 The home and the world by Rabindranath Tagore translated by Surendranath Tagore. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Raju from Burleson, Texas, United States. Pramina45 at Hotmail.com Part 1 of Chapter 4 Nickel Story 3 I was never self-conscious. But nowadays, I often try to take an outside view to see myself as someone sees me. What a dismally solemn picture it makes. My habit of taking things too seriously. Better surely to laugh away the world and flood it with tears. That is, in fact, how the world gets on. We relish our food and rest only because we can dismiss as so many empty shadows, the sorrows scattered everywhere, both in the home and in the outer world. If we took them as true, even for a moment, where would be our appetite, our sleep? But I cannot dismiss myself as one of these shadows and so the load of my sorrow lies eternally heavy on the heart of my world. Why not stand out aloof in the highway of the universe and feel yourself to be part of the all? In the midst of the immense age-long concourse of humanity, what is bimal to you? Your wife. What is a wife? A bubble of an egg blown big with your own breath. So carefully guarded, night and day, yet ready to bust at any pinprick from outside. My wife and so forth, my very own, if she says, No, I am myself. Am I to reply, how can that be? Are you not mine? My wife. Does that amount to an argument? Much less the truth? Can one imprison a whole personality within that name? My wife. Have I not cherished in this little world all that is purest and sweetest in my life, never for a moment letting it down from my bosom to the dust? What incense of worship? What music of passion? What flowers of my spring and my autumn? Have I not offered up at its shrine? If, like a toy-paper boat, she be swept along into the muddy waters of the gutter. Would I not also? There it is again, my incorrigible solanity. Why, muddy, what gutter, names called in a fit of jealousy do not change the facts of the world. If Bimal is not mine, she is not. And no fuming or fretting or arguing will serve to prove that she is. If my heart is breaking, let it break. That will not make the world bankrupt nor even me, for man is so much greater than the things he loses in this life. The very ocean of tears has its other shore, else none would have ever wept. But then there is society to be considered. Which, let society consider. If I weep, it is for myself, not for society. If Bimal should say, she is not mine, what care I wear my society wife may be. Suffering there must be, but I must save myself. By any means in my power, from own form of self-torture, I must never think that my life loses its value because of any neglect it may suffer. The full value of my life does not all go to buy my narrow domestic world. Its great commerce does not stand or fall with some petty success or failure in the watering of my personal joys and sorrows. The time has come when I must divest Bimala of all the ideal decorations with which I decked her. It was owing to my own weakness that I indulged in such idolatry. I was too greedy. I created an angel of Bimala in order to exaggerate my own enjoyment. But Bimala is what she is. It is preposterous to expect that she should assume the role of an angel for my pleasure. The creator is under no obligation to supply me with angels just because I have an identity for imaginary perfection. I must acknowledge that I have merely been an accident in Bimala's life. Her nature perhaps can only find true union with one like Sandeep. At the same time, I must not in false modesty accept my rejection as my desert. Sandeep certainly has attractive qualities which had their sway also upon myself but yet I feel sure he is not a greater man than I. If the wreath of victory falls to his slot today and I am overlooked then the dispenser of the wreath will be called to judgment. I say this in no spirit of boasting. Sheer necessity has driven me to the past. That to secure myself from utter desolation, I must recognize all the value that I truly possess. Therefore, through the terrible experience of suffering, let there come upon me the joy of deliverance, deliverance from self-distrust. I have come to distinguish what is really in me from what I foolishly imagined to be there. The profit and loss account has been settled and that which reminds is myself, not a crippled self, dressed in rags and tatters not a sick self to be nursed on invalid diet but a spirit which has gone through the worst and has survived. My master passed through my room a moment ago and said with his hand on my shoulder Get away to bed Nikhil, the night is far advanced. The fact is it has become so difficult for me to go to bed till late till Bimal is fast asleep. In the daytime we meet and even converse but what am I to say when we are alone together in the silence of the night so ashamed do I feel in mind and body. How is it, sir? You have not yet retired. I asked in my turn. My master smiled a little as he left me saying my sleeping days are over. I have now attained the walking age. I had written thus far and was about to rise to go off bedwards when through the window before me I saw the heavy pall of July clouds suddenly part a little and a big star shine through. It seemed to say to me dreamland ties are made and dreamland ties are broken but I am here forever the everlasting lamp of the bridal light. All at once my heart was full with the thought that my eternal love was steadfastly waiting for me through the ages behind the wheel of material things through many a life in many a mirror have I seen her image broken mirrors crooked mirrors dusty mirrors whenever I have sought to make the mirror my very old and shut it up within my box I have lost sight of the image but what of that what have I to do with the mirror or even the image my beloved your smile shall never fade and every dawn there shall appear fresh for me the vermilion mark on your forehead what childish casualry of self-deception marks some devil from his dark corner silly prattle to make children quiet that may be but millions and millions of children with their million cries have to be kept quiet can it be that all this multitude is quieted with only a lie no my eternal love cannot deceive me for she is true she is true that's why I have seen her and shall see her so often even in my mistakes even through the thickest mist of tears I have seen her and lost her in the crowd of life's marketplace and found her again and I shall find her once more when I have escaped through the loophole of death ah cruel one play with me no longer if I have failed to track you by the marks of your footsteps on the way by the scent of your traces lingering in the air make me not weep for that forever the unwilled star tells me not to fear that which is eternal must always be there now let me go and see my Bimla she must have spread her tired limbs on the bed limp after her struggles and be asleep I will leave a kiss on her forehead without waking her that shall be the flower offering of my worship I believe I could forget everything after death all my mistakes all my sufferings but some vibration of the memory of that kiss would remind for the wreath which is being woven out of the kisses of many a successive birth is to crown the eternal beloved as the gong of the watch rang out sounding the hour of two my sister-in-law came into the room whatever are you doing brother dear she cried for pity's sake go to bed and stop worrying so I cannot back to look on that awful shadow of being on your face tears welled up in her eyes and overflowed as she untreated me thus I could not utter a word but took the dust of her feet as I went off to bed Bimla story 7 at first I suspected nothing feared nothing I simply felt dedicated to my country what a stupendous joy there was in this unquestioning surrender verily had I realized how in thoroughness of self-destruction man can find supreme bliss for all I know this frenzy of mine might have come to a gradual natural end but Sandeep Babu would not have it so he would insist on revealing himself the tone of his voice became as intimate as a touch every look flung itself on its knees in beggary and through it all there burned a passion which in its violence made as though it would tear me up by the roots and drag me along by the hair I will not share the truth this cataclysmal desire threw me by day and by night it seemed desperately alluring this making havoc of myself what a shame it seemed how terrible and yet how sweet then there was my overpowering curiosity to which there seemed no limit he of whom I knew but little who never could assuredly be mine oh the mystery of his seething passion so immense so tumultuous I began with the feeling of worship but that soon passed away I ceased even to respect Sandeep on the contrary I began to look down upon him nevertheless this flesh and blood loot of mine fashioned with my feeling and fancy found in him a master player what though I shrank from his touch and even came to load the loot itself it was conjured up all the same I must confess there was something in me which what shall I say which makes me wish I could have died Chandranath Babu when he finds leisure comes to me he has the power to lift my mind up to an eminence from where I can see in a moment the boundary of my life extended on all sides and so realized that the lines which I took from my bones are merely imaginary but what is the use of it all do I really desire emancipation let suffering come to our house let the best in me shrivel up and become black but let this infatuation not leave me such seems to be my prayer when before my marriage I used to see a brother in law of mine now dead mad with drink beating his wife in his frenzy and then sobbing and howling in modeling repentance bowing never to touch leaker again and yet the very same evening down to drink and drink it would fill me with disgust but my intoxication today is still more fearful the stuff has not to be procured or poured out it springs within my veins and I know not how to resist it must this continue to the end of my days now and again I start and look upon myself and think my life to be a nightmare which will vanish all of a sudden with all its untruth it has become so frightfully incongruous it has no connection with its past what it is how it could have come to this past I cannot understand one day my sister in law remarked with a cutting law what a wonderfully hospitable Chotarani we have her guests absolutely will not budge in our time there used to be guests too but they had not such lavish looking after we were so absurdly taken up with our husbands poor brother Nikhil is paying the penalty we want to murder he should have come as a guest if he wanted to stay on now it looks as if it were time for him to quit oh you little demon do your glances never fall by chance on his agonized face this sarcasm did not touch me for I knew that these women had it not in them to understand the nature of the cause of my devotion I was then wrapped in the protecting armor of the exaltation of sacrifice such shafts are powerless to reach and shame me 8. for some time all talk of the country's cause has been dropped our conversation nowadays has become full of modern sex problems and various other matters with the sprinkling of poetry both old Vaishnava and modern English accompanied by a running undertone of melody low down in the bass such as I have never in my life heard before which seems to me to sound the true manly note the note of power the day had come when all cover was gone there was no longer even the presence of a reason why Sandeep Babu should cling around or why I should have confidential talks within every now and then I felt thoroughly vexed with myself with my sister-in-law with the ways of the world and I vowed I would never again go to the outer apartments not if I were to die