Madhavan took it, and as he did so, Indulekha noticed that his hand was trembling and asked him the reason.
"Here is Cupid’s dart," answered Madhavan, pointing to the lotus in the wreath and adding "I merely shook through fear."
Indulekha laughed, while Madhavan taking the wreath in his hand looked at it and quoted these lines:
"The splendour of the lotus flower is shining in thine eyes,
"The honey from its petals pure upon thy sweet breath lies,
"Thy fresh limbs all its softness steal, and all its lily grace;
"Ah me! fair damsel thou hast plucked the lotus from it’s place.
"What wouldest thou then by crushing it within thy fingers small ?
"Have mercy, lotus maiden, since thou hast taken all."
"What beautiful lines!" cried Indulekha. "You must teach them to me."
"I will cut off a fragment of this wreath and wear it in my head" said Madhavan. "The rest of it is worthy of a place in your hair."
"Worthy or not" replied Indulekha, "you can do as you like. "
"Will you then give me leave to do as I please?" asked Madhavan.
"Yes, as far as the wreath is concerned," said Indulekha.
Madhavan had a piece off the wreath and put it on his head. Then holding the rest in his hand and looking Indulekha full in the face, he said, "lndulekha, may l bind your hair with this myself."
"My hair?" asked Indulekha. "Yes" answered Madhavan.
"And with your hands?" pursued Indulekha.
"Yes" repeated Madhavan.
Indulekha laughed lightly, but uttered not a word as Madhavan decked her hair with the flowers.
Then she exclaimed, "O Madhavan, we are very silly. Cousins though we are, and accustomed though we are to play together since childhood, we must not think ourselves children any more."
"I never thought myself a child when I put the garland on your hair, Indulekha. I felt all the time that I was a man" said Madhavan.
"If you thought that, Madhavan, could you dare to touch me?" demanded Indulekha.
"Did you not feel me touch you?"
"Ah! there is the folly of it," said Indulekha.
Madhavan’s eyes filled with tears as he said:
"Oh! Why do you put me on the rack like this? Without you, Indulekha, life is nothing to me."
"Who said you must live without me?"
"When you say ‘without me,’ do you mean the same thing that I meant?" asked Madhavan.
"What did you mean?" said lndulekha.
"By saying ‘without you,’ replied Madhavan, "I meant without the joy and blessedness of being with you always and ever, awake or asleep."
"It is very late," remarked Indulekha, "and the dew is very heavy. Go in, Madhavan, go and sleep, but do come and have tea with me tomorrow morning."
"I cannot sleep," said Madhavan; "I feel as if I were broken both in body and mind."
"You want some medicine, some soothing medicine," observed Indulekha.
"I know of a medicine," replied Madhavan, "at least, I know the prescription. If I tell you the prescription, will you administer the remedy?"
"What is the prescription?" enquired Indulekha.
"This" said Madhavan.
"Lotus maid, from thy dark eye,
"Glances keen as arrows fly.
"Two remedies, both safe and sure,
"First the remedy is this,
"Thy delicious mouth to kiss.
"And when thy perfect, balmy breast
"To thy lover’s heart is pressed;
"Then his cure will be complete,
"Wrought by the lover’s embraces sweet."
"Very good indeed," returned Indulekha, "But were will you get the medicine?"
"It is in your hands, Indulekha."
"But it could not be taken now," said lndulekha; "It is very chill. Go in, Madhavan. Don’t go on like a madman."
‘‘So be it," replied Madhavan, "but tell me when I shall have the medicine? Just say that I shall have it, Indulekha, and, I will be content. "Don’t torment me like this. I want only to hear one word so much happiness ?"
"I am overpowered with sleep, Madhavan", I must go, Let me go," said lndulekha; and she hurried forthwith to her own apartment. Madhavan followed her with his eyes while his heart was consumed within him, and Indulekha, as soon as she gained her room, turned to the window and gazed at Madhavan until he left the courtyard.
Many such conversations as this took place between Madhavan and Indulekha, and if they were all given here, this introductory chapter would exceed all reasonable limits, but there was one other remarkable conversation which I feel impelled to relate.
