Chokher Bali

by Rabindranath Tagore

  ‘Either you could stay and I take my leave, or all three of us could stay,’ smiled Mahendra.

  Unlike other women, Binodini did not make a great show of embarrassment by snatching her hand out of Asha’s grasp, or creating a great fuss. In an easy, natural tone, she said, ‘I consent to remain seated only because you request me to do so, but please don’t curse me inwardly.’

  ‘I shall curse you so you become immobilized for a long time,’ declared Mahendra.

  ‘I do not fear such a curse, because your notion of a long time is not likely to last very long. I think my time is up already.’

  With these words, Binodini tried to rise to her feet once more. Asha grasped her hand. ‘Upon my word, you must stay a while longer,’ she insisted.

  14

  ‘Tell me truly, how did you like my Chokher Bali?’ Asha wanted to know.

  ‘She’s not bad,’ answered Mahendra.

  ‘You like nobody at all,’ complained Asha, extremely upset.

  ‘Nobody at all, but one.’

  ‘Well, get to know her a little better, and then we shall see if you like her or not.’

  ‘Get to know her better? Is it going to continue like this now?’

  ‘Out of politeness, if nothing else, one must interact with people. If you were to ignore her after the very first meeting, how would Chokher Bali feel? You are utterly amazing, I must say. Anyone else in your place would have begged to be introduced to such a woman, but you behave as if you are faced with immense difficulty.’

  Mahendra was very pleased to hear of this difference between other men and himself. ‘Very well, then. But why such haste? I have nowhere to escape to, and your friend, too, seems in no hurry to run away. We are bound to meet every now and then, and when we do, your husband is educated enough to observe social niceties.’

  Mahendra had assumed that from now on Binodini would appear before him on some pretext or other. He was mistaken. Binodini never crossed his path, nor did she bump into him accidentally in the course of their daily activities.

  Lest he betray the slightest sign of eagerness, Mahendra could not mention Binodini to his wife. Sometimes, as he attempted to suppress even the most ordinary desire for Binodini’s company, Mahendra’s desperation seemed to increase. And Binodini’s indifference only incited him further.

  The day after his meeting with Binodini, Mahendra asked Asha jokingly, in a casual conversational tone: ‘So, what did Chokher Bali think of this unworthy husband of yours?’

  Mahendra had been sure that he would receive an enthusiastic, detailed report on this subject from Asha. But when his patience failed to bear fruit, he broached the subject in a playful manner.

  Asha was placed in a difficult position. Chokher Bali had not said anything at all. Asha had felt extremely offended by her friend’s behaviour.

  ‘You must wait,’ she told her husband. ‘She can only give her opinion after meeting you a few times, after all. You met her for such a short time yesterday, and you scarcely exchanged any words.’

  Mahendra was somewhat disheartened at this, and it became even more difficult for him to demonstrate his lack of interest in Binodini.

  In the midst of these discussions, Bihari arrived on the scene. ‘Why Mahinda, what are you arguing about today?’ he asked.

  ‘Look, my friend, your Bouthan may have established a ritual friendship with some Kumudini or Promodini in the name of fishbones or ropes of hair or what have you, but does that mean I, too, must create a bond based on cigar ash or matchsticks? If that were so, life would grow intolerable.’

  From behind her veil, Asha flashed silent signals of war. For a short while, Bihari watched Mahendra’s face without offering any reply; then he smiled. ‘Bouthan, the signs do not bode well. These are words meant to allay your fears. I have seen your Chokher Bali. I swear I would not take it amiss if I were to catch more frequent glimpses of her. But when Mahinda takes such pains to disavow it, that is a matter for grave suspicion.’

  Asha took this as one more example of the vast differences between Mahendra and Bihari.

  Mahendra suddenly developed a fancy for photography. He had once abandoned an attempt to learn photography. Now, he repaired his camera, purchased some spirit, and began to take pictures. He even began to photograph the servants and bearers of the household.

  Asha insisted that he must take a picture of Chokher Bali.

  ‘Very well,’ answered Mahendra, curtly.

  ‘No,’ said Chokher Bali, even more curtly.

  Asha had to resort to a stratagem once again, and from the start, her manoeuvre failed to deceive Binodini.

