"In my opinion, it is the restraints placed on the liberty of women and the fashion of bringing them up as if they belonged only to the brute creation, which are the chief and most prolific causes of immorality, and would anyone think of imputing immorality to one of the lower animals because it yields to its carnal appetites? I do not say that education and enlightenment invariably make man or woman proof against debauchery, and experience shows us that depravity and moral corruption do occasionally prevail even among those whose minds have received the utmost benefits of civilization, but I am amazed when I hear certain persons, whom I can call nothing short of fools, assert that the root of the evil is education itself.
The truth undoubtedly is that the diffusion of knowledge is the greatest foe of profligacy and vice, and you probably men an at to inveigh against the ordinance of our race by which it is lawful for a woman to put away one husband and take another according to her own will and pleasure. There are some disreputable women who avail themselves incontinently of their prerogative, but the prerogative in itself is one of our most valuable institutions. Such liberty is unknown even in Europe, but I have read that some of the wisest heads both in Europe and America consider that the privilege should be universal. Without this power of freedom, numbers of married couples, both in Europe and India, are doomed irrevocably to pass their lives in misery, and if the right is exercised, not with vicious intent but on just and proper occasion, it affords women the most ample and needful means of protection. If you could have reckoned up accurately the number of cases which have occurred in Malabar during the last ten years, in which wives have renounced their husbands and husbands have divorced their wives without just cause, I have no hesitation in stating that you would have found the average on the total number of separations to be less than one in a thousand. It is true that while, in some instances, the renunciation is justified by circumstances, in others it is due only to the perversity or misfortune of one or other of the individuals concerned, but that Nair women should be charged with habitually resorting to such tactics is intolerable. The maintenance of their liberty in this respect is beneficial, but the privilege is intended to be used, not abused, and when it is abused, infamy is the natural consequence. The fault, however, lies not in the ordinance itself, but in the wrongful application of it, and therefore I cannot allow such a sweeping accusation against my sex as is contained in your angry words to pass unchallenged". In reply to Indulekha’s last observation, Madhavan said, "I cannot approve of the principle which gives husband and wife the liberty of severing, at the option of either, the bonds which unite them. This incident places the marriage contract on a purely business footing, and affection and mutual esteem form no part of the consideration."
"Then a marriage made on the principle which rules in Malabar would not be agreeable to you?" asked Indulekha with a smile.
"No" answered Madhavan.
"And if this is so, did you not say just now that you would take refuge in some other country? Perhaps it would be well if you did."
"Such was certainly my idea" said Madhavan, "Do you consent to it, lndulekha?"
"What has my consent to do with it?" enquired Indulekha.
"If you will be my wife, Indulekha, Malabar itself will be heaven to me," replied Madhavan.
"But did you not say that the kind of union which prevails in Malabar is distasteful to you?" returned Indulekha.
"Our union would not be of that kind, Indulekha," said Madhavan.
"That is true, very true,’’ replied Indulekha.
Here they were interrupted by the entrance of Indulekha’s mother, who began laughing at them, and Madhavan thus lost not only his sport for the day, but also the chance of further private conversation with Indulekha.
But I must press on to my story and cut this preamble short.
The pangs of love which Madhavan endured gradually became unbearable. He loathed his food; sleep came not to him and even his visits to Indulekha’s rooms grew less frequent. One day his mother Parvathi Amma was talking to Indulekha, and on Madhavan’s name being casually mentioned, said "I cannot understand what ails him, that he is so gloomy and dejected."
"There must be some reason for it" said Indulekha.
"I don’t know what it is" replied Parvathi Amma. "He won’t eat his rice, he hardly takes enough in the whole day to keep body and soul together. He drinks neither milk nor tea, and the people with him say he does not sleep. I am not sure that he is not sickening for some illness."
"Then let me ask him one or two questions" said Indulekha. "Tell him to come here."
Parvathi Amma went and did so, and Madhavan obeyed the summons.
