‘Do you see, my dear Bali, Bihari Thakurpo knows how to speak guardedly; instead of finding fault with your taste, he blamed the Maker Himself. It is your misfortune that you don’t know how to appreciate a brother-in-law as wonderful as Rama’s brother Lakshman in the Ramayana.’
‘If that makes you feel pity for me, Binod Bouthan, then I have no cause for regret.’
‘When the sea is available, why does a bird like the chatak need rain to quench its thirst?’ asked Binodini.
It was impossible to keep Asha there any longer. Wrenching her hand from Binodini’s grasp, she left the room. Bihari, too, prepared to leave. Binodini asked, ‘Thakurpo, can you tell me what the matter is with Mahendra?’
Hearing this, Bihari at once stopped short and turned around to face her. ‘I have no idea,’ he replied. ‘Is something amiss?’
‘I don’t know, Thakurpo, but I don’t like the look of things.’
Anxiously, Bihari sat down on the chowki, and gazed with an eager, expectant expression at Binodini’s face, waiting to hear a detailed account of the matter. Without speaking, Binodini began to embroider the bed sheet very attentively.
‘Have you noticed anything particular about Mahinda?’ asked Bihari, having waited a while.
‘I don’t know, Thakurpo,’ answered Binodini in a very natural manner. ‘But it doesn’t look good to me. I am constantly worried about my Chokher Bali.’ She sighed as she spoke and, putting down her embroidery, rose to leave the room.
‘Bouthan, please stay awhile,’ Bihari begged, agitated.
Opening all the doors and windows of the room and stoking the flame of the kerosene lamp, Binodini pulled the piece of embroidery towards herself and sat down at the far end of the bed. ‘Thakurpo, I can’t remain here forever, after all, but when I am gone, please keep an eye on my Chokher Bali. See that she is not unhappy.’ With these words, Binodini turned her face away as if to control her emotions.
‘Bouthan, you must stay,’ exclaimed Bihari. ‘You have no one of your own to look after; please accept the burden of protecting this simple girl always, in times of sorrow or of joy. If you abandon her, I see no other means of safeguarding her.’
‘Thakurpo, you know the ways of the world. How can I remain here permanently? What will people say?’
‘Let them say what they will; you must ignore them. You are a goddess; you alone can protect this helpless young girl from the harsh blows inflicted by the world. Bouthan, I had not understood you at first; please forgive me. Like narrow minded common people, I, too, had harboured unjust assumptions about you. At one time I had even felt that you were jealous of Asha’s happiness, as if…but it is sinful even to utter such thoughts. I have come to recognize your divine nature since then; the deep devotion I have developed for you impels me to confess all my sins to you today.’
Binodini felt every pore of her body infused with a secret rapture. Although she had been feigning sincerity, she could not spurn, even in her heart, the gift of Bihari’s devotion. She had never received such an offering from anybody. For an instant, she felt as if her nature was indeed pure and elevated; brought on by an undefined pity for Asha, tears began to flow from her eyes. This stream of tears, which she did not hide from Bihari, created in her mind the illusion that she was indeed divine.
Seeing Binodini weep, Bihari somehow controlled his own tears, and rising, he went out into Mahendra’s room. Why Mahendra had suddenly declared himself a villain, Bihari could not understand. Entering the room, he found that Mahendra was not there. He was told that Mahendra had gone for an outing. Previously, Mahendra had never left home without a reason. Except in familiar company or in homes that he was accustomed to, Mahendra found it extremely tiring and uncomfortable to venture outside the house. Thoughtfully and with a slow step, Bihari made his way home.
Bringing Asha into her own bedchamber, Binodini drew her to her bosom, and wept, ‘My dear Chokher Bali, I am very unfortunate, a bringer of ill-fortune.’
Deeply moved, Asha embraced her and said, in a voice filled with tenderness, ‘Why, my friend, why do you say such things?’
Sobbing like a child, Binodini rested her head on Asha’s bosom and said, ‘I bring bad luck wherever I go. Let me go, my friend. Please release me, let me go back to the wilderness where I belong.’
Taking Binodini by the chin and holding up her face, Asha coaxed, ‘Don’t say such things, now there’s a dear. I can’t live without you: what has made you think of abandoning me?’