for it for two whole days I did not start out then for the first time I discovered how far I had travelled my life felt utterly tasteless whatever I touched I wanted to thrust away I felt myself waiting from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes waiting for something somebody my blood kept tingling with some expectation I tried busying myself with extra work the bedroom floor was clean enough but I insisted on it being scrubbed over again under my eyes things were arranged in the cabinets in one kind of order I pulled them all out and rearranged them in a different way I found no time that afternoon even to do up my hair I hurriedly tied it into a loose knot and went and worried everybody fussing about the storeroom the stores seemed short and pilfering must have been going on but I could not mustered the courage to take any particular person to task for might not the thought have crossed somebody's mind wherever you arise all these days in short I behaved that day as one possessed the next day I tried to do some reading what I read I have no idea but after a spell of absent mindedness I found I had wandered away booked in hand along the passage leading towards the outer apartments and was standing by a window looking out upon the veranda running along the row of rooms on the opposite side of the quadrangle one of these rooms I felt had crossed over to another shore and the ferry had ceased to ply I felt like the ghost of myself of two days ago doomed to remind where I was and yet not really there blankly looking out forever as I stood there I saw Sandeep came out of his room into the veranda a newspaper in his hand I could see that he looked extraordinarily disturbed a courtyard the railings in front seemed to rouse his wrath he flung away his newspaper with a gesture which seemed to want to rent the space before him I felt I could no longer keep my bow I was about to move on towards the sitting room when I found my sister-in-law behind me oh lord this beats everything she ejaculated as she glided away I could not proceed to the outer apartments the next morning when my maid came calling Rani mother it's getting late for giving out the stores I flung the keys to her saying tell Harimati to see Tweet and went on with some embroidery of English pattern on which I was engaged seated near the window then came a servant a letter from Sandeep Babu said he what unbounded boldness what must the messenger have thought there was a tremor within my breast as I opened the envelope there was no address on the letter only the words an urgent matter touching the cause Sandeep I flung aside the embroidery I was on my feet in a moment giving a touch or two to my hair by the mirror jacket for one of my jackets had its associations I had to pass through one of the verandas where my sister-in-law used to sit in the morning slicing betel leaves I refused to feel awkward wither away Chotarani she cried to the sitting room outside so early a matinee as I passed on without further reply she hummed after me a frequent song nine when I was about to enter the sitting room I saw Sandeep immersed in an illustrated catalog of British Academy pictures with his back to the door he has a great notion of himself as an expert in matters of art one day my husband said to him if the artist ever want a teacher they need never lack for one so long as you are there it had not been my husband's habit to speak cuttingly but later there has been a change and he never spares Sandeep what makes you suppose that artists need no teachers Sandeep retorted art is a creation my husband replied so we should humbly be content to receive our lessons about art from the work of the artist Sandeep laughed at this modest saying you think that meekness is a kind of capital which increases your wealth the more you use it it's my conviction that those who lack pride only float about like water reeds which have no roots in the soil my mind used to be full of contradictions when they talked thus on the one hand I was eager that my husband should win an argument and that Sandeep's pride should be shame yet on the other it was Sandeep's unabashed pride which attracted me so it's shown like a precious diamond which knows no dividends and sparkles in the face of the sun itself I entered the room I knew Sandeep could hear my footsteps as I went forward but he pretended not to and kept his eyes on the book I dreaded his art talks for I could not overcome my delicacy about the pictures he talked of and the things he said and had much ado in putting on an air of overdone insensibility to hide my comps so I was almost on the point of retracing my steps when with a deep sigh raised his eyes and affected to be startled at the sight of me ah you have come he said in his words in his tone in his eyes there was a world of suppressed approach as in the claims he had acquired over me made my absence even for these two or three days a grievous wrong I knew this attitude was an insult to me but alas I had not the power to resent it I made no reply although I was looking another way I could not help feeling that Sandeep's plaintive gaze had planted itself right on my face and would take no denial I did so wish he would say something so that I could shelter myself behind his words I cannot tell how long this went on but at last I could stand it no longer what is this matter I asked you are wanting to tell me about Sandeep again affected surprise as he said must there always be some matter his friendship by itself a crime oh queen bee to think that you should make so light of the greatest thing on earth is the heart's worship to be shut out like a stray car there was again that tremor within me I could feel the crisis coming to importunate to be put off joy and fear struggled for the mastery would my shoulders I wondered be broad enough to stand his shock or would it not leave me overthrown with my face in the dust I was trembling all over studying myself with an effort I repeated you summoned me for something touching the cars so I have left my household duties to attend to him that is just what I was trying to explain he said with a dry laugh do we not know that I come to worship have I not told you that in you I visualize the chakthi of our country the geography of your country is not the whole truth no one can give up his life for a map when I see you before me then only do I realize how lovely my country is when you have anointed me with your own hands then shall I know I have the sanction of my country and if with that in my heart I fall fighting it shall not be on the dust of some map made land but on a lovingly spread skirt do you know what kind of skirt like that of the earthen red sari you wore the other day with a broad blood red border can I ever forget it such are the visions which give vigor to life and joy to death Sandeep's eyes took fire as event on but whether it was the fire of worship or of passion I could not tell I was reminded of the day on which I first heard him speak when I could not be sure whether he was a person or just a living flame I had not the power to utter a word you cannot take shelter behind the walls of Decora then in a moment the fire leaps up and with the flash of its sword and the roar of its laughter destroys all the miser stores I was in terror lest he should forget himself and take me by the hand for he shook like a quivering tongue of fire his eyes showered scorching sparks on me are you forever determined he cried after a pass to make gods of your pretty household duties you who have it in you to send us to life or to death is this power of yours to be kept veiled in a zanana cast away all false shame I pray you snap your fingers at the whispering around take your plunge today into the freedom of the outer world then in Sandeep's appeals his worship of the country gets to be subtly interwoven with his worship of me then does my blood dance indeed and the barriers of my hesitation torture his talks about art and sex his distinctions between real and unreal had but clogged my attempts at response with some revolting nastiness this however now bust again into a glow before which my ripaknas faded away I felt that my resplendent womanhood made me indeed a goddess why should not its glory flash from my forehead with visible brilliance why does not my voice find a word some audible cry which would be like a sacred spell to my country for its fire initiation all of a sudden my maid keema rushed into the room disheveled give me my wages and let me go she screamed never in all my life have I been so the rest of her speech was drowned in sobs what is the matter taco the Bararanis maid it appeared had for no rhyme or reason reviled her in unmeasured terms she was in such a state it was no manner of use trying to pacify her by saying I would look into the matter afterwards the slime of domestic life that lay beneath the lotus bank of womanhood came to the surface rather than allow sandip a prolonged vision of it I had to hurry back within end of part one chapter four this recording is by Raju from Burleson Texas United States Pramina45 at hotmail.com The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore translated by Surendranath Tagore my sister-in-law was absorbed in her betel nuts the suspicion of a smile playing about her lips as if nothing untoward had happened she was still humming the same song why has your taco been calling you why has your taco been calling you why has your taco been calling you why has your taco been calling you why has your taco why has your taco been calling poor Kima names I bust out indeed the rich I will ever groomed out of the house what a shame to spoil your morning out like this as for Kima where are the Hussies manners to go and disturb you when you are engaged anyhow Chotarani don't you worry yourself with these domestic squabbles leave them to me and return to your friend how suddenly the wind in the sails goes round this going to meet Sandeep outside seen in the light of the Zanana such an extraordinary out of the way thing to do that I went off to my own room at a loss for a reply I knew this was my sister-in-law's doing and that she had engaged her maid on to contrive this scene but I had brought myself to such an unstable voice that I dare not have my fling why it was only the other day I would not keep up to the last the unbending pattern with which I had demanded from my husband the dismissal of the man Nanku I felt suddenly abashed when the Bararani came up and said it's really all my fault brother dear we are old fashioned folk and I did not quite like the ways of your Sandeep Babu so I only told the God but how was I to know that our Chotarani would take this as an insult I thought it would be the other way about just my incorrigible silliness the thing which seems so glorious when viewed from the heights of the country's cause looks so muddy when seen from the bottom one begins by getting angry and then feels disgusted I shut myself into my room sitting by the window thinking how easy life would be if only one could keep in harmony with one's surroundings how simply the senior Rani sits in her veranda with her beatle hands and how inaccessible to me has become my natural seat beside my daily duties where will it all end I asked myself shall I ever recover as from my delirium and forget it all or am I to be dragged to depths from which there can be no escape in this life how on earth did I manage to let my good fortune escape me and spoil my life so every wall of this bedroom of mine which I first entered 9 years ago as a bride stars at me in dismay when my husband came home after his ma examination he brought me this orchid belonging to some far away land beyond the seas from beneath these few little leaves sprang such a cascade of blossoms it looked as if they were pouring forth from some overturned earn of beauty we decided together to hang