Bankimchandra Omnibus: Volume - 1: v. 1 Read online

  Nagendra ordered, ‘Drive them all away.’

  Earlier, one of his rent-collectors had beaten one of his tenants and taken one rupee from him. Nagendra had deducted ten rupees from the rent-collector’s salary and given it to the tenant.

  Haradev Ghoshal wrote to Nagendra, ‘What has happened to you? What are you doing? I do not know what to think. I receive no letters from you. If I do receive one, it is only two lines, with nothing in them. There is no news. Are you angry with me? Why do you not say so? Have you lost a lawsuit? Why do you not tell me? Whatever else you do or don’t tell me, tell me whether you are well or not.’

  Nagendra wrote back, ‘I am not angry with you—I am driven to destruction.’

  Haradev was very experienced. Having read the letter, he thought, ‘What is this? Money problems? Estrangement from friends? Devendra Datta? Or, is this love?’

  Kamalamani received another letter from Suryamukhi. At the end was this: ‘Please come! Kamalamani! Sister! I have no other friend than you. Please come.’

  13

  A Great Battle

  KAMALAMANI’S ATTITUDE CHANGED. SHE COULD STAY AWAY NO LONGER. Kamalamani was a jewel of a woman. So she went to her husband.

  Shrishchandra was in the inner building, going through the office accounts book. Beside him, sitting on a mattress, their one-year-old son Satishchandra had taken possession of an English newspaper. First, Satishchandra had tried to see if he could eat the newspaper, but not being able to accomplish that, he had spread it out and was now sitting on it.

  Kamalamani went up to her husband, put her arms around his neck and then prostrated herself at his feet. Joining her hands together she said, ‘Salaam to the Great King!’

  (Recently the play ‘Govinda the Prince’11 had been performed at the house.)

  Shrishchandra laughed and said, ‘Has another cucumber been stolen?’

  Kamala said, ‘Neither cucumber nor pumpkin. This time a very important thing has been stolen.’

  Shrishchandra asked, ‘What has been stolen, and where?’

  Kamala said, ‘The theft has occurred at Govindapur. There was one farthing in my brother’s golden box, and someone has taken it.’

  Shrishchandra, puzzled, said, ‘Your brother’s golden box is Suryamukhi—but what is the farthing?’

  Kamalamani said, ‘Suryamukhi’s intelligence.’

  Shrishchandra said, ‘Well, people say that if you gamble, you can gamble with a farthing. Suryamukhi bought your brother with that same farthing—and if you have as much intelligence—’ Kamalamani pinched Shrishchandra’s mouth shut. Freeing himself, Shrishchandra said, ‘Who has stolen that farthing?’

  Kamala said, ‘I don’t know—but reading her letter, I can see that that farthing has been stolen—otherwise why would the woman write such a letter?’

  Shrishchandra said, ‘Can I see the letter?’

  Kamalamani put Suryamukhi’s letter into Shrishchandra’s hand and said, ‘Read it. Suryamukhi forbade me to tell you about all this—but I can’t breathe properly when I haven’t told you everything. I couldn’t sleep unless I showed you the letter—or I would fall ill.’

  Shrishchandra took the letter, thought, and said, ‘Since you were forbidden, I won’t look at the letter. I won’t ask you to tell me the contents, either. Just tell me what is to be done.’

  Kamalamani said, ‘This is what is to be done—Suryamukhi’s little bit of intelligence is gone—she is in need of some. Who else is there who can give her some intelligence—Satish Babu has it all. So his aunt has written to ask him to go to Govindapur.’

  During all this, Satish Babu had upset a vase of flowers and was looking at the inkpot. Seeing this, Shrishchandra said, ‘He is a worthy bestower of intelligence, indeed! However that may be, I gather he has been invited to your mother-in-law’s house. If Satish must go, then Kamalamani will go too. If Suryamukhi’s farthing were not lost, why would she write any such thing?’

  Kamalamani said, ‘Is that all? Satish is invited, I am invited and you are invited.’

  Shrishchandra asked, ‘Why am I invited?’

  Kamala said, ‘Should I go alone? Who will carry our baggage?’

  Shrishchandra said, ‘This is very unjust of Suryamukhi. If she only needs a brother-in-law to carry pots and towels, then I can show her a two-day brother-in-law’

  Kamalamani became very angry. She frowned, made a face at Shrish, tore up the piece of paper Shrishchandra was writing on and threw it away. Shrish laughed and said, ‘Why did you go and do that?’

