Stories of Bengalee Life/A Pseudonym/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II
While the train slowed into Darjeeling Railway Station, I perceived Dr. Sen with his wife and daughter standing on the platform. At the sight of a Bengali maiden wearing shoes and stockings, and standing openly on a public platform, my gall rose. I have seen many Brahmo ladies in my time, and I even know one or two of them, so that these fashions are not altogether new to me. Nevertheless, to meet thus Satish's future wife and future mother-in-law was a fresh blow to me. I am much in favour of the education of women, but doing away with the zenana custom is a thing I cannot endure the thought of. I have just published an article in my paper on the subject, and was at that very moment framing in my brain fresh matter for future articles in a similar strain. Some very hard, sharp words were arranging themselves in my head, but in a short time they were all dispersed.
Alighting from the train, Satish presented me to his friends. Having never been introduced to ladies of that type, I knew not what was called for in the position, and, unable to say a word, I stood like a fool at the end of the platform near some shrubs.
Presently Nirmala approached me and said, with a smile—"Manmatha Babu, I read your paper regularly"—and seemed as if she would have said more, but did not. Nirmala's mother said—"When will the Puja number of The Light of Bengal appear, Manmatha Babu?"
"The Puja number is alreay, out"—I said.
Mrs. Sen looked at Nirmala, and asked—"Have you received it?"
"Not yet."
"Excuse me"—I said—"there has not been time for your copy to arrive yet. It was issued only yesterday, and we cannot despatch all the copies in one day.
Nirmala said—"Oh, my copy goes first to Dacca, and then is sent on here. Have you not a copy with you, Manmatha Babu?"
My editor soul was delighted at Nirmala's interest in The Light of Bengal, and I answered quickly—"Oh yes, I have copies. I will send one to you to-morrow."
"Don't trouble about it, send it when quite convenient"—replied Nirmala.
Mrs. Sen said—"Manmatha Babu, we shall be glad to have you with us at tea to-morrow afternoon"—and with the usual polite farewells they departed.
I went towards the Sanatorium, thinking that such is the influence of education and habit that even a Bengali maiden can talk to a strange gentleman in a free and easy manner, without the least embarrassment. At night, resting my wearied body on my bed, I revolved many thoughts on social matters. What would be the ultimate result of these new manners and customs we were importing with education from Europe? But before my reflections travelled far I had fallen asleep.