CHAPTER VI
the thunderbolt.
n that boat, moving under the shade of the night, on the dark bosom of the flowing Bhagirathi, rose from sleep—Shaibalini.
There were two cabins in the Budgrow—Foster occupied one and Shaibalini with her maid the other. Even then, Shaibalini had not dressed herself out as an English lady. She had put on a black bordered Shari and had worn bangles and anklets after the Indian fashion. She had with her Parbati, that very maid of Purandarpur. Shaibalini had been sleeping. While asleep she was dreaming that the water of the familiar Bhima pond was edged by a thin line of darkness, cast upon it by those trees on the bank, which stooped their boughs, as if, eager to embrace its watery bosom, and that Shaibalini herself was floating there, with only her face above the water, transformed into a lily; she saw that a golden swan was gliding about at one extremity of the pond and a white boar moving around on the mounds; Shaibalini was anxious to get hold of the beautiful swan, but the golden bird, she fancied, was turning away from her in neglect—the boar, it seemed, was roaming there in quest of the lily-like Shaibalini. The face of the swan could not be seen but that of the boar, as it appeared, resembled Foster's. Shaibalini felt, she was trying to go after the swan to catch it, but her legs, being transformed into films of lotus, got rooted to the bed of the pond—she lost the power of moving; the boar on the other hand seemed to say, "Come to me, I will get the swan you want."
Shaibalini awoke at the first report of the gun—then she heard the noise with which the sentinel fell on the water. In the langour of disturbed sleep, Shaibalini for a time could not understand what the matter was. The swan and the boar were still reccuring to her mind. When another gun was heard and a great row was created on the bank, her sleep was completely broken. She came out in the outer cabin, and for a time looked out through the slightly opened door—but she failed to make out anything. She then returned to the inner cabin and found that Parbati also had awakened. Shaibalini asked her,
"Can you say what's the matter?"
Parbati. No, nothing at all. But, from what the people outside are saying, it seems, Dacoits have come upon our boat. The Sahib has been killed—alas, it is the result of our sins!
Shaibalini. The Sahib has been killed, how can that be the result of our sins? It is rather the consequence of his own wickedness.
Parbati. The Dacoits are upon us—it is we alone who are in danger.
Shaibalini. Wherein lies the danger? We have been with one Dacoit and it makes little difference if we have to accompany another. Won't it be better if we get out of the clutches of a white bandit and fall into the hands of a black one?
So saying, Shaibalini, waving her beautiful braid, hanging over her back from her little faultless head, smiled a gentle smile and took her seat on a little bedstead.
"n a moment like this I can hardly endure that smile of yours," said Parbati.
Shaibalini. If you can't bear it, better drown yourself in the river—the water of the Ganges is deep enough. The time has come when I should smile and so smile I must. Do go out and call before me one of the pirates—I would like to have a talk with him. Parbati got annoyed and said, "We shall not have to call them in—they will come here of their own accord."
But nearly two hours passed, yet none of the pirates came in. Shaibalini then sadly observed, "Ah me, how ill-fated are we! Even the Dacoits do not take any notice of us." Parbati was trembling with fear.
After a rather long time the boat arrived at a Char. After it had stopped there for a while some Lathials, armed with clubs, came there, with a palanquin—Ramcharan was leading them. The carriers placed the palanquin on the bank. Ramcharan got upon the Budgrow and came to Pratap. He then entered into the cabin with necessary instructions from Pratap. He first looked at Parbati's face and then saw Shaibalini. To her he said, "Pray alight here."
"Who are you—where am I to go?" inquired Shaibalini.
"I am your servant—you have nothing to fear," replied Ramcharan. "Please come along with me—the Sahib is killed."
After this Shaibalini did not say anything. She rose up and followed Ramcharan. She alighted from the Budgrow along with him. Parbati was following her, but she was stopped by Ramcharan. She remained in the boat out of fear. Shaibalini got into the palanquin, as asked by Ramcharan, who led it to Pratap's lodging.
Even then Dalani and Kulsam were putting up at Pratap's place. Ramcharan did not take Shaibalini into their room, lest their sleep were disturbed. He conducted her to an upstairs apartment, and after lighting a lamp there, asked her to take rest. He then made his obeisance to Shaibalini, and departed, closing the door of the room from out-side,
"Whose house is this?" inquired Shaibalini of Ramcharan, as he was leaving the room. Ramcharan turned a deaf ear to the query and left the place.
Ramcharan had brought Shaibalini to Pratap's house at his own discretion—Pratap had instructed him otherwise. He had directed Ramcharan to take the palanquin to Jagat Sett's place. In the way Ramcharan thought within himself, "Is there any possibility of my finding, at this hour of the night, Jagat Sett's gate open? Even if I find it open, will the porters allow me to get into the house now? If I am asked to state all particulars, what shall I say? Should I give out everything to risk an arrest as a murderer? No, that can't be; for the present it is better to go to our own place." So thinking, Ramcharan conducted the palanquin to their own house.
Now, Pratap, finding that the palanquin was out of sight, alighted from the boat. Every one in Foster's Budgrow had already become quiet and silent seeing the gun in Pratap's hand, and now no body dared speak out seeing the Lathials at his beck and call. Alighting from the Budgrow, Pratap proceeded towards his own house. Arriving at the gate, he knocked at it—Ramcharan opened the door from within. The very moment he stepped in, Pratap heard from Ramcharan that he had acted contrary to his directions. This annoyed Pratap a little. He said to Ramcharan, "There is yet time, take her along with you to Jagat Sett's place—go, get her down.
