The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore

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From Sandip's dry throat there came a muffled cry: "Whither would
you flee, Queen?" The next moment he left his seat with a bound
to seize hold of me. At the sound of footsteps outside the door,
however, he rapidly retreated and fell back into his chair. I
checked my steps near the bookshelf, where I stood staring at the
names of the books.

As my husband entered the room, Sandip exclaimed: "I say, Nikhil,
don't you keep Browning among your books here? I was just
telling Queen Bee of our college club. Do you remember that
contest of ours over the translation of those lines from
Browning? You don't?

/*
"She should never have looked at me,
If she meant I should not love her,
There are plenty ... men you call such,
I suppose ... she may discover
All her soul to, if she pleases,
And yet leave much as she found them:
But I'm not so, and she knew it
When she fixed me, glancing round them.
*/

"I managed to get together the words to render it into Bengali,
somehow, but the result was hardly likely to be a 'joy forever'
to the people of Bengal. I really did think at one time that I
was on the verge of becoming a poet, but Providence was kind
enough to save me from that disaster. Do you remember old
Dakshina? If he had not become a Salt Inspector, he would have
been a poet. I remember his rendering to this day ...

"No, Queen Bee, it is no use rummaging those bookshelves. Nikhil
has ceased to read poetry since his marriage--perhaps he has no
further need for it. But I suppose 'the fever fit of poesy', as
the Sanskrit has it, is about to attack me again."

"I have come to give you a warning, Sandip," said my husband.

"About the fever fit of poesy?"

My husband took no notice of this attempt at humour. "For some
time," he continued, "Mahomedan preachers have been about
stirring up the local Mussulmans. They are all wild with you,
and may attack you any moment."

"Are you come to advise flight?"

"I have come to give you information, not to offer advice."

"Had these estates been mine, such a warning would have been
necessary for the preachers, not for me. If, instead of trying
to frighten me, you give them a taste of your intimidation, that
would be worthier both of you and me. Do you know that your
weakness is weakening your neighbouring __zamindars__ also?"

"I did not offer you my advice, Sandip. I wish you, too, would
refrain from giving me yours. Besides, it is useless. And there
is another thing I want to tell you. You and your followers have
been secretly worrying and oppressing my tenantry. I cannot
allow that any longer. So I must ask you to leave my territory."

"For fear of the Mussulmans, or is there any other fear you have
to threaten me with?"

"There are fears the want of which is cowardice. In the name of
those fears, I tell you, Sandip, you must go. In five days I
shall be starting for Calcutta. I want you to accompany me. You
may of course stay in my house there--to that there is no
objection."

"All right, I have still five day's time then. Meanwhile, Queen
Bee, let me hum to you my song of parting from your honey-hive.
Ah! you poet of modern Bengal! Throw open your doors and let me
plunder your words. The theft is really yours, for it is my song
which you have made your own--let the name be yours by all means,
but the song is mine." With this Sandip struck up in a deep,
husky voice, which threatened to be out of tune, a song in the
Bhairavi mode:

/*
"In the springtime of your kingdom, my Queen,
Meetings and partings chase each other in their endless hide
and seek,
And flowers blossom in the wake of those that droop and die in
the shade.
In the springtime of your kingdom, my Queen,
My meeting with you had its own songs,
But has not also my leave-taking any gift to offer you?
That gift is my secret hope, which I keep hidden in the shadows
of your flower garden,
That the rains of July may sweetly temper your fiery June."
*/

His boldness was immense--boldness which had no veil, but was naked
as fire. One finds no time to stop it: it is like trying
to resist a thunderbolt: the lightning flashes: it laughs at all
resistance.

I left the room. As I was passing along the verandah towards the
inner apartments, Amulya suddenly made his appearance and came
and stood before me.

"Fear nothing, Sister Rani," he said. "I am off tonight and
shall not return unsuccessful."

"Amulya," said I, looking straight into his earnest, youthful
face, "I fear nothing for myself, but may I never cease to fear
for you."

Amulya turned to go, but before he was out of sight I called him
back and asked: "Have you a mother, Amulya?"

"I have."

"A sister?"

"No, I am the only child of my mother. My father died when I was
quite little."

"Then go back to your mother, Amulya."

"But, Sister Rani, I have now both mother and sister."

"Then, Amulya, before you leave tonight, come and have your
dinner here."

