The Home and the World, Rabindranath Tagore [robert munsch read aloud txt] 📗

your

eyes? If you have set about to wean him from me, I must confess

I have no power to retain him."

I made no reply, but stood waiting.

"Be it so," Sandip went on. "Finish your special talk with

Amulya. But then you must give me a special talk all to myself

too, or it will mean a defeat for me. I can stand everything,

but not defeat. My share must always be the lion's share. This

has been my constant quarrel with Providence. I will defeat the

Dispenser of my fate, but not take defeat at his hands." With a

crushing look at Amulya, Sandip walked out of the room.

"Amulya, my own little brother, you must do one thing for me," I

said.

"I will stake my life for whatever duty you may lay on me,

sister."

I brought out my jewel-box from the folds of my shawl and placed

it before him. "Sell or pawn these," I said, "and get me six

thousand rupees as fast as ever you can."

"No, no, Sister Rani," said Amulya, touched to the quick. "Let

these jewels be. I will get you six thousand all the same."

"Oh, don't be silly," I said impatiently. "There is no time for

any nonsense. Take this box. Get away to Calcutta by the night

train. And bring me the money by the day after tomorrow

positively."

Amulya took a diamond necklace out of the box, held it up to the

light and put it back gloomily.

"I know," I told him, "that you will never get the proper price

for these diamonds, so I am giving you jewels worth about thirty

thousand. I don't care if they all go, but I must have that six

thousand without fail."

"Do you know, Sister Rani," said Amulya, "I have had a quarrel

with Sandip Babu over that six thousand rupees he took from you?

I cannot tell you how ashamed I felt. But Sandip Babu would have

it that we must give up even our shame for the country. That may

be so. But this is somehow different. I do not fear to die for

the country, to kill for the country--that much Shakti has

been given me. But I cannot forget the shame of having taken

money from you. There Sandip Babu is ahead of me. He has no

regrets or compunctions. He says we must get rid of the idea

that the money belongs to the one in whose box it happens to be--

if we cannot, where is the magic of Bande Mataram?"

Amulya gathered enthusiasm as he talked on. He always warms up

when he has me for a listener. "The Gita tells us," he

continued, "that no one can kill the soul. Killing is a mere

word. So also is the taking away of money. Whose is the money?

No one has created it. No one can take it away with him when he

departs this life, for it is no part of his soul. Today it is

mine, tomorrow my son's, the next day his creditor's. Since, in

fact, money belongs to no one, why should any blame attach to our

patriots if, instead of leaving it for some worthless son, they

take it for their own use?"

When I hear Sandip's words uttered by this boy, I tremble all

over. Let those who are snake-charmers play with snakes; if harm

comes to them, they are prepared for it. But these boys are so

innocent, all the world is ready with its blessing to protect

them. They play with a snake not knowing its nature, and when we

see them smilingly, trustfully, putting their hands within reach

of its fangs, then we understand how terribly dangerous the snake

is. Sandip is right when he suspects that though I, for myself,

may be ready to die at his hands, this boy I shall wean from him

and save.

"So the money is wanted for the use of your patriots?" I

questioned with a smile.

"Of course it is!" said Amulya proudly. "Are they not our

kings? Poverty takes away from their regal power. Do you know,

we always insist on Sandip Babu travelling First Class? He never

shirks kingly honours--he accepts them not for himself, but for

the glory of us all. The greatest weapon of those who rule the

world, Sandip Babu has told us, is the hypnotism of their

display. To take the vow of poverty would be for them not merely

a penance--it would mean suicide."

At this point Sandip noiselessly entered the room. I threw my

shawl over the jewel-case with a rapid movement.

"The special-talk business not yet over?" he asked with a sneer

in his tone.

"Yes, we've quite finished," said Amulya apologetically. "It was

nothing much."

"No, Amulya," I said, "we have not quite finished."

"So exit Sandip for the second time, I suppose?" said Sandip.

"If you please."

"And as to Sandip's re-entry."

"Not today. I have no time."

"I see!" said Sandip as his eyes flashed. "No time to waste,

only for special talks!"

Jealousy! Where the strong man shows weakness, there the weaker

sex cannot help beating her drums of victory. So I repeated

firmly: "I really have no time."

Sandip went away looking black. Amulya was greatly perturbed.

"Sister Rani," he pleaded, "Sandip Babu is annoyed."

