24
Mahendra began to fret. ‘I said, “That’s a lie, I don’t love Binodini.” But I said it very harshly. Even if it is untrue to say that I love her, to say that I don’t would be too harsh. There is no woman who would not be hurt by such a statement. Where and when will I find the opportunity to deny it? I can’t quite say that I love her, but that I don’t love her is something I must communicate in a subtle, gentle way. It would be wrong to let such a cruel yet false impression persist in Binodini’s mind.’
So saying, Mahendra extracted her three letters from his box, and read them again. He said to himself, ‘There is no doubt that Binodini loves me. Then why did she fuss over Bihari like that, yesterday? That was only for my benefit. When I had stated clearly that I did not love her, what else could she do but find an opportunity to deny her love to me? After being rejected by me in this way, she might even fall in love with Bihari.’
Mahendra’s agitation grew to such proportions that he was afraid at his own restlessness. So what if Binodini had heard that Mahendra did not love her—what was the harm in that? So what if, at his words, a reproachful Binodini had tried to wrest her heart away from him—what harm in that, either? Like the chain that tugs at the boat’s anchor during a storm, Mahendra, in his anguish, seemed to cling to Asha with excessive desperation.
At night, he held Asha’s face against his chest and said, ‘Chuni, tell me truly, how much do you love me?’
‘What kind of question is that?’ wondered Asha. ‘Has his terribly shameful accusation of Bihari created a shadow of suspicion on him?’ Cringing with embarrassment, she pleaded, ‘For shame, why do you ask this question today? I implore you, please tell me frankly, when and where have you found anything lacking in my love?’
Tormenting Asha to extract her sweetness, Mahendra demanded: ‘Then why do you want to go to Kashi?’
‘I don’t want to go to Kashi, I shall not go anywhere.’
‘But you did want to go.’
‘You know why I wanted to go there,’ Asha reminded him. She was extremely hurt.
‘You would probably have been happier at your Mashi’s place, away from me.’
‘Never. I did not want to go there in search of happiness.’
‘I tell you truly, Chuni, you could have been far happier if you had married someone else.’
Asha instantly moved away, and lay stiffly with her face hidden in the pillow; a moment later, she burst into uncontrollable sobs. Mahendra tried to draw her close in order to console her, but Asha would not let go of the pillow. His devoted wife’s petulant reaction filled Mahendra with joy, pride and self-contempt.
The sudden direct articulation of all that had hitherto remained concealed, only hinted at, created a general confusion in everyone’s mind. Binodini began to wonder why Bihari had made no attempt to counter such an open accusation. Even if he had attempted a false denial, she would have been somewhat pleased. Serve him right! Bihari deserved the blow that Mahendra had inflicted on him. Why should a noble man like Bihari fall in love with Asha? It was almost as if Binodini felt relieved that the blow had driven Bihari away.
But Bihari’s pale, bloodless countenance, the face of one struck by a lethal arrow, seemed to follow Binodini everywhere as she went about her work. The nurturing feminine spirit in Binodini began to weep at the image of Bihari’s anguished visage. Like the mother who paces up and down, rocking the sick child she clasps to her breast, Binodini began to dandle that agonized image in her heart. In her heart was born an impatient urge to see the image healed, to see that countenance enlivened again by the renewed flow of blood and the blossoming of a smile.
After remaining distracted and absent-minded in the midst of all her work for a few days, Binodini could bear it no more. She wrote a letter of consolation, in which she said:
Thakurpo, ever since I saw your unhappy face the other day, I have been praying with all my heart and soul that you should recover, and be as you were before. When will I see that easy smile again? When can I hear those words of wisdom again? Please write to me to let me know how you are.
Your Binod Bouthan.
Binodini had the doorman deliver the letter to Bihari’s address.
Bihari had not imagined in his wildest dreams that Mahendra could accuse him so rudely, and in such a contemptible way, of being in love with Asha. He himself had never allowed such a thought to lodge so clearly in his mind. At first, he was thunderstruck; then, struggling with anger and disgust, he fumed, ‘This is unjust, inappropriate and baseless.’