"There won't be time for that. Let me take some food for the
journey, consecrated with your touch."

"What do you specially like, Amulya?"
"If I had been with my mother I should have had lots of Poush
cakes. Make some for me with your own hands, Sister Rani!"

------

25. Of the __Ramayana__. The story of his devotion to his
elder brother Rama and his brother's wife Sita, has become a
byword.

Chapter Ten

Nikhil's Story

XII

I LEARNT from my master that Sandip had joined forces with Harish
Kundu, and there was to be a grand celebration of the worship of
the demon-destroying Goddess. Harish Kundu was extorting the
expenses from his tenantry. Pandits Kaviratna and Vidyavagish
had been commissioned to compose a hymn with a double meaning.

My master has just had a passage at arms with Sandip over this.
"Evolution is at work amongst the gods as well," says Sandip.
"The grandson has to remodel the gods created by the grandfather
to suit his own taste, or else he is left an atheist. It is my
mission to modernize the ancient deities. I am born the saviour
of the gods, to emancipate them from the thraldom of the past."

I have seen from our boyhood what a juggler with ideas is Sandip.
He has no interest in discovering truth, but to make a quizzical
display of it rejoices his heart. Had he been born in the wilds
of Africa he would have spent a glorious time inventing argument
after argument to prove that cannibalism is the best means of
promoting true communion between man and man. But those who deal
in delusion end by deluding themselves, and I fully believe that,
each time Sandip creates a new fallacy, he persuades himself that
he has found the truth, however contradictory his creations may
be to one another.

However, I shall not give a helping hand to establish a liquor
distillery in my country. The young men, who are ready to offer
their services for their country's cause, must not fall into this
habit of getting intoxicated. The people who want to exact work
by drugging methods set more value on the excitement than on the
minds they intoxicate.

I had to tell Sandip, in Bimala's presence, that he must go.
Perhaps both will impute to me the wrong motive. But I must free
myself also from all fear of being misunderstood. Let even
Bimala misunderstand me ...

A number of Mahomedan preachers are being sent over from Dacca.
The Mussulmans in my territory had come to have almost as much of
an aversion to the killing of cows as the Hindus. But now cases
of cow-killing are cropping up here and there. I had the news
first from some of my Mussulman tenants with expressions of their
disapproval. Here was a situation which I could see would be
difficult to meet. At the bottom was a pretence of fanaticism,
which would cease to be a pretence if obstructed. That is just
where the ingenuity of the move came in!

I sent for some of my principal Hindu tenants and tried to get
them to see the matter in its proper light. "We can be staunch
in our own convictions," I said, "but we have no control over
those of others. For all that many of us are Vaishnavas, those
of us who are Shaktas go on with their animal sacrifices just the
same. That cannot be helped. We must, in the same way, let the
Mussulmans do as they think best. So please refrain from all
disturbance."

"Maharaja," they replied, "these outrages have been unknown for
so long."

"That was so," I said, "because such was their spontaneous
desire. Let us behave in such a way that the same may become
true, over again. But a breach of the peace is not the way to
bring this about."

"No, Maharaja," they insisted, "those good old days are gone.
This will never stop unless you put it down with a strong hand."

"Oppression," I replied, "will not only not prevent cow-killing,
it may lead to the killing of men as well."

One of them had had an English education. He had learnt to
repeat the phrases of the day. "It is not only a question of
orthodoxy," he argued. "Our country is mainly agricultural, and
cows are ..."

"Buffaloes in this country," I interrupted, "likewise give milk
and are used for ploughing. And therefore, so long as we dance
frantic dances on our temple pavements, smeared with their blood,
their severed heads carried on our shoulders, religion will only
laugh at us if we quarrel with Mussulmans in her name, and
nothing but the quarrel itself will remain true. If the cow
alone is to be held sacred from slaughter, and not the buffalo,
then that is bigotry, not religion."

"But are you not aware, sir, of what is behind all this?"
pursued the English-knowing tenant. "This has only become
possible because the Mussulman is assured of safety, even if he
breaks the law. Have you not heard of the Pachur case?"

"Why is it possible," I asked, "to use the Mussulmans thus, as
tools against us? Is it not because we have fashioned them into
such with our own intolerance? That is how Providence punishes
us. Our accumulated sins are being visited on our own heads."

