Hemnalini was silent.
Jogendra continued, ‘Have any of you discovered the reason for such behaviour? Did it not occur to you to ask even a single question? Such blind faith in Ramesh!’
Again there was no response from Hemnalini.
Jogendra went on, ‘Very well, let us assume both you and Baba are simple at heart and do not suspect anyone. I hope you have some faith in me too. I have been to the school myself to make enquiries. Ramesh had settled his wife into the hostel there for her education. He had planned to keep her there during the holidays too. But two or three days ago he got a letter from the principal of the school, stating that Kamala would not be allowed to stay at the hostel during the holidays. Once the term ended, the school sent Kamala in its own carriage to their home in Darjipara. I have been to the house myself. There I saw Kamala peeling and slicing apples, while Ramesh sat on the floor in front of her, eating the fruit. He refused to tell us what was going on. Our suspicions might have been quelled if he had told us even once that Kamala was not his wife. But he would neither confirm nor deny anything. Do you still wish to trust Ramesh?’
When Jogendra looked at Hemnalini for an answer he found her face devoid of colour as she gripped the arms of her chair as hard as possible. The next moment, she slumped forward and fell on the floor.
Annada-babu was distraught. Cradling Hemnalini’s head near his chest, he said, ‘What is it, Ma? Do not believe them – they are lying.’
Pushing his father aside quickly, Jogendra placed Hemnalini on the sofa and sprinkled water on her face while Akshay fanned her.
Opening her eyes after a few minutes, Hemnalini stared in surprise. Turning to Annada-babu, she screamed, ‘Tell Akshay-babu to leave at once!’
Depositing the fan on the table, Akshay left the room and stood behind the door. Annada-babu sat down on the sofa next to Hemnalini and, taking her hand, sighed, ‘Ma…’
Soon tears began to flow from Hemnalini’s eyes, her bosom heaving. She buried her face in her father’s chest in an attempt to stifle her sobs. Annada-babu said, his voice choked with tears, ‘Reassure yourself, Ma. I know Ramesh very well – he can never be untrustworthy. Jogen must have made a mistake.’
Jogendra could not contain himself. ‘Don’t give her false assurances, Baba. Trying to protect her from pain now will only mean inflicting twice as much pain afterwards. Give Hem some time to consider the facts.’
Hemnalini sat up at once, and told Jogendra, ‘I have considered all that I should have. I shall believe nothing until I hear it from him directly.’
She rose to her feet. Annada-babu supported her, saying, ‘Careful.’
Hemnalini went to her bedroom with Annada-babu’s help. Lying down on her bed, she said, ‘Leave me alone for some time Baba, I want to sleep.’
Annada-babu said, ‘Shall I call the maid to fan you?’
‘I don’t need to be fanned, Baba,’ said Hemnalini.
Annada-babu sat down in the next room. His wife had died when Hemnalini was six months old – his thoughts wandered back, recollecting how she served everyone tirelessly, her patience, her constant cheerfulness. His heart grew anxious at the threat to the little girl he had brought up with all his love and tenderness, the daughter left behind by the goddess he had married. From the next room he addressed her mentally, ‘May all your obstacles be removed, may you be happy forever. I want to go to your mother with you content, healthy and established as a goddess in the house of the man you love.’ He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
Jogendra had always been contemptuous of feminine intelligence and he was even more convinced now. They did not even believe material evidence – what was to be done with them? That two plus two would always be four, whether it made people happy or unhappy, was something they could easily reject in certain situations. If logic insisted that black was black, while their love thought it white, they would be furious with poor logic. Jogendra simply could not understand how the world ran with women living in it.
‘Akshay!’ he called out.
Akshay entered. ‘You’ve heard everything, what is the way out now?’ asked Jogendra.
‘Why involve me in all this, my friend?’ said Akshay. ‘I held my counsel all this while, but you’ve got me into trouble as soon as you returned.’
‘We’ll deal with your accusations later. But I see no alternative to getting Ramesh to confess to Hemnalini.’
‘Are you mad? Do you think he will ever tell her that—’
‘A long letter would be even better. You have to take the responsibility for this. We cannot afford any more delay.’
