His father died nearly two and half years ago. You will be shocked to hear that within this time Devdas has squandered almost half his inheritance. His brother, Dwijdas, is a careful man, and keeps a close watch on his own share of the inheritance, otherwise, I fear, it would have been plundered. Wine and women are Devdas’s way of life now, who can save him? I see the shadow of Jom, the Lord of Death, lying across him. I do not think he has much time left. Thank God that he is not married.
Ah, this is grievous news – gone is that golden complexion, that beautiful face, that graceful, brave bearing, all gone! This seems to be someone else entirely. Rough, unkempt hair, sunken eyes, deep furrows running from nose to moth. How ugly he has grown. I weep to see him like this, and you would fear to see him so. He spends all day walking up and down by the river, carrying his gun, shooting the birds. He stops only when the sun gets too much for him, then he sits under the kool-tree and stares at the ground. In the evening he returns to the manor house and drinks. Whether he sleeps at night or goes wandering, God only knows.
The other evening, I had gone to fetch water, when I saw him. Devdas, gun in hand, bleak of face, walking. Recognizing me, he came up and stopped. I tell you, I was shaking with fear. The place was deserted, but God save me, he wasn’t drunk. He spoke to me gently like some harmless old gentleman. “I hope you are well, sister?” said he.
Shaking with fear, I nodded “Yes.”
He sighed deeply and said, “God bless you, sister, I wish you happiness – it makes me very happy to see you again.”
With that he walked away, slowly. I panicked and ran away as fast as I could. Great Mother! What luck he wasn’t drunk and didn’t touch me! Enough!
I’ve given you great pain, haven’t I , my dear? If you haven’t forgotten him by now, it must be very painful indeed. But is there any way out? And if I’ve offended you, forgive me, for I am,
your loving friend, Monoroma
The letter had come yesterday. Today she summoned Mohendro , and said, “Order two palanquins and bearers, for I am going to Tal-Sonapur.”
Surprised, Mohendro said, “I will arrange it, but why two palanquins, Mother?”
Parvati replied, “Because I want you to accompany me, dear. If I die on the way, I shall need my eldest son to light my funeral pyre.”
Mohendro did not say any more. The palanquins arrived , and the two left.
When Sri Chowdhury heard, he agitatedly questioned the maids and servants. No one could tell him why they had gone. The Sri Chowdhury ordered half a dozen people – guards, maids and servants to go after them.
One of the guards, a sepoy, asked, “Are we to bring them back, once we catch up with them?”
Sri Chowdhury said thoughtfully,”No. Just escort them and make sure no harm comes to them.”
That evening the palanquins arrived at Tal-Sonapur, but Devdas was no longer in the village. He had left that very afternoon for Calcutta. Parvati pressed her palms to her forehead, and said, “This is fate!”
She went to visit Monoroma.
Mono asked, “Paru, did you come to see Devdas?”
Parvati said, “No, I came to take him back with me. He has no one to call his own here.”
Monoroma stared. She stammered, “What are you saying? Have you no shame?”
“Shame? I came to claim my own – what shame is there in that?”
“What are you saying? He is no relation to you. Don’t even think of it!”
Parvati smiled a thin, sad smile.
“Mono, ever since I’ve been conscious, I’ve known in my heart that he is mine. Sometimes it slips out of my mouth. It’s because you are my beloved sister, that you happened to hear it.”
The next morning, Parvati bade good-bye to her parents and re-entered her palanquin.