"Oh, well, if that be so, let them be visited on us. But we
shall have our revenge. We have undermined what was the greatest
strength of the authorities, their devotion to their own laws.
Once they were truly kings, dispensing justice; now they
themselves will become law-breakers, and so no better than
robbers. This may not go down to history, but we shall carry it
in our hearts for all time ..."

The evil reports about me which are spreading from paper to paper
are making me notorious. News comes that my effigy has been
burnt at the river-side burning-ground of the Chakravartis, with
due ceremony and enthusiasm; and other insults are in
contemplation. The trouble was that they had come to ask me to
take shares in a Cotton Mill they wanted to start. I had to tell
them that I did not so much mind the loss of my own money, but I
would not be a party to causing a loss to so many poor
shareholders.

"Are we to understand, Maharaja," said my visitors, "that the
prosperity of the country does not interest you?"

"Industry may lead to the country's prosperity," I explained,
"but a mere desire for its prosperity will not make for success
in industry. Even when our heads were cool, our industries did
not flourish. Why should we suppose that they will do so just
because we have become frantic?"

"Why not say plainly that you will not risk your money?"

"I will put in my money when I see that it is industry which
prompts you. But, because you have lighted a fire, it does not
follow that you have the food to cook over it."

XIII

What is this? Our Chakua sub-treasury looted! A remittance of
seven thousand five hundred rupees was due from there to
headquarters. The local cashier had changed the cash at the
Government Treasury into small currency notes for convenience in
carrying, and had kept them ready in bundles. In the middle of
the night an armed band had raided the room, and wounded Kasim,
the man on guard. The curious part of it was that they had taken
only six thousand rupees and left the rest scattered on the
floor, though it would have been as easy to carry that away also.
Anyhow, the raid of the dacoits was over; now the police raid
would begin. Peace was out of the question.

When I went inside, I found the news had travelled before me.
"What a terrible thing, brother," exclaimed the Bara Rani.
"Whatever shall we do?"

I made light of the matter to reassure her. "We still have
something left," I said with a smile. "We shall manage to get
along somehow."

"Don't joke about it, brother dear. Why are they all so angry
with you? Can't you humour them? Why put everybody out?"

"I cannot let the country go to rack and ruin, even if that would
please everybody."

"That was a shocking thing they did at the burning-grounds. It's
a horrid shame to treat you so. The Chota Rani has got rid of
all her fears by dint of the Englishwoman's teaching, but as for
me, I had to send for the priest to avert the omen before I could
get any peace of mind. For my sake, dear, do get away to
Calcutta. I tremble to think what they may do, if you stay on
here."

My sister-in-law's genuine anxiety touched me deeply.

"And, brother," she went on, "did I not warn you, it was not well
to keep so much money in your room? They might get wind of it
any day. It is not the money--but who knows..."

To calm her I promised to remove the money to the treasury at
once, and then get it away to Calcutta with the first escort
going. We went together to my bedroom. The dressing-room door
was shut. When I knocked, Bimala called out: "I am dressing."

"I wonder at the Chota Rani," exclaimed my sister-in-law,
"dressing so early in the day! One of their __Bande Mataram__
meetings, I suppose. Robber Queen!" she called out in jest to
Bimala. "Are you counting your spoils inside?"

"I will attend to the money a little later," I said, as I came
away to my office room outside.

I found the Police Inspector waiting for me. "Any trace of the
dacoits?" I asked.

"I have my suspicions."

"On whom?"

"Kasim, the guard."

"Kasim? But was he not wounded?"

"A mere nothing. A flesh wound on the leg. Probably self-
inflicted."

"But I cannot bring myself to believe it. He is such a trusted
servant."

"You may have trusted him, but that does not prevent his being a
thief. Have I not seen men trusted for twenty years together,
suddenly developing..."

"Even if it were so, I could not send him to gaol. But why
should he have left the rest of the money lying about?"

"To put us off the scent. Whatever you may say, Maharaja, he
must be an old hand at the game. He mounts guard during his
watch, right enough, but I feel sure he has a finger in all the
dacoities going on in the neighbourhood."

With this the Inspector proceeded to recount the various methods
by which it was possible to be concerned in a dacoity twenty or
thirty miles away, and yet be back in time for duty.

"Have you brought Kasim here?" I asked.

"No," was the reply, "he is in the lock-up. The Magistrate is
due for the investigation."

"I want to see him," I said.

