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Chapter Six
Nikhil's Story
A FEW days later, my master brought Panchu round to me. His
__zamindar__, it appeared, had fined him a hundred rupees, and
was threatening him with ejectment.
"For what fault?" I enquired.
"Because," I was told, "he has been found selling foreign cloths.
He begged and prayed Harish Kundu, his __zamindar__, to let
him sell off his stock, bought with borrowed money, promising
faithfully never to do it again; but the __zamindar__ would
not hear of it, and insisted on his burning the foreign stuff
there and then, if he wanted to be let off. Panchu in his
desperation blurted out defiantly: "I can't afford it! You are
rich; why not buy it up and burn it?" This only made Harish
Kundu red in the face as he shouted: "The scoundrel must be
taught manners, give him a shoe-beating!" So poor Panchu got
insulted as well as fined.
"What happened to the cloth?"
"The whole bale was burnt."
"Who else was there?"
"Any number of people, who all kept shouting __Bande
Mataram__. Sandip was also there. He took up some of the
ashes, crying: 'Brothers! This is the first funeral pyre lighted
by your village in celebration of the last rites of foreign
commerce. These are sacred ashes. Smear yourselves with them in
token of your __Swadeshi__ vow.'"
"Panchu," said I, turning to him, "you must lodge a complaint."
"No one will bear me witness," he replied.
"None bear witness?--Sandip! Sandip!"
Sandip came out of his room at my call. "What is the matter?"
he asked.
"Won't you bear witness to the burning of this man's cloth?"
Sandip smiled. "Of course I shall be a witness in the case," he
said. "But I shall be on the opposite side."
"What do you mean," I exclaimed, "by being a witness on this or
that side? Will you not bear witness to the truth?"
"Is the thing which happens the only truth?"
"What other truths can there be?"
"The things that ought to happen! The truth we must build up
will require a great deal of untruth in the process. Those who
have made their way in the world have created truth, not blindly
followed it."
"And so--"
"And so I will bear what you people are pleased to call false
witness, as they have done who have created empires, built up
social systems, founded religious organizations. Those who would
rule do not dread untruths; the shackles of truth are reserved
for those who will fall under their sway. Have you not read
history? Do you not know that in the immense cauldrons, where
vast political developments are simmering, untruths are the main
ingredients?"
"Political cookery on a large scale is doubtless going on, but--"
"Oh, I know! You, of course, will never do any of the cooking.
You prefer to be one of those down whose throats the hotchpotch
which is being cooked will be crammed. They will partition
Bengal and say it is for your benefit. They will seal the doors
of education and call it raising the standard. But you will
always remain good boys, snivelling in your corners. We bad men,
however, must see whether we cannot erect a defensive
fortification of untruth."
"It is no use arguing about these things, Nikhil," my master
interposed. "How can they who do not feel the truth within them,
realize that to bring it out from its obscurity into the light is
man's highest aim--not to keep on heaping material outside?"
Sandip laughed. "Right, sir!" said he. "Quite a correct speech
for a schoolmaster. That is the kind of stuff I have read in
books; but in the real world I have seen that man's chief
business is the accumulation of outside material. Those who are
masters in the art, advertise the biggest lies in their business,
enter false accounts in their political ledgers with their
broadest-pointed pens, launch their newspapers daily laden with
untruths, and send preachers abroad to disseminate falsehood like
flies carrying pestilential germs. I am a humble follower of
these great ones. When I was attached to the Congress party I
never hesitated to dilute ten per cent of truth with ninety per
cent of untruth. And now, merely because I have ceased to belong
to that party, I have not forgotten the basic fact that man's
goal is not truth but success."
"True success," corrected my master.
"Maybe," replied Sandip, "but the fruit of true success ripens
only by cultivating the field of untruth, after tearing up the
soil and pounding it into dust. Truth grows up by itself like
weeds and thorns, and only worms can expect to get fruit from
it!" With this he flung out of the room.
My master smiled as he looked towards me. "Do you know, Nikhil,"
he said, "I believe Sandip is not irreligious--his religion is of
the obverse side of truth, like the dark moon, which is still a
moon, for all that its light has gone over to the wrong side."
"That is why," I assented, "I have always had an affection for
him, though we have never been able to agree. I cannot contemn
him, even now; though he has hurt me sorely, and may yet hurt me
more."
"I have begun to realize that," said my master. "I have long
wondered how you could go on putting up with him. I have, at
times, even suspected you of weakness. I now see that though you
two do not rhyme, your rhythm is the same."
"Fate seems bent on writing __Paradise Lost__ in blank verse,
in my case, and so has no use for a rhyming friend!" I remarked,
pursuing his conceit.
"But what of Panchu?" resumed my master.
"You say Harish Kundu wants to eject him from his ancestral
holding. Supposing I buy it up and then keep him on as my
tenant?"