it here over this window it flowered only that once but we have always been in hope of it doing so once more today enough I have kept on watering it these days from force of habit and it is still green it's now 4 years since I framed a photograph of my husband in ivory and put it in the niche over there if I happen to look that way I have to lower my eyes up to last week I used regularly to put there the flowers of my worship every morning after my bath my husband has often chided me over this it shames me to see you place me on a height to which I do not belong he said one day what nonsense I am not really ashamed but also jealous just hear him jealous of whom pray of that false me it only shows that I am too pity for you that you want some extraordinary man who can overpower you with his superiority and so you needs must take refuge in making for yourself another me this kind of talk only makes me angry he said I what is use of being angry with me he replied blame your fate which allowed you no choice but made you take me blindfold this keeps you trying to retrieve its wonder by making me out a paragon I felt so hurt at the bare idea that years started to my eyes that day and whenever I think of that now I cannot reach my eyes to the niche for now there is another photograph in my jewel case the other day when arranging the sitting room I brought away the double photo frame the one in which Sandeep's portrait was next to my husband's to this portrait I have no flowers of worship to offer but it reminds hidden away under my gems it has all the greater fascination because kept secret I look at it now and then with doors closed at night I turn up the lamp and sit with it in my hand gazing and gazing and every night I think of burning it in the flame of the lamp to be done with it forever but every night I heave a sigh and smother it again in my pearls and diamonds ah wretched woman what a wealth of love has joined round each one of these jewels oh why am I not dead Sandeep had impressed it on me that hesitation is not in the nature of woman for her neither right nor left has any existence she only moves forward when the women of our country wake up he repeatedly insisted their voice will be unmistakably confident in its utterance of the cry I want I want Sandeep went on one day this was the primal word at the root of all creation it had no maxim to guide it but it became fire and wrought itself into suns and stars its partiality is terrible because it had a desire from man it ruthlessly sacrificed millions of years for millions of years to achieve that desire that terrible word I want has taken flesh in woman and therefore men who are cowards try with all their might to keep back this primal flood with their tavern dykes they are afraid less laughing and dancing as it grows it should wash away all the hedges and props of their pumpkin field men in every age flatter themselves that they have secured this force within the minions but it gathers and grows now its calm and deep like a lake but gradually its pressure will increase the dykes will give way and the force which has so long been dumped will rush forward with the roar I want these words of Sandeep echo in my heart beats like a wardrobe they shame into silence all my conflicts with myself what do I care what people may think of me of what value are that are in that niche in my bedroom what power have they to belittle me to put me to shame the primal fire of creation burns in me I felt a strong desire to snatch down the orchid and fling it out of the window to denote the niche of its picture to lay bare and naked the unshamed spirit of destruction that raged within me my arm was raised to do it but a sudden pang passed through my breast tears started to my eyes I threw myself down soft what is the end of all this what is the end Sandeep story 4 when I read these pages of the story of my life I seriously question myself is this Sandeep am I made of words am I merely a book with a covering of fresh and blood the earth is not a dead thing like the moon she breathes her rivers and oceans send up papers in which she is clothed she is covered with a mantle of her own dust which flies about the air the onlooker acing upon the earth from the outside can see only the light reflected from this paper and this dust the tracks of the mighty continents are not distinctly visible the man who is alive as this that these is likewise always enveloped in the mist of the ideas which is breathing out this real land and water remain hidden and he appears to be made of only the shadows it seems to me in this story of my life that like a living plant I am displaying the picture of an ideal world but I am not merely what I want what I think I am also what I do not love what I do not wish to be my creation had begun before I was born I had no choice in regard to my surroundings and so must make the best of such material as comes to my hand my theory of life makes me certain to be just is for ordinary men it is resolved for the great to be unjust the surface of the earth was even the volcano buttered it with its fiery horn and found its own eminence its justice was not towards its obstacle but towards itself successful injustice and genuine cruelty have been the only forces by which individual or nation has become millionaire or monarch that is why I preach the great discipline of injustice I say to everyone deliverance is based upon injustice injustice is the fire which must be kept on burning something in order to save itself from becoming ashes whenever an individual or nation becomes incapable of perpetrating injustice it is swept into the dustbin of the world as yet this is only my idea it is not completely myself there are rifts in the armor through which something deep south which is extremely soft and sensitive because as I say the best part of myself was created before I came to this stage of existence from time to time I tried my followers in their lesson of cruelty one day we went on a picnic a goat was greasing by I asked them who is there among you that can cut off a leg of that goat alive with his knife and bring it to me while they all hesitated I went myself and did it one of them fainted at the sight but when they saw me unmoved they took the dust off my feet saying that I was above all human weaknesses that is to say they saw that day the vaporous envelope which was my idea but failed to perceive the inner me which by a curious freak of fate has been created tender and merciful in the present chapter of my life which is growing in interest every day around Vimala and Nikal there is also much that remains hidden underneath this melody of ideas which afflicts me is shaping my life within nevertheless a great part of my life remains outside its influence and so there is setup a discrepancy between my outward life and its inner design which I try my best to keep concealed even from myself otherwise it may wreck not only my plans but my very life life is indefinite a bundle of contradictions we men with our ideas strive to give it a particular shape by melting it into a particular mould into the definiteness of success all the world conquerors from Alexander down to the American millionaires mould themselves into a sword or a mint and thus find the distinct image of themselves which is the source of their success the chief controversy between Nikal and myself arises from this though I say no thyself and Nikal also says no thyself his interpretation makes this knowing tantamount to not knowing winning your kind of success Nikal on subjective is success gained at the cost of the soul where the soul is greater than success I simply said in answer your words are too vague that I cannot help Nikal replied a machine is distinct enough but not so life to gain distinctness you try to know life as a machine then such mere distinctness cannot stand for truth the soul is not as distinct as success and so you only lose your soul if you sink it in your success where then is this wonderful soul where it knows itself in the infinite and transcends its success but how does all this apply to our work for the country it is the same thing where it makes itself the final object it gains success at the cost of the soul where it recognizes the greatest as greater than all there it may miss success but gains its soul is there any example of this in history man is so great that he can despise not only the success but also the example possibly example is lacking just as there is no example of the flower in the sea but there is the urgence of the flower in the sea all the same it is not that I do not at all understand nickel's point of view that is rather where my danger lies I was born in India and the poison of its spirituality runs in my blood however loudly I may proclaim the madness of walking in the path of self abnegation I cannot avoid it all together this is exactly how such curious anomalies happen nowadays in our country we must have our religion our nationalism our Bhagavad Gita and also our Bhande Mataram the result is that both of them suffer it is like performing with an English military band side by side with our Indian festive pipes I must make it the purpose of my life to put an end to this hideous confusion I want the western military style to provide not the Indian we shall then not be ashamed of the flag of our passion which mother nature has sent with us as our standard to the battlefield of life passion is beautiful and pure pure as the lily that comes out of this slimy soil it rises superior to its defilement and needs no peer-soaked to watch it clean fire your question has been worrying me the last few days why am I allowing my life to become entangled with Vimalas am I a drifting log to be caught up at any and every obstacle with all shame and Vimalas becoming an object of my desire it is only too clear how she wants me and so I look on her as quite legitimately mine the fruit hangs on the branch by the stem but that is no reason why the claim of the stem should be eternal ripe fruit cannot forever swear by its slackening stem hole all its sweetness has been accumulated for me to surrender itself to my hand is the reason of its existence its very nature its true morality so I must pluck it for it becomes me not to make it futile but what is teasing me is that I am getting entangled I may not want to rule to best ride my proper steed the crowd and drive it as I will the reins in my hand the destination known only to me and for it the thorns the mire on the road this steed now avoids me at the door pawing and champing its bit its nailing filling the skies but where am I and what am I above letting day after day golden opportunities lead by I used to think I was like a storm that the torn flowers with which I strove my path would not impede my progress but I am only wondering round and round a flower like a bee not a storm so as I was saying the coloring of ideas which man gives himself is only superficial the inner man reminds as ordinary as ever if someone who could see right into me but to write my biography he would make me out to be no different from that loud of poncho or even from nickel last night I was turning over the pages of my old diary I had just graduated and my brain was bursting with philosophy even so early I had vowed not to harbor any illusions whether of my own or others imagining but to build my life on a solid basis of reality but what has since been its actual story where is its solidity it has rather been a network where though the thread be continuous more space is taken up by the holes fight as I may these will not own defeat just as I was congratulating myself on steadily following the thread here I am badly caught in a hole for I have become susceptible to compunctions I want it its here let me take it this is a clear cut straight forward policy those who can pursue its course with bigger needs must