Chapter XI.

IT was a garden house in Sivagunga that was rented by Kashi’s father for the occasion of Gungi’s wedding. A party was given by the shastri in honour of his daughter’s marriage, and women celebrated for their singing were specially invited to it from Rampur and other places. A large number of people were invited to this singing party without reference to caste or creed, and among those present was Sai.

It was midnight and the moon was full. The shadows waved ominously under the mango trees in the garden. A woman was seen in the midst of the flitting lights and shadows sitting on a large stone and talking eagerly to a man who stood by her. From the house came the hubbub of many voices. The cymbals were sounding, but above all was heard the high trilling melody of a female voice accompanied on the veena. “Well, this is a good opportunity for us to meet”—it was Ramabai’s husband who was speaking to Sai in the garden—”the gods are more favourable now. How did your visit to Ganesh end that day? I knew that the house would be full of people and that few would know who came and who went away. Hence it was I sent you to Ganesh that day.” She was about to interrupt him, but he stopped her, saying, “Wait! Wait! Let me be open with you. I meant this visit of yours to have a double effect:—that Kamala should see you with her husband accidentally and that her jealousy should be aroused. I told him that all women are of a low, jealous nature, at which he was very indignant. It is so provoking the stupid way he treats her, as if there were nobody else that could compare with her in beauty and other qualities. I also want Kamala to know what she has to fear in you.” It was with difficulty he stopped Sai from interrupting him, and now she exclaimed with considerable irritation, “She fear me? why, she looked at me as if the very sight of me were pollution. The impertinent hussy! and the look of triumph that she cast on me when she said, Ganesh is not here! He is gone for a couple of days,’ as much as to say that he could not be aware of my coming there and that there could be no engagement between us. I felt—well I won’t say what I felt. I should like to see that man at my feet just to revenge myself on her, though I did not like your sending me there without knowing his whereabouts. She put on the air of a princess, the penniless brat, as she pointed to her husband’s room, and walked straight through the hall not deigning to look back on me.”

“Well, never mind,” said Ramabai’s husband, laughing. “I am glad you saw her, and that you dislike her,” and then followed a whispered conversation between the two, after which Sai burst out laughing, and said: “Oh! I see you want Ganesh to marry that rich and highly connected girl in Rampur and want to use me as a tool to drive away Kamala. But the plan you mention won’t do. Merely maligning her character when she goes off in a huff to her father’s house won’t keep her away for ever. Of course people may believe that a sanyasi’s daughter cannot be trusted, as the wandering, restless element is in her blood, and may not be surprised to learn that she had proved a failure. Kamala is herself proud enough to keep away from her husband’s house when she hears such things spoken of her, but Ganesh won’t be satisfied. However, I know of something else, which if true, will serve your purpose better, but of that I shall tell you afterwards.”

Portions of this conversation were being listened to from a window overlooking the garden, for Sai was an interesting personage to many women, and her movements were carefully watched.

Some weeks after Gungi’s marriage Kamala had the pleasure of seeing Kashi in her own house. There was a ceremony in the house and the shastri’s wife was asked to bring Karnala with her. The two girls had not met for a long time, and they rejoiced to see each other. At the first opportunity they could get they went hand in hand into the backyard for a long chat. It was evening and the dewy atmosphere was laden with the scent of the mogra and champa flowers. Many a thing had happened in Kamala’s house since the two friends last met. Kashi had heard of gay doings and was anxious to know everything. Kamala, after telling her all she could about Gungi’s marriage, had to answer a number of questions relating to her husband, which she did shyly, hiding her face on Kashi’s shoulder. “Oh, he is so good,” said Kamala, “but so many things have happened lately that I am afraid, Kashi, that he may change. He is all that I can wish when he is alone with me, but somehow I feel that he despises me when others are present. He is not his usual self then. He has now almost given up teaching me and lately—Oh, I don’t know how to tell it to you—I have been so troubled.” Here Kamala paused, and then, seeing the eager look in Kashi’s eyes, tried to explain all. “You know,” she began again, “that Gungi’s wedding took place a week ago. Some days before the event active preparations were being made for the marriage. The house your father lent was full of guests and we had to find accommodation for some of them in sheds erected in the garden. Many people were coming and going, and one day whom should I see coming straight towards our room, but a woman whose name I afterwards learned was Sai.”

