Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 1/Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
LATE in the evening Brahmânanda returned from writing the will. He found Hara Lâl waiting for him. The latter said—
"What has been done?"
Brahmânanda was a lover of poetry. With a forced smile he said[1]—
"When high my hands I raised, the moon to seize intent,
They struck the Babla tree, its thorns my fingers rent."
Hara. "You have not been able to do it?"
Brahm. "There were so many difficulties—"
Hara. "You could not manage it?"
Brahm. "No, I could not. Take your forged will, take your money." So saying, Brahmânanda took the note for Rs. 500 from the box, and handed it over with the counterfeit will. Hara Lâl's eyes inflamed, and his lips trembled with anger and annoyance. "Stupid, useless one!" he exclaimed. "What even a woman might do you fail in! I go, but if the least breath of this gets about, you lose your life!"
Brahm. "Don't be anxious on that account. I shall not reveal the matter."
Hara Lâl went thence to Brahmânanda's kitchen. As a child of the house he could penetrate everywhere. In the kitchen Brahmânanda's niece, Rohini, was cooking.
We have special need of this Rohini, so we must say something of her looks and character; but description of charms is not the fashion nowadays, and as to character, it is not safe under existing laws to discuss any but one's own. Suffice it to say that Rohini was in the full glory of womanhood, and of remarkable beauty—the splendour of the full autumnal moon. She had early become a widow,[2] but had many faults unsuited to the widowed condition. For instance, she wore a black-bordered cloth, and bracelets on her arms. I rather think she ate the betel leaf too. Moreover, in cooking she equalled Draupadi.[3] At soups, acids, curries of small fish or of vegetables, parched grain, &c., she was an accomplished hand. Again, in drawing figures on the floor,[4] in making ornaments of Khayer,[5] toys of artificial flowers, and in needlework, she was without a rival. She was the only one in the village who could be depended upon in the braiding of hair and adorning of brides. Having no nearer relative, she dwelt in Brahmânanda's house.
The beautiful Rohini was stirring the pulse in the pan with a stick. At some distance sat the cat, her paws spread out. Rohini now and then cast sweetly fascinating glances at the cat, to see if animals too, like women, could be made to thrill by the snare of lightning flashes from the eye (as a snake fascinates a frog). The cat, taking these sweet glances as an invitation to eat the fried fish, was gradually advancing, when Hara Lâl came tramping in. The cat, frightened, gave up her desire, anxious to escape; Rohini, leaving the stick in the pulse, and wiping her hands, drew her cloth over her head and stood up. Nervously working her fingers, she asked, "When did you come?"
Hara. "Yesterday. I've something to say to you."
Rohini with a thrill of delight asked, "You will eat here to-day, won't you? Shall I put some fine rice on to boil for you?"
Hara. "Yes, yes, set it on if you like, but never mind about that. Do you remember what happened to you one day?"
Rohini looked silently on the ground. Hara Lâl resumed, "That day on which, coming with a troop of pilgrims to bathe in the Ganges, you lagged behind. Do you remember?"
Rohini, holding four fingers of the left with the right hand and looking down. "I remember."
Hara. "The day when you lost your road and found yourself in a plain?"
Rohini "Yes."
Hara. "Night had come on, and you were all alone on that plain. A band of villains came upon you. You remember that?"
Rohini. "I do."
Hara. "Who was it that rescued you on that occasion?"
Rohini. "You did. You were going somewhere on horseback along that plain …"
Hara. "To my sister-in-law's house."
Rohini. "You saw the danger I was in, and rescued me, and sent me home in a palanquin. How should I not remember? I can never repay that obligation."
Hara. "You can repay it to-day. More than that, you can purchase my goodwill for life. Will you do it?"
Rohini. "What do you say? I would give my life even to help you."
Hara. "Whether you do it or not, to no one must you reveal the matter. You must not let a single soul know what I am going to tell you."
Rohini. "Not while I live."
Hara. "Swear it."
Rohini obeyed.
Then Hara Lâl explained about the real and the counterfeit wills, and ended with, "You must steal the real will and put this counterfeit will in its place. You go freely about our house. You are clever, and can easily accomplish it. Will you do it for me?"
Rohini shuddered. "Theft!' If I were to be torn in pieces I could not do it."
Hara. "Just like women—worthless things! a mass of words only. I understand now that never in this world will you repay that debt."
Rohini. "Anything else you bid me I will do. Tell me to die and I will. But that treacherous deed I cannot do."
Hara Lâl, unable to persuade Rohini, offered her the notes for Rs. 1,000, saying, "Take this money as your reward beforehand. You must do the thing."
Rohini would not take the notes. "I was not looking for money," she said. "If you gave me the whole of your father's possessions I could not do it. If it were possible I would have done it simply at your bidding."
Hara Lâl sighed deeply. "I thought you wished me well, Rohini. Outsiders are not like one's own people. If my wife were living I should not have needed to be coaxing you. She would have done it for me."
Rohini laughed.
Hara. "What are you laughing about?"
Rohini. "Talking about your wife brought to my mind the subject of widow-marriage. You are going to marry a widow. Isn't it so?"
Hara. "I have the desire, but where can I find a widow to my taste?"
Rohini. "Well, whether it be a widow or a married woman—I mean a widow or a maiden—it is just as well to get married and settled. We should all be delighted."
Hara. "See, Rohini. Widow-marriage is allowed by the Shâstras."
Rohini. "So people are saying now."
Hara. "You also can marry. Why not do so?"
Rohini pulled forward the cloth on her head and turned away.
Hara. "We are already connected with you in the village, but there is no degree of relationship to prevent it."
At this Rohini pulled her cloth completely over her, and, sitting down near the oven, began to stir the pulse.
Much cast down by this, Hara Lâl turned to go. When he reached the door Rohini said, "You may as well leave the paper. I'll see what I can do."
Overjoyed, Hara Lâl placed the false will and the bank-notes near Rohini. She exclaimed, "Not the notes, only the will."
Leaving the will, Hara Lâl took the money and departed.