‘Let me see what I can do,’ said Akshay.
21
Ramesh left with Kamala for Sealdah Railway Station at nine in the evening, taking a circuitous route. He made the coachman take several unnecessary turns, peeping out hopefully while passing a certain building in Colootola. Everything looked the same.
Ramesh sighed so heavily that a sleeping Kamala was startled into wakefulness. ‘Is something the matter?’ she asked.
‘Nothing at all,’ answered Ramesh, without elaborating. He sat back in the darkness of the carriage. Kamala fell asleep again soon, leaning back in a corner. For a few moments, Ramesh found her existence unbearable.
The carriage arrived at the station in good time. A second-class compartment had been reserved which Ramesh and Kamala boarded. Making a bed on one of the bunks for Kamala to sleep on, Ramesh drew the curtain beneath the lamp and told her, ‘It’s long past your bedtime, you can sleep here.’
‘I’ll sleep once the train leaves,’ said Kamala. ‘May I sit by the window till then?’
Ramesh agreed. Drawing the end of her sari over her head, Kamala took the seat near the platform and watched people passing by. Ramesh took the middle seat, staring absently. The train had barely left when he jumped in surprise – a familiar figure was in pursuit of the train.
Suddenly Kamala broke into peals of laughter. Looking out of the window, Ramesh saw a man shrug off the railway officials’ attempts to stop him and jump into the train. A railway official was still clutching the man’s shawl, which had come off his shoulder. As he leaned forward to reach for his garment, Ramesh recognized him clearly. It was Akshay.
For a long time, Kamala couldn’t stop laughing at the sight.
‘It is past ten-thirty and the train is on its way, you must sleep now,’ said Ramesh.
Lying in her bed, the young woman kept giggling till she fell asleep.
But Ramesh was not particularly amused. He knew that Akshay had no reason to visit a village anywhere; several generations of his family had lived in Calcutta. Where was he going tonight in such a hurry? Ramesh was convinced that Akshay was following him.
If Akshay were to begin investigating at his village, and Ramesh’s friends and foes smelt a scandal in the process, the situation would become impossible – the very thought agitated Ramesh enormously. He seemed to hear the neighbours clearly, their whispered conversations. In a city like Calcutta it was always possible to find privacy, but because village societies were shallow, the slightest upheaval set off waves. The more Ramesh thought about this the more his spirits fell.
Ramesh looked out of the window when the train stopped at Barrackpore, but Akshay did not get off. Many people got on and off at Naihati, but Akshay wasn’t among them. Ramesh looked out with misplaced hope at Bagula station too, but there was no sign of Akshay. He could not imagine Akshay getting off at any of the stations after this one.
An exhausted Ramesh finally fell asleep late at night.
When the train reached Goaland next morning, Ramesh saw Akshay rushing off to catch the steamer with a bag in his hand, his head and face wrapped in a shawl.
There was still some time for the vessel that Ramesh was to take. But another craft was blowing its whistle repeatedly, about to leave. ‘Where is this steamer going?’ he asked pointing towards it.
‘Westward,’ came the answer.
‘How far will
it go?’
‘As far as Kashi, provided the river hasn’t dried up.’
At once Ramesh boarded the steamer, settling Kamala in a compartment and rushing off to buy some milk, rice, dal and bananas.
Meanwhile, Akshay, covered in a shawl, boarded the other steamer before the rest of the passengers and sat at a vantage spot from where he could observe everyone else. The passengers were in no particular hurry. There was still some time for the vessel to leave – they used the opportunity to brush their teeth, bathe, and even cook and eat. Akshay was not familiar with Goaland. He assumed Ramesh and Kamala were eating at a nearby restaurant.
Eventually, the steamer began to blow its whistle. Ramesh was not to be seen yet; the passengers began to board using a rickety gangway. Frequent bursts of the whistle made them hurry, but there was still no sign of Ramesh among the strangers streaming aboard. Once everyone had entered, the gangway was withdrawn and the bo’sun ordered that the steamer weigh anchor. Akshay sprang up, exclaiming, ‘I want to disembark!’ But the deckhands paid no attention. Since they were not far from the shore, and he was desparate to get off the train, Akshay jumped into the water.