But once the idea had been articulated, it could not be stifled completely. The few seeds of truth it contained soon took root and began to sprout. Again and again, he began to remember the evening when he had visited the house with the fragrant garden, to see his prospective bride. Thinking that she was to be his, he had observed the shy young girl’s charming face with a melting, tender heart. An unknown feeling clutched at his heart, and an acute agony wrung him from within, rising up to his throat. The long night was spent lying on the terrace, pacing up and down the path before his house, and what had remained suppressed in Bihari’s mind now revealed itself completely. What had been restrained was now set free; what had remained unproven even to him, grew larger than life at Mahendra’s words, engulfing Bihari’s whole self, inside and out.
Now he understood himself to be guilty. He told himself, ‘It doesn’t behoove me to be angry; I must beg Mahendra’s forgiveness and take my leave. That day, I had departed as if Mahendra was the offender, and I the judge; now, I shall go to him and acknowledge that I was wrong.’
Bihari was under the impression that Asha had left for Kashi. One evening, he slowly walked up to Mahendra’s door. Seeing Sadhucharan, Rajalakshmi’s distantly related uncle, he asked, ‘Sadhuda, I have not been able to visit for a few days; I hope all is well here?’ Sadhucharan assured him that everyone was well.
‘When did Bouthan leave for Kashi?’ asked Bihari.
‘She did not go,’ Sadhucharan informed him. ‘She will not be going to Kashi.’
Hearing this, Bihari’s felt an irresistible urge to go to the private quarters of the house. It maddened him to know that he could no longer joyfully climb the familiar staircase to the inner quarters like a member of the family, and engage in light hearted conversation with everyone there. Just once more, for the very last time, to go there again, to talk to Rajalakshmi like a son of the family, and to address the veiled Asha as Bouthan, to exchange a few pleasantries with her—became his supreme desire.
‘Come inside, brother, why stand outside in the dark?’ invited Sadhucharan.
Bihari took a few quick steps towards the interior of the house, then turned around and told Sadhu, ‘I must go, I have some work.’ He rushed away. That very night, Bihari travelled west.
The doorman, having failed to find Bihari, returned with Binodini’s letter in his hand. Mahendra was strolling in the small garden in front of the porch. ‘Whose letter is that?’ he asked. The doorman told him all. Mahendra took the letter from him.
At first, he thought of returning the letter to Binodini: he would look upon the guilty Binodini’s embarrassed face just once, without saying a word. Mahendra had no doubt that the contents of the letter would cause awkwardness for Binodini. He remembered a previous occasion when another letter had been dispatched, addressed to Bihari. Mahendra could not rest content, until he had acquainted himself with the contents of the letter. He convinced himself that Binodini was under his guardianship, and that he was responsible for her welfare. Hence, it was his duty to open and read such suspicious letters. He could not let Binodini take the wrong path.
Opening the short letter, Mahendra read it. Written in simple language, it clearly expressed the spontaneous feelings of the writer. Reading the letter over and over again and pondering over it, Mahendra could not determine the direction of Binodini’s thoughts. He kept worrying, ‘Because I insulted her by saying that I do not love her, in a fit of pique, Binodini
is trying to divert her mind elsewhere. In anger, she has given up all hope of me.’
This thought made it impossible for Mahendra to sustain his patience. He could not rest in peace, considering the possibility that a moment’s folly would cause him to lose all control over Binodini, who had been willing to surrender herself to him. Mahendra thought, ‘It would be beneficial for Binodini to be secretly in love with me, for that would keep her from straying. I know my own mind; I would never do her harm. She can safely love me. I love Asha; Binodini has nothing to fear from me. But if she is attracted to anyone else, who knows what disaster might befall her.’ Mahendra decided that, without surrendering himself, he had to find an opportunity to capture Binodini’s heart once again.
As soon as he entered the inner quarters, Mahendra saw Binodini standing in the pathway as if awaiting someone anxiously. Instantly, jealousy flared in his mind. ‘You are standing there in vain,’ he told her, ‘you will not get to see him. This letter of yours has come back.’ He flung the letter at her.
‘But why is it open?’