win through in the end but the gods would not have it that such journey should be easy so they have deputed the siren sympathy to distract the wave error to dim his vision with a tearful mist I can see that poor Bimla is struggling like a snare deer what a piteous alarm there is in her eyes how she is torn with straining at her bones this sight of course should gladden the heart of a true hunter and so do I rejoice but then I am also touched and therefore I dally and standing on the brink I am hesitating to pull the news fast there have been moments I know when I could have bounded up to her class player rams and folded her to my breast unresisting had I done so she would not have said one word she was aware that some crisis was impending which in a moment would change the meaning of the whole world standing before that cavern of the incalculable but expected her face went pale and her eyes glowed with a fearful ecstasy within that moment when it arrives the humanity will take shape which our destiny avoids holding its breath but I have let this moment slip by I did not with uncompromising strength press the almost certain into the absolutely assured I now see clearly that some hidden elements in my nature have openly ranged themselves as obstacles in my path that is exactly how Ramana whom I look upon as the real hero of the Ramayana met with his doom he kept Sita in his Ashoka garden avoiding her pressure instead of taking her straight into his shadow this weak spot in his otherwise grand character made the whole of the abduction episode futile another such touch of compunction made him disregard and be lenient to his traitorous brother Bibi Shank only to get himself killed for his pains thus thus the tragic in life come by its own the beginning it lies a little thing in some dark underwall and ends by overthrowing the whole superstructure the real tragedy is that man does not know himself for thought he really is 6 then again there is Nikhil crank though he be laugh at him as I may I cannot get rid of the idea that he is my friend at first I gave no thought to his point it has begun to shame and hurt me therefore I have been trying to talk and argue with him in the same enthusiastic way as of old but it does not ring true it is even leading me at times into such a length of unnaturalness as to pretend to agree with him but such hypocrisy is not in my nature nor in that of Nikhil either this at least is something we have in common that's why nowadays I would rather not come across him and they have taken to fighting shy of his presence all these are signs of weakness no sooner is a possibility of a wrong admitted then it becomes actual and touches you by the throat however you may then try to shake off all belief in it what I should like to be able to tell Nikhil frankly is that happenings such as these must be looked in the face as great realities and that which is the truth should not be allowed to stand between two friends there is no denying that I have really weakened it was not this weakness which one over Bimala she burnt her in the blaze of the full strength of my unhesitating manliness whenever smoke obscures its luster she also becomes confused and draws back then comes a thorough revelation of feeling and she feign would take back the garland she has from my neck but cannot and so she only closes her eyes to shut it out of sight but all the same I must not swerve from the path I have chopped up it would never do to abandon the cause of the country especially at the present time I shall simply make Bimala own with my country the turbulent west wind which has swept away the country's veil of conscience will sweep away the veil of the wife from Bimala's face and in that uncovering there will be no shame the ship will rock as it blasts the crowd across the ocean flying the pendant of Bande Matheram and it will serve as a cradle to my power as well as to my love Bimala will see such a majestic vision of deliverance that her bonds will slip from about her without shame without her even being aware of it fascinated by the beauty of this terrible wrecking power she will not hesitate a moment to be cruel I have seen in Bimala's nature the cruelty which is the inherent force of existence the cruelty which with its unrelenting mind keeps the world beautiful if only women could be set free from the artificial fetters put around them by men we could see on earth the living image of Kali the shameless pitiless goddess I am a worshipper of Kali and one day I shall truly worship her setting Bimala on her altar of destruction for this let me get ready the way of retreat is absolutely close for both of us we shall despise each other get to hate each other but never more be free end of chapter 4 the home and the world by Rabindranath Tagore translated by Surendranath Tagore recording by Raju from Burleson Texas United States Ramina45 at Hotmail.com this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Harj Sranar Nekilth story part 4 everything is rippling and waving with the flood of August the young shoots of rice have the sheen of an infant's limbs the water has invaded the garden next to our house the morning light like the love of the blue sky is lavished upon the earth why cannot I sing the water of the distance river is shimmering with light the leaves are glistening the rice fields with their fiddlest shivers break into gleams of coals and in this symphony of autumn only I remain voiceless the sunshine of the world strikes my heart but is not reflected back when I realize the lack of expressiveness in myself I know why I am deprived who could bear my company day and night without a break Pimla is full of energy of life and so she has never become stale to a me for a moment in all these nine years of our weighted life my life has only its dumb depths but no murmuring rush I can only receive not impart movement and therefore my company is like fasting I recognize clearly today that Pimla has been languishing because of a famine a companionship then whom shall I blame like Vidyapati I can only lament it is August the sky breaks into a passionate rain alas empty is my house my house I now see was built to remain empty because its doors cannot open but I never knew till now that its divinity had been sitting outside I had fondly believed that she had accepted my sacrifice and granted in return her boon alas my house has all along been empty every year about this time it was a practice to go in a houseboat over the broads of Samlada I used to tell Pimla that a song must come back to its refrain over and over again the original refrain of every song is in nature where the rain laden wind passes over the rippling stream where the green earth drawing its shadows wheel over its face keep its ear close to the speaking water at the beginning of time a man and woman first met not within walls and therefore we too must come back to nature at least once a year to tune our love anew to the first pure note of the meeting of our hearts the first two anniversaries anniversaries of our married life I spent in Calcutta where I went through my examinations but from the next year onwards for seven years without a break we have celebrated our union among the blossoming water lilies now begins the next octave of my life it was difficult for me to ignore the fact that the same month of August had come around again this year does Pimla remember it? I wonder she has given me no reminder everything is mute about me it is August the sky breaks into a passionate rain alas empty is my house the house which becomes empty through the parting of lovers still has music left in the heart of its emptiness but the house that is empty because hearts are asondre is awful in its silence even the cry of pain is out of place there this cry of pain must be silenced in me so long as I continue to suffer Pimla will never have true freedom I must free her completely otherwise I shall never gain my freedom from Andrit I think I have come to the verge of understanding one thing man has so fanned the flame of the loves of men and women as to make its overpass its rightful domain and now even in the name of the humanity itself he cannot bring it back under control man's worship has idealized his passion but there must be no more human sacrifices at its shrine I went into my bedroom this morning to fetch a book it is long since I have been there in the daytime a pang passed through me as I look round at today in the morning light on the clothes rack was hanging a saree of Pimla's crinkled ready for wear on the dressing table were her perfumes her comb her hair pins and with them still her were million box underneath were her tiny gold embroidered slippers once in the old days when Pimla had not yet overcome her objections to shoes I had got these out from Lucknow to tempt her the first time she was ready to drop for very shame to go in them ever from the room to the veranda since then she has worn out many shoes but has treasured up despair when first showing her the slippers I shaft her over a curious practice of hers I have got you taking the dust of my feet thinking me asleep these are the offerings of my worship toward the dust of the feet of my wakeful divinity you must not say such things she protested or I will never wear your shoes this bedroom of mine it has subtle atmosphere which goes straight to my heart I was never aware as I am today how my thirsting heart has been sending on its roots to cling around each and every familiar object the severing of the main road I see is not enough to set life free even those little slippers serve to hold one back my wandering eyes falls on niche my portrait there is looking the same as ever in spite of the flowers scattered around it having been withered black of all the things in the room their greeting strikes me as sincere they are still here simply because it was not felt worthwhile even to remove them never mind let me welcome truth I'll be in such fear and sorry garb and look forward to the time when I shall be able to do so unmoved as does my photograph as I stood there Bimal came in from behind I hastily turned to my eyes from the niche to the shelves as I muttered I came to get Amil's journal what need had I to volunteer an explanation I felt like wrong doer a trespasser prying into a secret not meant for me I could not look Bimal in the face but hurried away fifth I had just made the discovery that it was useless to keep up pretense of reading in my room and also that it was equally beyond me to busy myself attending to anything at all so that all the days of my future a bit fair to congeal into one solid mass and settle heavily on my breast for good when Panchu the tenant of the neighbouring Zamindar came to me with a basket full of cocoa nuts and greeted me with chants well Panchu said I what is all this for I had got to know Panchu through my master he was extremely poor nor was I in a position to do anything for him so I suppose this present was intended to procure a tip to help the poor fellow to make both ends meet I took some money from my purse and held it out towards him but with folded hand he protested I cannot take that sir why why is the matter let me make a clean rest of it sir once when I was hard pressed I stole some cocoa nuts from the garden here I am getting gold and may die any day so I have come to pay them back Amil's journal could not have done any good that day but these words of Panchu lighted my heart there are more things in life than union or separation of man and woman the great world stretches far beyond and one can truly measure one's joy and sorrows when standing in its midst Panchu was devoted to my master I know well enough how he managed to ick out a life food he is up before dawn every day and with a basket of pan leaves twists of tobacco coloured cotton yarn little combs looking glasses and other trinkets beloved of the