Chapter 15
It has been two years since Chondromookhi has moved to the village of Oshothjhuri. She lives in a two-roomed cottage that stands on a little hill, at the foot of which winds a brook. Behind the cottage is a cowshed, in which stands a well-fed and contented cow. One of the rooms of the cottage serves as a kitchen, pantry, and dining room, the other is Chondromookhi’s bedroom. There is a veranda, and a neat little courtyard, kept neat and clean by Roma Bagchi’s daughter, who comes daily to tend to it. A fence surrounds the little property, within whose boundary stands a kool-tree, and some tulsi bushes. A pleasant view of the river faces the cottage, and Chondromookhi has had date palms planted, and steps built, to lead down to the water’s edge, and a short walkway by the river. During the rainy season, the little river swelled up and rose beyond the topmost step. The agitated village folk came in a hurry; bringing earth, and their shovels, they constructed a wall so that the water would stop there, and not find its way into Chondromookhi’s dwelling. No gentlefolk live in this village. They are farmers, cowherds, a smith, a shoemaker, a few small craftsmen. When Chondromookhi settled in this village, she sent news to Devdas. He replied by sending her more money. This money Chondromookhi lends out to the villagers, though ‘give’ may describe it better than lend! Chondromookhi does not charge interest – instead she gets the occasional banana or turnip or whatever. She does not badger them for the capital either. They pay when they can.
Chondromookhi laughs and says, “I’ll not lend to you again.”
They reply, ”My lady, bless us, so we will have a good harvest.” And Chondromookhi blesses them! Sometimes the harvest is bad, and the taxman comes for the tithe and again they come to Chondromookhi and again she gives. She thinks to herself,”Only let him live! I have no need for money.”
But where is he? It has been six months since she has heard from him. There is no reply to her letters, a registered letter was returned ‘address unknown’.
There is one particular family in the village that is especially indebted to her. She has bought them a new plough. The wole family is devoted to her. So one morning, Chondromookhi called Bhoirov the farmer (for such was his name), and questioned, “Bhoirov, how far is Tal-Sonapur from here?”
Bhoirov had to think. “About two meadows or so”, he said finally.
Chondromookhi asked, “Does the manor-lord live there?”
Bhoirov said, “Yes, indeed. He is the Zamindar for this area and this village belongs to him too. But he died three years ago. For his funeral, we tenants could eat for free for a whole month at his house if we wanted to. He left two sons, they are tremendously wealthy – like kings.”
Chondromookhi said, “Bhoirov, can you take me there ?”
Bhoirov replied, “Of course I can. Just tell me when you want to go.”
Chondromookhi said eagerly, “Then let’s go, Bhoirov, take me there today.”
Bhoirov was puzzled. “Today?” then observing Chondromookhi’s face, “Very well, my lady, but cook your breakfast now, and I’ll get some dry food to take with us.”
Chondromookhi said, “I won’t cook today, but do you go, Bhoirov, and get something for yourself.”
Bhoirov went home, and packed a bag of puffed rice and candied molasses. He also got some walking sticks and returned to Chondromookhi’s. He asked again, “Shouldn’t you eat something, my lady?”
Chondromookhi said, “No, Bhoirov, I’ll eat when we get there.”
So Bhoirov set off, and Chondromookhi followed. Unaccustomed to walking long distances, she was soon in considerable discomfort. Her feet blistered, and as the sun climbed high in the sky, the fierce afternoon sunshine reddened her face, yet she kept walking. Field followed field, and the farmers gazed on the two travelers in surprise. Chondromookhi was wearing a light-colored red bordered sari, the end of which was draped round her head like a hood, a shawl covered her shoulders, but now it felt like a blanket, yet she kept walking. The sun was low in the sky when they finally walked into the village of Tal-Sonapur.
Smiling, she queried her companion, “So, Bhoirov, have we finally crossed your two meadows?”
The irony was lost on Bhoirov. He replied simply, “My lady, we
have indeed reached our destination. But, my lady, with your delicate feet, how will you return today?”
Chondromookhi thought, “Today! I wouldn’t be able to walk back in a week!”
She said, “Bhoirov, is it possible to hire a cart?”
“Certainly, it’s possible, my lady! Will an ox-cart do?”
After sending him off to hire one, Chondromookhi entered the Zamindar’s house.
In the inner courtyard, sat Dwijdas’s wife, now the lady of the manor. She and Chondromookhi looked at each other.
