‘Here you are Binoybabu,’ exclaimed Abinash as soon as he saw him. ‘Excellent! Come with us please.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘We are going to prepare the garden estate at Kashipur. A gathering will take place there for Gourmohanbabu’s penance.’
‘No, I can’t get away now,’ Binoy demurred.
‘How is that possible!’ protested Abinash. ‘Do you realize, all of you, what a major event this is going to be? Else would Gourmohanbabu have made such a needless proposal? In today’s world, the Hindu community must express its might. What an upheaval this penance of Gourmohanbabu’s will create in the hearts of our countrymen! We’ll invite great learned Brahman sages from all over the world. This will have a major impact on the Hindu community. People will realize that we are still alive. They will understand that the Hindu community is indestructible!’
Evading Abinash’s allurements, Binoy went away.
~56~
When Borodasundari sent for Haranbabu and told him everything, he remained gravely silent for a while, then said:
‘It is my duty to discuss this with Lalita once.’ When Lalita appeared, Haranbabu put on his severest expression and declared: ‘Look here Lalita, you have arrived at a moment of great responsibility in your life. Your faith on one side, and your inclinations on the other—between these two, you must choose your path.’ Pausing, Haranbabu fixed his gaze on Lalita’s face. He was aware that this gaze of his, ablaze with the fire of justice, made cowardice quail and deceit turn to ashes. His radiant spiritual gaze was one of the precious possessions of the Brahmo Samaj.
Lalita said nothing. She remained silent.
‘Perhaps you have heard,’ Haranbabu continued, ‘that either out of concern for your predicament, or for whatever reason, Binoybabu has finally agreed to be initiated into the Brahmo Samaj.’
Lalita had not heard this news before, nor did she express her feelings upon hearing it. Her eyes lit up. She remained still as a stone statue.
‘Doubtless Poreshbabu is delighted at Binoy’s compliance,’ Haranbabu observed. ‘But it is for you to decide whether there is any real cause for rejoicing in this. Therefore on behalf of the Brahmo Samaj I request you now to set aside your own wild inclinations and ask your heart, fixing your gaze only on your dharma—is this any real cause for joy?’
Still Lalita was silent. Haranbabu thought his arguments were working very well. ‘Initiation!’ he pursued, with redoubled enthusiasm. ‘Must I now explain how sacred is the moment of initiation? Would you pollute that very idea of initiation! Seduced by pleasure, convenience or attachment, should we allow the untrue to enter the Brahmo Samaj and invite deceit into our midst with pomp and ceremony! Tell me Lalita, must your life be forever associated with this history of the degradation of the Brahmo Samaj?’
Still Lalita said nothing. Gripping the chair handle, she remained completely still.
‘I have often witnessed how weakness attacks human beings invincibly, using attachment as a loophole,’ Haranbabu continued. ‘And I also know how to forgive human weakness. But you tell me Lalita, can one for a single instant forgive the weakness that attacks not only one’s own life, but the very foundation of a hundred thousand lives? Has Ishwar given us the right to forgive such a thing?’
Lalita rose from her chair. ‘No, no, Panubabu,’ she cried, ‘please don’t forgive us. People the world over have grown used to your attacks, but your forgiveness I think would be too much for anyone to bear.’ With these words Lalita left the room.
Haranbabu’s words made Borodasundari very anxious. She could not release Binoy now, under any circumstances. After many futile pleas, she ultimately lost her temper and sent Haranbabu away. Her problem was that she had neither Poreshbabu nor Haranbabu on her side. Nobody could have imagined such an unthinkable situation. It was now time for Borodasundari to change her mind again about Haranbabu.
As long as Binoy remained vague about the prospect of initiation, he had been expressing his resolve very strongly. But when he discovered that he must apply to the Brahmo Samaj and that Haranbabu would be consulted in the matter, he grew extremely perturbed at the threat of such open publicity. He could not think where to go, or whom to consult. It even seemed impossible for him to approach Anandamoyi. Nor had he the strength to roam the streets. So he went to his empty home and lay down on the woodplank bed in the room upstairs.
It was almost dark. When the attendant brought a light into the dark chamber, Binoy was about to forbid him when he heard someone call from downstairs:
‘Binoybabu! Binoybabu!’
Binoy heaved a sigh of relief, as if he had found water to quench his thirst in the desert. At this moment, no-one but Satish could have brought him solace. Binoy overcame his listlessness.
‘What is it, bhai Satish?’ he answered, jumping up from the bed and rushing downstairs without even putting on his shoes.
In his tiny courtyard, facing the stairs, he saw Borodasundari standing with Satish. Again the same problems, the same conflict! Flustered, Binoy led Satish and Borodasundari to the room upstairs.
‘Satish, go sit in that veranda for a while,’ ordered Borodasundari.
Pained at Satish’s joyless exile, Binoy took out some picture books for him and settled him in the adjacent room, lighting the lamp there.
‘Binoy, you don’t know anyone in the Brahmo Samaj. Let me carry a letter from you, which I shall deliver personally to the editor tomorrow morning, to arrange everything so your initiation ceremony takes place this very Sunday, the day after tomorrow. You need have no further worries.’