"And his fine?"
"How can the __zamindar__ realize that if he becomes my
tenant?"
"His burnt bale of cloth?"
"I will procure him another. I should like to see anyone
interfering with a tenant of mine, for trading as he pleases!"
"I am afraid, sir," interposed Panchu despondently, "while you
big folk are doing the fighting, the police and the law vultures
will merrily gather round, and the crowd will enjoy the fun, but
when it comes to getting killed, it will be the turn of only poor
me!"
"Why, what harm can come to you?"
"They will burn down my house, sir, children and all!"
"Very well, I will take charge of your children," said my master.
"You may go on with any trade you like. They shan't touch you."
That very day I bought up Panchu's holding and entered into
formal possession. Then the trouble began.
Panchu had inherited the holding of his grandfather as his sole
surviving heir. Everybody knew this. But at this juncture an
aunt turned up from somewhere, with her boxes and bundles, her
rosary, and a widowed niece. She ensconced herself in Panchu's
home and laid claim to a life interest in all he had.
Panchu was dumbfounded. "My aunt died long ago," he protested.
In reply he was told that he was thinking of his uncle's first
wife, but that the former had lost no time in taking to himself a
second.
"But my uncle died before my aunt," exclaimed Panchu, still more
mystified. "Where was the time for him to marry again?"
This was not denied. But Panchu was reminded that it had never
been asserted that the second wife had come after the death of
the first, but the former had been married by his uncle during
the latter's lifetime. Not relishing the idea of living with a
co-wife she had remained in her father's house till her husband's
death, after which she had got religion and retired to holy
Brindaban, whence she was now coming. These facts were well
known to the officers of Harish Kundu, as well as to some of his
tenants. And if the __zamindar's__ summons should be
peremptory enough, even some of those who had partaken of the
marriage feast would be forthcoming!
IX
One afternoon, when I happened to be specially busy, word came to
my office room that Bimala had sent for me. I was startled.
"Who did you say had sent for me?" I asked the messenger.
"The Rani Mother."
"The Bara Rani?"
"No, sir, the Chota Rani Mother."
The Chota Rani! It seemed a century since I had been sent for by
her. I kept them all waiting there, and went off into the inner
apartments. When I stepped into our room I had another shock of
surprise to find Bimala there with a distinct suggestion of being
dressed up. The room, which from persistent neglect had latterly
acquired an air of having grown absent-minded, had regained
something of its old order this afternoon. I stood there
silently, looking enquiringly at Bimala.
She flushed a little and the fingers of her right hand toyed for
a time with the bangles on her left arm. Then she abruptly broke
the silence. "Look here! Is it right that ours should be the
only market in all Bengal which allows foreign goods?"
"What, then, would be the right thing to do?" I asked.
"Order them to be cleared out!"
"But the goods are not mine."
"Is not the market yours?"
"It is much more theirs who use it for trade."
"Let them trade in Indian goods, then."
"Nothing would please me better. But suppose they do not?"
"Nonsense! How dare they be so insolent? Are you not ..."
"I am very busy this afternoon and cannot stop to argue it out.
But I must refuse to tyrannize."
"It would not be tyranny for selfish gain, but for the sake of
the country."
"To tyrannize for the country is to tyrannize over the country.
But that I am afraid you will never understand." With this I
came away.
All of a sudden the world shone out for me with a fresh
clearness. I seemed to feel it in my blood, that the Earth had
lost the weight of its earthiness, and its daily task of
sustaining life no longer appeared a burden, as with a wonderful
access of power it whirled through space telling its beads of
days and nights. What endless work, and withal what illimitable
energy of freedom! None shall check it, oh, none can ever check
it! From the depths of my being an uprush of joy, like a
waterspout, sprang high to storm the skies.
I repeatedly asked myself the meaning of this outburst of
feeling. At first there was no intelligible answer. Then it
became clear that the bond against which I had been fretting
inwardly, night and day, had broken. To my surprise I discovered
that my mind was freed from all mistiness. I could see
everything relating to Bimala as if vividly pictured on a camera
screen. It was palpable that she had specially dressed herself
up to coax that order out of me. Till that moment, I had never
viewed Bimala's adornment as a thing apart from herself. But
today the elaborate manner in which she had done up her hair, in
the English fashion, made it appear a mere decoration. That
which before had the mystery of her personality about it, and was
priceless to me, was now out to sell itself cheap.
As I came away from that broken cage of a bedroom, out into the
golden sunlight of the open, there was the avenue of bauhinias,
along the gravelled path in front of my verandah, suffusing the
sky with a rosy flush. A group of starlings beneath the trees
were noisily chattering away. In the distance an empty bullock
cart, with its nose on the ground, held up its tail aloft--one of
its unharnessed bullocks grazing, the other resting on the grass,
its eyes dropping for very comfort, while a crow on its back was
pecking away at the insects on its body.
