I
When I was a very young wife, I gave birth to a dead child, and came
near to death myself. I recovered strength very slowly, and my eyesight
became weaker and weaker.
My husband at this time was studying medicine. He was not altogether
sorry to have a chance of testing his medical knowledge on me. So he
began to treat my eyes himself.
My elder brother was reading for his law examination. One day he came to
see me, and was alarmed at my condition.
"What are you doing?" he said to my husband. "You are ruining Kumo's
eyes. You ought to consult a good doctor at once."
My husband said irritably: "Why! what can a good doctor do more than I
am doing? The case is quite a simple one, and the remedies are all well
known."
Dada answered with scorn: "I suppose you think there is no difference
between you and a Professor in your own Medical College."
My husband replied angrily: "If you ever get married, and there is a
dispute about your wife's property, you won't take my advice about Law.
Why, then, do you now come advising me about Medicine?"
While they were quarrelling, I was saying to myself that it was always
the poor grass that suffered most when two kings went to war. Here was a
dispute going on between these two, and I had to bear the brunt of it.
It also seemed to me very unfair that, when my family had given me in
marriage, they should interfere afterwards. After all, my pleasure and
pain are my husband's concern, not theirs.
From that day forward, merely over this trifling matter of my eyes, the
bond between my husband and Dada was strained.
To my surprise one afternoon, while my husband was away, Dada brought
a doctor in to see me. He examined my eyes very carefully, and looked
grave. He said that further neglect would be dangerous. He wrote out a
prescription, and Dada for the medicine at once. When the strange doctor
had gone, I implored my Dada not to interfere. I was sure that only evil
would come from the stealthy visits of a doctor.
I was surprised at myself for plucking up courage speak to my brother
like that. I had always hitherto been afraid of him. I am sure also that
Dada was surprised at my boldness. He kept silence for a while, and then
said to me: "Very well, Kumo. I won't call in the doctor any more. But
when the medicine comes you must take it."
Dada then went away. The medicine came from chemist. I took it--bottles,
powders, prescriptions and all--and threw it down the well!
My husband had been irritated by Dada's interference, and he began to
treat my eyes with greater diligence than ever. He tried all sorts of
remedies. I bandaged my eyes as he told me, I wore his coloured glasses,
I put in his drops, I took all his powders. I even drank the cod-liver
oil he gave me, though my gorge rose against it.
Each time he came back from the hospital, he would ask me anxiously how
I felt; and I would answer: "Oh! much better." Indeed I became an expert
in self-delusion. When I found that the water in my eyes was still
increasing, I would console myself with the thought that it was a good
thing to get rid of so much bad fluid; and, when the flow of water in my
eyes decreased, I was elated at my husband's skill.
But after a while the agony became unbearable. My eyesight faded away,
and I had continual headaches day and night. I saw how much alarmed
my husband was getting. I gathered from his manner that he was casting
about for a pretext to call in a doctor. So I hinted that it might be as
well to call one in.
That he was greatly relieved, I could see. He called in an English
doctor that very day. I do not know what talk they had together, but I
gathered that the Sahib had spoken very sharply to my husband.
He remained silent for some time after the doctor had gone. I took
his hands in mine, and said: "What an ill-mannered brute that was! Why
didn't you call in an Indian doctor? That would have been much better.
Do you think that man knows better than you do about my eyes?"
My husband was very silent for a moment, and then said with a broken
voice: "Kumo, your eyes must be operated on."
I pretended to be vexed with him for concealing the fact from me so
long.
"Here you have known this all the time," said I, "and yet you have said
nothing about it! Do you think I am such a baby as to be afraid of an
operation?"
At that he regained his good spirits: "There are very few men," said
he, "who are heroic enough to look forward to an operation without
shrinking."
I laughed at him: "Yes, that is so. Men are heroic only before their
wives!"
He looked at me gravely, and said: "You are perfectly right. We men are
dreadfully vain."
I laughed away his seriousness: "Are you sure you can beat us women even
in vanity?"
When Dada came, I took him aside: "Dada, that treatment your doctor
recommended would have done me a world of good; only unfortunately.
I mistook the mixture for the lotion. And since the day I made the
mistake, my eyes have grown steadily worse; and now an operation is
needed."
Dada said to me: "You were under your husband's treatment, and that is
why I gave up coming to visit you."
"No," I answered. "In reality, I was secretly treating myself in
accordance with your doctor's directions."
Oh! what lies we women have to tell! When we are mothers, we tell lies
to pacify our children; and when we are wives, we tell lies to pacify
the fathers of our children. We are never free from this necessity.
My deception had the effect of bringing about a better feeling between
my husband and Dada. Dada blamed himself for asking me to keep a secret
from my husband: and my husband regretted that he had not taken my
brother's advice at the first.
At last, with the consent of both, an English doctor came, and operated
on my left eye. That eye, however, was too weak to bear the strain;
and the last flickering glimmer of light went out. Then the other eye
gradually lost itself in darkness.
One day my husband came to my bedside. "I cannot brazen it out before
you any longer," said he, "Kumo, it is I who have ruined your eyes."