village women he waits through the knee deep water of the marsh and goes over to the Namasudra quarters there he bearets his goods for the rice which fesses him a little more than the prize of the money if he can get back soon enough he goes out again after a hurried meal to the sweet meat sellers where he assists in beating sugar for wafers as soon as he comes home he sits at his shell bangle making plodding on often till midnight all this cruel toil does not earn for my himself and his family a bear two meal a day during much more than half the year his method of eating is to begin with a good feeling draught of water and his staple food is the cheapest kind of meaty banana and yet the family has to go with only one meal a day for the rest of the year at one time I had an idea of making him a charity allowance but said my master your gift may destroy the man it cannot destroy the harsh ship of his lot mother Bengal has not only this one panchu if the milk in her breast has run dry that cannot be supplied from outside these are thoughts which gave one pause and I decided to devote myself to working it out that very day I said to Bimla let us dedicate our lives to removing the root of the sorrow in our country you are my prince Siddharth I see she replied with a smile but do not let the torrent of your feelings end by sweeping me away also Siddharth took his woe alone I want yours to be a joint arrangement the idea passed away in talk the fact is Bimla is at heart what is called a lady though her own people are not well off she was born a Rani she had no doubts in her mind that there is a lower unit of measure for the trials and troubles of the lower classes want is of course a permanent feature of their lives but does not necessarily mean want to them their very smallness protects them as the banks protects the pool by whittling bounds only the slime is exposed the real fact is that Bimla has only come into my home not into my life I had magnified her so leaving her such a large place that when I lost her my idea of life became narrow and confined I had thrust aside all the objects into a corner to make a room for Bimla taken up as I was with decorating her and dressing her and educating her and moving around her day and night forgetting how great is humanity and how noble precious is man's life when the actualities of everyday things get the better of the man then the strut lost sight of and freedom missed so painfully important did Bimla make the mere actualities remain concealed from me that is why I find no gap in my misery and spread this minute point of my emptiness all over the world and so for hours on this autumn morning the refrain has been humming in my ears Bimla story part 11 the change which had in a moment come over the midst of Bengal was tremendous it was as if the Ganges had touched the ashes of the 60,000 sons of Sagar which no fire could bring kindle no other water need into a living clay the ashes of lifeless Bengal suddenly woke up here I am I have read somewhere that in ancient Greece a sculptor had the good fortune to impart life to the image made by his own hand even in that miracle however there was the process of form preceding life but where was the unity in the heap of barren ashes had they been hard like stone we might have the hopes of some form emerging even as Ahalyya though turned to stone at last won back her humanity but these scattered ashes must have dropped the dust through gaps in the creator's finger as to blow hither and thither by the wind they had become heaped up but were never before united yet in this day when had come to Bengal even this collection of looseness had taken shape and proclaimed in a thundering voice at our very own door here I am how could we help thinking that it was all supernatural this moment of our history seemed to have dropped into our hand like a jewel from the crown of some drunken god it had no resemblance to our past and so were laid to hope that all our wants and miseries would disappear by the spell of some magic charm that for us was no longer a boundary line between the possible and the impossible it is saying to us it has come thus we came to cherish the belief that our history needed no steed but that like heaven's chariot it would move into its own inherent power at least no wages would have to be paid to the charioteer only his wine cap would have to be filled again and again and then in some impossible paradise the goal of our hopes would be reached my husband was not altogether unmoved but through all our excitement it was the strain of sadness deepened and deepened he seemed to have a vision of something beyond the surging present I remember one day in the course of the argument he continually had with Sandeep he said good fortune comes to our gate and announces itself only to prove that we have not the power to receive it that we have not kept things ready to be able to invite into our homes no was Sandeep's answer you talk like an atheist because you do not believe in our gods to us it has been made quite visible that the goddesses has come with a boon yet you distrust the obvious signs of our presence it is because I strongly believe in God said my husband that I feel so certain that our preparations for this worship are lacking God has power to give the boon but we must have the power to accept it this kind of talk from my husband would only annoy me I could not keep from joining in you think this excitement is only a fire of drunkenness but not drunkenness up to a point give strength yes my husband replied it may give strength but not weapons but strength is a gift of the God I went on weapons can be supplied by mere mechanics my husband smiled the mechanics will claim their wages before they deliver their supplies he said Sandeep swelled with chest as he retorted don't you trouble about that their wages shall be paid I shall bespeak the festive music when the payment has been made not before my husband answer you need not imagine that we are depending on your bounty for the music our festival is above all money payments and in this thick voice he began to sing my lover of the unpriced love spurning payments plays upon the simple pipe bought for nothing trying my heart away then he smiled with he turned to me and said if I sing queen b it is only to prove that when music comes into one's life the lack of good voice is no matter the quality on the full strength of our tunefulness the sound is belittle now that a full flood of music has set over the country let nithil practice his scales while we arouse a land with our cracked voice my house cries to me why go out to lose your all my life says all that you have fling to the winds if we must all lose our all let us lose it what is it worth after all if I must go through in for my quest is the dead trod of immortality the truth is nithil that we all have lost our hearts none can hold us longer within the bounds of the easy possible in a forward rush to hopelessly impossible those who would draw us back they know not the fearful joy of recklessness they know not that we have had our own call from the end of the crooked path all that is good and straight and trim let it topple over in the dust I thought that my husband was going to continue the discussion but he rose silently from his seat and left us the thing that was agitating me within was merely a variation of the stormy passion outside which swept the country from one end to the other the car of the wielder of my destiny was fast approaching and the sound of its wheel reverberated in my being I had a constant feeling that something extraordinary might happen any moment for which however the responsibly would not be mine and cannot remove from the pain in which the right and the wrong and the feelings of others have to be considered had I ever wanted this had I ever been waiting or hoping that for any such thing look at my whole life and tell me then if I was in any way accountable through all my past I had been consistent in my devotion but when at length it came to receiving the boon a different God appeared and just as the awakened country was in salutation to the unrealized future before it so do all my veins and nerves sent forth shocks to welcome of the unthought of of the unknown the importunate stranger one night I left my bed and slipped out of my room on the open terrace beyond our garden wall and fields of ripening strice through the gaps in the village groves to the north glimpses of the river are seen the whole scene slept in the darkness like the vague embryo of some future creation in that future I saw my country a woman like myself standing expectant she has been drawn forth from a whole corner by the sudden call of some unknown she has no time to pursue or ponder or to light herself a torch as she rushes forward into the darkness ahead I know well how her very soul responds to its distant flute strains which call her how her breast rises and falls how she feels she nears it nay it is already hers so that it matters not even if she is blindfolded she is no mother there is no call to her of children in their hunger no home to be lighted of an evening no household work to be done so she hees to her trist for this is the land of Vaishnava poets she has left home forgotten domestic duties she has nothing but an unfathomable yearning which hurries her on by what road to what goal she wrecks not I also am possessed of just such a yearning I likewise have lost my home and lost my way both the end and the means have become equally shadowy to me there remains only the yearning and the hurrying on ah, rest wanderer through the night when the dawn radens you will see no trace of a way to return but why return death will serve as well if the darkness which sounded the flute should lead to destruction why trouble about the hereafter when I am merged in its blackness neither I nor good and bad nor laughter nor tears shall be any more part 12 in Bengal the machinery of time being thus suddenly run at full pressure things which were different became easy one falling soon after the other nothing could be held back any more even in one corner of the country in the beginning our district was backward for my husband was unwilling to put any compulsion on the villagers those who make sacrifices for their country's sake are indeed her servants he would say but those who compel others to make them in their name and her enemies they would cut freedom at the root to gain it at the top but when Sandeep came and circled here and his followers began to move about the country speaking in towns and markets places waves of excitement came rolling up to us as well a band of young fellows of the locality attached themselves to him some even had been known as a disgrace to the village the glow on their genius enthusiasm lighted them up within as well as without it became quite clear that when the pure breezes of great joy and hope sweep sweep through the land all dirt and decay are cleansed away it is hard indeed for men to be frank and straight and healthy when their country is in the throes of dejection then were all eyes turned on my husband from whose estates alone foreign sugar and salt had not been banished even the state officers began to feel awkward and ashamed over it and yet sometime ago when my husband began to import country made articles into our village he had been secretly and openly tweeted for his follow by old and young ally when Sadeshi had not yet become a boast we had despised it with all our hearts my husband still sharpens his Indian made pencils with his Indian made knives does his writing with reed pens uses water out of a bell metal vessel and works at night in the light of an old fashioned castor oil lamp but this dull milk and water Sadeshi of his never appealed to us rather we had always felt ashamed of the in legend unfashionable furniture of his reception rooms especially