Stories from Tagore
would have to manage his own affairs. The world in which he had been
born and bred ever appeared to him complete and entire in itself. It was
an incomprehensible calamity to him that there could be a dividing line
somewhere and that this world of his could be split into two. When he
found that Tarapada was immovable and indifferent to the grief and
dishonour that such a step would bring to the family, he began to rack
his brain to find out how the property could be divided with the least
possible strain.
Tarapada showed surprise at his uncle's anxiety and said that there was
no need to trouble about this, because the division had already been
made in the life-time of his grandfather. Bhavani said in amazement,
"But I know nothing of this!" Tarapada said in answer, "Then you must be
the only one in the whole neighbourhood who does not. For, lest there
should be ruinous litigation after he had gone, my grandfather had
already given a portion of the property to your mother." Bhavani thought
this not unlikely and asked, "What about the house?" Tarapada said, "If
you wish, you can keep this house to yourself and we shall be contented
with the other house in the district town."
As Bhavani had never been to this town-house, he had neither knowledge
of it, nor affection for it. He was astounded at the magnanimity of
Tarapada for so easily relinquishing his right to the house in the
village where they had been brought up. But when Bhavani told everything
to his mother, she struck her forehead with her hand and said: "This is
preposterous! What I got from my husband was my own dowry and its income
is very small. I do not see why you should be deprived of your share in
your father's property."
Bhavani said, "Tarapada is quite positive that his grandfather never
gave us any thing except this land."
Vraja Sundari was astonished and informed her son that her husband had
made two copies of his will, one of which was still lying in her own
box. The box was opened and it was found that there was only the deed of
gift for the property belonging to the mother and nothing else. The copy
of the will had been taken out.
The help of advisers was sought. The man who came to their rescue was
Bagala, the son of their family _guru_. It was the profession of the
father to look after the spiritual needs of the village; the material
side was left to the son. The two of them had divided between themselves
the other world and this. Whatever might be the result for others, they
themselves had nothing to suffer from this division. Bagala said that,
even if the will was missing, the shares in the ancestral property must
be equal, as between the brothers.
Just at this time, a copy of a will made its appearance supporting the
claims of the other side. In this document there was no mention of
Bhavani and the whole property was given to the grandsons at the time
when no son was born to Bhavani. With Bagala as his captain Bhavani set
out on his voyage across the perilous sea of litigation. When his vessel
at last reached harbour his funds were nearly exhausted and the
ancestral property was in the hands of the other party. The land which
was given to his mother had dwindled to such an extent, that it could
barely give them shelter, or keep up the family dignity. Then Tarapada
went away to the district town and they never met again.
II
Shyama Charan's treachery pierced the heart of the widow like an
assassin's knife. To the end of her life, almost every day she would
heave a sigh and say that God would never suffer such an injustice to be
done. She was quite firm in her faith when she said to Bhavani, "I do
not know your law or your law courts, but I am certain that my husband's
true will and testament will someday be recovered. You will find it
again."
Because Bhavani was helpless in worldly matters such assurances as these
gave him great consolation. He settled down in his inactivity, certain
in his own mind that his pious mother's prophecy could never remain
unfulfilled. After his mother's death his faith became all the stronger,
since the memory of her piety acquired greater radiance through death's
mystery. He felt quite unconcerned about the stress of their poverty
which became more and more formidable as the years went by. The
necessities of life and the maintenance of family traditions,--these
seemed to him like play acting on a temporary stage, not real things.
When his former expensive clothing was outworn and he had to buy cheap
materials in the shop, this amused him almost like a joke. He smiled and
said to himself,--"These people do not know that this is only a passing
phase of my fortune. Their surprise will be all the greater, when some
day I shall celebrate the Puja Festival with unwonted magnificence."
This certainty of future prodigality was so clear to his mind's eye that
present penury escaped his attention. His servant, Noto, was the
principal companion with whom he had discussions about these things.
They used to have animated conversations, in which sometimes his opinion
differed from his master's, as to the propriety of bringing down a
theatrical troupe from Calcutta for these future occasions. Noto used to
get reprimands from Bhavani for his natural miserliness in these items
of future expenditure.
While Bhavani's one anxiety was about the absence of an heir, who could
inherit his vast possible wealth, a son was born to him. The horoscope
plainly indicated that the lost property would come back to this boy.
From the time of the birth of his son, Bhavani's attitude was changed.
It became cruelly difficult for him now to bear his poverty with his old
amused equanimity, because he felt that he had a duty towards this new
representative of the illustrious house of Saniari, who had such a
glorious future before him. That the traditional extravagance could not
be maintained on the occasion of the birth of his child gave him the
keenest sorrow. He felt as if he were cheating his own son. So he
compensated his boy with an inordinate amount of spoiling.
