Bimala waxed intensely enthusiastic. This was
not the burning of foreign cloth or the people’s
granaries, so even Nikhil could have no objection—so
thought she. But I smiled inwardly. How
little these two persons, who have been together, day
and night, for nine whole years, know of each other!
They know something perhaps of their home life, but
when it comes to outside concerns they are entirely
at sea. They had cherished the belief that the
harmony of the home with the outside was perfect.
Today they realize to their cost that it is too late
to repair their neglect of years, and seek to harmonize
them now.
What does it matter? Let those who have made
the mistake learn their error by knocking against
the world. Why need I bother about their plight?
For the present I find it wearisome to keep Bimala
soaring much longer, like a captive balloon, in regions
ethereal. I had better get quite through with
the matter in hand.
When Bimala rose to depart and had neared the door
I remarked in my most casual manner: “So,
about the money ...”
Bimala halted and faced back as she said: “On
the expiry of the month, when our personal allowances
become due ...”
“That, I am afraid, would be much too late.”
“When do you want it then?”
“Tomorrow.
“Tomorrow you shall have it.”
------
20. A line from Bankim Chatterjee’s national
song __Bande Mataram__.
21. A quotation from the Upanishads.
22. There is a world of sentiment attached to
the ornaments worn by women in Bengal.
They are not merely indicative of the love and regard
of the giver, but the wearing of them symbolizes all
that is held best in wifehood—the constant
solicitude for her husband’s welfare, the successful
performance of the material and spiritual duties of
the household entrusted to her care. When the
husband dies, and the responsibility for the household
changes hands, then are all ornaments cast aside as
a sign of the widow’s renunciation of worldly
concerns. At any other time the giving up of
omaments is always a sign of supreme distress and
as such appeals acutely to the sense of chivalry of
any Bengali who may happen to witness it [Trans.].
Nikhil’s Story
Paragraphs and letters against me have begun to come
out in the local papers; cartoons and lampoons are
to follow, I am told. Jets of wit and humour
are being splashed about, and the lies thus scattered
are convulsing the whole country. They know that
the monopoly of mud-throwing is theirs, and the innocent
passer-by cannot escape unsoiled.
They are saying that the residents in my estates,
from the highest to the lowest, are in favour of __Swadeshi__,
but they dare not declare themselves, for fear of
me. The few who have been brave enough to defy
me have felt the full rigour of my persecution.
I am in secret league with the police, and in private
communication with the magistrate, and these frantic
efforts of mine to add a foreign title of my own earning
to the one I have inherited, will not, it is opined,
go in vain.
