CHAPTER III
what happened to dalani.
N the shade of night, Dalani Begum, standing on the broad thoroughfare, with only one maid about her, began to weep.
"What will you do now?" inquired Kulsam."
"Come, let us wait under that tree, till dawn," said Dalani, wiping away her tears.
Kulsam. If we be there till morning, we are sure to be arrested.
Dalani. What fear lies in that? What crime have I committed that I should fear?
Kulsam. We have stolen away from the castle like thieves—what has brought us out, you alone know. But just think, in what light the people will take it and what the Nawab will think of it.
Dalani. Let him take it in any light he pleases. God is my Judge—I know of no other tribunal. I shall die if I must—what harm is in that?
Kulsam. But what shall we gain by waiting there?
Dalani. I shall wait there to be arrested—that is my intention. Where shall they take me to?
Kulsam. To the Durbar.
Dalani. Before my lord? Ay, that is the place where I want to go. There is no other place for me to go to, in this world. If he orders my death, still, before the close of my life, I shall have an opportunity to tell him that I am not guilty. Let us better go and take our seat by the gate of the castle; for there we shall be noticed earlier.
At that moment, both of them saw with fear, in the darkness, the stalwart figure of a man, moving towards the Ganges. At this sight, they hid themselves in denser darkness under the tree. From there, they saw with greater fear that the stalwart man leaving the way to the Ganges, was coming towards them. At this, they concealed themselves in still thicker darkness.
The man, however, came there and said, "Who are you here, in this lonely place?" He then softly muttered, as if aside, "Who is there in this world so unfortunate, as keeping up nights in the streets, like me?"
The stature of the man had frightened the women, but his voice removed all fears—it was sweet and full of pity and sympathy. So Kulsam said,
"We are Women. Pray, who are you?"
" 'We'? How many are you then?" inquired the man.
"We are only two", replied Kulsam.
"What are you doing here at this hour of the night?" he asked, in surprise.
Dalani then said, "We are two unlucky women—of what interest will our tale of sorrow be to you?"
"There are moments when even a most insignificant man can render help. If you are in trouble, let me know of it—I will help you to the extent of my capacity," replied the stranger gently.
Dalani. To help us out is almost an impossibility—who are you, please?
Stranger. "I am a humble man—only a poor Brahmin and an ascetic."
Dalani. Whoever you may be, your words are inspiring confidence in us. One, who is on the point of being drowned, cannot think of the fitness or unfitness of a support. But if you at all desire to know of our distress, please come away from the broad thoroughfare to a lonely place. In the night we cannot see if any one is within the reach of our voice. Our story is not to be told to any and every one.
"If that be so, just come along with me," said the ascetic, and he then proceeded towards the town with Dalani and Kulsam.
Arriving at the door of a small house, he knocked at it and called out, "Ramcharan."
Ramcharan opened the door from within. The ascetic asked him to strike a light. He lighted the lamp, and fell prostrate before the ascetic to pay his respects. The ascetic then asked him to go to bed. Ramcharan accordingly retired, after casting a glance at Dalani and Kulsam.
It is needless to say that, Ramcharan had no more sleep that night. "Why at this late hour of the night, the good hermit has brought in the two young women?" This thought became predominant in him. Ramcharan believed the ascetic to be a divine being—he knew that the hermit was the master of his passions; that belief was not shaken. At last, Ramcharan concluded, "Perhaps, the two women have just become widows—the good hermit has brought them here to induce them to burn themselves alive, on the funeral pyres of their deceased husbands—what a pity, I have taken so much time to understand this simple thing!"
The ascetic took his seat on a small piece of carpet—the women sat down on the floor. Dalani first disclosed herself, and then made a frank statement of what had happened in the night.
Hearing her, the ascetic thought within himself, "Who can prevent the inevitable? What will be, will be. But for all that, one should not lose heart and deny action—I must do what I should."
Alas, pious hermit! Why did you burn into ashes your valuable books? All books may be reduced to ashes, but the wonderful book of heart is proof against all fire.
The ascetic then said to Dalani, "My advice to you is, that you should not appear before the Nawab, all on a sudden. First, write to him what has happened, in details. If he still bears to you affection, he will surely beileve your statement. You should appear before him when you get his permission."
"Who will carry my letter?" inquired Dalani.
"I will send it," was the good ascetic's kind reply.
Dalani then asked for paper, pen and ink.
The hermit again roused Ramcharan, who, as desired, brought in paper &c., and retired. Dalani began to write.
The hermit, in the meantime said, "This house is not mine, but stay here till you get the Nawab's permission—nobody will know of it and no one will ask you anything."
As there was no other alternative, Dalani agreed to his proposal. She finished the letter and handed it over to the hermit. He left with it, after he had given Ramcharan necessary instructions about the stay of Dalani and her maid in that house.
The hermit was well-known to the Hindu officers of the Nawab, at Monghyr. Even the Mahamedans knew him. So, he was respected by all the officers. Ram Gobinda Roy, who was the Nawab's Munshi, had great regard for him.
The hermit, entered into the castle, at Monghyr, after sunrise, and meeting Ram Gobinda there, handed over to him Dalani's letter to the Nawab.
"Don't mention my name. Simply say that the letter was brought by a Brahmin.” he said, as he handed over the letter. "All right", said the Munshi. "Please come tomorrow for the reply." Ram Gobinda, however, could not know from whom the letter came. The hermit returned to the house, where he had left Dalani and Kulsam, and meeting the Begum, he said, "You will get the reply tomorrow. Some how or other manage to pass this day here."
In the morning Ramcharan found, to his great surprise, that no arrangements had been made for Shahamaran.
On the upper story of this house, there lay on a bed, a person, of whom we would now say something in the way of introduction. In painting his noble character, our pen, which has been profaned by the sins of Shaibalini, will be sanctified.
