EYESORE
By Rabindranath Tagore.
XX
FACE to face with Mahendra, all Asha's troubled fancies cleared away like a fleeting mist. She could hardly look him in the eye for shame at what she had written.
"How could you charge me with such awful things?" said Mahendra reproachfully, as he brought out the three letters from his pocket.
Asha was greatly distressed. "For heaven's sake, tear them up," she implored, and tried to take them away from his hand.
But Mahendra would not let her, and replaced them in his pocket saying: "I went at the call of duty, and you couldn't understand—you doubted me!"
"Forgive me this time, it'll never happen again," said Asha, tearfully.
"Never?" insisted Mahendra.
"Never!" repeated Asha.
And then Mahendra drew her to him and kissed her.
"Let me have the letters," said Asha. "I'll tear them up."
"Let them be," said Mahendra.
"'Tis my just punishment that he should keep the letters," thought Asha.
The episode of the letters set up a sort of barrier between Asha and her friend. She did not hasten to share with Binodini her rapture at her husband's return—but rather seemed to avoid her. This did not escape Binodini, who, on the pretext of some work or other, kept altogether at a distance.
"This is very strange," mused Mahendra. "I should have thought that Binodini would now bring herself a little more forward, hut it happens to he quite the reverse. What then could be the meaning of those letters?" Mahendra's mind had been quite firmly made up—he would make no attempt to unravel the mysteries of woman's ways. If Binodini tried to come near, he would remain distant, so he had decided. He now thought differently. "This is not right," he said to himself. "It's like admitting that something really is the matter. Why should we seem to distrust each other? This strained situation must be relieved by talking and laughing with Binodini in the old natural way."
Said Mahendra to Asha one morning: "It seems I have become your friend's eyesore! We never get to see her now-a-days."
"Goodness knows what's the matter with her," replied Asha unconcernedly.
On the other hand Rajlakshmi was in tears. "There's no keeping Bipin's widow with us any more," she said that afternoon.
Mahendra tried not to show how startled he was, as he asked: "Why, mother?"
"Who knows, my son, but she insists on going back. You people don't know how to treat her properly. Why should a well-bred girl want to stay on in a strange house if she's not made to feel at home!"
Binodini was in her room hemming a bed-sheet. Mahendra, as he went in there, called out: "Friend Eyesore!"
Binodini collected herself, and, sitting upright, replied: "What is it, Mahendra Babu?"
"O Lord!" he ejaculated. "Since when has Mahendra become Babu?"
"Then what am I to call you?" asked Binodini, with eyes fixed on her sewing.
"The same as you do your friend—your Eyesore."
Binodini seemed to be unready with her usual repartee and silently went on sewing.
"Too apt an epithet to serve as a pet-name I suppose?" suggested Mahendra.
Binodini paused a little to cut off a bit of thread with her teeth, and then said: "You know best, I don't." Without waiting for a reply she gravely continued: "How is it you have suddenly left your college quarters?"
"How long d'you expect me to go on dissecting dead bodies?" returned Mahendra.
Binodini had to bite off another bit of thread, and with it still in her mouth she said: "So you want live bodies now!"
Mahendra had come with the set purpose of entertaining Binodini with conversation and badinage in his most natural manner. But such a profound seriousness seemed to be settling down on him that nothing light by way of reply would come. Finding Binodini to-day bent upon maintaining a cold distance, Mahendra's whole being seemed to want to get closer, to shake down the obstructing barriers by main force. Without taking up Binodini's last challenge, he edged nearer and asked: "Why are you leaving us, what have we done?"
Bioodini shifted her position, sitting a little further back, as she raised her face from her work, and, fixing her glorious eyes on Mahendra, said: "Each of us has our own duties. Was it for anybody's fault that you went off to your college rooms? Haven't I also my place to fill?"
Mahendra could not think of a fitting reply. After a pause he hesitatingly asked: "What can be the duties which compel you to go?"
Binodini's whole attention was directed to threading her needle. "My conscience tells me of my duties," she replied. "What explanation of them can I give to you?"
Mahendra stared at a distant cocoanut-tree top through the window, lost in heavy thought. Binodini silently sewed on. One could have heard the falling of a needle. All of a sudden Mahendra broke the silence, so startling Binodini that she pricked herself.
"Will no entreaty of ours persuade you to remain?" he said.
"Why all these entreaties?" asked Binodini, sucking a drop of blood from her pricked finger. "What does it matter to you whether I go or stay?" Her voice dropped as she said this, and she bent lower and lower over her sewing. The short winter's day had already grown too dark for him to be sure whether or not there were tear-drops on the edge of her eye-lashes.