  The plan was that Asha would bring Chokher Bali to her bedroom in the afternoon, and somehow induce her to sleep. Mahendra would photograph her while she slept, thus outwitting Asha’s recalcitrant friend.

  Binodini never slept in the afternoon, but surprisingly, when she came into Asha’s room that day, she dozed off. Wearing a red shawl over her shoulder, she slept in such a beautiful posture—facing the window, with her head resting on her hand—that Mahendra observed, ‘She looks as if she is deliberately posing for a photograph.’

  Mahendra tiptoed in with the camera. He had to spend a long time inspecting Binodini from all sides, to determine the best angle for the photograph. In the interest of art, he even had to cautiously rearrange a lock of her loose hair, and when the result did not please him, he had to correct the position of the lock again. He whispered to Asha, ‘Move the shawl to the left of her feet.’

  ‘I can’t manage it properly,’ whispered the artless Asha. ‘She is bound to wake up. You had better do it.’

  Mahendra adjusted the shawl.

  When he finally inserted a plate into the camera to take the picture, Binodini stirred in her sleep, as if at a sound, and letting out a deep sigh, she sat up, looking flustered. Asha burst into loud laughter. Binodini was furious. ‘This is very wrong of you,’ she declared, darting arrows of fire at Mahendra from her glittering eyes.

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ Mahendra agreed. But in stealing, yet failing to get away with the stolen goods, I have lost out on both counts. Please let me complete my misdeed before punishing me for it.’

  Asha, too, pestered Binodini to agree. The picture was taken. But the first picture did not turn out well, and so the photographer refused to rest until another picture was taken on the following day. Subsequently, Binodini could not bring herself to reject the proposal that the two friends pose together for a picture that would be a permanent token of their friendship. ‘But this will be the last photograph,’ she warned them.

  Hearing this, Mahendra made sure the picture was ruined. Thus, in the course of these photography sessions, they grew much better acquainted with each other.

  15

  Just as smouldering embers reignite when a fire is stirred, the intrusion of a third party renewed the fading passion of the newly-weds.

  Asha did not know the art of repartee, so she took shelter behind Binodini’s endless wit. She could give up the futile struggle to keep Mahendra entertained.

  Within a short time after their marriage, Mahendra and Asha had almost drained their interest in each other—they had begun their marital harmony on too high a pitch. Rather than saving it like precious capital and living off the interest, they had attempted to squander the very core of their love. How could they convert this flood of lunacy into the easy flow of everyday life? How was Asha to provide the re-intoxication that an addict desires to dispel the lassitude that follows immediately after fulfilment? It was at such a juncture that Binodini became for Asha a vessel brimming with novelty and colour. Seeing her husband cheerful, Asha felt relieved.

  Now she made no effort of her own. When Mahendra and Binodini engaged in repartee, she would join in their hearty laughter. When Mahendra cheated at a game of cards, Asha would resort to making piteous appeals to Binodini’s judgement. If Mahendra mocked her or said something unpleasant to her, she would hope that Binodini would offer a suitable
retort on her behalf. And thus, they became a threesome enjoying an intricate relationship.

  But that did not cause Binodini to neglect her household duties. Cooking, supervising the housework, attending to Rajalakshmi—only after completing all these tasks would she join in the fun. Growing restless, Mahendra would complain, ‘I can see you will spoil all the servants by not giving them a chance to work.’

  ‘That is better than ruining oneself by remaining idle,’ Binodini would retort. ‘Go, you should go to college.’

  ‘On such a beautiful, rainy day …’

  ‘No, that won’t work—your carriage is ready—you must go to college.’

  ‘But I had dismissed my carriage.’

  ‘I have sent for it.’ So saying, she brought Mahendra the clothes he wore to college.

  ‘You should have been born into a Rajput family,’ he protested. ‘In times of war, you would have dressed your kinsmen in armour.’

  Binodini would never encourage him to take time off or shirk his studies for the sake of having fun. Under her strict surveillance, the idea of unscheduled, unbridled enjoyment disappeared completely, and the evening interlude began to seem extremely romantic and desirable to Mahendra. It was almost as if his day waited to end and make way for the evening.

