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

towards the unknown, cutting asunder all her lifelong bonds

of daily habit, and of the house itself, which she had never left

for a day since she first entered it at the age of nine. And yet

it was this real reason which she could not allow to escape her

lips, preferring rather to put forward any other paltry excuse.

She had only this one relationship left in all the world, and the

poor, unfortunate, widowed and childless woman had cherished it

with all the tenderness hoarded in her heart. How deeply she had

felt our proposed separation I never realized so keenly as when I

stood amongst her scattered boxes and bundles.

I could see at once that the little differences she used to have

with Bimala, about money matters, did not proceed from any sordid

worldliness, but because she felt that her claims in regard to

this one relationship of her life had been overridden and its

ties weakened for her by the coming in between of this other

woman from goodness knows where! She had been hurt at every turn

and yet had not the right to complain.

And Bimala? She also had felt that the Senior Rani's claim over

me was not based merely on our social connection, but went much

deeper; and she was jealous of these ties between us, reaching

back to our childhood.

Today my heart knocked heavily against the doors of my breast. I

sank down upon one of the boxes as I said: "How I should love,

Sister Rani, to go back to the days when we first met in this old

house of ours."

"No, brother dear," she replied with a sigh, "I would not live my

life again--not as a woman! Let what I have had to bear end with

this one birth. I could not bear it over again."

I said to her: "The freedom to which we pass through sorrow is

greater than the sorrow."

"That may be so for you men. Freedom is for you. But we women

would keep others bound. We would rather be put into bondage

ourselves. No, no, brother, you will never get free from our

toils. If you needs must spread your wings, you will have to

take us with you; we refuse to be left behind. That is why I

have gathered together all this weight of luggage. It would

never do to allow men to run too light."

"I can feel the weight of your words," I said laughing, "and if

we men do not complain of your burdens, it is because women pay

us so handsomely for what they make us carry."

"You carry it," she said, "because it is made up of many small

things. Whichever one you think of rejecting pleads that it is

so light. And so with much lightness we weigh you down ... When

do we start?"

"The train leaves at half past eleven tonight. There will be

lots of time."

"Look here, do be good for once and listen to just one word of

mine. Take a good nap this afternoon. You know you never get

any sleep in the train. You look so pulled down, you might go to

pieces any moment. Come along, get through your bath first."

As we went towards my room, Khema, the maid, came up and with an

ultra-modest pull at her veil told us, in deprecatingly low

tones, that the Police Inspector had arrived with a prisoner and

wanted to see the Maharaja.

"Is the Maharaja a thief, or a robber," the Bara Rani flared up,

"that he should be set upon so by the police? Go and tell the

Inspector that the Maharaja is at his bath."

"Let me just go and see what is the matter," I pleaded. "It may

be something urgent."

"No, no," my sister-in-law insisted. "Our Chota Rani was making

a heap of cakes last night. I'll send some to the Inspector, to

keep him quiet till you're ready." With this she pushed me into

my room and shut the door on me.

I had not the power to resist such tyranny--so rare is it in this

world. Let the Inspector while away the time eating cakes. What

if business is a bit neglected?

The police had been in great form these last few days arresting

now this one, now that. Each day some innocent person or other

would be brought along to enliven the assembly in my office-room.

One more such unfortunate, I supposed, must have been brought in

that day. But why should the Inspector alone be regaled with

cakes? That would not do at all. I thumped vigorously on the

door.

"If you are going mad, be quick and pour some water over your

head--that will keep you cool," said my sister-in-law from the

passage.

"Send down cakes for two," I shouted. "The person who has been

brought in as the thief probably deserves them better. Tell the

man to give him a good big helping."

I hurried through my bath. When I came out, I found Bimal

sitting on the floor outside. [30] Could this be my Bimal of

old, my proud, sensitive Bimal?

What favour could she be wanting to beg, seated like this at my

door?

As I stopped short, she stood up and said gently with downcast

eyes: "I would have a word with you."

"Come inside then," I said.

"But are you going out on any particular business?"

"I was, but let that be. I want to hear ..."

"No, finish your business first. We will have our talk after you

have had your dinner."

I went off to my sitting-room, to find the Police Inspector's

plate quite empty. The person he had brought with him, however,

was still busy eating.

"Hullo!" I ejaculated in surprise. "You, Amulya?"