When I went to his cell he fell at my feet, weeping. "In God's
name," he said, "I swear I did not do this thing."

"I do not doubt you, Kasim," I assured him. "Fear nothing. They
can do nothing to you, if you are innocent."

Kasim, however, was unable to give a coherent account of the
incident. He was obviously exaggerating. Four or five hundred
men, big guns, numberless swords, figured in his narrative. It
must have been either his disturbed state of mind or a desire to
account for his easy defeat. He would have it that this was
Harish Kundu's doing; he was even sure he had heard the voice of
Ekram, the head retainer of the Kundus.

"Look here, Kasim," I had to warn him, "don't you be dragging
other people in with your stories. You are not called upon to
make out a case against Harish Kundu, or anybody else."

XIV

On returning home I asked my master to come over. He shook his
head gravely. "I see no good in this," said he--"this setting
aside of conscience and putting the country in its place. All
the sins of the country will now break out, hideous and
unashamed."

"Who do you think could have ..."

"Don't ask me. But sin is rampant. Send them all away, right
away from here."

"I have given them one more day. They will be leaving the day
after tomorrow."

"And another thing. Take Bimala away to Calcutta. She is
getting too narrow a view of the outside world from here, she
cannot see men and things in their true proportions. Let her see
the world--men and their work--give her abroad vision."

"That is exactly what I was thinking."

"Well, don't make any delay about it. I tell you, Nikhil, man's
history has to be built by the united effort of all the races in
the world, and therefore this selling of conscience for political
reasons--this making a fetish of one's country, won't do. I know
that Europe does not at heart admit this, but there she has not
the right to pose as our teacher. Men who die for the truth
become immortal: and, if a whole people can die for the truth, it
will also achieve immortality in the history of humanity. Here,
in this land of India, amid the mocking laughter of Satan
piercing the sky, may the feeling for this truth become real!
What a terrible epidemic of sin has been brought into our country
from foreign lands..."

The whole day passed in the turmoil of investigation. I was
tired out when I retired for the night. I left over sending my
sister-in-law's money to the treasury till next morning.

I woke up from my sleep at dead of night. The room was dark. I
thought I heard a moaning somewhere. Somebody must have been
crying. Sounds of sobbing came heavy with tears like fitful
gusts of wind in the rainy night. It seemed to me that the cry
rose from the heart of my room itself. I was alone. For some
days Bimala had her bed in another room adjoining mine. I rose
up and when I went out I found her in the balcony lying prone
upon her face on the bare floor.

This is something that cannot be written in words. He only knows
it who sits in the bosom of the world and receives all its pangs
in His own heart. The sky is dumb, the stars are mute, the night
is still, and in the midst of it all that one sleepless cry!

We give these sufferings names, bad or good, according to the
classifications of the books, but this agony which is welling up
from a torn heart, pouring into the fathomless dark, has it any
name? When in that midnight, standing under the silent stars, I
looked upon that figure, my mind was struck with awe, and I said
to myself: "Who am Ito judge her?" O life, O death, O God of the
infinite existence, I bow my head in silence to the mystery which
is in you.

Once I thought I should turn back. But I could not. I sat down
on the ground near Bimala and placed my hand on her head. At the
first touch her whole body seemed to stiffen, but the next moment
the hardness gave way, and the tears burst out. I gently passed
my fingers over her forehead. Suddenly her hands groping for my
feet grasped them and drew them to herself, pressing them against
her breast with such force that I thought her heart would break.

Bimala's Story

XVIII

Amulya is due to return from Calcutta this morning. I told the
servants to let me know as soon as he arrived, but could not keep
still. At last I went outside to await him in the sitting-room.

When I sent him off to sell the jewels I must have been thinking
only of myself. It never even crossed my mind that so young a
boy, trying to sell such valuable jewellery, would at once be
suspected. So helpless are we women, we needs must place on
others the burden of our danger. When we go to our death we drag
down those who are about us.

I had said with pride that I would save Amulya--as if she who was
drowning could save others. But instead of saving him, I have
sent him to his doom. My little brother, such a sister have I
been to you that Death must have smiled on that Brothers' Day
when I gave you my blessing--I, who wander distracted with the
burden of my own evil-doing.

I feel today that man is at times attacked with evil as with the
plague. Some germ finds its way in from somewhere, and then in
the space of one night Death stalks in. Why cannot the stricken
one be kept far away from the rest of the world? I, at least,
have realized how terrible is the contagion--like a fiery torch
which burns that it may set the world on fire.

