Ratansingh asked, ‘Which sari is it?’
‘Nothing, it’s a tanzeb sari, but the border is expensive.’
‘If it’s tanzeb it must be foreign. Why have you put it aside? Is it better than the Benarasi saris?’
‘It isn’t better but I’m not giving this one.’
‘Hey, I won’t let you keep a foreign thing. Give it here.’
‘No, for my sake let this be.’
‘You didn’t let one thing stay for my sake, why should I do anything for your sake?’
‘I beg you, please don’t make a fuss.’
‘You can keep what you like from the locally made saris, but I won’t let you keep this foreign thing. We’re slaves because of this cloth; I can’t let this stigma of slavery remain. Give it here.’
‘I won’t give it to you. I say it not once but a thousand times that I will not give it.’
‘I won’t give up till I’ve taken it away, this fetter of slavery, this bond of servitude, there is just no way I’ll keep it.’
‘You’ve no right to make a fuss.’
‘Why, after all, do you love it so much?’
‘You always start splitting hairs. It’s not about a whole lot of clothes. So what if I keep one sari?’
‘You still haven’t understood the significance of these bonfires.’
‘I understand very well. It’s all a farce. All the fervour will cool in a few days.’
‘If you just told me why this sari is so dear to you, I might relent.’
‘It’s my bridal sari.’
Ratansingh thought for a while, then said, ‘In that case, I could never keep it. I can’t allow foreign clothes this hallowed status, I can’t let this sullied memento of a holy rite remain in the house. It’s the first thing I’ll gift to the fire. How thoughtless had people become to unhesitatingly use foreign clothes even for such sacred acts? I must feed this to the flame.’
‘Such inauspicious things you say!’
‘To have this kind of bridal sari in the house is what’s inauspicious and undesirable.’
‘If you want you can force it away from me but I won’t give it willingly.’
‘In that case, I’ll have to use force. I’m helpless.’
Saying this he lunged at Gaura to snatch the sari from her. She held fast to it and, looking at Ratansingh in distress, said, ‘Swear on my head.’
Kesar, the maid, said, ‘If the mistress wants it so, let it be.’
Ratan withdrew his hands, dejected. Saddened he said, ‘I’ll have to break my promise and sign falsely on the pledge letter. Anyway, so be it.’3
It was evening. The volunteers were making a racket at the door. ‘Kunwar Sahib, come quickly and also tell the missus to accept our entreaties. It’s getting very late.’
Inside, Ratansingh was in a dilemma over signing the pledge letter. How can I honour the nationalist vow with foreign clothes in the house? I’ve taken a step forward; I can’t move back now. But it’s not necessary to follow the pledge to the exact letter, one should focus on its larger purpose. From that point of view, I have every right to sign. No one can stand up to female obstinacy. If I wanted I could get the job done with one taunt, but she’ll be hurt, she’s so sentimental. I have to respect her feelings.
Gaura was worried, too. The bridal sari is an emblem of marriage. To burn it would be so inauspicious. He’s sometimes as stubborn as a child; when he starts singing his own tune he won’t listen to anyone else. Once crossed, it’s as if he’ll never straighten up again. But poor thing, he’s helpless because of his principles. He detests lies. He’ll have to write a false acceptance on the pledge letter. It’ll torment him, he must be in a serious quandary. How can he, who’s leading the whole city’s nationalist volunteers, make excuses about signing on the pledge letter? He won’t have anywhere left to show his face. People will take him for a fake. But how can I give away this auspicious thing?
Just then she saw Ramtehel, the syce, go out with a bundle of clothes on his head. Kesar had a bundle on her head too. Ratansingh followed them, holding the pledge letter. There was a hint of remorse on his face as if a truthful man were on his way to bear false witness. Seeing Gaura he averted his eyes and wanted to slip away without looking at her. Gaura guessed from this that his eyes were wet.
She stopped him and said, ‘Please listen to me.’
Ratansingh said, ‘Let me go, don’t pester me. There are people waiting outside.’
He wanted to hide the letter but Gaura snatched it from him; she read it closely and after a moment’s reflection she said, ‘Take that sari, too.’
Ratansingh said, ‘Let it be, I’ve written lies already.’
‘How did I know that you were taking such a serious vow?’
‘I’d told you about it.’
‘It’s my mistake. Forgive me and take this with you.’
‘Since you think it’s inauspicious to give it away, let it be. I don’t have a problem telling a few lies for you.’
‘No, take it. For fear of a bad omen, I don’t want to injure your soul.’
Saying this she placed her wedding sari in her husband’s hands. Ratansingh saw the colour falling and rising in Gaura’s face, like a sick person trying to suppress some harsh pain. He