  Then Kamalamani angrily shook her fist at Shrishchandra. Biting her lower lip with teeth as white as lotus petals, she clenched her small hand into a small fist and shook it at him.

  Seeing her fist, Shrishchandra undid Kamalamani’s hair. Then Kamalamani, with increased anger, tipped the ink from Shrishchandra’s inkwell into the spittoon.

  In a fit of passion, Shrishchandra, moving quickly, kissed Kamalamani. Impassionately also, impatiently, Kamalamani kissed Shrishchandra. Seeing this, Satishchandra was much amused. He knew that the leasehold on kissing was his. So seeing this profusion of it, he clutched his mother’s knee and stood up, with the intention of collecting the king’s share; and looking towards the faces of both he gave rise to a wave of laughter. How sweet that laughter sounded in Kamalamani’s ears! Kamalamani lifted Satish onto her lap and kissed him again and again. Then Shrishchandra took him from Kamala’s lap and kissed him again and again. In due course, Satish Babu, having thus collected the king’s share, got off; and catching sight of his father’s gold pencil he ran to carry it off. Then, holding it in his hands and thinking it would be a tasty snack, put it to his mouth and started licking it.

  During the war of the Kurus, Bhagadatta and Arjuna fought a grand battle. Bhagadatta threw a weapon which would not miss its target, Arjuna; knowing that Arjuna was powerless to ward it off, Krishna presented his own breast, received the weapon and subdued it. Similarly, in this great battle between Kamalamani and Shrishchandra, Satishchandra, by taking all their mighty weapons on his own face, stopped the fight. But this war and peace of theirs was like the rains of a rainy day—coming and passing repeatedly.

  Then Shrishchandra said, ‘Must you indeed go to Govindapur? How will I manage being alone?’

  Kamalamani said, ‘As I manage being alone. Let us both go. Go and finish all your office work, and if you take too long, Satish and I will sit on each side of you and weep.’

  Shrishchandra protested, ‘How can I go? It is the time for us to buy linseed. You go alone.’

  Kamalamani said, ‘Come, Satish! Come, we will sit on either side of him and weep.’

  Satish heard his mother’s call; giving up his pencil-sucking he gave rise to waves of joyous laughter, and consequently Kamala did not weep this time. Instead, she kissed Satish—and following her example, Shrishchandra kissed him also. Satish, demonstrating his skill, sent up another wave of laughter. When all these important matters had been concluded, Kamala said again, ‘Now what are your orders?’

  Shrishchandra said, ‘You go. I don’t forbid it, but how can I go during the linseed season?

  At this, Kamalamani turned her head away in pique. She said no more.

  There was a little ink in Shrishchandra’s pen. Shrishchandra took the pen and coming from behind her put a mark on Kamala’s forehead.

  Then Kamala laughed and said, ‘Dearest one, how I love you.’ She put her arms round his neck and kissed him, so that the ink mark was transferred to Shrishchandra’s cheek.

  After the latest battle had been won in this way, Kamala said, ‘If you really can’t go, then make arrangements for me to go.’

  Shrishchandra asked, ‘When will you return?’

  Kamalamani said, ‘Why do you ask? If you don’t go, will I be able to stay long?’

  Shrishchandra arranged Kamalamani’s journey to Govindapur. But I have reliable information that Shrishchandra’s employers did not make much profit from their trade in linseed that se
ason. The firm’s officials told me in confidence that this was Shrish Babu’s fault. He did not put his mind to his work much on this occasion. He just sat in his room staring at the rafters. Shrishchandra, hearing this story one day, said, ‘Exactly! I was abandoned by Lakshmi then.’ His listeners turned away saying, ‘Fie! How uxorious!’ Shrish heard this. He happily called the servants and said, ‘Prepare the meal well. These gentlemen will be eating here today.’

  14

  Found Out

  IN GOVINDAPUR, IN THE DATTA HOUSEHOLD, IT WAS AS IF A FLOWER HAD bloomed in the darkness. At the sight of Kamalamani’s smiling face, even Suryamukhi’s tears dried up. Kamalamani had barely set foot in the house when she sat down to do something about Suryamukhi’s hair. Suryamukhi had not dressed her hair for many days. Kamalamani said, ‘Shall I twine in a couple of flowers?’ Suryamukhi pinched her cheek. Kamalamani said, ‘No! No!’ and secretly put in two flowers. When people came she said, ‘Look, the woman is wearing flowers in her hair at her age!’