“Sai Zadhovini?” said Kashi in astonishment.

“Yes! I did not know then who she was. I took her for one of the guests or visitors. The bold woman only laughed in my face at my confusion and asked me where my husband was. I was surprised at this question, but further on when she spoke to me my heart sank within me. She looked so beautiful and bewitching. What could she want with my husband, I thought to myself? But one thing, Kashi, made me almost leap with joy. She knew not my husband’s movements. So it was not by appointment that she had come, and I could not help giving expression to my feelings. To me the very sight of her was pollution, and I turned to go away. But oh, Kashi, her parting look sent a throb of fear through me. It seemed to convey a threat, and this is what disturbs me most now. I care not how much persecution I undergo at home. The people are after all my husband’s own people and they are good to him though they may hate me. But ah! I shudder at the thought of this woman. Do you think, Kashi, that she will come between him and me? At times this thought does not distract me and I try to feel resigned, but to lose a friend, the only one in my husband’s home, the thought of this is sometimes unbearable. At the same time, Kashi, when my husband appears cold and does not keep his word to me, I feel the old indifference to all my surroundings come over me. I work, work, work, to drown all thought, and the hardest and the worst kind of work is to me the most welcome. Tell me, Kashi, what I ought to do.” Kamala held her friend’s hands tight as if in an iron grasp and burst into tears, adding: “Oh! I wish I could stay with you always.”

Kashi put her hand round Kamala and pressed her towards herself and said after a long silence: “Oh, Kamala, I know Sai, but who could have sent her to your husband? Be sure that somebody is trying to ruin (you, my lotus flower. Be careful. The gods alone can protect you.”

Kamala was startled by Kashi’s words. “Do you think that somebody did really send her to him?” she asked.

“Sure as anything,” said Kashi. “She is a dangerous woman. She has the wiles of the devil and is very influential, though she is not so degraded as the ordinary sort of women of her kind, and that is why I am so afraid of her. Did your mother-in-law see her? Did she stay in the house?” Kamala shook her head and said she did not know, for many pandals had been erected in the garden to accommodate guests.

Just then Bhagirathi, who had overheard the latter part of the conversation, joined them, and all three walked towards the river.

“But who is this Sai? Who could have sent her to my husband?” asked Kamala again, dreamily looking over the long line of trees by the side of the river.

“Who else could have sent her to your husband but your husband’s people?” said Bhagirathi vehemently. “It is they that work all the harm for us. O Kamala, there are many things that we could tell, but our mouths are shut. They think that we cannot feel. They benumb us by giving us work that takes the strength out of us. We get disgusted with life. The daily drudgery, the murmuring and grumbling leave nothing behind that we can desire, but we are thankful for even a little sunshine such as this—this liberty to see our friends and take a walk outside our prisons.”

Bhagirathi was a tall girl with an oval face of a soft subdued bronze-like colour, to which the light of her flushing dark eyes gave a lovely glow. Her figure was slim and she tossed her head and turned about with scornful gestures. Yet so graceful were her movements that one would have thought that she was the queen of some unknown gypsy realm come to take vengeance on those around her. Her language was always vehement, and, poor girl, she had reason to be bitter. How much reason, others could scarcely understand. Her girl friends knew and sympathised with her, impetuous and fiery as she was, and there never was a friend more sincere than she. She would have given her life, if need be, for those who were kind to her. Both Kashi and Kamala listened to Bhagirathi’s words calmly. The girls were nearing the river on the banks of which just in front of them were temples and groves and beyond a huge vast plain. “Hush! we must not talk here,” said Bhagirathi, and changed the conversation abruptly. “There, do you see those groves? The priests live there, and there is the temple opposite. Come, let us lay our flowers before the goddess Rohini Mata, she knows everything, the black and the white, she sees all. “Wherever there is a ditch the water will stand. Why need we talk? My mind is clear as the rocky pool, you can see for yourself. I keep no grudge, though I speak harshly and fly into a temper.”

“But really, Bhagirathi, did you hear anything?” asked Kamala.