"It is I, sir," said Amulya with his mouth full of cake. "I've

had quite a feast. And if you don't mind, I'll take the rest

with me." With this he proceeded to tie up the remaining cakes

in his handkerchief.

"What does this mean?" I asked, staring at the Inspector.

The man laughed. "We are no nearer, sir," he said, "to solving

the problem of the thief: meanwhile the mystery of the theft

deepens." He then produced something tied up in a rag, which

when untied disclosed a bundle of currency notes. "This,

Maharaja," said the Inspector, "is your six thousand rupees!"

"Where was it found?"

"In Amulya Babu's hands. He went last evening to the manager of

your Chakna sub-office to tell him that the money had been found.

The manager seemed to be in a greater state of trepidation at the

recovery than he had been at the robbery. He was afraid he would

be suspected of having made away with the notes and of now making

up a cock-and-bull story for fear of being found out. He asked

Amulya to wait, on the pretext of getting him some refreshment,

and came straight over to the Police Office. I rode off at once,

kept Amulya with me, and have been busy with him the whole

morning. He refuses to tell us where he got the money from. I

warned him he would be kept under restraint till he did so. In

that case, he informed me he would have to lie. Very well, I

said, he might do so if he pleased. Then he stated that he had

found the money under a bush. I pointed out to him that it was

not quite so easy to lie as all that. Under what bush? Where

was the place? Why was he there?--All this would have to be

stated as well. 'Don't you worry,' he said, 'there is plenty of

time to invent all that.'"

"But, Inspector," I said, "why are you badgering a respectable

young gentleman like Amulya Babu?"

"I have no desire to harass him," said the Inspector. "He is not

only a gentleman, but the son of Nibaran Babu, my school-fellow.

Let me tell you, Maharaja, exactly what must have happened.

Amulya knows the thief, but wants to shield him by drawing

suspicion on himself. That is just the sort of bravado he loves

to indulge in." The Inspector turned to Amulya. "Look here,

young man," he continued, "I also was eighteen once upon a time,

and a student in the Ripon College. I nearly got into gaol

trying to rescue a hack driver from a police constable. It was a

near shave." Then he turned again to me and said: "Maharaja, the

real thief will now probably escape, but I think I can tell you

who is at the bottom of it all."

"Who is it, then?" I asked.

"The manager, in collusion with the guard, Kasim."

When the Inspector, having argued out his theory to his own

satisfaction, at last departed, I said to Amulya: "If you will

tell me who took the money, I promise you no one shall be hurt."

"I did," said he.

"But how can that be? What about the gang of armed men?..."

"It was I, by myself, alone!"

What Amulya then told me was indeed extraordinary. The manager

had just finished his supper and was on the verandah rinsing out

his mouth. The place was somewhat dark. Amulya had a revolver

in each pocket, one loaded with blank cartridges, the other with

ball. He had a mask over his face. He flashed a bull's-eye

lantern in the manager's face and fired a blank shot. The man

swooned away. Some of the guards, who were off duty, came

running up, but when Amulya fired another blank shot at them they

lost no time in taking cover. Then Kasim, who was on duty, came

up whirling a quarterstaff. This time Amulya aimed a bullet at

his legs, and finding himself hit, Kasim collapsed on the floor.

Amulya then made the trembling manager, who had come to his

senses, open the safe and deliver up six thousand rupees.

Finally, he took one of the estate horses and galloped off a few

miles, there let the animal loose, and quietly walked up here, to

our place.

"What made you do all this, Amulya?" I asked.

"There was a grave reason, Maharaja," he replied.

"But why, then, did you try to return the money?"

"Let her come, at whose command I did so. In her presence I

shall make a clean breast of it."

"And who may 'she' be?"

"My sister, the Chota Rani!"

I sent for Bimala. She came hesitatingly, barefoot, with a white

shawl over her head. I had never seen my Bimal like this before.

She seemed to have wrapped herself in a morning light.

Amulya prostrated himself in salutation and took the dust of her

feet. Then, as he rose, he said: "Your command has been

executed, sister. The money is returned."

"You have saved me, my little brother," said Bimal.

"With your image in my mind, I have not uttered a single lie,"

Amulya continued. "My watchword Bande Mataram has been

cast away at your feet for good. I have also received my reward,

your prasad, as soon as I came to the palace."

Bimal looked at him blankly, unable to follow his last words.

Amulya brought out his handkerchief, and untying it showed her

the cakes put away inside. "I did not eat them all," he said.

"I