Unable to find Mahendra, Bihari found a reason to return to Binodini’s room, hoping for a clearer explanation of her anxieties about the tension between Mahendra and Asha.
He came to request Binodini to inform Mahendra that he was invited to a meal at Bihari’s home on the following day. ‘Binod Bouthan,’ he called out as he suddenly stepped into the bright light of the kerosene lamp, stopping short when he saw the two tearful women caught in an embrace. In a flash, it occurred to Asha that Bihari must have said something insulting to her Chokher Bali today, which explained why she had insistently spoken of her own departure. How wrong of Biharibabu! He had an ungracious attitude. Annoyed, Asha left the room. Bihari, too, departed quickly, his heart deeply moved, his respect for Binodini heightened.
That night, Mahendra told Asha, ‘Chuni, I shall leave for Kashi by the passenger train tomorrow morning.’
Asha’s heart missed a beat. ‘Why?’ she wanted to know.
‘I have not seen Kakima in a long time.’
Hearing this, Asha felt ashamed. She should have thought of this earlier; engrossed in her own joys and sorrows, she had forgotten her loving mashima, while Mahendra had remembered this hermit in exile. She reproached herself for her own hard-heartedness.
‘She has gone away, leaving in my charge her only treasured possession,’ said Mahendra. ‘Without seeing her once, I cannot rest in peace.’
As he spoke, his voice became choked with tears. With silent, affectionate blessings and unexpressed benediction, he stroked Asha’s head with his right hand. Asha did not understand the full significance of this sudden burst of affection, but her heart melted and she began to weep. She remembered all the things that Binodini had said to her that same evening in her unaccountable outburst of emotion. Whether these two things were somehow connected, she could not understand. But it seemed to her that this was the signal of some imminent change in her life. Whether it boded well or ill, who could tell?
Frightened, she clung to her husband. Mahendra sensed the force of her unaccountable fear. ‘Chuni, the blessings of your pious Mashima are with you,’ he assured her. ‘Have no fear, none at all. She has renounced the world and gone away for your own good; no evil can ever befall you.’
Resolutely, Asha discarded all her fears. She accepted her husband’s blessing like a talisman. In her mind, she repeatedly touched the sacred dust at her Mashima’s feet, praying: ‘Ma, may your blessings protect my husband always.’
The next day, Mahendra went away without saying goodbye to Binodini. ‘Having done wrong himself, does he now make me the target of his anger?’ Binodini asked herself. ‘How sanctimonious! But such saintliness doesn’t last long.’
23
When Annapurna, after her long period of seclusion, saw Mahendra arrive suddenly, she was overwhelmed with joy, but also filled with a sudden fear that perhaps Mahendra had had another confrontation with his mother regarding Asha. She thought he had probably come to her to air his grievances and receive consolation. Since childhood, Mahendra had run to his Kaki whenever there was any kind of trouble or distress. If he was angry, Annapurna would quell his rage; if he felt unhappy, she would advise him to bear it with ease. But after his marriage, his situation became so precarious that she had neither a solution, nor any comfort to offer. When she realized that any intervention on her part would double Mahendra’s domestic trauma, she renounced the world. Like the distraught mother who goes away to another room when her sick child cries for water that the physician has fo
rbidden, Annapurna had cast herself into exile. Living in a distant place of pilgrimage, performing the regular rituals of prayer, she had remained largely unmindful of worldly matters of late. Had Mahendra come to reopen her concealed wounds by reviving the subject of all those conflicts?
But Mahendra made no complaint about his mother’s attitude towards Asha. Then, Annapurna’s fears took a different turn. Previously, Mahendra could not even bear to part from Asha to go to college; why, then, had he travelled to Kashi in search of his kaki? Had Mahendra’s attraction towards Asha slackened over time? With some anxiety, she asked Mahendra, ‘Tell me, Mahin. By my word, tell me truly, how is Chuni?’
‘She’s quite well, Kakima.’
‘What does she do nowadays, Mahin? Are the two of you as immature as ever, or have you turned your attention to household tasks and domestic matters?’
‘No more childishness now. The root of all our troubles, the Charupath primer, has vanished and is nowhere to be found. Had you been there, you would have been pleased to see that Chuni is wholeheartedly performing the womanly duties she had neglected on account of her studies.’