Borodasundari’s proposal left Binoy speechless. Under her directions, he wrote out a letter and handed it to her. He needed to take up some course of action, no matter what, so it would become impossible for him to retract or hesitate.
Borodasundari also left some hints about his marrying Lalita. When she had departed, Binoy began to experience a tremendous feeling of distaste. Even the memory of Lalita struck a rather discordant note in his heart. He began to feel that Lalita too had something to do with this unseemly haste on Borodasundari’s part. Along with his own loss of self-esteem, his respect for everyone else seemed to diminish as well.
As soon as she was home, Borodasundari thought she would delight Lalita. That Lalita loved Binoy she had understood for certain. That was why their prospective marriage had stirred up such trouble within the community. At that time she had blamed everyone but herself. For a few days she had more or less stopped speaking to Lalita. So, now that a solution had been found, she was eager to take major credit for it, in order to achieve a reconciliation with Lalita. Lalita’s father had virtually ruined everything, after all. Lalita herself had not been able to tackle Binoy. Nor had they got any help from Panubabu. Borodasundari had cut through all the knotty problems, all by herself. Yes, yes indeed! What a woman alone could accomplish was beyond the capacity of five men.
When she came home, Borodasundari was informed that Lalita had retired early tonight, as she was not feeling too well. ‘I shall help her recover,’ Borodasundari smiled to herself. Lamp in hand, she entered the dark bedchamber to find Lalita not yet in bed, but reclining instead in an armchair.
‘Ma, where had you gone?’ she demanded, sitting up at once. She had heard that Borodasundari had accompanied Satish to Binoy’s house.
‘I had gone to Binoy’s place.’
‘Why?’
Why! Borodasundari was privately rather annoyed. ‘Lalita imagines that I am always working against her, as her enemy! How ungrateful!’ she thought.
‘See why!’ she said, and held out Binoy’s letter, letting it unfold before Lalita’s eyes. As she read the letter, Lalita’s face grew flushed. To publicize her own achievements, Borodasundari informed her with some exaggeration that extracting this letter from Binoy had been no easy mat
ter. She could claim with confidence that such a feat was beyond the powers of any other human being.
Covering her face with both hands, Lalita fell back into her armchair. Borodasundari imagined she was too shy to express the intensity of her emotions in front of her mother. She left the room.
The next morning, when it was time to carry the letter to the Brahmo Samaj, Borodasundari found that someone had torn it to shreds.
~57~
As Sucharita was getting ready to visit Poreshbabu in the afternoon, the attendant announced a visitor, a babu.
‘Which babu? Binoybabu?’
‘No, a very fair, tall babu.’
Sucharita started. ‘Bring the babu upstairs,’ she said.
Until then, she had not even noticed what she was wearing or how she had draped her sari. But now, standing before her mirror, she found she did not like her own attire. There was no time to change. Hands shaking, she tidied her sari aanchal and her hair, then entered the room with a trembling heart. She had completely forgotten that Gora’s collected works were lying on her table. Gora sat on a chair directly facing that very table. The books lay shamelessly, in front of his eyes; there was no means of concealing or removing them.
‘Mashima has been anxiously waiting for you all these days. Let me send for her.’ With these words, Sucharita left the room immediately after entering it. She could not find the strength to converse alone with Gora. After a while she reappeared, accompanied by Harimohini. For some time now, Harimohini had been hearing Binoy’s accounts of Gora’s convictions, devotion to duty, and way of life. Often, in the afternoon, at her request, Sucharita had been reading Gora’s writings to her. Not that Harimohini completely understood those pieces. Actually, they helped her to doze off. Still, she could more or less gather that Gora was fighting in support of the scriptures and social customs, against the present-day disregard for rituals. For a modern, English-educated boy, what could be more extraordinary, or more creditable! When she had first seen Binoy in the midst of a Brahmo family, it was he who had brought her a great deal of comfort. But having gradually grown accustomed to this, when she began to observe Binoy in her own household, what she noticed with great displeasure were the lapses in his observance of restrictions. It was because she had come to depend heavily on Binoy that her rejection of him grew more pronounced with each passing day. That was why she had been so eagerly awaiting Gora’s arrival.
As soon as she saw Gora, Harimohini was utterly amazed. Here was a Brahman indeed! Like the sacrificial hom fire personified. Like Lord Shiva with his white body. She felt such a surge of devotion within, that when Gora touched her feet in obeisance, Harimohini was embarrassed to accept his pranam.
‘I have heard a lot about you, baba!’ Harimohini told him. ‘Are you Gour? Gour indeed, so fair! I’m reminded of that kirtan song:
With moon’s ambrosia and sandal paste,
O who has polished Gora’s form …
Today I see it with my own eyes. How did they have the heart to throw you jail, I wonder!’
‘If people like you became magistrates, rats and bats would nest in our prisons,’ smiled Gora.
‘No baba,’ protested Harimohini, ‘is there any lack of thieves and scoundrels in this world? Didn’t the magistrate have eyes in his head? One only has to glance at your face to see you’re no ordinary person, that you’re chosen by the Almighty Ishwar. Must you be sent to prison just because prisons exist? Baap re! What sort of justice is this!’