"Why do you come here so seldom now?" asked Indulekha.
"I have no heart to come" replied Madhavan.
"Does it pain you to come here?" said Indulekha.
"Decidedly" answered Madhavan. "Coming here only adds to my misery, which is bad enough at all times."
"I am going to dress" said Indulekha. "Lie down on that sofa and read the paper. I will be back in a minute, and you can tell me the news."
Madhavan stretched himself on the sofa, but did not touch the newspaper.
"What is the matter with the newspaper?" Indulekha said, smiling, and left the room. As she was going downstairs to perform her toilet, she met a servant with a telegram for Madhavan. Feeling sure that the telegram brought news of Madhavan’s examination, she did not hesitate to tear the cover upon, and was overjoyed when she read the message. She ran back at once to Madhavan, crying out, "You have passed the B.L. Examination, you have passed," and handed him the telegram. But Madhavan, without taking it in his hand, merely said "All right." He did not utter even another syllable, and did not stir from his place, but lay still, gazing passionately at Indulekha’s radiant face. Indulekha’s own bosom was torn by a fierce spasm of love, but she controlled herself heroically and said, "What do you mean, Madhavan? Why do you look so sad? Is it grief to you to be told that you have taken a first class in Law? I never thought you would have looked at the matter so phlegmatically."
"I take no interest in the matter at all. I don’t care if I have taken any degree or not."
"I will go and tell our grand uncle and our mothers that you have passed. I will run myself. At any rate they will be pleased" said Indulekha.
"Why are you so excited about it?" returned Madhavan. "I can go and tell them quietly by and by, can’t I ! Why are you in such a hurry?"
"No" replied Indulekha. "I will go and tell them at once. Here, you must read the telegram."
"I don’t want to read it,"said Madhavan," I don’t feel the slightest pleasure in having passed".
"Why?" asked Indulekha.
"Because I am sick at heart." answered Madhavan.
"Sick at heart though you are now a Bachelor of Laws?" ejaculated Indulekha.
"If I had only known before that your heart was so like a stone" said Madhavan, checking himself abruptly.
"If you had only known?" rejoined Indulekha "Pray finish your sentence."
"If I had only known" repeated Madhavan.
"What? if you had only known?" asked Indulekha, drawing near Madhavan as she spoke.
"If I had only known, I should have been spared all this wretchedness and ruin" said Madhavan.
"Wretchedness and ruin? What do you mean"? Exclaimed Indulekha.
"You have no pity for me in your heart, Indulekha" said Madhavan.
"Never mind", answered Indulekha, " I will speak about that when I come back. I will be off now, and tell grandfather and your mother and my mother and our uncles that you have passed. I am going, I will run and tell them. But you stay here. You shouldn’t be so cast down because I told you you had passed."
"Don’t take all this trouble on my account, Indulekha," said Madhavan. "It is no satisfaction to me that I have passed. I can only pray to God that my life may not be prolonged. What is success in the examination compared with lifelong agony?" and as he spoke he wept bitterly.
"My darling, my true, my only love," she cried, "why are you so sad?
Two years ago I enshrined you in my heart, and you alone have been lord of my heart and soul. Now let us live in fullness of joy. I have never loved anyone but you, Madhavan, and I love you with all my being."
For a moment she abandoned herself to Madhavan’s embrace, wiping away the tears from his eyes, and then extricating herself from his clasp, stood beside him. But Madhavan had heard only a few of the words which Indulekha had uttered. Plunged in the ocean of delight, he became for a time blind and deaf to all around him, but at last he rose from the couch and stood upright.
"Now," he exclaimed triumphantly, "tell all the world of my success in the examination. Now that Indulekha will share with me all the treasures of happiness and prosperity which this life can give me, my only wish is that I may remain in the world. I have reached the summit of my desire; I am the happiest of mortal men. But, Indulekha, go and tell them that I have passed: the news will come best from you."