I seemed to have come closer to the heartbeats of the great earth
in all the simplicity of its daily life; its warm breath fell on
me with the perfume of the bauhinia blossoms; and an anthem,
inexpressibly sweet, seemed to peal forth from this world, where
I, in my freedom, live in the freedom of all else.
We, men, are knights whose quest is that freedom to which our
ideals call us. She who makes for us the banner under which we
fare forth is the true Woman for us. We must tear away the
disguise of her who weaves our net of enchantment at home, and
know her for what she is. We must beware of clothing her in the
witchery of our own longings and imaginings, and thus allow her
to distract us from our true quest.
Today I feel that I shall win through. I have come to the
gateway of the simple; I am now content to see things as they
are. I have gained freedom myself; I shall allow freedom to
others. In my work will be my salvation.
I know that, time and again, my heart will ache, but now that I
understand its pain in all its truth, I can disregard it. Now
that I know it concerns only me, what after all can be its value?
The suffering which belongs to all mankind shall be my crown.
Save me, Truth! Never again let me hanker after the false
paradise of Illusion. If I must walk alone, let me at least
tread your path. Let the drum-beats of Truth lead me to Victory.
Sandip's Story
VII
Bimala sent for me that day, but for a time she could not utter a
word; her eyes kept brimming up to the verge of overflowing. I
could see at once that she had been unsuccessful with Nikhil.
She had been so proudly confident that she would have her own
way--but I had never shared her confidence. Woman knows man well
enough where he is weak, but she is quite unable to fathom him
where he is strong. The fact is that man is as much a mystery to
woman as woman is to man. If that were not so, the separation of
the sexes would only have been a waste of Nature's energy.
Ah pride, pride! The trouble was, not that the necessary thing
had failed of accomplishment, but that the entreaty, which had
cost her such a struggle to make, should have been refused. What
a wealth of colour and movement, suggestion and deception, group
themselves round this "me" and "mine" in woman. That is just
where her beauty lies--she is ever so much more personal than
man. When man was being made, the Creator was a schoolmaster--
His bag full of commandments and principles; but when He came to
woman, He resigned His headmastership and turned artist, with
only His brush and paint-box.
When Bimala stood silently there, flushed and tearful in her
broken pride, like a storm-cloud, laden with rain and charged
with lightning, lowering over the horizon, she looked so
absolutely sweet that I had to go right up to her and take her
by the hand. It was trembling, but she did not snatch it away.
"Bee," said I, "we two are colleagues, for our aims are one.
Let us sit down and talk it over."
I led her, unresisting, to a seat. But strange! at that very
point the rush of my impetuosity suffered an unaccountable check
--just as the current of the mighty Padma, roaring on in its
irresistible course, all of a sudden gets turned away from the
bank it is crumbling by some trifling obstacle beneath the
surface. When I pressed Bimala's hand my nerves rang music, like
tuned-up strings; but the symphony stopped short at the first
movement.
What stood in the way? Nothing singly; it was a tangle of a
multitude of things--nothing definitely palpable, but only that
unaccountable sense of obstruction. Anyhow, this much has become
plain to me, that I cannot swear to what I really am. It is
because I am such a mystery to my own mind that my attraction for
myself is so strong! If once the whole of myself should become
known to me, I would then fling it all away--and reach beatitude!
As she sat down, Bimala went ashy pale. She, too, must have
realized what a crisis had come and gone, leaving her unscathed.
The comet had passed by, but the brush of its burning tail had
overcome her. To help her to recover herself I said: "Obstacles
there will be, but let us fight them through, and not be down-
hearted. Is not that best, Queen?"
Bimala cleared her throat with a little cough, but simply to
murmur: "Yes."
"Let us sketch out our plan of action," I continued, as I drew a
piece of paper and a pencil from my pocket.
I began to make a list of the workers who had joined us from
Calcutta and to assign their duties to each. Bimala interrupted
me before I was through, saying wearily: "Leave it now; I will
join you again this evening" and then she hurried out of the
room. It was evident she was not in a state to attend to
anything. She must be alone with herself for a while--perhaps
lie down on her bed and have a good cry!
When she left me, my intoxication began to deepen, as the cloud
colours grow richer after the sun is down. I felt I had let the
moment of moments slip by. What an awful coward I had been! She
must have left me in sheer disgust at my qualms--and she was
right!
While I was tingling all over with these reflections, a servant
came in and announced Amulya, one of our boys. I felt like
sending him away for the time, but he stepped in before I could
make up my mind. Then we fell to discussing the news of the
fights which were raging in different quarters over cloth and
sugar and salt; and the air was soon clear of all fumes of
intoxication. I felt as if awakened from a dream. I leapt to my
feet feeling quite ready for the fray--Bande Mataram!