"He has neither cause nor right to be annoyed," I said with some

vehemence. "Let me caution you about one thing, Amulya. Say

nothing to Sandip Babu about the sale of my jewels--on your

life."

"No, I will not."

"Then you had better not delay any more. You must get away by

tonight's train."

Amulya and I left the room together. As we came out on the

verandah Sandip was standing there. I could see he was waiting

to waylay Amulya. To prevent that I had to engage him. "What is

it you wanted to tell me, Sandip Babu?" I asked.

"I have nothing special to say--mere small talk. And since you

have not the time . . "

"I can give you just a little."

By this time Amulya had left. As we entered the room Sandip

asked: "What was that box Amulya carried away?"

The box had not escaped his eyes. I remained firm. "If I could

have told you, it would have been made over to him in your

presence!"

"So you think Amulya will not tell me?"

"No, he will not."

Sandip could not conceal his anger any longer. "You think you

will gain the mastery over me?" he blazed out. "That shall

never be. Amulya, there, would die a happy death if I deigned to

trample him under foot. I will never, so long as I live, allow

you to bring him to your feet!"

Oh, the weak! the weak! At last Sandip has realized that he is

weak before me! That is why there is this sudden outburst of

anger. He has understood that he cannot meet the power that I

wield, with mere strength. With a glance I can crumble his

strongest fortifications. So he must needs resort to bluster. I

simply smiled in contemptuous silence. At last have I come to a

level above him. I must never lose this vantage ground; never

descend lower again. Amidst all my degradation this bit of

dignity must remain to me!

"I know," said Sandip, after a pause, "it was your jewel-case."

"You may guess as you please," said I, "but you will get nothing

out of me.

"So you trust Amulya more than you trust me? Do you know that

the boy is the shadow of my shadow, the echo of my echo--that he

is nothing if I am not at his side?"

"Where he is not your echo, he is himself, Amulya. And that is

where I trust him more than I can trust your echo!"

"You must not forget that you are under a promise to render up

all your ornaments to me for the worship of the Divine Mother.

In fact your offering has already been made."

"Whatever ornaments the gods leave to me will be offered up to

the gods. But how can I offer those which have been stolen away

from me?"

"Look here, it is no use your trying to give me the slip in that

fashion. Now is the time for grim work. Let that work be

finished, then you can make a display of your woman's wiles to

your heart's content--and I will help you in your game."

The moment I had stolen my husband's money and paid it to Sandip,

the music that was in our relations stopped. Not only did I

destroy all my own value by making myself cheap, but Sandip's

powers, too, lost scope for their full play. You cannot employ

your marksmanship against a thing which is right in your grasp.

So Sandip has lost his aspect of the hero; a tone of low

quarrelsomeness has come into his words.

Sandip kept his brilliant eyes fixed full on my face till they

seemed to blaze with all the thirst of the mid-day sky. Once or

twice he fidgeted with his feet, as though to leave his seat, as

if to spring right on me. My whole body seemed to swim, my veins

throbbed, the hot blood surged up to my ears; I felt that if I

remained there, I should never get up at all. With a supreme

effort I tore myself off the chair, and hastened towards the

door.

From Sandip's dry throat there came a muffled cry: "Whither would

you flee, Queen?" The next moment he left his seat with a bound

to seize hold of me. At the sound of footsteps outside the door,

however, he rapidly retreated and fell back into his chair. I

checked my steps near the bookshelf, where I stood staring at the

names of the books.

As my husband entered the room, Sandip exclaimed: "I say, Nikhil,

don't you keep Browning among your books here? I was just

telling Queen Bee of our college club. Do you remember that

contest of ours over the translation of those lines from

Browning? You don't?

/*

"She should never have looked at me,

If she meant I should not love her,

There are plenty ... men you call such,

I suppose ... she may discover

All her soul to, if she pleases,

And yet leave much as she found them:

But I'm not so, and she knew it

When she fixed me, glancing round them.

*/

"I managed to get together the words to render it into Bengali,

somehow, but the result was hardly likely to be a 'joy forever'

to the people of Bengal. I really did think at one time that I

was on the verge of becoming a poet, but Providence was kind

enough to save me from that disaster. Do you remember old

Dakshina? If he had not become a Salt Inspector, he would have

been a poet. I remember his rendering to this day ...

"No, Queen Bee, it is no use rummaging those bookshelves. Nikhil

has ceased to read poetry since his marriage--perhaps he has no

further need for it. But I suppose 'the fever fit of poesy', as

the Sanskrit has it, is