“Did I hear? Who brings trouble and discontent into a family, if it is not the mother-in-law? Did not mine do the same for a long time, till my husband got quite disgusted with me and took to somebody else. Of course now I am the firebrand. I cannot be touched or spoken to. I fly at them, why? Because my heart is so sore. It burns and burns. What is the use of wealth and plenty? My mother-in-law looks at me with a smile of triumph as if to say:—Look, oh! you self-willed creature. See what your conduct has brought you to. What was the use of your struggling for independence? You have got it now, but why do you writhe with pain and fly into a rage when spoken to?!” These words Bhagirathi uttered with considerable vehemence, but afterwards turning to Kamala she said softly: “One thing, Kamala, I warn you against. Be careful about Ramabai’s husband. I was anxious to see Sai and watched her through the window on the day of the singing party, and heard Ramabai’s husband say something to Sai which appeared suspicious, for I heard your name pronounced now and then in some sentences which I could not understand. But come, girls, there is the goddess Rohini. It is getting dark, the bells are ringing. The priests are out with their censers and the lights are lit. Come, let us walk by the side of the road. Don’t fall in the way of the advancing gods. You know it is just the time when they take their evening walks.”

Boom! Boom! the sounds come from the temple. The Mata has left the temple. The bells ring loudly. People from all parts are hastening to the temple, some with brass plates full of flowers, others with offerings of different things to be laid before the goddess. At a certain place in front of the temple they bow, a change in the music intimates to them that the goddess is standing at the doorway, and they murmur their petitions to her and prostrate themselves nine times, and then, advancing, take the holy ashes, the basil leaves, and go round the temple three times before leaving the place. Not a word is uttered by the people during the poojah. Fear and trembling fill their hearts. Some break cocoanuts, some burn camphor for sick people, and some count beads for merit. In the dark groves near by are seen the hideous figures of the bhairagis and priests, huge, big-built men with coarse features begrimed with ashes. The girls clasp each other’s hands as they bebold these men, who stare at them with a coarse, rude stare.

“Oh, Kashi,” said Kamala, “I feel so afraid of these men. One comes to beg food, and when I give him anything he offers a blessing, but he does look so dreadful.”

“They have a power in their eyes, it is said,” remarked Kashi. “Have you heard of people following them and being entirely at their mercy? They can do anything they wish, it seems.”

“Oh, how dreadful,” said Kamala. “How I dislike the priest that comes to our house. He has always something to say about me, and I try to hide myself from him, but he finds me out. Something or other is needed for the poojah, and I have to take it to him and he watches me so minutely that I feel frightened. Do you think he knows I dislike him?”

“They know everything,” said Bhagirathi. “Their gods tell them everything while they are in a trance, and they have even power over the gods. Some of the bad ones go even so far as to order their gods. They get so skilful in their mantras and so powerful. The poojaree of this temple before the present one was a most wicked person. Have you heard how he died? Well, our goddess Rohini is a good married woman. You know the story of how she preserved our city from being washed away. When the floods came in the night and the bunds were in danger, it was she who went to the mamlatdar, roused him from sleep, and told him to bring his workmen. And when he demurred and said: ‘Oh! it is impossible to secure the bunds in one night,’ she frowned on him and said: Come, as many of you as can, and each one bring a spadeful of sand. I will see to the rest. Do you know who I am? That night they worked as they never did before, and the city was saved. Well, Rohini is a virtuous woman and used to be very indignant at the liberties this priest took with her. Once at midnight, the time when she generally went out on her rounds to watch the city, this man came swinging along under the influence of bhang. She had just left the temple and was in the yard, but he did not notice her and walked right in and called out loudly: ‘Halloa! wench, come out. This was very rude, for the term used could only apply to a concubine or a dancing girl. The goddess heard it and turned round in a rage. She was free in the air and no more under his power, and she gave him such a slap on the back that he fell down, spat blood, and died. There is no trifling with her. She requires clean men with good hearts, not those that stare at women and use bad words. Her virtue is very great. By the power of it she goes dry over waters and floods, and that is why women sing to her when grinding the corn:—

‘The front springs dry
And the back springs gush out
At the feet of Rohini,
Our lovely Rohini,
The Rohini who presides
Over the banks of the river.’”

