VII. AUTUMN FESTIVAL
The rains are now over, and the autumn sky is clear and blue. Washed and nourished by the rains the villages wear a fresher mantle of green. Rivers which flooded their banks in the rains have subsided into their channels. Round every hamlet and town the autumn harvest has commenced.
All over India, there is an Autumn Festival sacred to the Goddess Uma riding a lion. The idea is taken from the astronomical fact that the sun passes at this season from the sign of the Lion to the sign of the Virgin. But the people know little of this astronomical signification; they worship Uma as the bounteous Mother who gives them copious harvests. Among the Rajputs, the Mahrattas and other martial races the sword was worshipped at this festival, and soldiers were reviewed as a preparation for winter expeditions. All over Northern India the festival is attended with general rejoicing, with music and feasting and illumination.
The last day of the Autumn Festival had dawned, and a bright sun poured its radiance on the town of Birnagar. Gokul Das was the first to step into the Zemindari House to offer his salutations of the season.
"Thou hast laboured long and faithfully, Gokul Das," said his master, returning his salutation, "but thy object still eludes thy grasp."
"I have worked as my fathers have worked, my Master, and my object is now within my grasp."
"So thou hast said these last six months. Raja Man Singh is away in Orissa fighting the Afghans, and his Kanangoe sleeps over our business."
"Raja Man Singh has conquered Orissa, my Master, and has annexed it to the Empire of Akbar. And he is returning to Rajmahal to confirm the order which his Kanangoe has passed."
"Passed!"
"Passed, but not proclaimed yet. As soon as this Festival is over my Master shall find himself at Debipur again!"
"Well done, faithful servant! And thinkest thou Raja Man Singh will confirm these orders? My mind misgives me when I think of the Raja's leaning towards the House of Birnagar, and the memory of Noren's grandfather still pleads eloquently for his House."
"The Raja's hands are too full for him to think of the minor of Birnagar. He has made Rajmahal the new capital of Bengal, and he wants to fortify it like his own distant abode at Amber in the sands of Rajputana."
"He is wise as he is warlike, Gokul Das, and he will consolidate Akbar's Empire in Bengal before he leaves this Province. The day of the Afghan rulers is gone for ever."
"Ay, Man Singh is not the man to leave things half done. And if rumour speaks true, he is seeking a bride in Bengal to consolidate his power."
"A bride for his warlike son, Jagat Singh?"
"A bride for himself, my Master."
"A bearded Rajput warrior like him courting the smiles of a bright-eyed little Bengali girl!"
"Such things have happened before, my Master; bearded warriors are not exempt from the fascinations of women, and sturdy men, at whose name the people have trembled, have often been led captive in silken chains."
The remark was made in the most innocent manner, but Nobo Kumar felt the blow.
"Thou art an old fool, Gokul Das. Whom is the Raja going to marry?"
"Man Singh seeks to take the sister of the Raja of Koch Bihar into his harem to strengthen his influence in North Bengal, and to consolidate the Empire of Akbar. For the Raja needs support in all directions. New enemies are issuing out of the sea and invading Bengal from the south."
"Ay! ay! Gokul Das. We hear strange rumours of a race of pirates who have come over the sea in vast numbers and are harassing our ports and inlets. Hast thou any definite news of them, Gokul Das?"
"They are a race of fierce sea-wanderers, and have come from a distant land which they call Portugal. We hear that Sebastian Gouzales, a Chief of this race, has conquered a large island in the mouths of the Ganges. Others of their tribe are fortifying themselves at the port of Hughli, forcing the timid villagers to embrace their impure faith."
"Why, this is serious news, Gokul Das. The Afghans then are not the only enemy Raja Man Singh has to quell?"
"The Afghans are the only enemy on land, my Master, but the invaders by sea are as numerous as the ocean is wide. The Portuguese swarm in every inlet of the sea, they steal and marry our women, and they make perverts of our men. But I have heard of other races from more distant lands, which they call Holland and England, struggling with the Portuguese for power over the sea."