‘Mahin, what does Bihari do these days?’
‘He’s doing everything but his own work. His property is in the hands of attorneys and revenue-collectors; I don’t know if they have an eye on the property. That has always been Bihari’s situation. Others mind his own affairs, while he attends to other people’s business.’
‘Won’t he marry, Mahin?’
‘Why, I see no eagerness on his part,’ laughed Mahendra.
Annapurna felt a deep, hidden pain in her heart. She knew for certain that Bihari had been eager to marry after seeing her bonjhi, only to find his desire suddenly and unjustly crushed. ‘Kakima, you must never urge me again to get married,’ Bihari had said. Those words of reproach still rang in Annapurna’s ears. Unable to offer him any consolation, she had left her beloved, devoted Bihari in a heartbroken state. Dismayed and fearful, Annapurna began to wonder, ‘Is Bihari still in love with Asha?’
At times flippantly, at times seriously, Mahendra told her all the news about the latest developments in their household, but he made no mention of Binodini.
College being in session, Mahendra ought not to have remained in Kashi for many days. But staying here with Annapurna, Mahendra was enjoying a pleasure akin to that of convalescing in a healthy environment after a difficult illness. Days passed by, but he stayed on. The internal conflict that had threatened his mind disappeared very quickly. As he spent a few days in the constant presence of the devout and affectionate Annapurna, everyday duties began to seem so easy and enjoyable, that his earlier anxieties now struck him as ridiculous. Binodini seemed to mean nothing to him anymore. In fact, Mahendra could not even remember her face very clearly. Ultimately, he declared to himself: ‘I can’t think of anyone, anywhere, who could dislodge Asha ever so slightly from her place in my heart.’‘Kakima, I have been missing college,’ he told Annapurna. ‘I must take my leave now. Although you have renounced your worldly ties, please permit me to visit you occasionally and touch the dust at your feet.’
Tears welled up in Asha’s eyes when Mahendra returned, carrying affectionate gifts from her mashi—a sindoor container and a white stone jar with inlay work. Recalling mashima’s loving patience and the various wrongs inflicted on her by the newly-weds and Rajalakshmi, Asha’s heart was wrenched. She informed her husband, ‘I have a great desire to visit Mashima once, to obtain her forgiveness and pay her my respects. Can it not be arranged in some way?’
Mahendra understood Asha’s anguish, and even agreed to her visiting her Mashima at Kashi for a few days. But he was hesitant to miss college again in order to escort Asha there.
‘Jethaima, my paternal aunt, will be travelling to Kashi shortly. Perhaps I could accompany her?’ suggested Asha.
‘Ma, my wife wants to go and see Kakima in Kashi,’ Mahendra told Rajalakshmi.
‘If your wife wishes it, then go she must,’ said Rajalakshmi sarcastically. ‘Go, take her there.’
It displeased Rajalakshmi that Mahendra had again started visiting Annapurna. When Asha’s visit was proposed, she was secretly even more annoyed.
Mahendra said, ‘I must attend college, I cannot escort her there. She will go with her Jyathamoshai—her father’s elder brother.’
‘That is a good idea,’ replied Rajalakshmi. ‘Jyathamoshai belongs to an affluent family; he never comes anywhere near poor folk like us. It would be a matter of pride for her to travel with him.’
His mother’s sarcastic remarks hardened Mahendra’s heart into obstinacy. He left without offering any reply, determined to send Asha to Kashi.
When Bihari came to meet Rajalakshmi, she appealed to him: ‘O Bihari, have you heard? Our Bouma wants to go to Kashi, it seems.’
‘What’s this, Ma, must Mahinda miss college again to visit Kashi?’
‘No, no, why should Mahin go? How would that prove her queenliness? Mahin will remain here, and Bou will travel to Kashi with his lordship, her jyatha. We’re all aspiring to be lords and ladies now.’
Bihari was inwardly agitated, but not at the thought of modern versions of lordliness. ‘What is the matter?’ he wondered. ‘When Mahendra went to Kashi, Asha remained here; now, when Mahendra has returned, Asha wants to leave for Kashi. Something serious has happened between the two of them. How long can matters continue like this? As friends, can’t we find some way to remedy the situation? Must we stand and watch from a distance?’