I felt that his voice was choking with tears, and so I took up his right
hand in both of mine and said: "Why! you did exactly what was right. You
have dealt only with that which was your very own. Just imagine, if some
strange doctor had come and taken away my eyesight. What consolation
should I have had then? But now I can feel that all has happened for the
best; and my great comfort is to know that it is at your hands I have
lost my eyes. When Ramchandra found one lotus too few with which to
worship God, he offered both his eyes in place of the lotus. And I hate
dedicated my eyes to my God. From now, whenever you see something that
is a joy to you, then you must describe it to me; and I will feed upon
your words as a sacred gift left over from your vision."
I do not mean, of course, that I said all this there and then, for it is
impossible to speak these things an the spur of the moment. But I used
to think over words like these for days and days together. And when I
was very depressed, or if at any time the light of my devotion became
dim, and I pitied my evil fate, then I made my mind utter these
sentences, one by one, as a child repeats a story that is told. And so I
could breathe once more the serener air of peace and love.
At the very time of our talk together, I said enough to show my husband
what was in my heart.
"Kumo," he said to me, "the mischief I have done by my folly can never
be made good. But I can do one thing. I can ever remain by your side,
and try to make up for your want of vision as much as is in my power."
"No," said I. "That will never do. I shall not ask you to turn your
house into an hospital for the blind. There is only one thing to be
done, you must marry again."
As I tried to explain to him that this was necessary, my voice broke
a little. I coughed, and tried to hide my emotion, but he burst out
saying:
"Kumo, I know I am a fool, and a braggart, and all that, but I am not a
villain! If ever I marry again, I swear to you--I swear to you the most
solemn oath by my family god, Gopinath--may that most hated of all sins,
the sin of parricide, fall on my head!"
Ah! I should never, never have allowed him to swear that dreadful
oath. But tears were choking my voice, and I could not say a word for
insufferable joy. I hid my blind face in my pillows, and sobbed, and
sobbed again. At last, when the first flood of my tears was over, I drew
his head down to my breast.
"Ah!" said I, "why did you take such a terrible oath? Do you think
I asked you to marry again for your own sordid pleasure? No! I was
thinking of myself, for she could perform those services which were mine
to give you when I had my sight."
"Services!" said he, "services! Those can be done by servants. Do you
think I am mad enough to bring a slave into my house, and bid her share
the throne with this my Goddess?"
As he said the word "Goddess," he held up my face in his hands, and
placed a kiss between my brows. At that moment the third eye of divine
wisdom was opened, where he kissed me, and verily I had a consecration.
I said in my own mind: "It is well. I am no longer able to serve him in
the lower world of household cares. But I shall rise to a higher
region. I shall bring down blessings from above. No more lies! No more
deceptions for me! All the littlenesses and hypocrisies of my former
life shall be banished for ever!"
That day, the whole day through, I felt a conflict going on within me.
The joy of the thought, that after this solemn oath it was impossible
for my husband to marry again, fixed its roots deep in my heart, and
I could not tear them out. But the new Goddess, who had taken her new
throne in me, said: "The time might come when it would be good for
your husband to break his oath and marry again." But the woman, who was
within me, said: "That may be; but all the same an oath is an oath, and
there is no way out." The Goddess, who was within me, answered: "That is
no reason why you should exult over it." But the woman, who was within
me, replied: "What you say is quite true, no doubt; all the same he has
taken his oath." And the same story went on again and again. At last
the Goddess frowned in silence, and the darkness of a horrible fear came
down upon me.
My repentant husband would not let the servants do my work; he must do
it all himself. At first it gave me unbounded delight to be dependent
on him thus for every little thing. It was a means of keeping him by
my side, and my desire to have him with me had become intense since my
blindness. That share of his presence, which my eyes had lost, my other
senses craved. When he was absent from my side, I would feel as if I
were hanging in mid-air, and had lost my hold of all things tangible.
Formerly, when my husband came back late from the hospital, I used
to open my window and gaze at the road. That road was the link which
connected his world with mine. Now when I had lost that link through my
blindness, all my body would go out to seek him. The bridge that united
us had given way, and there was now this unsurpassable chasm. When he
left my side the gulf seemed to yawn wide open. I could only wait for
the time when he should cross back again from his own shore to mine.
But such intense longing and such utter dependence can never be good.
A wife is a burden enough to a man, in all conscience, and to add to it
the burden of this blindness was to make his life unbearable. I vowed
that I would suffer alone, and never wrap my husband round in the folds
of my all-pervading darkness.
Within an incredibly short space of time I managed to train myself to
do all my household duties by the help of touch and sound and smell. In
fact I soon found that I could get on with greater skill than before.
For sight often distracts rather than helps us. And so it came to pass
that, when these roving eyes of mine could do their work no longer,
all the other senses took up their several duties with quietude and
completeness.
When I had gained experience by constant practice, I would not let my
husband do any more household duties for me. He complained bitterly at
first that I was depriving him of his penance.
This did not convince me. Whatever he might say, I could feel that he
had a real sense of relief when these household duties were over. To
serve daily a wife who is blind can never make up the life of a man.