Akshay discovered no sign of Ramesh once he waded ashore. The passenger train for Calcutta had left a short while ago. Akshay concluded that Ramesh must have observed him during his struggles to board the train last night, and, assuming some hostile intention on his part, must have returned to Calcutta by the morning train. If a man were determined to hide in Calcutta, it would be very difficult to locate him.
22
After spending a restless day at Goaland, Akshay took the mail train back in the evening. Arriving in Calcutta early next morning, he went to Ramesh’s home in Darjipara only to find the door locked. Enquiries revealed that no one lived there.
At Colootola, too, he found Ramesh’s house empty. Going to Annada-babu’s house, he told Jogendra, ‘He’s escaped; I couldn’t find him.’
‘What!’ said Jogendra.
Akshay gave him the details of his journey.
The news that Ramesh had run away along with Kamala on catching sight of Akshay confirmed all of Jogendra’s suspicions about him.
Jogendra said, ‘But, Akshay, none of these arguments will prove useful. Let alone Hemnalini, even Baba keeps repeating that he will not lose faith in Ramesh until Ramesh reveals everything himself. In fact, if Ramesh were to turn up today and say, “I shall not disclose anything,” Baba will not hesitate to have Hemnalini marry him. Things are very difficult. Baba cannot take it if Hemnalini is hurt in anyway. If she were to say, “Never mind if Ramesh has another wife – I shan’t marry anyone else,” Baba would probably agree. Someway or the other, and as soon as possible, Ramesh must be made to confess. You must not be disappointed. I could have done it myself, but I cannot come up with anything – I might end up having a fight with Ramesh. You haven’t had a cup of tea yet, have you?’
Over a cup of tea, Akshay began to reflect on a suitable course of action. Suddenly Annada-babu led Hemnalini into the room, but when she saw Akshay, she left.
‘This is completely wrong of Hem, Baba!’ said an enraged Jogendra. ‘You must not indulge her impertinence. She must be made to come back here. Hem, Hem!’
Hemnalini had gone upstairs by then.
‘I can see you’re going to weaken my case further,’ said Akshay. ‘Do not say a word about me to her. Time will heal her wounds, but trying to force the issue will ruin everything.’
Finishing his cup of tea, Akshay left. He did not lack for patience. He knew how to persist even when all the signs were unpropitious. Not even his demeanour changed. He did not make a long face or withdraw. He was unmoved by contempt or humiliation. The man was a survivor.
Once Akshay had left, Annada-babu persuaded Hemnalini to return for her tea. Her face was pale and she had dark circles under her eyes. She lowered her eyes, unable to look at Jogendra. She knew that he was furious with her and Ramesh, that he was judging them harshly. It had become difficult to face him.
Although Hemnalini’s love had nurtured her trust, the voice of reason could not be ignored. Yesterday Hemnalini had displayed the firmness of her faith in Ramesh to Jogendra. But alone in her bedroom in the darkness of night, she did not have the same strength. It was true that Ramesh’s actions had been inexplicable from the beginning. Despite Hemnalini’s best efforts to prevent suspicion from invading her fortress of faith, it remained just outside the ramparts, hammering away. Just like a mother cradling her son in her arms to protect him from a lethal attack, Hemnalini too clung to her trust in Ramesh with all her heart in the face of all evidence. But alas, strength does not remain unwavering at all times.
Annada-babu was in bed in the room next to Hemnalini’s. He could sense his daughter tossing and turning in hers. Now and then he would go into her room to ask, ‘Can’t you sleep, my dear?’ Hemnalini would answer, ‘Why are you awake, Baba? I’m sleepy, I’ll fall asleep soon.’
Early the next morning, Hemnalini took a stroll on the terrace. Not a door or window of Ramesh’s house was open.
The sun rose gradually above the range of houses in the east. This newborn day appeared so barren, so devoid of hope and joy, that she slumped to the floor in a corner, covering her face with her hands and sobbing. No one would visit her today, there was no one she could expect at teatime, even the happiness of knowing that someone special lived next door had vanished.
‘Hem! Hem!’