‘Magistrates look only at law-books when they apply the law, lest they confront the Almighty’s image in the faces of human beings,’ Gora replied. ‘Otherwise, having condemned human beings to flogging, imprisonment, exile or the noose, could they enjoy sleep or the taste of rice?’
‘Whenever I get a chance, I make Radharani read aloud from your books,’ Harimohini informed him. ‘All these days, I was waiting hopefully for the day I could hear all sorts of wonderful words from your own lips. I am an illiterate woman, and very unfortunate; I don’t comprehend everything, nor can I concentrate on all things. But I’m deeply convinced, baba, that I shall learn something from you.’
Gora maintained a polite silence, without contradicting her. ‘Baba, you must have a bite before you leave,’ Harimohini persisted. ‘It’s been a long time since I fed a Brahman’s son like you. Today, just taste what sweets are at hand, but you are invited to dine properly at my place another day.’ When Harimohini went away to arrange some refreshments, Sucharita’s heart began to race.
‘Did Binoy come here today?’ Gora began directly.
‘Yes.’
‘I have not met Binoy since, but I know why he came here.’
Gora paused. Sucharita also remained silent.
‘You people are trying to get Binoy married according to Brahmo customs,’ Gora continued. ‘Is that a good idea?’
At this jibe, all the constraints of diffidence or shyness vanished from Sucharita’s mind.
‘Do you expect me to consider a Brahmo wedding improper?’ she demanded, lifting her eyes to look at him directly.
‘I have no small expectations of you, that’s for sure,’ Gora retorted. ‘I expect much more of you than what may be expected from a member of some community. I can assert with great certainty that you don’t belong to the category of labour leaders who care only about swelling the numbers of a particular party. It is my desire that you too should understand yourself properly. Please don’t be misled by others into underestimating yourself. You are not merely an ordinary member of some party: this you yourself must realize clearly, within your own heart.’
Sucharita summoned up all her mental strength to remain alert and firm. ‘Aren’t you a member of some party too?’ she asked.
‘I am a Hindu. Hindus are not a party after all. Hindus are a community. So immense is this community, it is impossible to express its essence by confining it to any label. Just as the ocean can’t be described by its waves, Hindus can’t be described as a party either.’
‘If Hindus are not a party, why do they resort to party politics?’
‘When you try to kill a man, why does he try to defend himself? Because he has a living spirit. Only a lifeless stone would lie passive in the face of all assaults.’
‘If Hindus take for an assault what I understand to be my faith, what would you advise me to do?’
‘I would urge you that, since what you consider your duty is a painful assault on the great entity called the Hindu community, you must ponder very carefully whether there is some delusion or blindness within yourself, and whether you have contemplated everything from all angles, in every way. It is not proper to cause such a great disruption, taking the customs of one’s own party to be the truth, through sheer force of habit or out of laziness. When a rat begins to nibble away at a ship’s hull, it goes merely by its own convenience or natural instincts; it does not realize that boring a hole through such a great refuge will cause far greater harm to everyone else than the little bit of ease it will gain for the rat itself. Similarly, you too must consider whether you are thinking only of your own party or of humanity as a whole. Humanity as a whole—do you realize the magnitude of what that signifies? How diverse are the natures, tendencies and needs that it encompasses? All human beings do not occupy the same position on the same trajectory—some confront mountains, some face oceans, others open fields. Yet no-one can afford to remain idle; everyone must move on. Do you want to impose your own party’s sole authority upon everyone else? Do you wish to turn a blind eye, imagining there’s no diversity among human beings, that everyone is born into this world only to enlist with the Brahmo Samaj? Those brigand races who believe it’s best for the world if they vanquish all other races to extend their sole empire, who are too arrogant about their own power to admit that the distinctiveness of o
ther races is of priceless benefit to the world, who spread only slavery across the world—how are you people different from them?’
For a moment Sucharita forgot all her arguments. Gora’s voice, deep as thunder, swayed her entire soul with an extraordinary force. She forgot Gora was arguing about something, aware only that he was speaking.
‘It is not your Samaj alone that has created the twenty crore people of Bharatvarsha,’ Gora continued. ‘On what grounds do you seek to utterly flatten out this vast Bharatvarsha, by forcibly seizing the responsibility of decreeing which course of action is suitable for these twenty crores, or which beliefs and practices would ensure sustenance and strength for all of them! The greater the hindrances you encounter in your impossible attempt, the more angry and disrespectful you will feel towards your own country, and the more your contempt will alienate the very people you wish to help! Yet, the Lord who made human beings so diverse, who wishes to preserve their diversity, is the very One you imagine that you worship. If all of you truly believe in Him, why are you unable to recognize his decree? Why does pride in your own intelligence and your own party prevent you from accepting its significance?’
Observing that Sucharita was listening in silence without trying to offer any reply, Gora felt sorry for her. He paused, then continued in a gentler tone:
‘Perhaps my words strike you as harsh. But don’t view me with hostility as a member of the enemy camp. Had I perceived you as an enemy I would not have spoken to you at all. It pains me to see your natural broad-mindedness confined within the limits of a party.’