Mahendra went away without answering her question. Thinking that Bihari had opened and read the letter, and returned it unanswered, Binodini felt a throbbing in all the veins in her body. She sent for the doorman who had carried the letter for her; he was away on some other errand, and could not be found. Like the burning drops of oil that drip from the wick of the prayer lamp, the agony in Binodini’ s heart began to flow in the form of teardrops from her glowing eyes as she lay in her closed bedchamber. Tearing her own letter to shreds brought her no consolation. Why was there no way of completely erasing, completely denying, both from the past and the present, those few lines etched in ink? An angry bee will sting any person that encounters it; similarly, Binodini, in her anger, was ready to set fire to the whole world around her. Were all her desires to be met with rebuffs? Would she be denied success in all she ever tried to accomplish? If happiness were denied her, then the supreme accomplishment of her frustrated life would lie in defeating and reducing to dust the people who obstructed all her happiness, who had diverted her from success and deprived her of all possible comfort.
25
That day, at the touch of the first spring breeze in the month of Phalgun, Asha had promptly occupied the mat spread out on the terrace in the early evening. In the dim light, she was reading with great attention a story serialized in a monthly periodical. Her heart was quaking in anxiety, for the hero of the narrative, on his way home for the Durga Puja vacation after a year-long absence, had fallen into the clutches of dacoits; meanwhile, at that very moment, the unfortunate heroine had awakened in tears from a nightmare. Asha could not hold back her tears. She was a very broad-minded critic of Bangla stories. Whatever she read struck her as wonderful. ‘My dear Chokher Bali, I insist that you read this story,’ she would say to Binodini. ‘How beautiful it is! I couldn’t stop my tears after reading it.’ Critically assessing the story, Binodini would dampen Asha’s effusive enthusiasm.
Just as Asha closed the magazine, having decided that she would make Mahendra read today’s story, he arrived on the scene. At the sight of Mahendra’s face, Asha grew agitated.
‘Alone on the terrace, which fortunate man are you thinking of?’ asked Mahendra with forced gaiety.
Utterly forgetting the hero and heroine of the story, Asha inquired, ‘Are you not well today?’
‘I am in good health.’
‘Then there’s something on your mind. Please tell me what it is.’
Taking a paan from the container in Asha’s hand, Mahendra replied, ‘I was thinking, it’s been so long since your poor Mashima got to see you. If you were to suddenly arrive at her doorstep, how happy she would be!’
Speechless, Asha gazed at Mahendra’s face. She could not understand why he would revive this idea.
Seeing that Asha was silent, Mahendra asked, ‘Don’t you feel like going there?’ This was a difficult question to answer. She felt a desire to visit her mashi, yet was unwilling to leave Mahendra behind. ‘During the college vacations, when you are free to go, I shall accompany you,’ she replied.
‘There is no possibility of my going even during the vacations; I must prepare for my examinations.’
‘Then let it be, I may as well not go now.’
‘But why let it be? You had wanted to go, so why not proceed?’
‘No, I have no wish to go.’
‘Just the other day, you were so keen, and now you suddenly have no wish to go!’
At this, Asha sat silently with lowered eyes. Mahendra was secretly impatient for an opportunity to make amends to Binodini. Asha’s silence made him unaccountably angry. ‘Do you harbour some secret suspicions about me?’ he demanded. ‘Is that why you want to keep a constant watchful eye on me?’
Asha’s natural gentleness, modesty and patience suddenly seemed utterly unbearable to Mahendra. He told himself, ‘If she wishes to visit her mashi, then she should just say, I must go, send me there by any means possible; instead, to say yes one moment, no the other, and to sometimes remain silent—what kind of behaviour is this!’
Seeing this sudden aggressiveness in Mahendra, Asha was surprised and frightened. Try as she might, she could not think of a suitable reply. Why Mahendra should be sometimes so loving and sometimes so cruel, she could not understand at all. The more inscrutable Mahendra appeared to her, the more Asha’s quaking heart seemed to cling to him in fear and in love.