The intensity with which Madhavan thought of Indulekha by day and dreamed of her by night was so great that at last his brain grew fevered. One night he courted sleep in vain, and as he lay tossing from side to side he communed with himself thus:
"Why should I suffer like this? If Indulekha really loved me, she should have been my wife long ago. I dare say she cares for me in a fashion, but she knows well enough that many men of far higher rank and greater wealth than I possess seek her hand in marriage. Then, however much she may like me, is it likely that she is willing to take me for her husband? I doubt it. With all her learning, she is but a woman after all. So then why should I waste in despair? I will no longer let the thought of her scathe my heart. I will go shooting at day break and very likely my father will come with me. We have had no sport for a long time, and this agonizing love of mine has robbed me of all my manliness. Shame on me, that without making an effort I should so madly let myself be victimized by childish folly and passion. It is high time that Indulekha were married and it is not at all likely that she will remain single till I became a high official of the state, or a man of some other position and, influence. So my passion is useless, and I will banish it from my mind."
Fortified by this doughty resolve, Madhavan shut his eyes and applied himself assiduously to sleep. But the moment his eyes were closed, his fancy, in spite of himself, vividly pictured the fair form of Indulekha with her long eyes, her face bright as the red lotus, her hair long and heavy, and her rosy lips: He opened his eyes and the vision was gone. Then rising, he assumed an air of the utmost determination, and swore he would think of Indulekha no more, when he suddenly saw a female figure at the door of his room and called out "Who is there?"
"It is I" was the answer, and Indulekha’s maid, Ammu, put into his hands a fragrant wreath of jessamine which, she said, her mistress had sent for him from Puvarangu. Madhavan took it, and holding it in his hand heaved a deep sigh. After a pause the girl said, "My mistress has told me to ask if you will have tea with her, sir, tomorrow morning in her room. She desired that you would not refuse."
"I am going shooting tomorrow at daybreak at four o’clock," replied Madhavan, "and my father is probably coming with me. Say that I shall not be back till the evening."
"I will say so," answered the girl, "but if you can see her early in the morning it will be well. It is the feast of Siva, and my mistress will as usual go to the bath at dawn".
"I can’t see women before daybreak" returned Madhavan. "Say I will see her the day after tomorrow morning."
The girl laughed softly and saying "I will give your message" returned with the news to Indulekha.
Then Indulekha again sent her with another message to Madhavan.
When Ammu came a second time, Madhavan was gazing fondly at the wreath in his hand, and on seeing her, asked what had brought her back.
"My mistress," replied the girl, "is making a beautiful cap for you to wear when you go shooting, sir. If you won’t come up to her boudoir in the morning, please halt in the courtyard opposite her window, and mistress says she will give you the cap."
"Why did she not send it by you?" enquired Madhavan.
"Perhaps it is not quite finished" was the reply.
"But why does she do needlework at night?" asked Madhavan.
"She is alway
s working and reading at night," said the maid, "she sleeps but little."
"What is the reason ?" said Madhavan, but the girl only laughed and hung her head in apparent confusion.
"Very well," said Madhavan, "you can go: when I start in the morning, I will call to your mistress if I see her lattice open; but if it is shut, I will go straight on."
As soon as the servant was gone, Madhavan again began to think: "Indulekha does not sleep; surely-can she be in love with me; I cannot doubt it. But then why does she not show her love? As far as I can see from her behaviour, she is but a child in all her ways. What does it all mean?" and with his mind full of these doubts, he rose from his couch and began to make preparations for his morning’s sport. He first took up a gun and cleaned it. Then he put out some cartridges, and ordering his servant to have tea ready for him at four o’clock, went to bed again. Rising at four, he donned a shooting suit and boots, and accompanied by an attendant, took the road to Indulekha’s house on his way to the shooting ground. When he arrived at the house he looked up and saw Indulekha’s face, lovely as the risen moon. He saw the full glory of her beauty as she leaned over her casement, and his senses reeled in an ecstasy of admiration.
"Why do you start so early?" asked Indulekha. "If you mean to destroy life you should make sure of seeing your victims. How will you see in the dark?"
