Upon hearing that Mahendra had left his bed at night, Rajalakshmi was very angry with her daughter-in-law. Convinced that Mahendra had been driven away by Asha’s reproaches, she asked, ‘Why did Mahendra go away last night?’
‘I don’t know, Ma,’ replied Asha, lowering her head.
Rajalakshmi took this, too, as a reproach. ‘Who knows, if you don’t? Did you say anything to him?’ she demanded angrily.
‘No.’
Rajalakshmi did not believe her. Could this be possible? ‘When did Mahin leave last night?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Asha, awkwardly.
Highly incensed, Rajalakshmi exclaimed, ‘You don’t know anything at all! You’re an innocent little girl, aren’t you? I know your clever tricks!’
In a sharp voice, Rajalakshmi declared that it was due to Asha’s behaviour and her shortcomings that Mahendra had left home. Listening to the tirade with bowed head, Asha went to her own room and began to weep. She thought to herself, ‘Why my husband loved me once, I don’t know, nor do I know how to win back his love.’ To please a man in love is easy, for the heart is one’s guide, but the art of winning the heart of a man not in love was unknown to Asha. How could she be shameless enough to seek the affection of a man who loved another?
In the evening, they were visited by Daivajna Thakur, the family astrologer, and his sister Acharya Thakrun, a lady with spiritual powers. Rajalakshmi had sent for them to ensure domestic peace for her son. Rajalakshmi requested the astrologer to examine Bouma’s horoscope and her palm, and brought Asha to him for this purpose. Extremely diffident at the prospect of discussing her own misfortunes with other people, Asha had just taken her place and extended her hand, when Rajalakshmi heard a light footstep in the unlit veranda beside her room. Somebody was trying to creep away in secret. ‘Who is it?’ she called.
At first, there was no answer. Then she called again, ‘Who goes there!’ Without answering, Mahendra entered the room.
Far from being overjoyed, Asha was acutely embarrassed at the sight of Mahendra’s discomfiture. He now had to creep into his own house like a thief. She was even more embarrassed that this should happen in the presence of Daivajna Thakur and Acharya Thakrun. Asha’s shame for her husband’s public discomfiture seemed to surpass her own pain. When Rajalakshmi said to her daughter-in-law in a low voice, ‘Bouma, ask Parbati to bring up Mahendra’s dinner,’ Asha replied, ‘Ma, I shall get it myself.’ She wanted to shield Mahendra even from the gaze of their domestic staff.
Meanwhile, Mahendra fumed inwardly at the sight of the astrologer and his sister. It seemed to him intolerable that his wife and mother should shamelessly conspire with these illiterate fools to subdue him by the use of divine powers. When Acharya Thakrun asked him in a honeyed voice, ‘I hope you are well, my dear boy,’ Mahendra could sit there no longer; without answering her query, he announced, ‘Ma, I am going upstairs.’
Rajalakshmi thought Mahendra wanted to meet his wife privately in his bedchamber. Delighted, she quickly went to the kitchen and said to Asha, ‘Go, go, go upstairs quickly, Mahin needs something.’
With quaking heart and faltering tread, Asha climbed the stairs. She had understood her mother-in-law’s words to mean that Mahendra had sent for her. But she could not bring herself to enter the room directly; before she went in, Asha observed Mahendra from the darkness behind the door.
Mahendra lay on the divan, leaning against a cushion, staring vacantly at the wooden beams on the ceiling. It was the same Mahendra, in the same surroundings, and yet, what a difference there was! Once, Mahendra had transformed this tiny bedchamber into a paradise; why, today, was he disgracing the joyful memories associated with this sanctified room? With a heart so full of misery, anger and restlessness, don’t lie on that bed any longer, Mahendra. Returning to this place, if you still fail to remember those nights of deep fulfilment, those secluded afternoons, those wild, irresponsible rainy days, those emotion-filled spring evenings tremulous with the southern breeze, those endless, limitless, countless matters that cannot be expressed in words—then don’t stay a moment longer in this tiny room! In this house, there are many other rooms for you.