The lady of the manor was encrusted with jewels, no other word can describe it. Her hair was piled tightly on her head, exposing ears from which hung dozens of rings. Her lips were reddened with pan, which she was chewing. Chondromookhi observed that she was plump, dark complexioned, with fine eyes, although they looked out haughtily upon the world, in a plump, round face. She wore a black bordered sari, and jacket, and ornaments gleamed on every conceivable limb. Chondromookhi was not impressed in the least, but she bowed in greeting.
The lady of the manor saw before her a woman past her first youth, but beautiful beyond belief. Save for Parvati, she had never seen anyone so lovely.
Surprised, she inquired, “Who are you?”
Chondromookhi answered, “I am one of your tenants. I owe some of my rent, so I came here to make a payment.”
This pleased the lady. She said, “But why come here? Why not go to the accountant’s office?”
Chondromookhi smiled, “Lady, we poor people cannot pay all our dues at once. People have told me that you are generous and kind-hearted, so I came to you, hoping you would forgive some of my arrears.”
The lady had never had occasion to hear such words in her life! Kind-hearted! Generous! She swelled with pride, and felt very warmly towards the pleasant stranger. She said, “Yes, it’s true, my dear. So many people come to me for help, and I just don’t have the heart to turn them away. My husband gets so angry with me, but I can’t help it. Tell me how much do you owe?”
“It’s not very much my lady. Just two rupees! But for poor folk like me – it may as well be a thousand!”
The lady said, “Ah, for those of us who can, we have a duty to the poor!”
Raising her voice, she called, “Bindu! Nindu! Come here! Take this girl to Mr. Dewan! Tell him, tell him in my name, that she is to be forgiven the two rupees. Ah, poor thing, where is your home?”
Chondromookhi replied, “In Oshothjhuri, one of your villages.
She continued, “My lady, does the land belong to two masters now?”
The lady sighed. “Our misfortune! Does the younger master have anything left? Too soon, I shall have to be responsible for everything!”
Upset, Chondromookhi asked, “Why, my lady? Is he in debt?”
The lady smiled. “I hold the lien on all he owns. My brother-in-law is a total wastrel. He lives in Calcutta and wastes himself with drink and bad women.”
Chondromookhi’s mouth grew dry, and she had to hesitate before she could ask,
“My lady, does the young master never come home, then?”
The lady exclaimed, “Why shouldn’t he come? When he needs money – he comes. He pledges land for ready money! And then he leaves. He came two months ago, took a thousand rupees away with him! I don’t believe he’ll live too long either! He has an ugly disease – the shame of it!”
Chondromookhi shivered. Sadly, she asked, “Where does he live in Calcutta?”
“Does he tell us? God only knows! He takes his meals at hotels. He sleeps in God knows what houses! Only God or the drink can tell!”
Chondromookhi pulled herself together.
She said, “My lady, I’ll take my leave.”
A little surprised and disappointed, the lady said, “Leaving? Hey there, Bindu!”
Chondromookhi said, “My lady, I can find the accountant myself “, and left.
Emerging from the mansion, she saw Bhoirov, waiting with the ox-cart, - and so they returned to Oshothjhuri that night.
The next morning, Chondromookhi sent for Bhoirov again. When he arrived, she said to him, “Bhoirov, I have to go to Calcutta today. I know you can’t leave here, so I won’t ask you to accompany me, but perhaps your son could come with me. What do you say?”
“If that is your wish, my lady. But why Calcutta? Is there some important business?”
“Yes, indeed, Bhoirov. Very important.”
“When will you return?”
“I can’t say, Bhoirov. It maybe short, or it maybe long. And if I don’t return, this property is to be yours.”
For a minute, Bhoirov was speechless. Then tears filled his eyes and he cried out, “What are saying, my lady! What is to become of us villagers if you don’t come back!”
Tears brimmed in Chondromookhi’s eyes too, but she smiled as she replied, “What’s this, Bhoirov? I’ve lived here for two years only! What did you do before then?”
Poor, simple, Bhoirov could find no answer to that, Chondromookhi understood how he felt. Finally, it was decided that Bhoirov’s son, Kebla Ram would travel and stay with her. A carriage was found, the necessities packed and loaded. The news of her departure spread, and all the people of the village, man and woman alike, turned up to bid her good-bye. As she left, Chondromookhi herself could not restrain her tears. Damn Calcutta!