"Why, the world is wider then than we thought, Gokul Das. And why do these races swarm to our land?"
"Flights of birds come from the bleak and snowy north to India every cold season in quest of food, and flights of races from the bleak west are similarly drawn by the wealth, the commerce, and the rich manufactures of our favoured land."
"Ay, but they seek something more than wealth and commerce, Gokul Das. They lust for dominion and possessions."
"Small chance there is, Master, of these wandering races acquiring dominion in the greatest empire on earth, consolidated by the wisdom of Akbar and defended by the sword of Man Singh and his peers."
"But dynasties rise and fall, Gokul Das, and Akbar's sons may not be as wise as he. These sea-races may wrest the Empire from the Moguls, as the Moguls have conquered it from the Afghans."
"Enough for Gokal Das are the concerns of the present day, Master. He will not live to see white races from the sea rule over this land! But before the yellow rice in yonder fields has all been harvested he will see his Master ruling his ancient estate of Debipur once more."
It was the tenth day of the bright moon and the last day of the Autumn Festival. Worship was performed in every temple, and also in many houses of the rich. Men in gay dresses issued from their villages and flocked to the town. Hundreds of women bathed in the Ganges at sunrise, and hundreds of little children paraded the streets to the sound of music. Altogether the little town presented an aspect of that joyousness and merriment which is observed in the East on all festive occasions.
Nobo Kumar had provided a grand entertainment in the afternoon for the thousands of villagers who had assembled. At the close of the rains, when the streams and rivers of Bengal are full, the cultivators amuse themselves by boat races, in which they are experts. Long narrow boats, constructed for speed and manned by sixteen or twenty rowers, skim over the water with almost incredible speed; and before the invention of steam these boats were unsurpassed in quickness. Village competes with village, and town with town, and it is scarcely possible to depict the excitement of the rowers who engage in such races or the delight of the thousands of people who witness them.
By ancient custom such races were annually held at Birnagar on the last day of the Autumn Festival, and Nobo Kumar had arranged that the races of this year—the last year of his stay at Birnagar—should be on a scale of magnificence unprecedented in the annals of Birnagar.
Early in the afternoon the eastern shore of the Ganges, on which Birnagar stood, was crowded by twenty thousand sightseers. Pavilions had been erected for the accommodation of men of rank in Birnagar; and a separate pavilion, carefully screened, had been put up for the ladies of the Birnagar House.
Sixteen boats had been manned by sixteen chosen villages of Birnagar and Debipur estates, renowned for their boatmanship. The boats were similar in shape and length, and each was manned by twenty rowers and a helmsman. Nobo Kumar was to be the judge, and he had wisely selected two officers of the Birnagar House of the highest rank to assist him.
Before Nobo Kumar issued from his house he saw his wife and told her of the arrangements which had been made in the ladies' pavilion.
"I thank thee, my husband, for thy thoughtful kindness," said his wife. "We shall enjoy this sight immensely, and our dear Hemlata is fond of seeing such races. As a little girl she used to go boating on the Ganges when Noren used to take the oar."
"Thou art clever, my lady, and few there are who can move thee from thy purpose. Our endeavours have borne fruit, and we go to Debipur after these festivities. An Imperial Agent comes to manage Birnagar estate."
"And Noren comes and lives with us till he is of age?"
"Noren is his own master," said Nobo Kumar, "but if he wishes to come to Debipur as a guest the gates of our ancient house have never been closed against a scion of a noble house who seeks our hospitality."
"That will do," said his wife to herself. "A woman's wit will manage the rest."
"It is impossible to resist that clever woman," reflected Nobo Kumar. "And I am not sure that her plan is not the best. Gokul Das is a faithful old servant and is matchless in his intrigues, but he has as little notion of social proprieties as the owl has of daylight. He told me of Raja Man Singh thinking of wedding a Koch girl. Man Singh is a wise man, and knows what he is about; and our small estates too, like the great kingdom of Bengal, may be consolidated by wise alliances."
