Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 1/Chapter 30
CHAPTER XXX.
It is my belief that if Gobind Lâl's mother had been a good grihini this black cloud might have been dispersed by a breath. She knew there was internal division between her son and his wife. Women readily comprehend these things. If at this time she had striven, by good counsel, affectionate persuasion, and other womanly devices, to remedy the evil, I think she might have succeeded. But Gobind Lâl's mother was not a thoroughly good house-mistress. She had, moreover, conceived a sort of hatred towards her daughter-in-law since she had become inheritor of the property. She had not that love for her daughter-in-law which should make her desire Bhramar's welfare. She could not endure the thought that whilst her son lived his wife should possess the property. She never once conceived that, knowing Bhramar and Gobind Lâl's property indivisible, and seeing Gobind Lâl's tendency to go astray, Krishna Kanta, to correct this tendency, had given the succession to Bhramar. Nor did she once conceive it likely that in his dying state Krishna Kanta's intellect had become obscured, and that he had made this unsuitable arrangement under a delusion. She dwelt only on the fact that in her daughter-in-law's household she was now only entitled to food and raiment, and would have to live henceforth as one known by the neighbours to be dependent on her daughter-in-law. Therefore she decided it would be well for her to leave the family. A widow, and somewhat self-centred, she had, from the time of her husband's death, desired to go on pilgrimage to Benares, but from love for her son had hitherto refrained. But now again that desire had become strong. She said to Gobind Lâl, "One after another the elders of the house are gone, and my time is approaching. Do a son's office. Send me now to Benares." Gobind Lâl forthwith consented to this proposal. He replied, "Very good; I will go and take you there myself."
As ill-fate would have it, Bhramar had lately gone, at her own request, to pay a visit to her father. Therefore it was without Bhramar's knowledge that Gobind Lâl prepared for the Benares journey.
He had a little property of his own; this he secretly disposed of, and so got together a little money. He sold also whatever he had of his own in the way of gold and diamond jewellery and other valuable things. In this way he managed to collect about a lakh of rupees, on which he determined to live in the future. Then, having fixed the day for setting forth with his mother for Benares, he sent for Bhramar, who, hearing of the intended pilgrimage, hastened back. She threw herself at her mother-in-law's feet very humbly, and with tears entreated, saying, "Mother, I am but a girl; do not leave me alone. What do I know of household management? Mother, the family is a sea; do not leave me to float alone in this sea." The mother-in-law said, "You have your elder sister-in-law; she will look after you as I have done, and you are now become grihini."
Bhramar could not understand; she could only weep; she saw great trouble before her. Her mother-in-law was leaving her, her husband was going with his mother, and she felt that he would not return. Clasping Gobind Lâl's feet, she besought him, "Tell me, before you go, after how many days you will return?"
Gobind Lâl replied, "I can't tell when. I have no great desire to come back."
Bhramar unclasped his feet, and, rising, stood thinking. "What need I fear? I can take poison."
At length the day chosen as auspicious for beginning the journey came round. A short distance had to be travelled by palanquin, and the journey continued by train. All was ready. Bearers began to carry heavy chests, trunks, boxes, bags, and bundles. The servants in pure, freshly washed garments, and with hair neatly arranged, were standing in front of the gateway chewing spices. They were to be of the travelling party. The darbâns, tightening the fastenings of their chintz coats and grasping their cudgels, were talking to the bearers. The village women were bending forward to look in. Gobind Lâl's mother, bowing reverently to the family deity and addressing suitable words of farewell to the assembled villagers, went forth weeping to her palanquin; the villagers also wept. The lady got in, and the palanquin was borne forward.
Meantime Gobind Lâl, after saying good-bye to the rest, went to the bedroom to take leave of Bhramar, who was weeping bitterly. Finding her thus overwhelmed, he could not say what he had come to say, but only—
"Bhramar, I am going with my mother."
Wiping her eyes, the young wife said, "Mother will dwell there, but you will return?"
As she spoke Bhramar's tears dried up. The steadiness and gravity of her voice, the firmness of her lips, somewhat amazed Gobind Lâl, and he found himself unable to answer her. At her husband's continued silence Bhramar went on, "See, it is you who taught me that truth should be my sole religion, my only joy. Tell me now truly—me, your cherished one; deceive me not—when will you return?"
"Then hear the truth. I have no desire to return."
"But why do you not wish it? Will you not say before you go?"
"Because if I remain here I shall live as your dependent."
"But what harm is there in that? I am your dependent."
"My dependent, Bhramar, should have stationed herself at the window looking out for my return from travel, she should not then have gone to stay at her father's house."
"But how often have I not sought pardon for that? Cannot this one offence be forgiven?"
"Nowadays there will be a hundred such offences. You are now possessor of the property."
"Not so. This time that I went home, see what I arranged by my father's assistance;" and Bhramar showed a paper, bidding her husband read it.
Taking it in his hand, Gobind Lâl found it to be a deed of gift on duly stamped paper, by which Bhramar had given her whole possessions to her husband. It had been duly registered. After reading it Gobind Lâl said—
"You have acted becomingly in drawing up this, but what relationship is there between us two? If I give you ornaments you wear them; if you give me the property I shall enjoy it; that is no relationship." And, taking the costly deed, Gobind Lâl tore it in pieces.
"In giving it to me my father said it would be useless to tear it up. A copy of it has been kept in the Government office."
"Let it stay there. I am going."
"When will you return?"
"I will not come back."
"Why? I am your wife, your pupil, the one you have protected, cherished, your dependent, one who begs a word from you. Why will you not come?"
"I don't wish to come."
"Have you no sense of duty?"
"I think I have not even that."
With much effort Bhramar restrained her tears, at her command they returned to their source. With clasped hands and in firm tones she said—
"Then go, if you have the heart to do so, and return not. Forsake me, if you will, for no fault of mine, but remember there is a God above. Remember that one day you will weep for me. Remember that one day you will search this wide earth for a genuine, heartfelt love. The gods are witness if I am true—if with heart, soul, and body my devotion abides at your feet—then we shall meet again. In that hope I will live. Now go. If you wish to say so, say that you will come no more. But I say to you that you will come back; again you will call upon Bhramar, again you will weep for me. If these words are not fulfilled, then know that the gods are false, that religion is false, that Bhramar is faithless. Now go, it does not trouble me. You are mine, not Rohini's."
Thus saying, Bhramar bowed reverently at her husband's feet, and, with a stately walk, entered a side room and closed the door.