She thought, had it not been for Devdas, even if she were offered the crown jewels of that city, she would have considered them worthless, in the face of so much love!
The next day, she arrived at Cateromonie’s dwelling. Cateromonie was astonished to see her.
“Dear sister! Where have you been all these days?”
Concealing the truth, Chondromookhi replied, “In Elahabad.”
Cateromonie observed her closely. “What’s happened to your jewelry?”
Chondromookhi smiled, “I still have them.” She lied.
Later that day, she paid a visit to her pawnbroker, Doyal.
“Doyal, how much money is due to me?” she inquired.
“About seventy rupees, dear. I can get it to you in a day or two, if not today.”
“You don’t have to give it to me yet, but I need you to something for me.”
“What kind of something?”
“My old residence has new tenants, and I need a place for a short time. Rent me a house in my old district, understand?”
Doyal smiled, “I understand, sister.”
“A good house, with good furniture, well-lighted, some paintings, mirrors.”
Doyal nodded.
“And I need cosmetics, a couple of fine dresses, a set of good gilt jewelry – where’s the best place to get these, nowadays?”
Doyal gave her an address.
“Good. We will go together to pick these out.”
She paused and smiled. “Well, you know what I need. And I shall want a maid, too. You’ll have to find me one.”
“When do you need all this by?”
“As soon as possible. Within two or three days would be best.”
She gave him a hundred rupees and stipulated, “Don’t get anything junky.”
On the third day, Chondromookhi moved into her new house. She and Kebla Ram spent all day decorating it. It was evening before she was satisfied, then she sat down to decorate herself. She washed and powdered her face, rouged her lips. She put on jewelry and attractive colorful clothes. She coiled and put up her hair. Looking in the mirror, she wondered what the future held for her.
The naïve village lad, Kebla Ram, stared wonderingly at her.
“Lady, what’s happening?” he asked her.
Chondromookhi laughed. “Kebla, I’m expecting my bridegroom tonight!”
Mystified, Kebla continued to stare.
Later, Cateromonie came to visit.
“Sister, what are you up to?”
Chondromookhi said, “I need the old life again!”
Cateromonie looked at her a while, then said gravely, “Sister, if it’s possible, you
grow more beautiful with age.”
After she had left, Chondromookhi took her seat by the window. She scanned the street intently, this was part of her job – as long as she was staying here, she would do this.
Seeing her, many knocked on the door, but Kebla Ram repeated to one and all, “Not here.”
Sometimes, old friends and customers showed up, then Chondromookhi would invite them in, talk with them, and in conversation, ask after Devdas. But no one had any news of him, and Chondromookhi would bid them good-bye. Later, she would walk the streets, listen at certain doors, but could hear no familiar voice. In the afternoons, she would visit her former compatriots. Casually she would ask them, “Do you know Devdas?” They all asked, “Who is Devdas?” Chondromookhi would say, “Fair-skin, curly black hair, a small mark on the right side of his forehead, extremely wealthy; spends money like water, don’t you know him?”
But no one knew him. Disappointed, her spirits drooping, Chondromookhi would return home. She stayed up late, gazing out of her window, irritated with herself for growing sleepy.
A month passed by. Kebla Ram wondered if they would ever return to the village. Chondromookhi began to fear that Devdas was not in Calcutta.
Another month, then at last fate took pity on her. It was about eleven at night, when Chondromookhi noticed someone leaning against a doorway, talking to himself. There was something familiar about the figure, Chondromookhi went near enough to hear his voice. Then she had no doubt.
She called out “Devdas!”
Devdas said “Hmm.”
She said, “Why are you here? Come home.”
“No, no, I’m fine. “
“Would you like a drink?”
“I would.” and threw his arms around her.
Looking at her face, he said, “But you are a wondrous piece.”
Struggling against tears and laughter at the same time, Chondromookhi said, “yes, indeed a wondrous piece! But for now, lean against me, and let’s go.”
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