when he had magistrate or any other European as his guest my husband used to make light of my protests why allow such trifles to upset you he would say with a smile will think as barbarians or at all events wanting in refinement if they do I will pay them back by thinking what their refinement does not go deeper than their white skins my husband had an ordinary brass pot on his writing table which he used as a flower vase it has often happened that when I had put news of some European guest I would steal into his room and put in its place a crystal vase of European make. Look here Bimla he objected at length that brass pot is an unconscious of itself as those blossoms are but this thing protests its purpose so loudly it is only fit for artificial flowers the Bhararani alone pondered to my husband's whims once he came panting to say oh brother have you heard such lovely Indian soaps have come out my day of luxury are gone by still if they contain no animal fat I shall like to try some this sort of things makes my husband beam all over and the house is deluged with Indian scents and soaps. Soaps indeed they are more like lump of caustic soda and do I not know that what my sister-in-law uses on herself are European soaps of old while these are made over to the maids for washing clothes another time it is so dear do get some for me of these new Indian pen holders her brothers bubbles up as usual and the Bhararani's room becomes littered with all kinds of awful sticks that go by the name of Swadeshi pen holders not that it makes any difference to her for reading and writing are out of her line still in her writing case lies the self seen ivory pen holder the only one ever handled the fact is all this was intended as a hit at me because I would not keep my husband company in his vagaries it was no good trying to show up my sister-in-law's insincerity my husband's face would set so hard if I barely touched on it one only gets into trouble trying to save such people from being imposed upon the Bhararani loves sewing one day I could not help blurting out what a humbug you are sister when your brother is present your mouth waters at the very mention of Swadeshi scissors but it is an English made article every time when you work what harm she's replied do you not see what pleasure it gives me we have grown up together in this house since he was a boy I simply cannot bear as you can the sight of the smile leaving his face poor dear he has no amusement except this he's keeping you are his only dissipation and you will be his ruin whatever you may say it is not right to be double faced I retorted my sister-in-law laughed out in my face oh you heartless little Chotarani straight as a school master's rod eh but a woman is not built that way she's soft and supple so that she may bend without being crooked I could not forget those words you are his queen and will be his ruin today I feel if a man needs must have some intoxicant let it not be a woman part 13 Sukhsar within our estates is one of the biggest trade centers in the district on one side of a stretch of water there is held a daily bazaar on the other a weekly market during the rains when this piece of water gets connected with the river and the boats can come through great quantities of cotton yarns for the coming winter a barton for sale at the height of our enthusiasm Sandeep laid it down that all foreign articles together with demon of foreign influence must be driven out of the territory of course said I, girding myself up for a fight I have had words with Nikhil about it said Sandeep he tells me he does not mind specifying but he will not have Persian I will see to that I said with a proud sense of power I knew how deep was my husband's love for me had I been in my senses I should have allowed myself to be torn to pieces rather than assert my claim to that at such a time but Sandeep had to be impressed with the full strength of my Shakti Sandeep had bought home to me in his irresistible way how the cosmic energy was revealed for each individual in the shape of some special affinity Vaishnava philosophy he said speaks of the Shakti of delight that swells in the heart of creation ever the heart of her eternal lover men have a perpetual longing to bring out this Shakti from the hidden depths of their own nature and those of us who succeed in doing so at once clearly understand the meaning of the music coming to us from the dark he broke out swinging my flute that was busy with its song is silent now when we stand face to face my call went seeking you from sky to sky when you lay hidden but now all my cry find this smile in the face of unbelieved listening to his allegories I had forgotten that I was plain and simple bimla I was Shakti also an embodiment of universal joy nothing could better me nothing was impossible for me I touch would gain new life the world around me was a fresh creation of mine for behold before my heart's response and touched it there had not been this wealth of gold in the autumn sky and this hero this true servant of the country this devotee of mine this flaming intelligence this burning energy this shining genius him also was I creating from the moment to the moment have I not seen how my present pose fresh life into him time after time the other day Sandeep begged me to receive a young lad Amulia an ardent disciple of his in a moment I could see a new light flash out from my boy's eyes and knew that he too had a vision of Shakti manifest that my creative force had begun its work in his blood what sorcery is this of yours claim Sandeep next day Amulia is a boy no longer the Vic of his life is all a blaze who can hide your fire under your home roof every one of them must be touched by it sooner or later and when every lamp is all right when a grand carnival of a Diwali we shall have in a country blinded with brilliance of my own glory I had decided to grant my devotee this boon I was overwhelmingly confident that none could bulk me of what I really wanted when I returned to my room after my talk with Sandeep I lose my hair and tied it up over again Ms. Gilbert had taught me a way of brushing it up from neck and piling it to the knot over my head this style was a favorite one with my husband it is a pity he once said that Providence should always have chosen poor me instead of poor at Kalidas for revering all the wonders of a woman's neck the poor would probably have likened it to a flower stem but I feel it would be a torch holding a lot with black fame of your hair with which he but why why do I go back to all that I sent for my husband in the good old days I could contrive a hundred and one excuses good or bad to get him to come to me now that all this has stopped for days I had lost the art of contriving Nikhil's story part 6 Panchu's wife had just tied of a lingering consumption Panchu must undergo a purification ceremony to cleanse himself of sin and to appropriate his community the community had calculated and informed him that it will cost 123 rupees how absurd I cried highly indigent don't submit to this Panchu what can they do to you raising me to his patient eyes like those of a tired out beast of burden he said there is my eldest girl sir she will have to be married and my poor wife's last rights have to be put through even if their sins were yours Panchu you have surely suffered enough for it already that is so sir enively assented I had to sell part of my line and mortgaged the rest to meet the doctor's bill but there is no escape from the offerings I have to make the brahmin's what was the use of arguing when welcome the time I wondered for the purification of the brahmin's themselves who can accept such offerings after his wife's illness and funeral Panchu who had been tottering on the brink went altogether beyond his death in a desperate attempt to gain consolation of some sort he took to sitting at the feet of a wandering ascetic and succeeded in acquiring philosophy enough to forget that his children went hungry he kept himself steeped for a time in the idea that the world is vanity and if of pleasure it has none pain also in delusion then at least one night he left his little ones in their tumble down novel and starved of wandering on his own account I knew nothing of this at the time for just then a veritable ocean churning by gods and demons was going on in my head nor did my master tell me that he had taken Panchu's deserted children under his roof and was scaring for them through all alone in the house with the school to attend to the whole day after a month Panchu came back his ascetic fervor considerably worn off his eldest boy and girl nestled up to him crying where have you been all this time father his youngest boy filled his lap and his second girl leaned over his back with her arms around his neck and they all wept together oh sir, sob Panchu, I'd lend thee to my master I have not the power to give these little ones enough to eat I am free, I am not free to run away from the what has been my sin that I should be scourged so bound hand and foot in the meantime the thread of Panchu's little trade connections had snapped up and he found he could not resume them he clung to his shelter to my master's roof and held him on his return and said not a word of going back home look here Panchu, my master was at last driven to say if you don't take care of your cottage it will tumble down altogether I will lend you some money with which you can do a bit of peddling and intern it little by little Panchu was not excessively pleased was there no such thing as charity on earth and when my master asked him to write out a receipt for the money he felt that this fervour demanding a return was hardly worth having my master however did not care to make an outward gift which would leave an inward obligation to destroy self-respect is to destroy caste was his idea after signing the note Panchu's obeisance to my master fell off considerably in its reverence the dust-taking was left out it made my master smile he asked nothing better than courtesy should stoop less low and truly balances the account between man and man was the way he put it but veneration is overpayment Panchu began to buy cloth at the market and peddle it about the village he did not get much of cash payment it is true but what he could realise in kind in the way of rice, jute and other field produce went towards settlement of his account in two months time he was able to pay back an instalment of my master's debt corresponding reduction in the depth of his bow he must have begun to feel that he had been revering as a saint a mere man who had not even risen superior to the lure of Luca while Panchu was thus engaged the full shock of the Swadeshi flood fell on him seven it was vacation time and many youths of our village and its neighbourhood gave up their schools and colleges they attached themselves to Sandeep's leadership with enthusiasm and some in their excessive zeal gave up their studies altogether many of the boys had been free pupils of my school here and some held college scholarships from me in Calcutta they came up in a body and demanded that I should banish foreign goods from my Sukhsar market I told them I could not do it they were sarcastic will the loss be too much for you? I took no notice of the insult in their tone and was about to reply that the loss would fall on the poor traders and their customers not on me when my master who was present interposed yes the loss will be his not yours that is clear enough he said but for one's country the country does not mean the soil but the men on it interrupted my master again have you yet wasted so much as a glance on what was happening to them but now you would dictate what salt they shall eat what clothes they shall wear why should they put up with such tyranny and why should we let them but we have taken to Indian salt and sugar and cloth ourselves you may do as