Kamala in her turn approached the temple with her heart full of misgivings. She had an indescribable yearning to pour out her mind to the great and good goddess, Rohini. She prostrated herself in front of the temple. Her prayer was the dumb cry of the heart for a God to rule where no order appeared to exist, and to give strength and support in the midst of struggle and strife. A blind fate, Vithi, appeared to direct all. “O God,” exclaimed Kamala, as she prostrated herself before the hideous images, and the wind moaned in the trees and seemed to prolong the sorrowful note, “O God, if thou art present here”—and a shudder came over her as she thought of the evils that were being planned and that loomed before her. But with this came a more consoling thought. As she dreamily looked at the long stretch of road that led to her home, the mound by its side, and the curve at the far end, she seemed to feel that her God was not far off, and that He was able to help her. Her heart rose as she looked over all and unconsciously added: “Yes, Thou art here. Thou knowest me. Thou hast made me and lookest on all. Thou seest the wicked and the good. The vile plots of the wicked thwart. Rescue my husband and me. The false is around me everywhere. I invoke thy aid and supplicate thy help.” The winds roared and rushed and the trees shook ominously. It was to her an awful moment. She thought that her prayer perhaps was too daring and that the god was walking in the twilight in the unseen elements. Perhaps he was approaching her. She fell on her face once more. The loud mournful sound of the roaring, rushing wind passed away and there was a hush. Would anything happen to her for her daring? Would the deity before her get angry and strike her dead? Her hands were clasped in prayer and her mind was concentrated to the uttermost. Just then the voice of her husband fell on her ears, but when she lifted her head she saw another face which gave her a dreadful start. Her husband was by her side and was telling her something, but she could not catch the meaning of the words, for the eyes of the other man had transfixed her. “That man! oh, that man! why does he come?” and she pressed her heart as she walked by the side of her husband. The person in front was no other than the young physician who had cured her, and whom she had met under strange circumstances at Dudhasthal. The gaze was unmistakable and she wondered at its power. But her husband led her to Kashi, saying, “Be prepared to go soon to your father.” Then Kamala awoke as it were from a dream and asked, “Why? What?” Her husband smiled, and looking into her confused face, asked her if she was bewitched in the holy grove, and said: “Have you not heard what I have been saying to you all this time? Your father wants you. He is ill. Come home at once and prepare to go.”

Ganesh’s nature was hard to comprehend. He had many good impulses but he was indolent, and there was a selfish element in his character. Everything was subservient to his pleasure, and it is no wonder that he regarded Kamala as a sort of a chattel made to give him pleasure and minister to his wants. He seemed not to be aware of any pain that he caused by his coldness and indifference towards her. She was his wife, his property, and he felt that there was no need for him to exert himself to draw her nearer to himself. He did not trouble in the least as to what she was doing so long as his own hours were spent in pleasure. He was intensely kind to her when he was with her, for it gave him pleasure to be kind and to see the beaming look of gratitude in her face. He was a man who could not bear to see outward signs of pain or sorrow, and he tried to shirk displeasing duties just to avoid the pain and trouble of them. Intelligent conversation gave him pleasure and his mother’s company satisfied his vanity, for he was the pet son. Ramabai’s husband, who had studied Ganesh’s character very carefully, tried his best to bring Sai more and more in contact with him. There was a charm in Sai’s company. Her intelligent repartee, her jovial, humorous way of taking off people, her wide knowledge of the world, and her scathing ridicule of those who did not fall in with her way of thinking, could not but attract Ganesh towards her. Kamala did not realize the weak side of her husband’s character. She was herself a sensitive, high-souled girl, and she only looked at the bright side of those around her. Her own heart was quite unselfish, and entirely devoted to those for whom sbe felt any regard. Latterly Ganesh felt a certain constraint in Kamala’s presence, for he could not always manufacture excuses for not keeping his many promises to teach her. He felt rebuked at the sight of the light which leapt in Kamala’s eyes and the flash of pleasure on her face at his approach; and he was conscious that her nature was higher than his own and felt uncomfortable. He was even angry with himself for having at first made such determined efforts to teach her, and for having led her to expect so much notice and attention from him.