  Neither was the light-bringer’s light overshadowed by the clouds of Nagendra’s countenance. As soon as she saw Nagendra, Kamalamani touched, and pinched, his feet. Nagendra said, ‘Where have you come from?’ Kamala bowed her head and said, like an inoffensive, good-hearted person, ‘May it please you, Khoka brought me.’ Nagendra said, ‘Indeed! Beat the rascal!’ With these words he took Khoka on his lap and kissed him by way of punishment. Khoka reciprocated by dribbling on him and pulling his moustache.

  Kamalamani’s conversation with Kundanandini went thus: ‘Aha, Kundi—Kundi Mudi Dundi—are you well, then, Kundi?’

  Kundi did not speak. After thinking for a while, she said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘“Yes, Didi”—you should call me Didi—if you don’t, I’ll set fire to your hair while you’re asleep. Or else I’ll throw cockroaches all over you.’

  Kunda now began calling her ‘Didi’. When Kunda had stayed with Kamala in Kolkata, she did not address Kamala by any terms. Nor did she say much at all. But it was from that time that she had started to love Kamala for her constantly loving nature. She had forgotten her somewhat in the intervening years, not having seeing her. But now, because of Kamala’s nature, and Kunda’s also, that love sprang up afresh.

  Her affection intensified. Meanwhile, Kamalamani prepared to return to her husband’s house. Suryamukhi said, ‘No, dear! Stay another couple of days! If you leave, I can’t go on. Talking with you gives me peace.’ Kamala said, ‘I won’t go without settling your business.’ Suryamukhi said, ‘What business will you settle?’ Kamala said aloud, ‘Your funeral’; to herself she said, ‘Your deliverance from difficulty.’

  When Kundanandini heard that Kamala was going, she hid herself in her room and wept; Kamalamani followed secretly behind her; while Kundanandini wept, her head on the pillow, Kamalamani bound up her hair. Hair-dressing was an addiction with Kamala.

  Having finished styling Kunda’s hair, Kamala lifted Kunda’s head and took it on her lap. With the end of her sari, she wiped Kunda’s eyes. After all this, she finally asked, ‘Kundi, why were you weeping?’

  Kunda said, ‘Why are you leaving?’

  Kamalamani smiled a little. But that smile did not prevent two teardrops from forming. Silently, they ran down Kamalamani’s cheeks, falling over her smile. Rain fell over the sunshine.

  Kamalamani said, ‘Why do you weep for that?’

  Kunda said, ‘You at least love me.’

  Kamala asked, ‘Why—doesn’t anyone else love you?’

  Kunda remained silent.

  Kamala said, ‘Who doesn’t love you? The mistress doesn’t love you—yes? Don’t hide from me.’

  Kunda was silent.

  Kamala said, ‘My brother doesn’t love you?’

  Kunda was silent.

  Kamala said, ‘If I love you—and you love me, then why not come with me?’

  Still Kunda said nothing. Kamala said, ‘Will you come?’ Kunda shook her head. ‘No.’

  Kamala’s cheerful face became serious.

  Then Kamalamani affectionately lifted and held Kundanandini’s head to her breast, and affectionately stroking her cheek said, ‘Kunda, will you tell me truthfully?’

  Kunda said, ‘What?’

  Kamala said, ‘What I ask you? I am your elder sister—don’t hide from me—I will not tell anyone else.’ To herself Kamala said, ‘If I tell anyone, it will be the king’s minister, Shrish Babu. And Khoka.’

  Kunda said, ‘What are you saying?’

  Kamala said, ‘You love my brother very much—yes?’

  Kunda did not answer. Hiding her face in Kamalamani’s breast, she started to weep.

  Kamala said, ‘I understand—you have suffered. There is no harm in your suffering—but what if other people suffer with you?’

  Kundanandini lifted her head and gazed fixedly at Kamala’s face. Kamalamani understood her question. She said, ‘Unlucky girl, have you not seen? Can you not see that—’ The words remained unspoken—Kunda’s raised head turned again to Kamalamani’s breast. Kundanandini’s tears flooded over Kamalamani’s heart. Kundanandini wept silently for a long time—she wept inconsolably, like a child. She wept, and her companion’s tears soaked her hair.