  Before this, Mahendra had sometimes happily skipped college on the pretext that his lunch was not ready on time. Now, Binodini personally saw to it that Mahendra’s meal was prepared punctually, and as soon as he had eaten, he would be informed that the coach was ready. His clothes were now folded and arranged neatly, every day. Previously, it had been impossible to ascertain without a prolonged search whether his garments had been sent to the laundry or whether they were lying undetected in some obscure part of the wardrobe.

  At first, Binodini had laughingly chided Asha in Mahendra’s presence about this lack of orderliness. Mahendra, too, had smiled indulgently at Asha’s helpless ineptitude. Ultimately, out of friendly affection, Binodini claimed Asha’s duties as her own. The household underwent a transformation.

  When Mahendra’s chapkan lost a button, and Asha failed to find a quick solution, Binodini swiftly snatched the garment from Asha and sewed on the button herself. One day, when a cat tasted the rice that had been prepared for Mahendra, Asha was distraught, but to her amazement, Binodini immediately went into the kitchen, and in some inexplicable way procured provisions to take care of the matter.

  Thus, in his food and apparel, at work and at leisure, Mahendra began to sense Binodini’s caring touch everywhere. The fur shoes on his feet and the woven fur collar at his neck enwrapped him like a delicate psychological bond. Nowadays, adorned by her friend’s hands, Asha would present herself to Mahendra, looking neat and tidy, well dressed and perfumed. Part of her allure would be her own, part someone else’s: in her attire, beauty and joyfulness, she seemed to have merged with her friend, like a union of the Ganga and Yamuna.

  Bihari was no longer welcomed as before, nor was he sent for. He had written to inform Mahendra that on the following day, which was a Sunday, he would come in the afternoon to enjoy a meal cooked by Mahendra’s mother. Realizing that his Sunday was likely to be ruined, Mahendra hastily wrote back that he would be away on urgent work that day.

  Nevertheless, Bihari visited Mahendra’s house after lunch, to find out how things were. He was informed by the bearer that Mahendra had not ventured forth from the house. Calling out to Mahendra from the staircase, Bihari entered his room.

  ‘I have a severe headache,’ declared Mahendra in embarrassment, and reclined, leaning his head on the pillow. Hearing this, and seeing the expression on Mahendra’s face, Asha grew agitated, and glanced at Binodini to ascertain what was to be done. Though well aware that the situation was not grave, Binodini showed great anxiety: ‘You’ve been sitting up for a long time; lie down now. Let me fetch some eau de cologne.’

  ‘Let it be, there’s no need,’ Mahendra protested.

  Binodini would not hear of it. She went swiftly to fetch some eau de cologne mixed with iced water. Handing a damp kerchief to Asha, she said, ‘Tie this onto Mahendrababu’s head.’

  ‘Let it be,’ Mahendra begged. With a suppressed smile, Bihari watched the performance in silence. ‘Let Bihari see how well I am looked after,’ thought Mahendra, proudly.

  Self-conscious in Bihari’s presence, Asha could not tie the kerchief properly because her hands were trembling; a drop of eau de cologne trickled into Mahendra’s eye. Taking the kerchief from Asha, Binodini tied it on expertly, and soaking another piece of cloth in eau de cologne, she squeezed it gently over Mahendra’s brow. Covering her head, Asha began to fan Mahendra.

  ‘Mahendrababu, do you feel some relief?’ asked Binodini tenderly.

  As she spoke in such honeyed tones, Binodini cast a swift, sidelong glance at Bihari’s face. She saw amused mockery in Bihari’s eyes. The whole matter struck him as farcical. Binodini realized that this man would be hard to deceive; nothing eluded his gaze.

  ‘Binod Bouthan, if the patient receives such ministrations, his illness will not disappear, it will only grow more acute,’ smiled Bihari.

  ‘How would illiterate women like us know such things? Is that what your medical textbooks say?’ asked Binodini.

  ‘Indeed they do,’ replied Bihari. ‘Watching you nurse him, I am developing a headache, too. But unfortunates like me must cure themselves quickly, without any medical treatment. Mahinda is more fortunate.’

  Putting down the piece of damp cloth, Binodini said, ‘Let it be, let friends do the nursing.’

