion. I don’t want to meet her in such a devious manner.’
‘Please,’ Asha begged, grasping Mahendra’s hand, ‘you must, just this one time. I want to destroy her pride just once
, by whatever means. After that, both of you can behave as you please.’ Mahendra did not reply.
‘Dearest, please grant my request,’ begged Asha.
Mahendra’s eagerness was growing, so he acquiesced with a show of excessive indifference.
One still, clear autumn afternoon, Binodini was seated in Mahendra’s secluded bedchamber, teaching Asha how to weave carpet shoes. Asha kept glancing distractedly at the door, her errors in counting the stitches revealing her incredible ineptness.
Finally, Binodini snatched the tapestry from Asha’s hands and flung it aside in exasperation. ‘You can’t handle this. Let me go, I have work to do!’
‘Please stay. I shall not make any mistakes this time, you will see.’ With these words, Asha applied herself again to her needlework.
Meanwhile, Mahendra approached softly and stood in the doorway behind Binodini. Without raising her eyes from her needlework, Asha began to laugh in a low voice.
‘What have you remembered suddenly that is so amusing?’ asked Binodini. Asha could contain herself no longer. Breaking into loud laughter, she tossed the piece of tapestry at Binodini and said, ‘You were quite right, my friend. I can’t handle it.’ She twined her arms around Binodini’s neck and began laughing twice as hard.
Binodini had understood everything right from the start. Asha’s restlessness and her odd demeanour had revealed all. She was also aware that Mahendra had come to stand behind her. Like an utterly simple, docile creature, she allowed herself to fall into Asha’s feeble trap.
‘Why should I be left out of such merriment?’ asked Mahendra, coming forward.
Binodini started, pulled her sari over her head and prepared to rise. Asha grasped her hand.
Chokher Bali Page 5