Sitting up quickly, Hemnalini wiped her eyes quickly. ‘Yes, Baba?’
Annada-babu comforted Hemnalini, saying, ‘I overslept.’
Unable to sleep all night out of anxiety, Annada-babu had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. Hurrying out of bed as soon as his eyes sensed light, he went into Hemnalini’s room to enquire after her. But the room was empty. When he saw his daughter alone on the roof, he was heartbroken. ‘Come my dear, have a cup of tea.’
Hemnalini was not inclined to sit at the table with Jogendra for her tea. But she knew that any exception to this daily routine would hurt her father. Besides, she poured her father’s tea herself every morning, an act she did not want to deprive herself of.
Before she could enter the room downstairs, she heard Jogendra talking to someone. Her heart leapt. Had Ramesh returned? Who else could it be so early in the morning?
Entering the room with faltering steps, she found Akshay sitting there – unable to restrain herself, she rushed out.
When Annada-babu brought her back into the room, she positioned herself by his chair, pouring his tea with her face lowered.
Jogendra was irked by Hemnalini’s behaviour. It was unbearable to him that Hem would grieve this way for Ramesh. When he discovered Annada-babu joining her in her grief, while she tried to seek shelter in her father’s affection, his impatience increased. ‘All of us seem to be criminals. Far from displaying even the slightest gratitude at our attempts to perform our duty out of love for her or at the fact that we are sincerely doing what is best for her, she actually holds us responsible for all this. Baba has no sense. He has to hurt her with facts instead of comforting her. Instead of which he is keeping the unpleasant truth at a distance.’
‘Do you know what’s happened, Baba?’ Jogen said to Annada-babu.
‘No, what?’ said Annada-babu said in panic.
‘Ramesh was going to his village with his wife on the Goaland Mail yesterday. When he spotted Akshay on the same train, he ran back to Calcutta.’
Hemnalini’s hands trembled, the tea she was pouring spilled. She sat down heavily on a chair.
Throwing a glance at her, Jogendra said, ‘I do not understand why he had to run away. Akshay knows the whole story already. His earlier behaviour was contemptible enough and add to that this cowardice. I find this slinking about like a thief extremely repugnant. I do not know what Hem thinks, but this running away alone puts him in the wrong.’
Trembling, Hemnalini rose to her feet and said, ‘I don’t care for proof, Dada. Y
ou may judge him if you wish, I am not his judge.’
‘Must we have nothing to do with the person you are supposed to marry?’ asked Jogendra.
‘This has nothing to do with the marriage. You may change your mind about the marriage if you wish – that is your prerogative. But you are trying in vain to make me change mine.’
Hemnalini burst into tears as she spoke. Jumping to his feet, Annada-babu pressed her tear-stained face to his chest, saying, ‘Let us go upstairs, Hem.’
23
The steamer set off. The first- and second-class compartments were unoccupied. Choosing one of them, Ramesh made a bed on the bunk. Drinking her morning glass of milk, Kamala opened the door and watched the river and the bank.
‘Do you know where we are going, Kamala?’ said Ramesh.
‘To our village,’ answered Kamala.
‘You don’t care for our village. We shan’t go there.’
‘You won’t go to your village just because of me?’
‘Yes, just because of you.’
A despondent Kamala said, ‘Why did you have to do this? Must you take to heart something I just happened to say? You get angry far too quickly.’
‘I am not angry at all,’ said Ramesh with a smile. ‘I have no wish to go to the village either.’
‘Where are we going, then?’ Kamala asked curiously.
‘Westward.’
Kamala’s eyes widened in wonder at the mention of the word. Westward! It meant so much to someone who had spent her entire life at home. Westward lay pilgrim spots, westward lay good health, westward lay new lands, new scenes to behold, the ancient deeds of kings and emperors, temples with carvings, historic tales, sagas of valour.
‘Westward where?’ asked Kamala in delight.
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ said Ramesh. ‘Munger, Patna, Danapur, Buxar, Gazipur, Kashi…we will visit one of these places.’
Kamala’s imagination grew even more fervent at this list of familiar and unfamiliar names. ‘What fun!’ she said, clapping her hands.