To suggest that Asha secretly suspected Mahendra and wished to keep him under constant vigil! Was this bitter sarcasm, or heartless suspicion? Was she to contradict him by swearing a solemn oath by her honour, or was this something to be laughed off lightly?
Impatient with Asha’s stunned silence, Mahendra swiftly arose and left the spot. Forgotten was the hero of that story in the monthly periodical, forgotten the story’s heroine. The glow of sunset faded into the darkness, the brief spring breeze of early evening gave way to the cold winter wind; but there Asha remained, lying prone on that same floor mat.
Late at night, entering her bedchamber, Asha saw that Mahendra had gone to sleep without calling her to him. Mahendra was contemptuous of her indifference towards her loving mashi, she concluded. Climbing onto the bed, Asha embraced Mahendra’s feet and rested her head on them. Full of pity and consternation, Mahendra tried to draw her close. But Asha would not rise from her position. ‘If I have committed any offence, please forgive me,’ she begged.
Moved by compassion, Mahendra assured her, ‘Chuni, you have committed no offence. I am an utter villain, that is why I have wronged you so unjustly.’
Drenching Mahendra’s feet as if to consecrate them, Asha’s tears began to flow. Sitting up, Mahendra forced her to rise, and holding her in his arms, lay her down beside him. When Asha’s tears had abated, she said, ‘Of course I long to visit my mashi. But I don’t feel like leaving you behind. That is why I was reluctant to go; please don’t be angry with me on that account.’
Slowly wiping the tears of anguish from Asha’s cheek, Mahendra asked, ‘Is this a matter for anger, Chuni? Would I be angry because you don’t feel like leaving me? There is no need for you to go anywhere.’
‘No, I shall go to Kashi.’
‘Why?’
‘Now that you have accused me of refusing to go because I doubt you, I must go, even if it is only for a few days.’
‘Must you do penance for some offence on my part?’
‘That, I don’t know. But I, too, must have done some wrong, or else such impossible ideas would never have arisen. Why must I have to listen to accusations about things that have never occurred to me, even in my dreams?’
‘That is because the extent of my villainy is unknown to you even in your dreams.’
Agitated, Asha exclaimed, ‘Again! Don’t raise that subject again. But this time, I must go to Kashi.’
‘Very well, you may go, but what if I go astray in your absence?’ smiled Mahendra.
‘There is no need fo
r you to frighten me. Does it look as if I’m restless with suspicion?’
‘But you should worry. If you are careless enough to let such a husband go astray, who would you blame afterwards?’
‘I shall not blame you, don’t worry.’
‘Would you take the blame, then?’
‘A thousand times, yes.’
‘Very well, I shall go to your Jyathamoshai tomorrow to settle matters.’ With these words, Mahendra turned over on his side. ‘It’s very late.’
After a while, he turned back towards Asha and said, ‘Chuni, it’s best avoided; you had better not go, after all.’
Asha pleaded, ‘Why do you forbid me, again? If I don’t go now, I shall be forced forever to remember your rebuke. Send me for just a few days.’
‘All right,’ consented Mahendra. Then he turned over on his side, again.
The day before she left for Kashi, Asha embraced Binodini. ‘My friend Bali, there’s one thing you must solemnly promise me,’ she said.
Pinching Asha’s cheek, Binodini asked, ‘What is it, my friend? Would I ever turn down a request from you?’
‘Who knows, my friend, you have grown so strange nowadays. You seem so utterly reluctant to appear before my husband.’
‘As if you don’t know the reason for my reluctance, my friend. Didn’t you hear, with your own ears, the words that Mahendrababu spoke to Biharibabu? Tell me, Bali, now that all these matters have arisen, would it be appropriate for me to appear before your husband?’
Asha was aware that it was not quite appropriate. How awkward such matters could be, she herself had recently understood. Still, she insisted, ‘Such questions often arise, but if you can’t put up with them, then what’s love worth, my friend? You must forget the things that were said.’
‘Very well, my friend, I shall forget them.’
‘I’m off to Kashi tomorrow, but you must take special care to ensure that my husband suffers no inconvenience. It won’t do for you to keep evading him as you have been doing of late.’
Chokher Bali Page 11