Indira and Other Stories/Indira/Chapter 2
II.
I suppose I must have slept, for when I came to my senses the crows and kokilas were already awake and noisy. The light of dawn was shining through the delicate leaves of the bamboo clumps. I rose to my feet and started in search of a village, and after a time came upon human habitations. I asked the people I met if they could tell me the way to my father's village or to that where my father-in-law lived. No one knew. Soon I found, that I was safer in the forest than here. In the first place it was painful for me, a maiden bred in the zenana, to speak to males face to face,—and when I did speak to them, they looked at me with a hungry gaze whose meaning I could not misunderstand. Some mocked at me, some made insulting proposals. I resolved in my mind that I would die rather than again enquire of such creatures. As for the women, none of them could give me any information. They too seemed to take me for some strange animal, so amazed were their foolish faces. Only one old woman said, "My dear, who on earth are you? Is it fitting that such a slim and lovely little person should wander about unattended on the public highway? Dear me! Dear me! You come into my house." I followed her without a word. Seeing me perish with hunger, she gave me food. She said she knew Mahespur. I told her that she would be handsomely rewarded if she took me home. But she only stupidly answered that she could not leave her house and family. So I started once more along the road she indicated. I tramped along painfully till dusk, growing more and more fatigued. Meeting a wayfarer, I asked him how far it was to Mahespur. He stood astonished, and after a time asked me whence I had come. I told him the name of the village where the old woman dwelt. He told me that I was going away from my destination; that Mahespur was two days journey distant.
I was beside myself with fear and disappointment. I asked the man where he was going. He told me that he was on his way to the hamlet of Gaurigram hard by. Not knowing what else to do, I followed him. When we reached the village, the man asked me to whose house I was going. I said I knew no one, and would spend the night under a tree.
"Of what caste are you?" he asked.
"I am a Kayastha", I replied
He said, "I am a Brahmin. Come with me. For all your torn and dirty raiment, I can see that you are of good family. Such looks as yours are not found in humble homes."
Ah, beauty, beauty! I was growing tired of these constant allusions to my pretty looks. But the Brahmin was old and of reverend aspect. I followed him.
I spent that night in the Brahmin's house, and was glad of a little repose after two days of terror and agitation. When I arose in the morning, I found that all my limbs ached. My feet were wofully swollen. I had not strength to sit up.
So long as I was in this weak state, I was compelled to stay in the Brahmin's house. He and his good wife were very kind to me, but I could not think of any means of arriving at Mahespur. None of the women knew the way, nor was any of them ready to be my guide. Many of the men were willing enough, but I was afraid to go alone with men, nor would the old Brahmin have allowed me to accompany them. He took me aside and said, "These are low fellows. Do not trust them. I dare not tell you what they meditate. I cannot, as a respectable Brahmin, allow you to go with such people." So I desisted. One day, I happened to hear that a gentleman named Krishnadas Basu was going to Calcutta with his family, and thought I had at last found a way of escape. Calcutta was far from my home and that of my father-in-law, it is true, but I had a distant relative who was engaged in business in the capital. I thought that if I could only reach Calcutta, I should have no difficulty in finding my relative, who would certainly send me home; or else I might be able to send word to my father.
I announced my discovery to my host, who strongly approved of my plan. "Krishna Babu," he said, "is well known to me. I will take you to him. He is an elderly man of excellent character."
I was duly taken to Krishna Babu's house. The Brahmin explained that I was a young lady of good birth who had fallen into misfortune and had lost my way. "If you will only take this poor friendless girl to Calcutta, she will have no difficulty in finding her way home." Krishnadas Babu agreed, and admitted me to his women's quarters. Next day I started for Calcutta in the company of the ladies of his family. We had to walk some eight or ten miles to the Ganges, where we took boat.
In due course we reached Calcutta, whither my host was proceeding to perform his devotions at the shrine of Kalighat. He took up his residence in the suburb of Bhawanipur. One day he asked me where my relative dwelt. Was it in Calcutta or at Bhawanipur. I had not the slightest idea! Did I not know his address? I did not know that either. In my simplicity I had imagined that Calcutta was just a big village like our own where all the principal inhabitants were known! I thought it was only necessary to mention a gentleman's name to be told where he lived!
I now found that Calcutta was an endless sea of masonry houses. I could think of no means of discovering my friends. Krishnadas Babu very kindly made enquiries on my behalf, but in a place like Calcutta the investigations of a simple country gentleman were of little avail.
It was Krishnadas Babu's intention to go to Benares after he had finished his pilgrimage to Kalighat. When his devotions were completed, it was time for him to resume his journey with his family. What was I to do? I burst into tears.
My kind friend said, "Look here, listen to me. A friend of mine of the name of Ramram Datta lives hard by in Thanthania. I happened to meet him yesterday. He told me that he was in great distress for want of a cook-maid. It happens that girls of quite respectable families in our country go into service as cooks. He asked me if I could recommend some one. I promised to make enquiries. Now why should not you take this chance? I see no other refuge for you. I must tell frankly that my means do not permit me to take you with us to Benares. Even if you came with us, you would be no better off than you are now. On the other hand, if you stay here, you can continue your search for your relatives."
What could I do but agree? But the thought of the trouble my looks had given me returned to my mind. I had come to think of all male beings as my sworn foes. So I asked,
"How old is Ramram Babu?"
"He is an old man like me."
"Is his wife still alive?" I asked.
He had two wives, I was told.
Were there any other males in his family? was my next question. My host replied that there was one little son, aged ten, by the second marriage. And there was also a blind nephew.
I had no further excuse for refusal. The very next day Krishnadas Babu sent me to Ramram Babu's house. I entered his family as his cook. This was what fate had written on my forehead! Who would have guessed that I was destined to earn my living by cooking and waiting at table!