you please to work off your irritation to keep up your fanaticism you are well off you need not mind the cost you do not want to stand in your way but you insist on their submitting to your compulsion as it is every moment of theirs is a life and death struggle for a bare living you cannot even imagine the difference a few pence means to them so little have you in common you have spent your whole past in a superior compartment and now you come down to use them as tools for the reeking of your wrath I call it cowardly they were all old pupils of my master so they did not venture to be disrespectful though they were quivering with indignation they turned to me will you then be the only one Maharaja to put obstacles in the way of what the country would achieve who am I that I should dare to do such a thing would I not rather lay down my life to help it the MA student smiled a crooked smile as he asked to inquire what you are actually doing to help I have imported Indian mill made yarn and kept it for sale in my Sukhsar market and also sent bails of it to markets belonging to neighbouring Zamindars but we have been to your market Maharaja the same student exclaimed and found nobody buying this yarn that is neither my fault nor the fault of my market it only shows the whole country has not yet taken your vow that is not all my master went on it shows that what you have pledged yourselves to do is only to pester others you want dealers who have not taken your vow to buy that yarn weavers who have not taken your vow to make it up then their wares eventually to be foisted onto consumers who also have not taken your vow the method, your clamour and the Zamindars oppression the result, all righteousness yours privations theirs and may we venture to ask further what your share of the privation has been pursued a science student you want to know do you replied my master it is Nikhil himself who has to buy up that Indian mill yarn he has to start a weaving school to get it woven and to judge by his past brilliant business exploits by the time his cotton fabrics leave their loom their cost will be that of cloth of gold so they will only find a use perhaps as curtains for his drawing room even though their flimsiness may fail to screen him when you get tired of your vow you will laugh the loudest at their artistic effect and if their workmanship is ever truly appreciated at all it will be by foreigners I have known my master all my life but have never seen him so agitated I could see that the pain had been silently accumulating in his heart for some time because of his surpassing love for me and that his habitual self-possession had become secretly undermined to the breaking point you are our elders said the medical student it is unseemly that we should bandy words with you but tell us pray finally are you determined not to oust foreign articles from your market I will not I said because they are not mine because that will cause you a loss smiled the MA student because he who's is the loss is the best judge retorted my master with the shout of Bandai Mataram they left us end of chapter 5 chapter number 6 of the home and the war by Rabindranath Tagore this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Harsh Surana Nekhil Story A few days later my master bought Panchu round to me his zamindar it appeared had fined him 100 rupees and was threatening him with ejectment for what fault I enquired because I was told he has been found selling foreign clothes he begged and prayed Harish Kundu his zamindar to let himself off his stock bought with borrowed money promising faithfully never to do it again but the zamindar would not hear of it and insisted on his burning the foreign stuff there and then if he wanted to be let off Panchu in his desperation blurted out defiantly I can't afford it you are rich why not buy it up and burn it this only made Harish Kundu red in the face as he shouted the scoundrel must be taught manners gave him a shoe beating so poor Panchu got insulted as well as fine what happened to the cloth the whole veil was burnt who else was there any number of people who all kept shouting bandeyum atram Sandeep was also there he took up some of the ashes crying brothers this is the first funeral pyre lighted by a village in celebration of the last rites of foreign commerce these are sacred ashes smear yourself with them in token of your swadeshi wow Panchu said I turning to him you must lodge a complaint no one will bear me witness he replied none bear witness Sandeep came out of his room at my call what is the matter he asked won't you bear witness to the burning of this man's clothes Sandeep smiled of course I shall be witness in this case he said but I shall be on the opposite side what do you mean I exclaimed by being a witness on this or that side will you not bear witness to the truth is the thing which happens the only truth what other truths can there be the things that are ought to happen the truth we must build up will require a great deal of untruth in the process those who have made their way in the world have created truth not blindly followed it and so and so I will bear what you people are pleased to call false witness as they have done who have created empires industrial systems found religious organizations those who would have ruled do not tread untruths the shackles of truth are reserved for those who will fall under their sway have you not read history do you know that in the immerse cauldrons where vast political developments are simmering untruths are the main ingredients political cookery on a large scale is doubtless going on but oh I know you will never do any of the cooking you prefer to be one of those down whose throats the hodgepodge whiz is being cooked will be cramped they will partition bengal and say it for your benefit they will seal the doors of education and call it raising the standard but you will always remain good boys sniveling in your corners we bad men however must see whether we can erect a defensive fortification of untruth it is no use arguing about these things how can they who do not feel the truth within them realise that to bring it out from its obscurity into the light is man's highest aim not to keep on heaping material outside sandeep laughed right sir said he quite a correct speech for a school master this is the kind of stuff I have read in the books but in the real world I have seen that man's chief business is the accumulation of outside material those who are masters in the art advertise the biggest lies in their business into their political regers with their broadest pointed pens launch their newspapers daily laden with untruths and send preachers abroad to disseminate falsehood like flies carrying palestinian jumps I am humble follower of these great ones when I was attached to the congress party I never hesitated to delude 10% of the truth with 90% of untruth and now merely because I have ceased to belong to that party I have not forgotten the basic fact that man's goal is not truth but success true success corrected my master maybe replied sandeep but the fruit of the true success ripens only by cultivating the field of untruth after tearing up the soil and pounding it into the dust truth grows by itself like weeds and thorns and not only worms can expect to get fruit from it with this he flung out of the room my master smiled as he looks towards me do you know Nikhil he said I believe Sandeep is not irreligious his religious is of observed size of truth like the dark moon which is still a moon for all its light has gone over to the wrong side that is why I assented I have always had an affection for him though we have never been able to agree I cannot condemn him even now though he has hurt me sorely and may yet hurt me more I have begun to realize that said my master I have long wondered how you could go on putting up with him I have at times even suspected you of weakness I now see that though you do do not rhyme your rhythm is the same fate seemed bent on writing paradise lost in blank verse in my case so has no use for a rhyming friend I remarked pursuing his conceit but what of Panchu resumed my master you say Harish Kundu I will get him from his ancestral holding supposing I buy it up and then keep him on as my tenant and this is fine how can Zaminda realize that if he becomes my tenant his burnt bale of cloth I will procure him another I should like to see anyone interfering with the tenant of mine for trading as he pleases I am afraid sir into post Panchu despondently while you big folk are doing the fighting the police and the law vultures will merely gather around and the crowd will enjoy the fun but when it comes to getting killed it will be the turn of only poor me why? what harm what harm can come to you they will burn down my house sir children and all very well I will take charge of your children said my master you may go on with any trade you like they shan't touch you that very day I will take charge of Panchu's holding and enter into formal possession then the trouble began Panchu had inherited the holding of his grandfather as his sole surviving heir everybody knew this but at this juncture an aunt turned up from somewhere with her boxes and bundles her rosary and widowed knees she ensconned herself in Panchu's home and laid claim to a life interest in all he had Panchu was dumbfounded my aunt died long ago he protested he was told that he was thinking of his uncle's first wife but that the farmer had lost no time in taking to himself a second but my uncle died before my aunt exclaimed Panchu still more mystified where was the time for him to marry again this was not denied but Panchu was reminded that it had never been asserted that the second wife had come after the death of the first but the farmer had been married by his uncle during the latter's lifetime not relishing the idea of living with a co-wife she had remained in her father's house till her husband's death after which she had got religion and retried to holy Brindavan whence she was now coming these facts were well known to the officers of Harishkundu as well as to some of his tenants and if the Zamindas someone should be pre-emptary enough even some of those who had partaken of the marriage feast would be forthcoming ninth when I happened to be specially busy word came to my office that Bimla had sent for me I was startled who did you say had sent for me I asked the messenger the Rani mother no sir the Chota Rani mother it seemed a century since I had sent for by her I kept them all waiting there and went off into the inner apartments when I stepped into our room I had another shock of surprise with a distinct suggestion of being dressed up the room which from persistent neglect had laterally acquired an air of having ground absent-minded had regained something of its old order this afternoon I stood there silently looking inquiringly at Bimla she flushed little and the fingers of a right hand toyed for a time with the bangles on her left arm then she abruptly boughed the silence look here it is the right that ours should be the only market all Bengal which allows foreign goods what then would be the right thing to do I asked ordered them to be cleared out but the goods are not mine is not the market yours it is much more theirs who use it for trade let them trade in Indian goods then nothing would please me better but suppose they don't nonsense how dare they be so insolent are you not I am very busy this afternoon and cannot stop to argue it out but I must refuse to tyrannize it would not be tyranny for selfish gain but for the sake of the country to tyrannize for the country is to tyrannize over the country but that I am afraid you will never understand with this I came away all of a sudden the world shown out for me with a fresh cleanness I seem to feel it in my blood that the earth had lost the weight of its earthiness