The news was various. Most of the traders who were tenants of
Harish Kundu had come over to us. Many of Nikhil's officials
were also secretly on our side, pulling the wires in our
interest. The Marwari shopkeepers were offering to pay a
penalty, if only allowed to clear their present stocks. Only
some Mahomedan traders were still obdurate.
One of them was taking home some German-made shawls for his
family. These were confiscated and burnt by one of our village
boys. This had given rise to trouble. We offered to buy him
Indian woollen stuffs in their place. But where were cheap
Indian woollens to be had? We could not very well indulge him in
Cashmere shawls! He came and complained to Nikhil, who advised
him to go to law. Of course Nikhil's men saw to it that the
trial should come to nothing, even his law-agent being on our
side!
The point is, if we have to replace burnt foreign clothes with
Indian cloth every time, and on the top of that fight through a
law-suit, where is the money to come from? And the beauty of it
is that this destruction of foreign goods is increasing their
demand and sending up the foreigner's profits--very like what
happened to the fortunate shopkeeper whose chandeliers the nabob
delighted in smashing, tickled by the tinkle of the breaking
glass.
The next problem is--since there is no such thing as cheap and
gaudy Indian woollen stuff, should we be rigorous in our boycott
of foreign flannels and memos, or make an exception in their
favour?
"Look here!" said I at length on the first point, "we are not
going to keep on making presents of Indian stuff to those who
have got their foreign purchases confiscated. The penalty is
intended to fall on them, not on us. If they go to law, we must
retaliate by burning down their granaries!--What startles you,
Amulya? It is not the prospect of a grand illumination that
delights me! You must remember, this is War. If you are afraid
of causing suffering, go in for love-making, you will never do
for this work!"
The second problem I solved by deciding to allow no compromise
with foreign articles, in any circumstance whatever. In the good
old days, when these gaily coloured foreign shawls were unknown,
our peasantry used to manage well enough with plain cotton
quilts--they must learn to do so again. They may not look as
gorgeous, but this is not the time to think of looks.
Most of the boatmen had been won over to refuse to carry foreign
goods, but the chief of them, Mirjan, was still insubordinate.
"Could you not get his boat sunk?" I asked our manager here.
"Nothing easier, sir," he replied. "But what if afterwards I am
held responsible?"
"Why be so clumsy as to leave any loophole for responsibility?
However, if there must be any, my shoulders will be there to bear
it."
Mirjan's boat was tied near the landing-place after its freight
had been taken over to the market-place. There was no one on it,
for the manager had arranged for some entertainment to which all
had been invited. After dusk the boat, loaded with rubbish, was
holed and set adrift. It sank in mid-stream.
Mirjan understood the whole thing. He came to me in tears to beg
for mercy. "I was wrong, sir--" he began.
"What makes you realize that all of a sudden?" I sneered.
He made no direct reply. "The boat was worth two thousand
rupees," he said. "I now see my mistake, and if excused this
time I will never ..." with which he threw himself at my feet.
I asked him to come ten days later. If only we could pay him
that two thousand rupees at once, we could buy him up body and
soul. This is just the sort of man who could render us immense
service, if won over. We shall never be able to make any headway
unless we can lay our hands on plenty of money.
As soon as Bimala came into the sitting-room, in the evening, I
said as I rose up to receive her: "Queen! Everything is ready,
success is at hand, but we must have money.
"Money? How much money?"
"Not so very much, but by hook or by crook we must have it!"
"But how much?"
"A mere fifty thousand rupees will do for the present."
Bimala blenched inwardly at the figure, but tried not to show it.
How could she again admit defeat?
"Queen!" said I, "you only can make the impossible possible.
Indeed you have already done so. Oh, that I could show you the
extent of your achievement--then you would know it. But the time
for that is not now. Now we want money!"
"You shall have it," she said.
I could see that the thought of selling her jewels had occurred
to her. So I said: "Your jewels must remain in reserve. One can
never tell when they may be wanted." And then, as Bimala stared
blankly at me in silence, I went on: "This money must come from
your husband's treasury."
Bimala was still more taken aback. After a long pause she said:
"But how am Ito get his money?"
"Is not his money yours as well?"
"Ah, no!" she said, her wounded pride hurt afresh.
"If not," I cried, "neither is it his, but his country's, whom he
has deprived of it, in her time of need!"
"But how am Ito get it?" she repeated.
"Get it you shall and must. You know best how. You must get it
for Her to whom it rightfully belongs. __Bande Mataram__!
These are the magic words which will open the door of his iron
safe, break through the walls of his strong-room, and confound
the hearts of those who are disloyal to its call. Say __Bande
Mataram__, Bee!"
"__Bande Mataram__!"
Content of Chapter Six [Rabindranath Tagore's novel: The Home and the World]
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