In a moment Mahendra had taken Binodini's hand in his, and was saying in a husky voice: "And if it does matter, will you stay?"
Binodini snatched away her hand, and moved further off. Mahendra suddenly came to himself. His last remark echoed and re-echoed in his ears like a terrible jest. He bit his offending tongue, and did not utter another word.
In the silence which ensued Asha entered the room. Binodini with a smile, as if at some previous remark of Mahendra's, said: "If you people will insist on making so much of me, I must repay you by respecting your wishes. So I'll remain till you turn me out!"
Asha, overjoyed at this triumph of her husband's advocacy, held her friend fast in a close embrace. "You've given your word" she cried. "Now pledge it three times[1]—I'll stay, I'll stay, I'll stay!"
Binodini repeated it three times after her.
"Oh, my Eyesore!" gushed Asha. "Since you would yield at last why did you make us beg so hard? It serves you right to have to surrender to my husband at last!"
"Well friend Mahendra," asked Binodini, smiling, "have I lost, or have I made you confess yourself beaten, which is it?"
Mahendra was dumbfounded. It had seemed to him that the whole room was reeking with his crime, that just opprobrium had enveloped him body and soul. To now turn with a smile to Asha, to cover his shameful lips with light frivolity, was a performance of which he was utterly incapable. "It is I who have lost," he said gravely as he left the room.
Shortly after Mahendra returned and said to Binodini, "I ask your pardon."
"What is it you've done, friend?" asked Binodini.
"We have no right to keep you here by force."
"Where was the force?" laughed Binodini. "You were quite affectionate about it, is there no difference?—What say you, my Eyesore, is love and force the same thing?"
Asha was at once on her side. "Of course not," she assented.
"It's my good fortune, friend Mahin," continued Binodini, "that you should want me to remain, that my absence should cause you pain.—How many such friends can we count in this world, my Eyesore? If I am lucky enough to find any who feel for me, is it likely that I should want to leave them?"
Asha, finding her husband looking shamefaced and at a loss for a reply, flew to his rescue with ready sympathy: "Oh my Eyesore! who can ever bandy words with you? My husband has already confessed defeat, now pray stop!"
Mahendra hurriedly left the room. Vihari had just finished a chat with Rajlakshmi and was coming to look for Mahendra. Meeting him just outside the door Mahendra broke out with: "Vihari, old fellow, there's not a greater scoundrel in the world than I am!" So excited was he that his words could be heard inside the room.
Immediately came the call: "Friend Vihari!"
"I am coming in a minute, sister Binod," replied Vihari.
"Oh do come in now for a second," urged Binodini.
Vihari threw a glance at Asha as he entered. He was somewhat mystified to find, so far as he could judge through her veil, that there was no sign of sorrow or depression on her face.
Asha wanted to get up and go, but Binodini held her down. "Are you and my Eyesore sworn enemies, friend Vihari," she said, "that she should want to leave the moment you come?"
Asha blushed and pinched Binodini.
"That's because I was not made to be attractive," suggested Vihari with a smile.
Binodini—"See, my Eyesore, how tactful our friend Vihari is. He lays the blame on his maker to avoid questioning your taste. It's your misfortune if you can't appreciate such devotion."
Vihari—"If it earns me your pity, sister Binod, I am more than repaid."
Binodini—"Can even the sea make up to the chatak[2] for the absence of rain?"
Asha would no longer be restrained. She freed herself from Binodini and left the room.
Vihari was also turning to go when Binodini said: "Can you tell me what's the matter with Mahendra Babu?"
Vihari sat back startled. "Why, is there anything the matter? I know nothing."
Binodini—"I can't say that I do either, but I don't like it anyway, my friend."
Vihari anxiously stared at Binodini hoping to hear something further. Binodini, however, said nothing more and silently went on with her hemming. After waiting a while Vihari asked. "Have you noticed anything particular about Dada?"
"I don't know, friend, but somehow I don't like it," repeated Binodini in an ordinary tone of voice. "I do feel so anxious for my poor Eyesore." With a sigh she put away her work, and made as if she would leave the room.
"Oh do stay a little," said Vihari taking a chair himself.
Binodini opened the window wider, turned up the lamp, and gathering up her work, sat down again on the furthest edge of the bed. Then she said: "Friend Vihari, I'm not here for ever, but when I'm gone, do look after my Eyesore, see that she's not made unhappy." And she turned away her face, lest her feelings should get the better of her.