Standing in the dark, the longer Asha observed Mahendra, the more she was convinced that he had just left Binodini’s side. In his limbs he still felt Binodini’s touch, in his eyes was Binodini’s image, in his ears Binodini’s voice, and in his mind, completely enveloping and permeating it, was the desire for Binodini. How could Asha offer her pure devotion to this Mahendra, how say to him with wholehearted fervour, ‘Come, come into my heart, loyal to no one but you; place your feet on the white lotus of my pure, unwavering love’? She was unable to follow her mashi’s advice, the dictates of the Puranas, the discipline enjoined upon her by the scriptures; she could no longer worship this husband who had fallen from the heaven of conjugal love. Today, she deconsecrated the lord of her heart, immersing him in the sea of shame that was Binodini. In the darkness of that loveless night, in her ears, in her heart, in her head, in the flow of blood through all her limbs, in the world all around her, in the stars of the sky, in her walled, secluded terrace, in the lonely, abandoned bed within her room, all around her, she heard the ritual music of immersion resounding with terrible desperation.
Binodini’s Mahendra seemed a stranger to Asha, or worse, for not even a total stranger could have caused her such shame. She could not bring herself to enter the room.
Eventually, Mahendra’s abstracted gaze moved away from the beams on the ceiling, down towards the wall in front of him. Following his eyes, Asha saw, hanging on the wall facing him, her own picture next to a photograph of Mahendra. She wanted to sweep it off the wall with her aanchal, to tear it away from there. Blaming the force of habit, she began to condemn herself for not having noticed it, for not having taken it down and thrown it away. She felt that Mahendra was laughing to himself and that from its place in the shrine of his heart, even Binodini’s image was casting a mocking sidelong glance at the photograph from beneath her arched eyebrows.
Ultimately, Mahendra’s tormented gaze moved downwards, away from the wall. Of late, to shed her ignorance, Asha would study in seclusion, late into the night, whenever she found a respite from evening chores and attendance upon her mother-in-law. Her books and notebooks were arranged on one side of the room. Suddenly, Mahendra idly pulled a notebook towards himself and opening it, he began to inspect it. Asha wanted to rush in screaming, and snatch the notebook away from him. Imagining Mahendra’s mocking expression as he saw her unformed handwriting, she could not remain there an instant longer. She ran downstairs without trying to muffle the sound of her footsteps.
Mahendra’s dinner was ready. Thinking that Mahendra was engaged in private conversation with Bouma, Rajalakshmi delayed serving the food, so as to avoid disturbing them. Seeing Asha come downstairs, she had dinner served and sent for Mahendra. As soon as Mahendra went to dine, Asha rushed into the bedchamber, and tearing her picture off the wall, she flung it over the parapet of the terrace. She quickly removed her notebooks and papers.
At the end of his meal, Mahendra returned to the bedchamber. Rajalakshmi could not find her daughter-in-law anywhere nearby. Finally, entering the kitchen on the ground floor, she found Asha warming some milk for her mother-in-law. It was totally unnecessary, for the maid who regularly warmed Rajalakshmi’s milk was nearby, objecting to Asha’s undue enthusiasm; the maid was secretly agitated at the prospect of losing the portion of milk which she customarily stole, replacing it with pure water.
‘What is this, Bouma, why are you here? Go, go on upstairs,’ ordered Rajalakshmi.
Asha went upstairs and took refuge in her mother-in-law’s room. Rajalakshmi was annoyed at her daughter-in-law’s behaviour. She thought, ‘Even if Mahendra has escaped the sorceress’ spell to come home for a short time, his wife is trying to drive him away again by her display of anger and petulance. It was Asha’s own fault that Mahendra fell into Binodini’s trap. Men are
by nature inclined to take the wrong path, it is the wife’s duty to keep a man on the straight and narrow, using all the trickery, force and stratagems she can muster.’
‘What sort of behaviour is this, Bouma?’ demanded Rajalakshmi in a tone of sharp reproof. ‘If you are fortunate enough to have your husband return home to you, why should you skulk about, looking so glum?’
Goaded by this, Asha went upstairs like a culprit. Giving herself no chance for hesitation, she rushed into the room in one breath. It was already ten o’clock. Mahendra was standing before the bed with a worried expression, taking unnecessarily long to shake out the mosquito net. He was feeling extremely sore at Binodini’s attitude. ‘Does Binodini consider me her bondslave, that she should feel not the slightest anxiety about sending me to Asha? If I now resume my conjugal obligations to Asha, who in the world can Binodini turn to? Am I so worthless that I cannot even wish to be a dutiful husband? Is this what Binodini ultimately takes me for? Having lost her respect, I did not even win her love; had she no hesitation in insulting me?’ Standing before the mosquito net, Mahendra vowed to himself that he would challenge Binodini’s arrogance, and avenge the negligence he had suffered at her hands by forcing himself to attend to Asha.