  Bihari was annoyed by the scene he had just witnessed. Having been busy with his studies all these days, he had not known the extent to which Mahendra, Binodini and Asha had become embroiled with each other in the meantime. Today, he took special note of Binodini, and she, too, observed him closely.

  ‘Quite so,’ said Bihari, rather sharply. ‘A friend should be nursed by friends. I was the cause of his headache, now I shall take the headache away with me. Don’t waste your eau de cologne.’ Turning to Asha, he warned: ‘Bouthan, prevention is better than cure.’

  16

  ‘I must not stay away any longer,’ thought Bihari. ‘I must take my place amongst these people by whatever means possible. None of them will want me, but it is still necessary for me to remain here.’

  Uninvited, Bihari began to invade Mahendra’s protected territory. ‘Binod Bouthan, this boy has been ruined,’ he declared. ‘Spoilt by his mother, spoilt by his friend, he is now being spoilt by his wife. Instead of joining the company, I beg of you, please show him a new direction.’

  ‘In other words …?’ asked Mahendra.

  ‘In other words, people like me, whom nobody ever asks after–’

  ‘Let them be spoilt,’ Mahendra interrupted. ‘It is not easy to become a candidate for spoiling, dear Bihari, it is not enough just to submit an application.’

  ‘You must have the capacity to be ruined, Biharibabu,’ laughed Binodini.

  ‘Even if I’m born without such aptitude, my destiny might make it possible,’ replied Bihari. ‘Why not give me a chance?’

  ‘It’s no use being prepared beforehand, one must throw caution to the winds,’ replied Binodini. ‘What do you say, my friend Chokher Bali? Why don’t you take charge of this brother-in-law of yours?’

  Asha pushed her away. Bihari, too, did not participate in the joke.

  It did not escape Binodini’s notice that Bihari would not brook any jibes about Asha. It hurt her to observe that Bihari respected Asha while he took Binodini lightly.

  She turned to Asha, once again: ‘This beggar, your brother-in-law, has come to seek your affection, using me as a pretext. Grant him your favour, my friend.’

  Asha was extremely annoyed. Bihari flushed briefly, but the very next moment, he smiled. ‘When it comes to me, you would operate through other people, but with Mahinda, you deal in direct transactions.’

  Binodini was left in no doubt that Bihari intended to ruin e
verything. She realized that she would have to arm herself against him.

  Mahendra was annoyed. Blunt talk destroys the sweetness of romance. In a slightly sharp tone, he said, ‘Bihari, your Mahinda doesn’t engage in commerce; he is content with what he has in hand.’

  ‘He may not do so himself,’ retorted Bihari. ‘But if destiny decrees, the tide of commerce may engulf him from without.’

  ‘You have nothing in hand at the moment; but what is the direction of your tidal wave?’ With these words, Binodini pinched Asha, with an oblique smile. Annoyed, Asha got up and left. Defeated, Bihari fell into an angry silence. As soon as he prepared to arise, Binodini said, ‘Don’t leave in despair, Biharibabu. I shall send Chokher Bali to you.’

  Binodini left. Mahendra was annoyed at the breakup of their company. Seeing Mahendra’s displeased countenance, Bihari’s suppressed agitation brimmed over. ‘Mahinda, ruin yourself if you wish,’ he spluttered. ‘That has always been your habit. But don’t destroy the simple, devoted woman who has placed her implicit trust in you. It is not too late for me to say this: don’t destroy her life.’

  As he spoke, Bihari’s voice grew choked with emotion.

  Controlling his anger, Mahendra replied, ‘Bihari, I can’t understand what you are saying. Tell me clearly, don’t speak in riddles.’

  ‘I shall speak clearly. Binodini is deliberately dragging you into sin, and like an ignorant fool, you are venturing down the wrong path.’

  ‘A pack of lies!’ roared Mahendra. ‘If you regard a well brought up woman with such unjust suspicion, then you should not step into the private quarters of the house.’

  At this moment, Binodini smilingly brought a plate of sweets and placed it before Bihari.

  ‘What’s this? I’m not hungry,’ protested Bihari.

  ‘How is that possible? You must taste some sweets before you leave.’

  ‘It seems my plea has been granted. This is the beginning of all the spoiling I shall receive,’ smiled Bihari.