Thus it was that the spiritual union between Madhavan and Indulekha, to which reference has already been made, was accomplished. Panchu Menon was aware that the young people had come to an understanding between themselves, and that Madhavan contemplated marrying Indulekha, and although he was not particularly desirous of the match, he certainly did not then manifest any opposition to it.
Chapter 3
The result of the quarrel between Panchu Menon and Madhavan, which has been hinted at in the first chapter, was that the former became almost mad with rage. Naturally a man of ungovernable temper, he was a patriarch of the old school and presided over the opulent house of Chembhazhiyot Puvalli. Two of his predecessors in the patriarchal office had filled the post of Dewan, or Prime Minister in a native state, and even in former generations the family had been rich and influential. In process of time it had advanced in wealth and dignity to an eminent degree, through the success which many of its members achieved in life, but latterly, owing to some reverses of fortune, its condition was less flourishing than of old. At the time of which I write, the annual rent roll of the estate amounted in kind to 28,000 paras of grain from rice lands, and in money to 10,000 rupees from garden lands, while the yearly balance of income over expenditure, which was by no means illiberal, was 5,000 rupees. Panchu Menon was by nature a miser, but in this matter of expenditure he could not help himself, because the former patriarchs of the family had, with open-handed generosity, regularly maintained two alms-houses for Brahmins, in which all the inmates were sumptuously fed twice a day, and a temple dedicated to the goddess of prosperity where, festivals on a grand scale were frequently celebrated. More over the comfortable routine of family life, the dresses of the ladies, an unstinted supply of other needs like oil for the bath, and the retinue of servants were matters of tradition to which Panchu Menon was forced to accede, but it was gall and bitterness to him if he had to trench upon the usual surplus of 5,000 rupees. Nevertheless he had given his wife Kunji Kutty Amma, and his daughter Lakshmi Kutty Amma, who was lndulekha’s mother, property worth 30,000 rupees. His wife and - when he was not in Madras-his son Govinda Kutty Menon, as well as lndulekha and her mother lived with Panchu Menon at his residence at Puvarangu, which consisted of two or three spacious two-storied houses with a tank and bath houses, a temple, the Brahmin messhouses and other institutions. The great family house of PuvalIi was situated two or three hundred yards from the one at Puvarangu, but both were enclosed by one and the same wall.
Panchu Menon was seventy years old at the time the story opens, and had been a tahsildar, or superior revenue official, thirty years ago, when one of his uncles was Dewan. In person he was fair, short and stout, and his complexion furnished the only claim he had to good looks. He was bald and had lost three teeth in the upper, five in the lower, jaw; his eyes were bloodshot; he fastened the cloth which encircled his lower limbs with a gold belt, wore a rosary of the same precious metal round his neck, had a woolen cap on his head, and carried in his hand a thick, silver-mounted stick. Notwithstanding the fact that he had been in official service, he did not know a word of English. Although he was in reality sincere and kindhearted, his disposition was naturally prone to anger and, owing to advanced age and infirmity, his manner was at the time of which I write, harsh and irritable. lndulekha was the only person with whom he did not lose his temper, and the immunity which she enjoyed was due either to her own superior force of character, or to the fondness he had felt for his dead son Krishna Menon, the Peishkar. He was so well aware of his own irascibility, that he seldom visited Indulekha in her house, lest some accident should betray him into a passion, though he never failed to enquire about her two or three times a day; but with the exception of Indulekha, it is doubtful whether any of the residents of Puvarangu and Puvalli ever passed a day without being deafened by his vituperation.
The altercation which he had with Madhavan took place about 6 0’ clock in the morning. As soon as it was over, he marched off in a towering rage to his own apartments at Puvrangu, and, mounting up to the verandah, found that his daughter Lakshmi Kutty was the sole occupant. "The stupid young reprobate! The infernal young scoundrel," he bawled, "didn’t you hear how disrespectful he was to me?"
"Who?" asked Lakshmi Kutty.