"I have to go some distance before I get to the grounds" answered Madhavan.
"Oh," said Indulekha, "you are planning sport on a large scale, are you?"
"Yes, moderately large," said Madhavan. "I think it will be a relief to my feelings."
"Capital," replied Indulekha, "did you bring any guns with you this time from Madras?"
"Only one-a breechloader."
"Let me have a look at it, "said Indulekha, "send it up to me here."
Madhavan accordingly sent the gun up by his servant. Indulekha took it, and carrying it inside her room, locked the door. She then told her maid to bring a light, and descending the stairs to go to the bath, went up to Madhavan.
"That breechloader is a very nice gun," said Indulekha, "but let it remain upstairs just now. I have not quite finished the cap I was working for you. It will be ready tomorrow or the day after, and you can go shooting then. Now go back to bed. "
"This is too bad!" exclaimed Madhavan. "It seems that I am not allowed even to go shooting."
"Just so, you can’t go to-day" said Indulekha.
"And why, pray!"
"Because the cap is not ready."
"Did I ever say I wanted the cap?"
"Did you ever say you didn’t want it ? You did not tell my maid so when she spoke to you yesterday."
"I say now I don’t want it."
"That’s very rude, and I won’t listen to you. If you had sent me word yesterday that you did not want it, I wouldn’t have kept awake at night and sat up to work at it, and now, after making me work so hard, you say you don’t want it?"
"I don’t see any fun in this childish nonsense. What satisfaction do you find in teasing people like this ‘?" said Madhavan.
"I can now fancy that I am a child, and that you are a child too, Madhavan," answered Indulekha; "so let us play as we used to play in the old days."
"Why Indulekha, it was only yesterday that you said we must never more amuse ourselves like children," returned Madhavan.
"Yes, because I did not think you were then behaving like a child," said Indulekha, laughing, as she went away to the bath, leaving Madhavan to walk up and down the garden in a state of profound dejection.
When Indulekha returned after her ablutions, day had fully dawned, and, calling Madhavan, she invited him to tea in her boudoir. He accepted the invitation to accompany her, but declined the offer of tea until she pressed him, and then, seating himself on a chair apart from Indulekha, he condescended to drink some. Indulekha broke the silence by remarking that there was no chance of his going shooting that day.
"I wish," replied Madhavan, "that if you cannot abandon your childish pranks, you would find some other man to make sport of. I cannot endure this any longer."
"What is it that you cannot endure?" enquired Indulekha. "Do you mean shooting?"
"I will speak out plainly" replied Madhavan.
"Wait a bit" said Indulekha, "I don’t want you to speak out plainly. Hitherto I have credited you with a fair amount of firmness and resolution, but when I see the eccentricities in which you now indulge, I think I must have been mistaken."
"I cannot control myself in this matter" responded Madhavan. "Do not mistake me for one of those fops you so frequently come across. I have never kept evil company, and until I saw you, Indulekha, I never cared for any woman, not even to the extent of a flirtation. Hence it is I suppose that this my first love has taken such hold of me. But if you mean to torture me any longer, I don’t mean to stay here any longer."
"I see," said Indulekha, "if you leave this place and go away to some other country, you won’t be troubled by such thoughts as fill your brain now. Then so far as I understand you, your love and your eccentricities will last only so long as I am before your eyes."
"No," responded Madhavan, "that was not my meaning. I meant that if I cannot obtain my wish and be ever with you, Indulekha, my home and my country are no place for me."
"I see," said Indulekha, "but if I do not care for you in spite of the love which you lavish on me, will you still go on loving me so dearly?"
"I can’t help thinking that you have some love for me, Indulekha" said Madhavan.
"Well then," returned Indulekha, "what is your difficulty?"
"Do you want to know?" asked Madhavan.
"Yes, tell me"
"I will," said Madhavan. "My difficulty is twofold. There is, first, your feeling that my position in life as yet is not eminent, and then there is your knowledge that many men of wealth and station, that many princes and nobles of the land have been smitten by your charms."