As soon as Asha entered the room, Mahendra stopped his absent-minded dusting of the mosquito net. He must now tackle the extremely difficult problem of determining how to begin a conversation with Asha. With a false smile, Mahendra said the first thing that came to mind: ‘I see you have started concentrating on your studies, just like me. Where have they vanished, the notebooks and papers I saw here just a while ago?’
Not only were his words disjointed, but to Asha, they were like a physical blow. The attempt to educate herself was a deeply private matter for Asha; she had concluded that it was a laughable attempt. If there was one person from whose mockery and sarcasm she wanted to conceal her determination to educate herself, it was Mahendra. When Mahendra greeted her for the first time after such a long absence by laughingly raising that very subject, Asha’s heart cringed in pain, like the body of a child who has been caned. Without offering any reply, she turned her face away, and stood clutching the edge of the teapoy.
As soon as he had uttered those words, Mahendra, too, realized that the subject was not quite appropriate for the situation, but in his present condition, he simply could not think of a suitable topic. After the turbulence of the interceding days, none of the easy terms of earlier days would sound right; his heart, too, was utterly silent, not ready to utter any new words. ‘If we get into bed, it might be easier to talk when we are enveloped in seclusion,’ thought Mahendra. He resumed dusting the outer side of the mosquito net with the pleated end of his dhoti. Like a theatre novice who anxiously rehearses his lines behind the scenes before going onstage, Mahendra stood before the mosquito net mentally rehearsing what he should say and do. Hearing a slight sound, he turned around to discover that Asha had left the room.
43
‘Ma, I need a secluded, independent room for my studies,’ Mahendra informed his mother early the next morning. ‘I shall use the room Kakima lived in.’
His mother was pleased. ‘That means Mahendra will remain at home. He must have patched things up with Bouma. Can Mahendra forever ignore such a wonderful wife? How long can a person remain under the spell of that sorceress, abandoning such an angelic girl?’
‘Very well, Mahin,’ she replied at once. She immediately took out the keys, opened the locked room and bustled about, dusting and cleaning it. ‘Bou, O Bou! Where has Bou gone?’ After much searching, the cringing daughter-in-law was forced to emerge from a corner of the house. ‘Take out a clean bedcover. There’s no table in this room, we must have one placed here. This light won’t do, have the lamp sent down from upstairs.’ And so, together, the two of them bedecked Annapurna’s room in regalia meant for the emperor of the household. Without paying the least attention to his devoted serving ladies, Mahendra gravely occupied the room, and taking up his books and papers, he immediately started studying.
After the evening meal, Mahendra again sat down to study. Nobody could tell whether he would sleep upstairs in his bedroom, or downstairs. Painstakingly dressing Asha up to look like a stiff little doll, Rajalakshmi instructed her: ‘Go, now, Bouma, and ask Mahendra if his bed should be prepared upstairs.’
At this suggestion, Asha’s feet refused to move; she stood rooted to the spot, in silence and with bowed head. Enraged, Rajalakshmi began to scold her sharply. With great difficulty, Asha moved slowly to the door, but could proceed no further. Watching her daughter-in-law’s actions from a distance, Rajalakshmi began signalling to her angrily from the far end of the veranda.
In desperation, Asha entered the room. Hearing her approach him from behind, Mahendra said, without raising his head from the book, ‘I shall take quite long, and I must get up at dawn to study. I shall sleep here.’
How shameful! As if Asha had come to beg Mahendra to sleep upstairs.
‘What is it, what happened?’ demanded Rajalakshmi, in a tone of annoyance, as soon as Asha emerged from the room.
‘He is studying now, and will sleep downstairs.’ With these words, Asha went away to her own disgraced bedroom. There was no happiness for her anywhere. Like desert sands in the midday sun, the whole world had become scorching hot.
Later that night, there was a knock on the closed door of Asha’s bedroom. ‘Bou, Bou, open the door.’
