I could not forget those words: “You are
his dissipation, and will be his ruin!” Today
I feel—if a man needs must have some intoxicant,
let it not be a woman.
Suksar, within our estates, is one of the biggest
trade centres in the district. On one side of
a stretch of water there is held a daily bazar; on
the other, a weekly market. During the rains
when this piece of water gets connected with the river,
and boats can come through, great quantities of cotton
yarns, and woollen stuffs for the coming winter, are
brought in for sale.
At the height of our enthusiasm, Sandip laid it down
that all foreign articles, together with the demon
of foreign influence, must be driven out of our territory.
“Of course!” said I, girding myself up
for a fight.
“I have had words with Nikhil about it,”
said Sandip. “He tells me, he does not
mind speechifying, but he will not have coercion.”
“I will see to that,” I said, with a proud
sense of power. I knew how deep was my husband’s
love for me. Had I been in my senses I should
have allowed myself to be torn to pieces rather than
assert my claim to that, at such a time. But
Sandip had to be impressed with the full strength
of my __Shakti__.
Sandip had brought home to me, in his irresistible
way, how the cosmic Energy was revealed for each individual
in the shape of some special affinity. Vaishnava
Philosophy, he said, speaks of the __Shakti__ of Delight
that dwells in the heart of creation, ever attracting
the heart of her Eternal Lover. Men have a perpetual
longing to bring out this __Shakti__ from the hidden
depths of their own nature, and those of us who succeed
in doing so at once clearly understand the meaning
of the music coming to us from the Dark. He
broke out singing:
/*
“My flute, that was busy with its
song,
Is silent now when we stand face to face.
My call went seeking you from sky to sky
When you lay hidden;
But now all my cry finds its smile
In the face of my beloved.”
*/
Listening to his allegories, I had forgotten that
I was plain and simple Bimala. I was __Shakti__;
also an embodiment of Universal joy. Nothing
could fetter me, nothing was impossible for me; whatever
I touched would gain new life. The world around
me was a fresh creation of mine; for behold, before
my heart’s response had touched it, there had
not been this wealth of gold in the Autumn sky!
And this hero, this true servant of the country,
this devotee of mine—this flaming intelligence,
this burning energy, this shining genius—him
also was I creating from moment to moment. Have
I not seen how my presence pours fresh life into him
time after time?