  Kamala knew what love was. In her heart of hearts she grieved for Kundanandini’s sorrow, and was happy in her happiness. Wiping Kundanandini’s eyes she said, ‘Kunda!’

  Kunda lifted her head again and looked at her.

  Kamala said, ‘Come with me.’

  Tears started to fall again from Kunda’s eyes. Kamala said, ‘Will you come? Think—’a paradise for cows,

  After a long time, Kunda wiped her eyes, sat up and said, ‘I will come.’

  Why after a long time? Kamala understood. She understood that Kundanandini was sacrificing her own heart’s desire in the temple of the good of others. For Nagendra’s good, for Suryamukhi’s good, she was agreeing to forget Nagendra. That was why it had taken so long. And her own good? Kamala understood that Kundanandini could not understand what was for her own good.

  15

  Hira

  AT ABOUT THIS TIME, HARIDASI VAISHNAVI CAME AND SANG:

  I went to pick the flower of disgrace in the thorn thicket,

  My companion was the black flower of disgrace.

  I wore a garland on my head, earrings in my ears.

  My companion was the flower of disgrace.

  On this occasion, Suryamukhi was present. She sent someone to call Kamala to hear the singing. Kamala came to listen, bringing Kunda with her. The Vaishnavi began to sing:

  Come what may, the thorns blossom,

  I will steal and eat the flower’s nectar,

  I wander, seeking for where blossom

  New buds.

  Kamalamani frowned and said, ‘Sister Vaishnavi—let rubbish infect your mouth—and you will die. Don’t you know any other songs?’

  Haridasi Vaishnavi said, ‘Why?’ Kamala became even angrier; she said, ‘Why? Bring a thorny acacia branch here, then—I will show you how much pleasure thorns are, woman!’

  Suryamukhi said gently to Haridasi, ‘We do not like those songs—sing respectable songs in a family house.’

  Haridasi said, ‘Very well.’ She started to sing:

  I will read the smriti shastras, begging

  them from the Bhattacharyas.

  I will learn piety and impiety, no young woman will reproach me.

  Kamala frowned and said, ‘Mistress of the house—listen to your Vaishnavi’s songs yourself if you want to; I am leaving.’ With these words, Kamala went away—Suryamukhi too, with a displeased expression, got up and went away. The other women, following their own inclinations, either went away or stayed; Kundanandini stayed. The reason for this was that Kundandini had understood nothing of the substance of the songs—she had not even listened much—she was abstracted and merely stayed where she was. Haridasi sang no more songs. Idle chatter arose here and there. Seeing that there was no further singing, everyone got up and went awa
y. Only Kundanandini did not get up—it was doubtful whether she had any strength left in her legs. Then, having Kunda to herself, Haridasi talked to her a great deal. Kunda listened only to some of it.

  Suryamukhi was watching all this from a distance. When she saw that the two of them seemed to be talking with rapt attention, she called Kamala to see them. Kamala said, ‘What is this, then? Let them talk. They are only women.’

  Suryamukhi said, ‘Isn’t that woman a man?’

  Kamala was astonished and said, ‘What?’

  Suryamukhi said, ‘I think that is some man in disguise. I will find out straight-away—but how sinful Kunda is.’

  ‘Wait. I will fetch an acacia branch. I will show the chap the pleasure of thorns.’ With these words, Kamala went in search of an acacia branch. On the way she met Satish—Satish had taken possession of his aunt’s box of vermilion and was lavishly painting his own cheeks, nose, chin and belly—seeing him, Kamala forgot all about the Vaishnavi, the acacia branch, Kundanandini and the rest.

  Then Suryamukhi sent for Hira.

  Hira’s name has been mentioned already. Now some information about her is necessary.

  Nagendra and his father were particularly keen in employing maidservants of very good character in the house. With this intention, both agreed to pay good wages, and tried to employ women from fairly upper-class homes. In their house, maidservants lived happily and with honour, and consequently the daughters of many poor gentlefolk accepted service with them. Among those of this sort, Hira was the foremost. Many of the maidservants were Kayasthas—Hira, too, was a Kayastha—Nagendra’s father had brought her grandmother from her village. Initially, it was her grandmother who was employed—Hira was then a child who came with her. Later, when Hira was old enough, the grandmother gave up her job and with the money she had saved, built a small house to live in in Govindapur—Hira took employment in the Datta household.