Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 2/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
sixth year.
Mâdhabi Nâth informed Bhramar of her husband's discharge from gaol, and of his disappearance, leaving no clue by which to trace him. When her father left her Bhramar wept bitterly, though why I cannot say.
Meanwhile Gobind Lâl, on his release, went to Prasâdpur. He saw that the house had been stripped, and that no one was there. He heard that some five or six men had plundered the house of all that was in it, and what they had not carried off had been sold as unclaimed property. Only the house remained, and even that had been stripped of the door and window frames. Living for a day or two in the bazar, Gobind Lâl sold the remaining brick and woodwork for a trifling sum, and with this money went to Calcutta.
In secret and in very ordinary fashion Gobind Lâl passed his days there. In a year's time the little money he had brought from Prasâdpur was exhausted; he had nothing left wherewith to support life. So, after six years, the thought arose in his mind to write to Bhramar.
He gathered together pen, ink, and paper, and sat down to write. I will admit that in doing so he wept. He thought, "How can I tell if Bhramar is yet alive? To whom shall I write? Well, I can but try; at any rate my letter will come back to me, and from that I shall know Bhramar is no more."
It took him long to decide what to say. Finally he thought, "What great harm can there be if I write in the ordinary way to one whom I have abandoned for ever, through no fault of hers?" So he wrote—
"Bhramar,—After six years this vile one writes you a letter. If you feel so disposed read it, if not, tear it up unread. I think you must have heard all that my fate has brought upon me. If I say it is the fruit of my acts, you may recall to mind that I am only saying what you predicted of me, for I am, to-day, about to beg something of you.
"I am now destitute. I have spent the last three years in beggary. I went to a place of pilgrimage, and there lived on alms. Here I get none, and am dying for want of food.
"I had one refuge, my mother at Benares. But my mother is dead. I suppose you know that. So now I have no refuge, no food.
"So I thought I must once more show this guilty face in Haridrâ, or I cannot obtain food. What feeling of shame is left to one who deserted you without a cause, who lived with another woman, and even slew her? How can one who has nothing to eat feel shame? I may show my guilty face, but you are the owner of the property, the house is I yours. I have acted hostilely against you, is it likely that you will take me in? Impelled by hunger I have applied to you for help, will you grant it?"
The letter written, Gobind Lâl hesitated long, but at last posted it. In due time it reached Bhramar, who immediately recognised the handwriting. Her whole frame trembling as she opened the letter, she took it to her room and closed the door. Then, sitting alone, and staunching the fast-flowing tears, Bhramar read her letter. Again, once, twice, a hundred times she read it. That day Bhramar did not again open her door. When they called her to meals she said she had fever and could not eat. Bhramar had constant fever, so she was believed.
When, after a sleepless night, Bhramar left her bed the next day, she really had fever. But her heart was firm, decided. She had previously resolved what answer to write. A thousand times had she thought of such a contingency. It now required no thought, she had arranged the very phrases she would use.
She did not write "Your Servant,"[1] but as a husband is in all conditions to be revered, she wrote, "I send thousands of salutations, and beg to state as follows." Then followed, "I have received your letter. The property is yours. If even it were mine, I gave it to you. You may remember the deed of gift you destroyed before you left. But a copy of it is in the Registry Office. The gift was accomplished, it remains valid.
"Therefore you can without impediment return to Haridrâ and take possession of your property. The house is yours. Moreover, in these five years I have saved much money. That also is yours. Come and receive it. Out of this money I beg a small portion. I have taken 8,000 rupees from it. With three thousand I will build myself a house on the banks of the Ganges, the remaining five thousand will support me. Having made and settled all arrangements for your coming, I shall go to my father's house and shall live there until my own is ready. It does not seem likely that you and I will meet again in this life. I am satisfied that it should be so, and I do not doubt that you also are pleased. I await your second letter."
In due time this missive reached Gobind Lâl. What a terrible letter! no atom of tenderness in it. Gobind Lâl, in writing, had recalled the fact that six years had passed, but in Bhramar's letter not a word of the kind. Could it be the same Bhramar?
Gobind Lâl replied, "I will not go to Haridrâ. Send me a monthly alms to sustain life here."
Bhramar wrote, "I will send you 500 rupees monthly. I could send more, but I think it might be wasted. I beg also another thing. It would be better if you were to come here yourself and enjoy the yearly savings from the revenue. Do not forsake your home on my account. My days are nearly ended."
Gobind Lâl remained in Calcutta. Both felt it was best.
- ↑ This is the usual form of self-appellation, implying respectful deference to one's superiors. A son in writing to his mother would make use of the same phrase.