XXVI
Annapurna was rather alarmed to find Asha come to her so soon after Mahendra's return. She put all sorts of questions to her—"So, Chuni, this Eyesore of yours you were telling me of, you think her the most accomplished person in the world?"
"It's quite true, Kaki, I'm not exaggerating a bit. She's as clever as she's pretty, and as skilful with her hands."
"You think so, of course, since she's such a dear friend. But what do the rest of the household think of her?"
"Mother's never tired of praising her. She's in tears if my Eyesore so much as talks of going back home. And she's such a devoted nurse. Even if any of the servants are ill, she tends them like a sister."
"And what says Mahendra?"
"You know what He's[1] like, Kaki. He never can see any good in people He doesn't know very well. Everybody else loves her, but she's not been able to pull on very well with Him yet."
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, you see, though I took a lot of pains in bringing them together, they're hardly on speaking terms to-day. You know how reserved He is. People think Him proud, but you know that's not so, Kaki. Only He can't get on with people, except just one or two."
Asha blushed as she suddenly became conscious of the last words which had escaped her. Annapurna smiled to herself, greatly relieved. "Indeed!" said she. "That's why, when Mahin was here, he never even mentioned your Eyesore?"
"That's just like Him," cried Asha indignantly. "If He doesn't like anybody, it's just as if He hadn't seen or heard or known of such a person!"
"And if he does like a person," said Annapurna with an affectionate smile, "he can't think or talk of anything else in the world, That's also just like him—eh Chuni!"
Asha was silent, and returned the smile with downcast eyes.
"And what news of Vihari?" continued Annapurna after a pause. "Isn't he going to get married?"
Asha suddenly grew grave and was at a loss for a reply.
Annapurna got nervous at Asha's silence. "What is it Chuni?" she cried. "I hope nothing's the matter with him!" The childless woman had given Vihari the place of a son in her heart. The one recurring regret in her retirement was that she had not been able to see him happily settled in life before leaving the world. The rest of her world-life had been fulfilled,—the thought of his loneliness was the only thing that disturbed her devotions.
"Don't ask me about brother Vihari," said Asha at last.
"Why, pray?" queried the astonished Annapurna.
"I really cannot tell you," said Asha, as she escaped into another room.
Annapurna was lost in thought. Vihari, that jewel of a boy! How could he have possibly changed so that Chuni couldn't bear to talk of him! Alas for unkind fate, why had not Vihari married Chuni? Why had Mahendra snatched her away from his very hands? This was the first time since her retreat that Annapurna shed tears. "Oh, poor boy!" said she to herself. "If he has done anything unworthy, how much he must have suffered to have made him do it." The very thought of how great that suffering must have been, pierced her to the heart.
When in the evening Annapurna was at her devotions, a carriage stopped in front of the house, and the driver got off and began shouting and thumping at the door. Annapurna called out to Asha from within her prayer-room: "Look here, Chuni, I quite forgot that Kunja's mother-in-law and her niece were coming from Allahabad. This must be them. Will you take a light to the door and let them in."
As soon as Asha, lantern in hand, had opened the door, she saw Vihari standing outside, "Hullo, sister Asha!" he exclaimed, aghast. "How's it they told me you weren't coming to Benares!"
The lantern dropped from Asha's hand. She rushed up the stairs as if she had seen a ghost and shrieked: "O Kaki, for heaven's sake tell him to go away at once!"
"Who is it, Chuni, who is it?" cried Annapurna starting up from her prayer-mat.
"Brother Vihari has come even here!" replied Asha, as she went off into the next room and bolted the door. Vihari could hear everything from below the stairs. He was about to beat a hasty retreat. But when Annapurna, breaking off her devotions, rushed down the stairs, she found him sitting in a heap in the doorway—his legs had failed him.
Annapurna had not brought a light. She could not see Vihari's face in the dark, he could not see hers.
"Vihari!" cried Annapurna.
Alas! where were the loving accents of old! There was the sternness of judgment in the tone. O mother[2] Annapurna, on whom are you uplifting your sword? The ill-fated Vihari came to you in darkness to take the benign shelter of your feet!
An electric shock seemed to pass through Vihari's paralysed body. "No more, Kaki," he said, "not a word more. I'm off." He bent his head to the ground, but made no attempt to touch her feet. As a mother offering her child to the gods, Annapurna let Vihari depart into the dark without a word. In a moment the carriage with Vihari in it became invisible.
That very night Asha wrote to Mahendra:
Brother Vihari suddenly turned up here this evening. My guardian has not made up his mind when to go back.—Come soon and take me away.
- ↑ The capital letter is the equivalent of the honorific pronoun used in alluding to the husband. He is never mentioned by name by the Hindu wife.
- ↑ The Hindu conceives the Divine Power, in its dual aspect of destruction and beneficence, as feminine, as the mother,—and woman in turn is looked upon as an embodiment of this power.