Asha quickly opened the door. Having climbed the stairs in her asthmatic condition, Rajalakshmi was breathing with difficulty. As soon as she entered the room, she collapsed onto the bed and when she recovered her speech, she demanded, in a broken voice: ‘Bou, what sort of behaviour is this? Why have you come upstairs and locked the door? Is this the time for such temper tantrums? Even after so much suffering, you have learnt no sense. Go, go downstairs.’
‘He says he will remain alone,’ said Asha in a low voice.
‘So what if he says he wants to be alone? Must you be so peevishly obstinate about something he said in anger? It won’t do to be so petulant. Go, go quickly.’
In this moment of sorrow, the mother-in-law dropped all pretense of shame before her daughter-in-law. She felt compelled to subdue Mahendra somehow, using whatever means were at hand.
Rajalakshmi’s agitated speech brought on another acute bout of asthma. She somehow pulled herself together and got to her feet. Silently, Asha held her arm and supported her down the stairs. Seating Rajalakshmi on the bed in her room, Asha began to arrange the pillows and bolsters at her back. ‘Let it be, Bouma, let it be. Send for Sudho. You go, don’t delay any more,’ insisted Rajalakshmi.
This time, Asha did not hesitate. Emerging from her mother-in-law’s room, she went directly into Mahendra’s. An open book lay on the table before Mahendra; feet propped up on the table, leaning his head on the chowki, he was thinking of something with deep absorption. Hearing footsteps behind him, he sat up, startled, and turned around to look. Seeing Asha, Mahendra cautiously lowered his feet from the table and pulled the open book onto his lap.
Mahendra was secretly surprised. Of late, Asha had hesitated to come before him; if the two of them came face to face by chance, she immediately went away. It was amazing that tonight, at such a late hour, she had come into his room with such ease. Without raising his face from his book, Mahendra understood that Asha had no inclination to leave the room tonight. She came and stood motionless in front of him. Mahendra could no longer pretend to read; he raised his head and looked at her. In a clear voice, Asha informed him, ‘Ma’s asthma has worsened; perhaps you should see her once.’
‘Where is she?’
‘She is in her bedchamber, unable to sleep.’
‘Then let’s go and see her.’
Having spoken these few words to Asha after such a long time, Mahendra felt a sense of relief. He had no weapon with which to break down the impenetrable fortress wall of silence that had come between man and woman like a dark shadow; now,
Asha herself had opened a small door into the fortress.
Mahendra went into Rajalakshmi’s room, while Asha remained outside. Seeing Mahendra enter her room at such an odd hour, Rajalakshmi was frightened. She thought he had again come to take her leave after an angry altercation with Asha. ‘Mahin, aren’t you asleep yet?’ she asked.
‘Ma, has your breathing trouble increased?’
Hearing this query after all these days, his mother’s pride was hurt. She understood that it was at Asha’s bidding that Mahendra had come to ask after his mother. The force of her petulance caused a further upheaval in her breast. Speaking with difficulty, she said, ‘Go to bed. It’s nothing.’
‘No, Ma, it’s best to examine you once; this is not an illness to be ignored.’ Knowing that his mother had a weak heart, and observing the visible facial symptoms, Mahendra felt anxious.
‘There is no need to examine me,’ said Rajalakshmi. ‘This illness of mine cannot be cured.’
‘Very well, I shall get you a sleeping pill tonight, and we’ll examine you properly tomorrow.’
‘I’ve taken plenty of medicines; they don’t do me any good. Go, Mahin, it’s very late; go to bed.’
‘I’ll go as soon as you feel a little better.’
Addressing her daughter-in-law, who was hiding behind the door, the petulant Rajalakshmi now complained, ‘Bou, why did you bring Mahendra here at this late hour in order to plague him?’ As she spoke, her breathing became even more laboured.
Then Asha entered the room, and told Mahendra in a low but firm voice, ‘You go to bed, I shall remain here with Ma.’
Calling Asha aside, Mahendra informed her, ‘I am sending for a medicine. There will be two doses marked on the bottle. If one dose doesn’t work, give her a second dose after another hour. If she gets worse during the night, don’t hesitate to send word to me.’
With these words, Mahendra returned to his own room. Tonight, he had seen a new side to Asha. This Asha had no shyness, no meekness; she was confident, fully aware of her rights. She did not come to Mahendra as a beggar craving his bounty. Mahendra may have neglected her as his own wife, but he felt a sense of deference towards her as the daughter-in-law of the house.
Chokher Bali Page 20