An hour before sunset the preparations were complete. Ladies had filled their gaily-decked pavilion, and men of rank and wealthy merchants in bright silks and scarves had gathered round Nobo Kumar. Twenty thousand visitors had peopled the shore, and were breathlessly watching the race boats, manned by the most expert boatmen in the country. Their bare limbs and broad chests showed strength and endurance, and the muscles of their arms stood out like bands of steel.
Nobo Kumar had decided that Noren should choose the fleetest boat of Birnagar estate after a preliminary race, that Sirish should similarly choose the fastest boat of Debipur, and the final race between the two selected boats should be judged by Nobo Kumar himself. Everyone applauded the arrangement. Sirish accepted his part with that calm alacrity which was a part of his nature, Noren was wild with excitement.
The Debipur boats ran first. The distance was about a mile, and the boats were to row down the river, helped by the current, to the winning-post, which was planted in front of Nobo Kumar's pavilion. Sirish and Noren sat by him, and Sirish could hardly restrain his more excitable companion from demonstrations of a boisterous joy as the race commenced.
The Debipur boats made a gallant show. Hardly visible from the distance of a mile, they gradually appeared like black specks as they came nearer, and the distant sound of the oars and the wild song of the boatmen came floating over the water. Anon the boats came nearer and nearer, like great black insects skimming over the waters with their long, outspread legs, and when at last the flags were distinctly visible, and the eight boats swept in with the splashing of oars and the wild chant of boatmen, the sightseers rose like a man and a huge uproar filled the air. The noise turned into a continuous and deafening applause as the boats came close, and the first boat swept by the winning-post with the speed of lightning. Nobo Kumar himself rose from his seat and greeted the victors as he recognised in the helmsman of the winning boat a faithful subject of Debipur. There was joy and merriment in his pavilion, and a murmur of applause and satisfaction rose from behind the screen which hid the ladies from view.
"Thou hast done well, my faithful servant, and thy brawny arms have not lost their skill since I knew thee at Debipur," said Nobo Kumar, with a gracious smile.
"To see an old master is to win," said the helmsman, with that courtesy and politeness which comes natural to people in India, even of the humblest classes.
"Ay! win thou shalt, I verily trust, and the prize of this evening shall not go to Birnagar if I rightly estimate thy skill. Go to our young friend Sirish, and he will name the boat which has come first."
Sirish went to name the winning boat, but Noren's brow was clouded. Was not Nobo Kumar the final judge? And was it fair of him to show his leaning towards the boatmen of Debipur and almost to promise them the prize? But the cry rose in the air, "The Birnagar boats have started!" Noren rushed to the river bank in his excitement.
Louder and louder was heard the splashing of the oars and the chant of the boatmen, and clearer to sight were the gallant boats speeding over the broad river. But as the boats came near the winning-post men perceived that the result was somewhat different from that of the former race. The three first Debipur boats had come in almost together, within a boat's length of each other. But among the Birnagar boats one shot far ahead of the rest. Noren recognised his favourite boat and screamed in joy; and the old retainers of the Birnagar House, who had watched in silence so long, raised a cry of triumph which startled Nobo Kumar himself. The Debipur men uttered an answering shout, and a tumult seemed imminent. Old Gokul Das rose and made a sign, and the noise subsided.
All the assembled men saw at a glance that the first boat of Birnagar had no peer among the boats which had come to the race that afternoon. Noren's eyes spoke the approaching triumph of Birnagar as he stood expectant.
Nobo Kumar's face, so gracious and smiling half an hour before, was clouded. But Gokul Das spoke with his usual composure.
"The noble heir of Birnagar House will now name the fastest boat of his father's estate. The rules of our race require that the boat must be one entirely manned by Birnagar men."
There was an ominous silence in the pavilion. Few could grasp the import of the last remark. Trembling with emotion Noren inquired, "What means this new condition, Gokul Das?"