Ramcharan went up and found—people will be surprised to hear—that Shaibalini was sleeping. Sleep is not possible at such a time. Whether it is possible or not, is more than what we can say—we are simply recording what actually happened. Ramcharan did not wake her up. He returned to Pratap and said, "She is sleeping—should I call her up?" Pratap was astonished to hear this—he said within himself, "The learned Chanakya forgot to notice that a woman sleeps sixteen times more than a man." He then said to Ramcharan, "No, you need not go so far. You too go to sleep—we have had enough of toil—I would also now take some rest."
Ramcharan then retired for rest. There was yet some night left. In the house—in the town outside it—in fact everywhere—silence and darkness prevailed. Pratap went upstairs alone and noiselessly. He proceeded towards his bed-room and arriving at the door he opened it. To his surprise he found that Shaibalini was lying there on a sofa. Ramcharan had forgotten to say that he had left Shaibalini in the very bed-room of Pratap.
In the light of the burning lamp Pratap saw, as if, some one had heaped on the white bed, blooming flowers of the whitest glow—as if, some one had floated smiling snow-white lilies on the unruffled expanse of the silvery waters of the Ganges. What a placid fascinating beauty it was! Pratap could not at once turn away his eyes from so captivating a sight. It was not that Pratap lost himself in the fascination of that beauty or became a slave of his senses, that he could not turn away his eyes, but it was in abstraction that he gazed at that beautiful spectacle like a spellbound spectator. Thousand remembrances of a distant past came into his mind—all on a sudden the depth of his memory was stirred up, and waves of recollections began to strike themselves one against another.
Shaibalini had not fallen asleep. She was but reflecting on her situation, with her eyes closed. Finding her in that position Ramcharan had concluded that she had been sleeping. In her deep abstraction, Shaibalini could not hear the footsteps of Pratap when he entered the room. Pratap had come upstairs with the gun in hand. He now placed the gun against the wall. He was then in a state of forgetfulness and so the gun had not been carefully placed; it slipped and fell down on the floor. Shaibalini opened her eyes at the noise, and saw Pratap. She sat up on the bed, rubbed her eyes, and exclaimed with emotion,
"Oh, what I see! Who are you?" She could say no more—she fainted and fell on the bed.
Pratap instantly fetched water and began to sprinkle it on the face of Shaibalini. Her face now wore the charming beauty of a sweet bedewed lily. The water wetted her handsome locks, uncurled them and then trickled down in drops. Her tresses looked as beautiful as mosses hanging from a lotus.
Shaibalini soon recovered her consciousness. Pratap stood up. Shaibalini then very calmly asked,
"Who are you? Is it Pratap or some angel has come to deceive me?"
Pratap. "Yes, I am Pratap."
Shaibalini. When I was in the boat I once thought that I heard your voice. But instantly I felt that it was a mere illusion. I had then just risen from sleep in the midst of a dream and so I thought it to be only a delusion of my mind.
Shaibalini then breathed a deep sigh and was silent. Pratap found that Shaibalini had fully recovered, and was, therefore, about to leave the room, without a word, when Shaibalini entreated him not to go away. Pratap stopped against his will.
"Why have you come here?" then inquired Shaibalini.
"This is my lodging," was Pratap's brief reply.
Shaibalini in fact had not fully regained the usual calmness of her mind—her heart was burning within herself, as if on fire—even her nails were quivering. Each particular hair of her body stood up on its end. She remained silent for some time and picking up a little strength, asked,
"Who brought me here?"
Pratap. We have brought you here.
Shaibalini. 'We'! Who are the persons, Pratap?
Pratap. My servant and myself.
Shaibalini. Why have you brought me here, and for what purpose?
Pratap got much annoyed and said in an angry tone, "No one should see the face of a sinner like you. We have rescued you from the hands of a wicked alien, yet you question why we have brought you here!"
Shaibalini did not show temper at Pratap's outburst. With a trembling voice, almost weeping, she gently said, "If you had considered my living with an alien under the same roof to be my misfortune, why did you not kill me in the boat? You had guns with you."
Pratap got more annoyed and said, rather haughtily, "I would have done that—I refrained from it only because it is a great sin to kill a woman; but for you death is better than life."
Shaibalini wept. Checking her tears a little after, she said, "True it is that death is preferable to life in my case—let people say what they like, but you should not say so. Who has reduced me to this woeful condition? You. Who has made my life dark and gloomy? It is you Pratap. For whom have I, being disappointed in my pleasant hopes, become so reckless? For you. For whom am I so miserable? For you alone. Again, for whom could I not like my home and live a steady domestic life? It is only for you Pratap. You should not rebuke me."
Pratap. I scold you because you are a sinner. You make me responsible for your evil deeds! God knows, I am not guilty of any sin. He knows that of late I used to dread you as a serpent and I have all along kept myself out of your path. I deserted Bedagram in fear of your venom. Sin is in your heart and in your sentiments.—you have fallen from grace and so you blame me. What harm have I done you?
"What harm have you done?" roared out Shaibalini, trembling in violent agitation. "Why did you again appear before me with the matchless beauty of your etherial mould? Why did you kindle before my eyes the fascinating light of that beauty, when I was just stepping into youth? Why did you revive in me, the memory of what I had forgotten? Why I happened to see you at all? If I had seen you, why did I not get you as my own? If that were to be so, why did not death come upon me? Don't you know that it was your thought which made my home a wilderness? Need I tell you, that I deserted my home in the hope that, although I am torn away from you, I may one day have you as my own? Or else, what is Foster to me?"
Shaibalini's words violently shocked Pratap—he felt as if a thunderbolt had come upon him—he rushed out of the room in agony, like one stung by scorpions.
At that moment a great noise was heard at the gate of the house.