"Sister Binod!" exclaimed Vihari in alarm. "You really mustn't go. You have none of your own to go to, you must take on yourself the care of this poor true-hearted girl. If you desert her I see no hope."
Binodini—"You know the ways of the world, my friend. How can I stay here for ever? What will people say?"
Vihari—"Oh let people say what they will, their gossip doesn't matter. Your soul is far above the petty things of this world, you alone can protect this helpless innocent from its cruel touch. Sister, forgive me, at first I knew you not; and like a low-minded wretch I allowed myself to harbour unworthy suspicions against you. I even went so far as to believe that you envied poor Asha her happiness;—'tis a sin even to talk about all that I imagined. Now that I know you to have the soul of an angel I couldn't help making this confession and asking your forgiveness."
Binodini's whole being was thrilled. Playing a part as she knew she was, she had not the heart, even to herself, to refuse Vihari's offering of praise as not her due. She had never received the like from anyone before. For the moment she felt as if she was really the pure high-souled creature of his imagination; an undefined pity for Asha brought the tears to her eyes. She did not seek to hide these tears from Vihari, they assisted her to keep up her self-delusion.
Vihari, himself overcome at the sight of her emotion, abruptly left the room and went to Mahendra. He could not even guess why his friend had proclaimed himself a scoundrel. He did not find Mahendra in his room, and heard he had gone out for a stroll. This was very unusual for Mahendra, who had a horror of strange people and strange places, and never left the house except with a definite object. Vihari slowly wended his way homewards lost in thought.
Binodini brought Asha into her own room and, enfolding her in her arms, said with brimming eyes:—"Eyesore, my love, I am such an unfortunate. such an ill-omened creature!"
Asha was greatly touched, and embracing her in turn she lovingly rebuked her saying: "Why, my dear, do you say such things?"
Binodini cried on her breast like a child, as she replied: "Wherever I go some evil is sure to happen—let me go, my dear, let me return to the wilderness whence I came."
Asha put her hand under Binodini's chin and lifted up her tearful face. "Don't talk like that, there's a darling," she pleadingly urged. "I shan't be able to live without you. What has happened to-day to make you think of leaving me?"
Vihari, baffled at not finding Mahendra, was burning to contrive another talk with Binodini about Mahendra and Asha, to find out what had really come between them. So before he had proceeded far from their house he retracted his steps on the pretext of leaving a message with Binodini to ask Mahendra to dine with him next day. As he reached her door, and announced himself with his "Sister Binod!" the sight of the two weeping girls locked in one another's embrace suddenly arrested him.
It struck Asha that Vihari must have been saying something nasty to her Eyesore, which had made her want to go away. "He's not a nice-minded man, this Vihari Babu," thought she. "How odious of him!" She indignantly came away from the room. Vihari, with his veneration for Binodini heightened by several degrees, likewise departed.
That night Mahendra said to Asha, "Chuni, I am taking the early passenger train to-morrow morning for Benares."
Asha's heart gave a sudden thump as she asked—"Why?"
"It's such a long time since I've seen Kaki."
Asha felt terribly ashamed. It was she who ought to have thought of this before. Absorbed in her own joys and sorrows she had clean forgotten her loving Aunt, while Mahendra had kept a place in his heart for the poor pilgrim in her exile. How hard-hearted Asha appeared to herself to be!
"She went away," continued Mahendra, "leaving to me the one thing she loved in this world. I feel as if I cannot remain any longer without seeing her—" Mahendra's voice became choked with emotion and with an unspoken prayer he placed his right hand in benediction on Asha's forehead.
Asha could not understand this sudden overflow of tenderness, though it touched her to tears. It reminded her of Binodini's uncalled-for outpouring of solicitude this very evening. Could there be any connection between the two, she wondered. She somehow felt it to be a presage of something new in her life—was it for good or for evil?
Suddenly she was afraid and drew Mahendra to herself in a close embrace. Mahendra could feel the tremor in her, and said: "Fear not, Chuni, our good Kaki's blessing is on you, you need have no fear. She left home and everything she had in this world for your sake; no harm can come to you!"
Bsha braced herself up and took courage, accepting her husband's benediction as a talisman; and repeatedly taking in imagination the dust of her aunt's feet she prayed: "O mother, may your blessing keep my husband from all harm."
The next morning Mahendra left without saying good-bye to Binodini.
"How virtuous we are!" said Binodini to herself, contemptuously. "He does the wrong and he flies into a temper with me! Let's see how long this virtue will last!"