"Madhavan."
"What! Madhavan!" said Lakshmi Kutty.
"Yes, didn’t I say Madhavan?" retorted Panchu Menon. And then with some exaggeration he repeated what Madhavan had said. While he was speaking, Kesavan Nambudiri came out of an inner chamber and listened. Panchu Menon turned and addressed him saying, "I will never give Indulekha to this young varlet. Lakshmi Kutty, why don’t you answer?"
"What can I say?" replied Lakshmi Kutty.
"Say," roared Panchu Menon, "you are still so fond of Madhavan, are you? You are taken with his beauty, are you? What do you mean by standing there with your mouth shut? You are all a set of hussies, everyone of you. I should like to knock your heads together."
"What do I care for Madhavan ?" said Lakshmi Kutty. "I have nothing to say in this business."
"But I have something to say," returned Panchu Menon. "I swear by the Bhagavathi, whom I worship, that I will never give Indulekha to Madhavan."
The old man had no sooner taken this oath than he repented of it. He knew the strength and activity and courage of Indulekha’s mind, and he was fully cognizant of the love which existed between her and Madhavan. Hence he doubted whether it would be possible for him to keep his vow and reflected that, if he failed, he would be disgraced. Harassed by these thoughts, he remained sitting on a bench in the verandah for an hour or more, when an idea suddenly dawned on him, and he sent for Kesavan Nambudiri.
As soon as the Nambudiri came and had seated himself on the bench, Panchu Menon edged close up to him and said in a confidential whisper, "My dear sir, you were speaking to me the other day about the Moorkkillatha Nambudiripad and you mentioned that he had heard of Indulekha and had intimated that he was not averse to a match with her. Can you tell me if the gentleman is handsome in appearance?"
"Handsome is not the word for it," replied Kesavan Nambudiri. "His complexion is like 18-carat gold; it is better even than Indulekha’s own. I have never seen such a man. And he is fabulously wealthy!"
"Do you think," pursued Panchu Menon, "that if Indulekha saw him and got to know him, she would take a fancy to him?"
"I would swear it," answered Kesavan Nambudiri, holding his Brahrninical thread in his hand. "She would fall in love with him the moment she set eyes on him. Good heaven! what’s the use of talking? You would very easily know if you only saw him."
"Do you think you could induce him to come here for a short visit?" asked Pa
nchu Menon.
"Certainly," said Kesavan Nambudiri.
"And if he comes, do you think Indulekha will lose her infatuation for Madhavan?" said Panchu Menon.
"I am as sure of it as I am that I am a Brahmin," said Kesavan Nambudiri, again holding his sacred thread. "I have not the very least doubt."
Panchu Menon cackled with laughter in his glee and said, "Then write to him, write to him and ask him to come. But don’t write anything silly. You know Indulekha well enough, and I don’t want that we should be made fools of afterwards. Just ask the Nambudiripad to come and stay here two or three days."
"Surely there is the hand of Providence in the design," exclaimed Kesavan Nambudiri. "Untold bliss for Indulekha, the good fortune and prosperity of her family assured,and a good time in store for me. I will go and write at once."
"Take care how you word the letter," said Panchu Menon. "Indulekha knows English and all that, and is terribly obstinate. There would be no use in any of us saying a word to her. The Nambudiripad must win her by his good looks and ingenuity, that’s the only way."
"If Indulekha doesn’t accept the Nambudiripad within an hour after he has met her, then the sun will rise in the south instead of in the east, that’s all," said Kesavan Nambudiri.
"Are you quite sure?" asked Panchu Menon anxiously. "Is the Nambudiripad so irresistible?"
"There is not the slightest doubt in the matter," said Kesavan Nambudiri, "I will write immediately."
"But mind, only as I told you," cried Panchu Menon.
Chapter 4
"Mother" said Madhavan, "please get ready everything for me. I start for Madras at daybreak tomorrow. Is my father in?"
Indulekha Page 6