Gokul Das coolly answered, “The first Birnagar boat is not altogether manned by Birnagar men if my old eyes can see aright."
"False!" shouted Noren. But he restrained himself when he saw his companion Sirish standing by Gokul Das. "Thou, Sirish, hast younger eyes, speak the truth and say if thou hast not known the crew of the first boat, as I have known them from my boyhood, to be Birnagar men."
Sirish spoke calmly: "The heir of Birnagar speaks rightly, all the rowers of the first boat are Birnagar men. I am not so sure about the helmsman."
Another silence ensued. It was ascertained on inquiry that the helmsman's father was a boatman of Rajmahal, that the helmsman was born there, but he often came and worked and passed his days at Birnagar, and was a special favourite of Noren's.
"You are the judge," shouted Noren to Nobo Kumar, almost forgetting the respect due to his age and rank, "decide if that man is not a Birnagar man."
"No," answered Nobo Kumar, with suppressed anger, "he is a Rajmahal man, and the boat he mans is not admissible in our races."
The blue veins swelled on Noren's forehead, and his lips trembled. An ominous murmur of dissent was heard from his old retainers, and a fresh tumult seemed imminent. But Sirish quickly walked up to his young friend and whispered in his ear.
"Don't cause a row, Noren; thy friends and retainers are few here, and will be overwhelmed by superior numbers. For my sake, for the sake of Hemlata, who is watching from yonder pavilion, restrain thy wrath and be a man."
Noren wiped his angry brow and stood mute for a moment. A new idea struck him. He leaped into the Birnagar boat and took the helm.
"I am of Birnagar, I suppose, and I will take the helm of this boat. Let the Lord of Debipur now judge between Birnagar and Debipur."
Everyone was struck by this singular turn of affairs. A note of dissent rose among the Debipur men against the young Zemindar of Birnagar taking the helm. Nobo Kumar was about to forbid it, when the far-seeing Gokul Das once more intervened.
"It is not the rule of our races that a Zemindar should be the helmsman. But my master would strain the rule in favour of the heir of Birnagar and indulge him in his wish. It ill befits the heir of Birnagar, however, to compete against the rustic helmsman of Debipur. My master himself will, therefore, sit on the Debipur boat, and let the Lady of Debipur and her daughter be the Judges."
A pause ensued after this novel proposal. Nobo Kumar himself hardly liked this cool impudence of his servant, but Gokul Das whispered a few words in his ear: "Trust me, Master, and accept the arrangement. The triumph of Debipur is nigh."
The wise men of Birnagar shook their heads, but their stifled murmurs were drowned by the joyous assent of Noren himself. He would steer and Hemlata would judge. It was the happiest moment of his life. Forgetting his recent outburst of anger he thanked Gokul Das with loud expressions of gratitude; and he respectfully helped Nobo Kumar to his seat in the Debipur boat. A quick glance he sent to the ladies' pavilion and his heart leaped in joy.
"Beware of rashness," Sirish whispered to him, "the waters are deep and the current is strong. The fortunes of two great Houses are on the two boats. Beware, Noren!" The warning was unheeded, for Noren's looks and thoughts were elsewhere.
Night follows quickly after sunset in India, and by the time the two boats had been towed against the current up to the starting-point a bright autumn moon danced over the waters of the Ganges. The flags and festoons of the two boats sparkled in the silver light, and eager spectators craned their necks in anxious expectation of the result of this exciting boat race between the two historic Houses.
The sound of a bomb announced that the boats had started; and before long the measured sweep of the oars and the loud chant of the oarsmen came floating over the air. When the two boats became distinctly visible they were abreast of each other; and the boatmen, encouraged by the presence of their masters, bent themselves on their oars with a will. The flags fluttered as the boats sped over the waters with lightning speed, and a universal shout from the assembled men proclaimed their near approach.