and its daily task of sustaining life appeared a burden as with a wonderful access of power it walled through space telling its beads of days and nights what endless work and with all that illimitable energy of freedom none shall check it oh none can ever check it from the depths of my being an uprush of joy like a water sprout sprang high to the swarmed skies I repeatedly asked myself the meaning of this oust birds of fleeing at first there was no intelligible answer then it became clear that the bond against which I had been fretting inwardly night and day had broken to my surprise I discovered that my mind was freed from all mistiness I could see everything relating to Bimla as vividly pictured on a camera screen it was palpable that she had specially dressed herself to coax that outer out of me till that moment I had never viewed Bimla's adornment as a thing apart from herself but today the elaborate manner in which she had done up her hair in the English fashion made it appear a mere decoration that which before had the mystery of her personality about it and was priceless to me was now out to sell itself cheap as I came away from that broken cage of bedroom out into the golden sunlight of the open there was the avenue of Bahunia's along the gravel part in front of my veranda suffusing the sky with a rosy flush a group of startlings beneath the tree were not silly chattering away in the distance an empty bullock cart with its nose on the ground held up its tail aloft one of its unharessed bullocks grazing the other resting on the grass its eye dropping for very comfort while a crow on his back was pecking away at the insects on its body I seem to have come closer to hard beats of the great earth in all the simplicity of its daily life its warm breath fell on me with perfume of Bahunia blossoms and an anthem inexpressibly sweet seemed to plead forth from this world where I in my freedom live in the freedom of all else we men are knights whose quest is that freedom to which our ideals call us she who makes for us the banner under which we fare forth is the true woman for us we must steer away the disguise of her who weaves out nets of enchantment on whom and know her for what she is we must beware of clothing her in witchery of our own longings and imagings and thus allow her to distract us from her two quest today I feel that I shall win though I have come to the gateway of the simple I am now content to see things as they are I have gained freedom myself I shall allow freedom to others in my work will be my salvation I know that time and again my heart will ache but now that I understand its pain in all its truth I can disregard it now that I know its concerns only me what after all be its value the suffering which belongs to all mankind shall be my crown save me truth never again let me hanker after the false paradise of illusion if I must walk alone let me at least tread your path let the drum beats of truth lead me to victory Sandeep story 7 Bimla sent for me that day but for a time she could not utter a word her eyes kept brimming up to the verge of overflowing I could see at once that she had been unsuccessful with Nikhil she had been so proudly confident that she would have her own way but I had never shared her confidence women knows men well enough where he is weak but she is quite unable to fathom him where he is strong the fact is that man is as much as a mystery to woman as woman is to man if that were not so the separation of the success would only have been a waste of nature's energy ah pride pride the trouble was that man had failed of accomplishment but that the entreaty which had cost her such a struggle to make should have been refused what a wealth of colour and movement suggestion and deception group themselves around this me and mine and women that is just where her beauty lies she is ever so much personal than man when man was being made the creator was a school master his back full of commandments and principles but when he came to women he resigned his head mastership in a box when Bimla stood silently there flushed and tearful in a broken pride like a storm cloud laden with rain and charged with lighting lowering over the horizon she looked so absolutely sweet that I had to go right up to her and take her by hand it was trembling but she did not snatch it away B said I we two are colleagues for our aims are one let us sit down and talk it over I led her but strange at that very point that rush of my impetuosity suffered an unaccountable check just as the current of the mighty Padma roaring on its irresistible course all of a sudden gets turned away from the bank it is crumbling by some thrifling obstacle beneath the surface when I pressed Bimla's hand my nerves rang music like tuned up strings but the symphony stopped short at the first movement what stood in the way nothing singly it was a tangle of a multitude of things nothing's definitely palpable but only that accountable sense of obstruction anyhow this much has become plain to me that I cannot swear to what I really am it is because I'm such a mystery to my own mind that my attraction for myself is so strong if once the whole of my myself should become known to me I would then fling it all away and reach beatitude as he shat down Bimla went ashy pale she too must have realized what a crisis had come and gone leaving unscathed the comet had passed by but the brush of its burning tail had overcome her to help her to recover herself I said obstacles there will be but let us fight them through and not be down or heated is not that best queen Bimla cleared our throat with a little cough but simply to murmur yes let us sketch out our plan of action I continued as I drew a piece of paper and a pencil from my pocket I began to make a list of workers who had joined us from Calcutta and to assign their duties to each Bimla interrupted me before I was through saying verily leave it now I will join you again this evening and then she hurried away out of the room it was evident that she was not in a state to attain anything she must be alone with herself for a good while perhaps lie down on her bed and have a good cry when she left me my intoxication began to deepen as the cloud colors grow richer after the sun is down I felt I had let the moments slip by what an awful coward I had been she must have left me in sheer disgust at my coms and she was right while I was strangling all over with these reflections my husband came in and announced Amulia one of our boys I felt like sending him away for the time but he stopped in before I could make up my mind then we felt to discussing the news of the flights which were raging in different quarters over cloth, sugar and salt and the air was soon clear of all fumes of intoxication I felt as if awakened from a dream I leapt to my feet feeling quite ready for the free Vande Matram the news was various most of the traders who were tenants of Harish Kundu had come over to us many of Nikhil's officials were also secretly on our side pulling the wires in our interest the Marwadi shopkeepers were offering to pay a penalty if only allowed to clear their present stocks only some Mohammedan traders were still obdurate one of them was talking whom some German made shawls for his family these were confiscated and burned by one of our village boys this had given rise to trouble we offered to buy him Indian woolen stuff in their place but where were cheap Indian woolens to be had we could not well indulge him in cashmere shawls he came and complained to Nikhil who advised him to go to the law of course Nikhil's men saw it that the trial should come to nothing even his law agent being on our side the point is if we have to replace burnt foreign cloth with Indian cloth every time and on top of that fight though a lawsuit where is the money to come from and the beauty of it is that the destruction of foreign goods is increasing their demand and sending a foreigner's profit very like what happened to fortunate shopkeeper whose chandelier is the knob hop delighted in smashing tickled by tinkle of the breaking glass the next problem is since there is no such thing as cheap and gaudy Indian wool stuff should we be rigorous in our boycott of foreign flannels and memos or make an exception in their favour look here said I at length on the first point we are not going to keep making presents of Indian stuff to those who have got their foreign purchases confiscated the penalty is intended to fall on them not to on us if they go to the law we must retaliate by burning down their granaries but what settles you Amulia it is not the prospect of a grand illumination that delights me you must remember this is war if you are afraid of causing suffering you will never go for this work the second problem I solved by declining by deciding to allow no compromise with foreign articles in any circumstances whatever in the known in the good old days when the gaily coloured foreign shawls were unknown are peasantry used to manage well enough with plain cloths and quilts they must learn to do so again they must not look as gorgeous but this is not the time to think of looks most of the boatmen had been won over to refuse carry foreign goods but the chief of them Mirjan was still unsubordinate could you not get his boat sunk I asked our manager here nothing easier sir he replied but what if afterwards I am held responsible why be so clumsy as to leave any loophole for responsibility however if there must be any my shoulders will be there to bear it Mirjan's boat was tied near the landings place after it freight had been taken over to the market place there was no one on it for the manager had arranged for some entertainment to which all had been invited after dusk the boat loaded with rubbish was hold and set at drift it sank in midstream Mirjan understood the whole thing he came to me in tears to beg for mercy I was wrong sir he began what makes you realise that all of a sudden I sneered he made no direct reply the boat was worth 2000 rupees he said this will never I will never with which he threw himself at my feet I asked him to come 10 days later if only we could pay him that 2000 rupees at once we could buy him up body and soul this is just the sort of man who could render us in and service if one over we shall never be able to make any headway unless we can lay our hands on plenty of money as soon as Bimla came into the sitting room in the evening I said as I rose up to receive a queen everything is ready success is at hand but we must have money money how much money not so very much but by hook or by crook we must have it but how much a mere 50,000 will do for the present Bimla blanched inwardly at the figure but tried not to show it how could she again admit defeat queen said I you only can make the impossible possible indeed you have already done so oh that I could show you the extent of your achievement then you would know it but the time for that is not now now we want money you shall have it she said I could see that thought of selling her jewels and occur to her so I said your jewels must remain and reserve one can never tell when they be wanted and then as Bimla started blankly at mean silence I went on this money must come from your husband's treasury Bimla was still more taken back after a long pause she said but how am I to get this money is not his money yours as well ah no she cried her wounded pride hurt a fresh if not I cried neither is it his but his countries whom he has deprived of it in a time of need but how I have to get of it she repeated get it you shall and must you know best how you must get it for her to whom it's rightfully belong bandhe matram these are the magic words which will open the doors of his iron safe break through the walls of a strong room and confound the hearts of those who are disloyal to it's call say bandhe matram B bandhe matram end of recording