Bhavani's wife, Rashmani, had a different temperament from her husband.
She never felt any anxiety about the family traditions of the Chowdhuris
of Saniari. Bhavani was quite aware of the fact and indulgently smiled
to himself, as though nothing better could be expected from a woman who
came from a Vaishnava family of very humble lineage. Rashmani frankly
acknowledged that she could not share the family sentiments: what
concerned her most was the welfare of her own child.
There was hardly an acquaintance in the neighbourhood with whom Bhavani
did not discuss the question of the lost will; but he never spoke a word
about it to his wife. Once or twice he had tried, but her perfect
unconcern had made him drop the subject. She neither paid attention to
the past greatness of the family, nor to its future glories,--she kept
her mind busy with the actual necessities of the present, and those
necessities were not small in number or quality.
When the Goddess of Fortune deserts a house, she usually leaves some of
her burdens behind, and this ancient family was still encumbered with
its host of dependents, though its own shelter was nearly crumbling to
dust. These parasites take it to be an insult if they are asked to do
any service. They get head-aches at the least touch of the kitchen
smoke. They are visited with sudden rheumatism the moment they are asked
to run errands. Therefore all the responsibilities of maintaining the
family were laid upon Rashmani herself. Women lose their delicacy of
refinement, when they are compelled night and day to haggle with their
destiny over things which are pitifully small, and for this they are
blamed by those for whom they toil.
Besides her household affairs Rashmani had to keep all the accounts of
the little landed property which remained and also to make arrangements
for collecting rents. Never before was the estate managed with such
strictness. Bhavani had been quite incapable of collecting his dues:
Rashmani never made any remission of the least fraction of rent. The
tenants, and even her own agents, reviled her behind her back for the
meanness of the family from which she came. Even her husband
occasionally used to enter his protest against the harsh economy which
went against the grain of the world-famed house of Saniari.
Rashmani quite ungrudgingly took the blame of all this upon herself and
openly confessed the poverty of her parents. Tying the end of her _sari_
tightly round her waist she went on with her household duties in her own
vigorous fashion and made herself thoroughly disagreeable both to the
inmates of the house and to her neighbours. But nobody ever had the
courage to interfere. Only one thing she carefully avoided. She never
asked her husband to help her in any work and she was nervously afraid
of his taking up any responsibilities. Indeed she was always furiously
engaged in keeping her husband idle; and because he had received the
best possible training in this direction she was wholly successful in
her mission.
Rashmani had attained middle age before her son came. Up to this time
all the pent-up tenderness of the mother in her and all the love of the
wife had their centre of devotion in this simple-hearted
good-for-nothing husband. Bhavani was a child grown up by mistake beyond
its natural age. This was the reason why, after the death of her
husband's mother, she had to assume the position of mother and mistress
in one.
In order to protect her husband from invasions of Bagala, the son of the
_guru_, and other calamities, Rashmani adopted such a stern demeanour,
that the companions of her husband used to be terribly afraid of her.
She never had the opportunity, which a woman usually has, of keeping
her fierceness hidden and of softening the keen edge of her
words,--maintaining a dignified reserve towards men such as is proper
for a woman.
Bhavani meekly accepted his wife's authority with regard to himself, but
it became extremely hard for him to obey her when it related to
Kalipada, his son. The reason was, that Rashmani never regarded
Bhavani's son from the point of view of Bhavani himself. In her heart
she pitied her husband and said, "Poor man, it was no fault of his, but
his misfortune, to be born into a rich family." That is why she never
could expect her husband to be deprived of any comfort to which he had
been accustomed. Whatever might be the condition of the household
finance, she tried hard to keep him in his habitual ease and luxury.
Under her rA(C)gime all expense was strictly limited except in the case of
Bhavani. She would never allow him to notice if some inevitable gap
occurred in the preparation of his meals or his apparel. She would blame
some imaginary dog for spoiling dishes that were never made and would
blame herself for her carelessness. She would attack Noto for letting
some fictitious article of dress be stolen or lost. This had the usual
effect of rousing Bhavani's sympathy on behalf of his favourite servant
and he would take up his defence. Indeed it had often happened that
Bhavani had confessed with bare-faced shamelessness that he had used the
dress which had never been bought, and for whose loss Noto was blamed;
but what happened afterwards, he had not the power to invent and was
obliged to rely upon the fertile imagination of his wife who was also
the accuser!
Thus Rashmani treated her husband, but she never put her son in the same
category. For he was her own child and why should he be allowed to give
himself airs? Kalipada had to be content for his breakfast with a few
handfuls of puffed rice and some treacle. During the cold weather he had
to wrap his body as well as his head with a thick rough cotton