"Madhavan," replied Indulekha, "I never thought so little of you before. If I had been dazzled by the prospect of being to some prince or noble of the land, I should have taken him for my husband long ago. I am surprised to hear you utter such folly. In a matter like this, wealth has no more value in my eyes than the grass on the field, and I am resolved to marry none but the man of my choice."
"And have you yet made your choice?" asked Madhavan.
" And if I have," said Indulekha, "why should I ever tell you, most worthless Madhavan?"
"But why revile me like that?" pleaded Madhavan. "Is that necessary too?"
"Enough, enough," answered Indulekha. "Really, Madhavan, your delicacy is wonderful! Your instincts told you, did they, that I loved you, but with all that you persuaded yourself that I would do violence to my love and my honour by marrying some man of rank and wealth simply because he asked me! Oh Madhavan! Madhavan! how could you be so blind, so stupid? Did you, could you think me a woman so despicable and still cherish a spark of love for me in your heart?"
At these words Madhavan’s eyes overflowed with tears, and I leave my readers to decide whether those tears sprang from joy, or pride, or shame.
"Why are you crying?" resumed Indulekha. "Is it because you can’t answer me?"
"It is not because I have no answer to give that I am silent," replied Madhavan, "but I have always told you that I take no pleasure in arguing with you. I was a fool, Indulekha to come here, and after I had come, not one sweet or gracious word had you for me- nothing but cross-questions and crooked answers. It is very true that here we men suffer untold misery from the freedom and opportunities which the women of Malabar enjoy for playing fast and loose with us and tormenting us."
"How can I make my words sweet?" exclaimed Indulekha. "Shall I first sip some honey and then speak? Or while I speak, will you taste the honey? Perhaps my words will be sweet then. You talk nonsense, and when you get a smart answer in return, of course you say that it is not sweet but sharp and sour. But why are you flouting at the women of Malabar?
What do you mean by saying that they are all-powerful in tormenting men?"
"That is not all," said Madhavan, "but in Malabar the women don’t practice the virtue of fidelity so strictly as do the women of other countries. Why, in Malabar a woman may take a husband and cast him off as she pleases, and on many other points she is completely at liberty to do as she likes. Hence our Malabar women are proud and overbearing to a degree, and this is what I meant."
"Good gracious! You are very complimentary" said Indulekha. "With all your learning and knowledge, this is the opinion you have formed of Malabar women, is it? I am astonished."
Let us pause and consider what Madhavan meant by saying that in Malabar women do not practice the virtue of fidelity. Madhavan’s remarks were bitter, for in Malabar, just as in other countries, the women who cherish this virtue are innumerable. Indulekha, cut to the quick, retorted, "What, did you say that Malayali women are not chaste? "She argued," to say that a woman makes light of the marriage tie, is tantamount to saying that she is immoral. Did you then mean that all or most of the women in this Land of Palms are immoral? If you did, then I for one certainly cannot believe him. If you intended to signify that we Nairs encourage immorality, because, unlike the Brahmins, we do not force our womankind to live lives worthy only of the brute creation by prohibiting all intercourse with others, and by closing against them the gates of knowledge, then never was there formed any opinion so false. Look at Europe and, America, where women share equally with men the advantages of education and enlightenment and liberty! Are these women all immoral? If, in those countries, a woman who adds refinement of education to beauty of person, enjoys the society and conversation of men, is it to be straightway supposed that the men whom she admits into the circle of her friends are more to her than mere friends? Or when a woman has cultivated her musical talents, a dozen men go in a body to hear her sing, will you basely conclude that their real object is totally different and by no means so innocent? You men, being fools, take pride in a reputation for gallantry, and we women are implicated helplessly in your scandals; but unless you are utterly lost to all sense of honour, you will surely not besmirch with this foul calumny the fair name of women, who belonging as they do to your own race and caste, have the strongest claim on your loyalty. A woman may have countless occasions and opportunities for enjoyment and amusement and mirth in male society without swerving a hair’s breadth from the path of virtue, and it would cause me the greatest surprise if you took the side of those pestilential scandal mongers who assume that gratification of lust is in reality the one and only object of such pastime.
Indulekha Page 5