And then, as we grew up, our mutual joys and sorrows took on deeper tones of intimacy. How we quarrelled! Sometimes conflicts of worldly interests roused suspicions and jealousies, making breaches in our love; and when the Chota Rani came in between us, these breaches seemed as if they would never be mended, but it always turned out that the healing forces at bottom proved more powerful than the wounds on the surface.
So has a true relationship grown up between us, from our childhood up till now, and its branching foliage has spread and broadened over every room and verandah and terrace of this great house. When I saw the Bara Rani make ready, with all her belongings, to depart from this house of ours, all the ties that bound us, to their wide-spreading ends, felt the shock.
The reason was clear to me, why she had made up her mind to drift away 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