Extremely upset at his mother’s behaviour, Mahendra was sulking in his bedchamber. In the adjoining room, Asha was trying to persuade Binodini, who had not met Mahendra since his return, to visit his room.
At this moment, Bihari came to Mahendra and asked, ‘Has Asha Bouthan’s visit to Kashi been arranged?’
‘Why shouldn’t it? What’s to stop her?’
‘Who said anything about stopping her? But how did the idea suddenly occur to the two of you?’
‘The desire to visit one’s mashi, a strong concern for relatives who are far away in exile—such feelings are not unknown to human nature.’
‘Are you going with her?’
As soon as he heard the question, Mahendra thought, ‘Bihari has come to argue that it is not appropriate for her to travel with her jyatha.’ Lest his rage boil over if he tried to say too much, he answered curtly, ‘No.’
Bihari knew Mahendra, and was not unaware of his growing fury. He also knew that, once possessed of a stubborn idea, Mahendra’s resolve could not be shaken. Hence, he refrained from suggesting that Mahendra, too, should go on the trip. He thought to himself: ‘If poor Asha is leaving with a heavy heart, it would console her to have Binodini for company.’ So, he gently said, ‘Couldn’t Binod Bouthan accompany her?’
‘Bihari, speak your mind clearly,’ roared Mahendra. ‘I see no reason for you to dissemble with me. I know you secretly suspect me of being in love with Binodini. That is a lie. I don’t love her. There is no need for you to act as my bodyguard in order to protect me. Now, it is time for you to defend yourself. If you only had simple friendship in mind, you would have revealed your thoughts to me long ago and then removed yourself from the inner quarters of your friend’s house. I say this to your face: you have fallen in love with Asha.’
Pale and speechless, Bihari got up from the chowki and rushed towards Mahendra, like an injured man blindly hitting out at the assailant who has wounded him in a tender spot. He stopped suddenly and, with great difficulty, said, ‘May God forgive you! I shall take my leave.’ With these words, he lurched out of the room.
From the next room, Binodini ran up to him and said, ‘Bihari Thakurpo!’
Leaning against the wall and trying to summon up a small smile, Bihari asked, ‘What is it, Binod Bouthan?’
‘Thakurpo, I shall accompany Chokher Bali to Kashi.’
‘No, no, Bouthan, that would not do, it simply would not do. I beg you, please do nothing at my bidding. I do
n’t belong here; I have no wish to interfere in these matters, for no good would come of it. You are a devi, a goddess; do whatever you think is best. I shall take your leave.’
With these words, Bihari folded his hands in a respectful gesture of farewell, and left.
‘I am no devi, Thakurpo,’ Binodini called after him. ‘Please hear me out before you leave. If you go away, it will not benefit anybody. Don’t blame me for anything that happens after this.’
Bihari went away. Mahendra sat, stupefied. Darting at him a sharp sidelong glance like a flash of lightning, Binodini went into the adjoining room, where Asha was cringing in acute shame and embarrassment. Hearing Mahendra declare that Bihari was in love with her, she hung her head, unable to raise her face. But Binodini no longer felt any pity for her. If Asha had looked up at that moment, she would have felt frightened. It was as if Binodini was out to destroy the whole world.
Falsehood indeed! So, nobody loved Binodini! Everybody loved this shy little butter-doll, this delicate darling!
Ever since he had declared himself a villain, Mahendra, once his agitation subsided, had felt awkward about his sudden self-revelation to Bihari. He felt as if all his innermost thoughts had been exposed. He did not love Binodini, yet Bihari was certain that he did—this annoyed him greatly. Whenever they had met after that, Mahendra felt that Bihari was trying to ferret out some private secret. Today, at the slightest provocation, all the annoyance accumulated in Mahendra’s mind had burst into the open.
But the way Binodini came anxiously rushing out of the next room, the anguished tones in which she tried to persuade Bihari to stay, her readiness to accompany Asha to Kashi at Bihari’s bidding—Mahendra had never imagined all this possible. Witnessing this scene, he was overwhelmed, crushed as if by a powerful blow. He had declared that he did not love Binodini; but what he heard, and what he saw, left him no peace of mind, tormenting him in a myriad different ways. And constantly, with vain regret, he thought, ‘Binodini heard me say that I do not love her.’