It struck nine. I could not get rid of the idea that Amulya was
in trouble, that he had fallen into the clutches of the police.
There must be great excitement in the Police Office--whose are
the jewels?--where did he get them? And in the end I shall have
to furnish the answer, in public, before all the world.

What is that answer to be? Your day has come at last, Bara Rani,
you whom I have so long despised. You, in the shape of the
public, the world, will have your revenge. O God, save me this
time, and I will cast all my pride at my sister-in-law's feet.

I could bear it no longer. I went straight to the Bara Rani.
She was in the verandah, spicing her betel leaves, Thako at her
side. The sight of Thako made me shrink back for a moment, but I
overcame all hesitation, and making a low obeisance I took the
dust of my elder sister-in-law's feet.

"Bless my soul, Chota Rani," she exclaimed, "what has come upon
you? Why this sudden reverence?"

"It is my birthday, sister," said I. "I have caused you pain.
Give me your blessing today that I may never do so again. My
mind is so small." I repeated my obeisance and left her
hurriedly, but she called me back.

"You never before told me that this was your birthday, Chotie
darling! Be sure to come and have lunch with me this afternoon.
You positively must."

O God, let it really be my birthday today. Can I not be born
over again? Cleanse me, my God, and purify me and give me one
more trial!

I went again to the sitting-room to find Sandip there. A feeling
of disgust seemed to poison my very blood. The face of his,
which I saw in the morning light, had nothing of the magic
radiance of genius.

"Will you leave the room," I blurted out.

Sandip smiled. "Since Amulya is not here," he remarked, "I
should think my turn had come for a special talk."

My fate was coming back upon me. How was Ito take away the right
I myself had given. "I would be alone," I repeated.

"Queen," he said, "the presence of another person does not
prevent your being alone. Do not mistake me for one of the
crowd. I, Sandip, am always alone, even when surrounded by
thousands."

"Please come some other time. This morning I am ..."

"Waiting for Amulya?"

I turned to leave the room for sheer vexation, when Sandip drew
out from the folds of his cloak that jewel-casket of mine and
banged it down on the marble table. I was thoroughly startled.
"Has not Amulya gone, then?" I exclaimed.

"Gone where?"

"To Calcutta?"

"No," chuckled Sandip.

Ah, then my blessing had come true, in spite of all. He was
saved. Let God's punishment fall on me, the thief, if only
Amulya be safe.

The change in my countenance roused Sandip's scorn. "So pleased,
Queen!" sneered he. "Are these jewels so very precious? How
then did you bring yourself to offer them to the Goddess? Your
gift was actually made. Would you now take it back?"

Pride dies hard and raises its fangs to the last. It was clear
to me I must show Sandip I did not care a rap about these jewels.
"If they have excited your greed," I said, "you may have them."

"My greed today embraces the wealth of all Bengal," replied
Sandip. "Is there a greater force than greed? It is the steed
of the great ones of the earth, as is the elephant, Airauat, the
steed of Indra. So then these jewels are mine?"

As Sandip took up and replaced the casket under his cloak, Amulya
rushed in. There were dark rings under his eyes, his lips were
dry, his hair tumbled: the freshness of his youth seemed to have
withered in a single day. Pangs gripped my heart as I looked on
him.

"My box!" he cried, as he went straight up to Sandip without a
glance at me. "Have you taken that jewel-box from my trunk?"

"Your jewel-box?" mocked Sandip.

"It was my trunk!"
Sandip burst out into a laugh. "Your distinctions between mine
and yours are getting rather thin, Amulya," he cried. "You will
die a religious preacher yet, I see."

Amulya sank on a chair with his face in his hands. I went up to
him and placing my hand on his head asked him: "What is your
trouble, Amulya?"

He stood straight up as he replied: "I had set my heart, Sister
Rani, on returning your jewels to you with my own hand. Sandip
Babu knew this, but he forestalled me."

"What do I care for my jewels?" I said. "Let them go. No harm
is done.

"Go? Where?" asked the mystified boy.

"The jewels are mine," said Sandip. "Insignia bestowed on me by
my Queen!"

"No, no, no," broke out Amulya wildly. "Never, Sister Rani! I
brought them back for you. You shall not give them away to
anybody else."

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