The Home and the World - Rabindranath Tagore (books to read in your 30s .txt) 📗

I have dedicated myself to the

feet of him, who has received all my sin into the depths of his

own pain.

Tonight we go to Calcutta. My inward troubles have so long

prevented my looking after my things. Now let me arrange and

pack them.

After a while I found my husband had come in and was taking a

hand in the packing.

"This won't do," I said. "Did you not promise me you would have

a sleep?"

"I might have made the promise," he replied, "but my sleep did

not, and it was nowhere to be found."

"No, no," I repeated, "this will never do. Lie down for a while,

at least."

"But how can you get through all this alone?"

"Of course I can."

"Well, you may boast of being able to do without me. But frankly

I can't do without you. Even sleep refused to come to me, alone,

in that room." Then he set to work again.

But there was an interruption, in the shape of a servant, who

came and said that Sandip Babu had called and had asked to be

announced. I did not dare to ask whom he wanted. The light of

the sky seemed suddenly to be shut down, like the leaves of a

sensitive plant.

"Come, Bimal," said my husband. "Let us go and hear what Sandip

has to tell us. Since he has come back again, after taking his

leave, he must have something special to say."

I went, simply because it would have been still more embarrassing

to stay. Sandip was staring at a picture on the wall. As we

entered he said: "You must be wondering why the fellow has

returned. But you know the ghost is never laid till all the

rites are complete." With these words he brought out of his

pocket something tied in his handkerchief, and laying it on the

table, undid the knot. It was those sovereigns.

"Don't you mistake me, Nikhil," he said. "You must not imagine

that the contagion of your company has suddenly turned me honest;

I am not the man to come back in slobbering repentance to return

ill-gotten money. But..."

He left his speech unfinished. After a pause he turned towards

Nikhil, but said to me: "After all these days, Queen Bee, the

ghost of compunction has found an entry into my hitherto

untroubled conscience. As I have to wrestle with it every night,

after my first sleep is over, I cannot call it a phantom of my

imagination. There is no escape even for me till its debt is

paid. Into the hands of that spirit, therefore, let me make

restitution. Goddess! From you, alone, of all the world, I

shall not be able to take away anything. I shall not be rid of

you till I am destitute. Take these back!"

He took out at the same time the jewel-casket from under his

tunic and put it down, and then left us with hasty steps.

"Listen to me, Sandip," my husband called after him.

"I have not the time, Nikhil," said Sandip as he paused near the

door. "The Mussulmans, I am told, have taken me for an

invaluable gem, and are conspiring to loot me and hide me away in

their graveyard. But I feel that it is necessary that I should

live. I have just twenty-five minutes to catch the North-bound

train. So, for the present, I must be gone. We shall have our

talk out at the next convenient opportunity. If you take my

advice, don't you delay in getting away either. I salute you,

Queen Bee, Queen of the bleeding hearts, Queen of desolation!"

Sandip then left almost at a run. I stood stock-still; I had

never realized in such a manner before, how trivial, how paltry,

this gold and these jewels were. Only a short while ago I was so

busy thinking what I should take with me, and how I should pack

it. Now I felt that there was no need to take anything at all.

To set out and go forth was the important thing.

My husband left his seat and came up and took me by the hand.

"It is getting late," he said. "There is not much time left to

complete our preparations for the journey."

At this point Chandranath Babu suddenly came in. Finding us both

together, he fell back for a moment. Then he said, "Forgive me,

my little mother, if I intrude. Nikhil, the Mussulmans are out

of hand. They are looting Harish Kundu's treasury. That does

not so much matter. But what is intolerable is the violence that

is being done to the women of their house."

"I am off," said my husband.

"What can you do there?" I pleaded, as I held him by the hand.

"Oh, sir," I appealed to his master. "Will you not tell him not

to go?"

"My little mother," he replied, "there is no time to do anything

else."

"Don't be alarmed, Bimal," said my husband, as he left us.

When I went to the window I saw my husband galloping away on

horseback, with not a weapon in his hands.

In another minute the Bara Rani came running in. "What have you

done, Chotie darling," she cried. "How could you let him go?"

"Call the Dewan at once," she said, turning to a servant.

The Ranis never appeared before the Dewan, but the Bara Rani had

no thought that day for appearances.

"Send a mounted man to bring back the Maharaja at once," she

said, as soon as the Dewan came up.

"We have all entreated him to stay, Rani Mother," said the Dewan,

"but he refused to turn back."

"Send word to him that the Bara Rani is ill, that she is on her

death-bed," cried my sister-in-law wildly.

When the Dewan had left she turned on me with a furious outburst.

"Oh, you witch, you ogress, you could not die yourself, but needs

must send him to his death! ..."

The light of the day began to fade. The sun set behind the

feathery foliage of the blossoming Sajna tree. I can see

every different shade of that sunset even today. Two masses of

cloud on either side of the sinking orb made it look like a great

bird with fiery-feathered wings outspread. It seemed to me that

this fateful day was taking its flight, to cross the ocean of

night.

It became darker and darker. Like the flames of a distant

village on fire, leaping up every now and then above the horizon,

a distant din swelled up in recurring waves into the darkness.

The bells of the evening worship rang out from our temple. I

knew the Bara Rani was sitting there, with palms joined in silent

prayer. But I could not move a step from the window.

The roads, the village beyond, and the still more distant fringe

of trees, grew more and more vague. The lake in our grounds

looked up into the sky with a dull lustre, like a blind man's

eye. On the left the tower seemed to be craning its neck to

catch sight of something that was happening.

The sounds of night take on all manner of disguises. A twig

snaps, and one thinks that somebody is running for his life. A

door slams, and one feels it to be the sudden heart-thump of a

startled world.

Lights would suddenly flicker under the shade of the distant

trees, and then go out again. Horses' hoofs would clatter, now

and again, only to turn out to be riders leaving the palace

gates.

I continually had the feeling that, if only I could die, all this

turmoil would come to an end. So long as I was alive my sins

would remain rampant, scattering destruction on every side. I

remembered the pistol in my box. But my feet refused to leave

the window in quest of it. Was I not awaiting my fate?

The gong of the watch solemnly struck ten. A little later,

groups of lights appeared in the distance and a great crowd wound

its way, like some great serpent, along the roads in the

darkness, towards the palace gates.

The Dewan rushed to the gate at the sound. Just then a rider

came galloping in. "What's the news, Jata?" asked the Dewan.

"Not good," was the reply.

I could hear these words distinctly from my window. But

something was next whispered which I could not catch.

Then came a palanquin, followed by a litter. The doctor was

walking alongside the palanquin.

"What do you think, doctor?" asked the Dewan.

"Can't say yet," the doctor replied. "The wound in the head is a

serious one."

"And Amulya Babu?"

"He has a bullet through the heart. He is done for."

The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore.

Translated [from Bengali to English] by Surendranath Tagore.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Home and the World, by Rabindranath Tagore

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