The river had a slight bend towards the west, and as the Birnagar boat was on the western side it had the advantage. The Birnagar rowers were stronger also, and their boat was soon ahead of the other. Noren was mad with joy, his boat was taking the lead.
But Nobo Kumar's men saw the frown on his face and heard his muttered wrath, and they understood. By a steady and strong pull they soon came near the Birnagar boat.
Noren's men, too, had heard Nobo Kumar's angry words. Their rowing grew slack, and it was whispered on shore that Birnagar dared not win when Nobo Kumar was on the Debipur boat. It was just this that Gokul Das had foreseen when he sent his master to the boat.
Noren saw the other boat gaining upon him, and was furious with rage. He shouted to his men and still kept the lead by a boat's length; but the river now showed a bend eastwards, and the Debipur boat had the advantage and came abreast. Noren wished to minimise this vantage and guided his vessel close to the Debipur boat.
"Beware! Beware!" shouted several voices, but it was too late! The two vessels collided with the violence of cannon balls, and both sunk in the waters, within sight of the winning-post. A wild uproar arose from the assembled multitude, and screams of alarm issued from the ladies' pavilion. Hundreds of men rushed to the river bank, and all was disorder and confusion.
The boatmen easily swam ashore. Noren, too, who was an expert swimmer, had reached the shore, but was instantly surrounded by the armed retainers of Nobo Kumar. Noren's few partisans were soon disarmed after a short scuffle, and he sat wet, shivering, humiliated, and a prisoner.
His quick mind saw at a glance the mischief he had done. He had by his insane rashness killed the Chief of Debipur. He had ruined his faithful friends and retainers. He had lost his grandfather's estate, which would never be allowed to descend to a criminal. And when his glance fell on the ladies' pavilion he felt that a stream of blood ran between him and the most dearly-cherished being on earth. An acute pain, severer than any which his enemies could inflict, tortured the silent young man; and tears of agony, such as few had witnessed on Noren's eyes, trickled down his face. But his worst fears were soon dispelled. In the midst of the general uproar Sirish alone had kept a cool head. He had marked where Nobo Kumar's boat had sunk, and he had seen the helpless old man struggling in the waters. The best swimmer in Birnagar, he had plunged into the river, buffeted its strong current with his manly arms, and had reached the sinking man just as he was disappearing under the waters. With one hand he clutched him by the waistband and kept him afloat, and with the other he swam back ashore, landing his precious charge safely on the shore.
When Nobo Kumar entered the pavilion he saw the miserable Noren seated on the ground surrounded by infuriated soldiers, who were threatening him with violence every moment.
"Stand back," said Nobo Kumar, with the voice of thunder, and the soldiers retired outside the pavilion.
"Thou, Noren," said Nobo Kumar, in a voice still trembling with rage, and with weakness after his recent struggle in the river, "thou, whom I have brought up from childhood and I had desired to restore to thy grandfather's estate, thou hast attempted to take the life of thy guardian, thy friend, thy benefactor."
"I am guilty of the worst of crimes, Nobo Kumar," said the youth, with deep contrition. "Slay me where I stand, I am unworthy to live."
There was a stillness in the pavilion, and not a voice was heard. Sirish alone ventured to break that silence.
"Permit me one word, sir, for I know Noren as no one else knows him. He is rash, he is thoughtless, he is insane when under excitement, but no thought of injuring a hair of your venerable head ever entered his mind. The sad accident of this evening is due to his rashness, which deserves your just ire, not to any intent to do harm, of which Noren is guiltless."
There was a pause. At last Nobo Kumar spoke in a few measured words.
"The Governor of Bengal will be the judge of Noren's conduct—of his rashness or his murderous intent—before many days are past. Till then it is my duty to keep him in safe custody and under proper guard. Come, Sirish," he added in a softer voice; "an old man may not remain long in these wet clothes. Take care of him, and maybe he will requite thy services. Noren has this evening made an attempt on my life, thou hast saved it."