"COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE."
It was night. In the ruined house Kunda Nandini sat by her father's
corpse. She called "Father!" No one made reply. At one moment Kunda
thought her father slept, again that he was dead, but she could not
bring that thought clearly into her mind. At length she could no
longer call, no longer think. The fan still moved in her hand in the
direction where her father's once living body now lay dead. At length
she resolved that he slept, for if he were dead what would become of
her?
After days and nights of watching amid such sorrow, sleep fell upon
her. In that exposed, bitterly cold house, the palm-leaf fan in her
hand, Kunda Nandini rested her head upon her arm, more beauteous than
the lotus-stalk, and slept; and in her sleep she saw a vision. It
seemed as if the night were bright and clear, the sky of a pure
blue--that glorious blue when the moon is encircled by a halo. Kunda
had never seen the halo so large as it seemed in her vision. The light
was splendid, and refreshing to the eyes. But in the midst of that
magnificent halo there was no moon; in its place Kunda saw the figure
of a goddess of unparalleled brilliance. It seemed as if this
brilliant goddess-ruled halo left the upper sky and descended
gradually lower, throwing out a thousand rays of light, until it stood
over Kunda's head. Then she saw that the central beauty, crowned with
golden hair, and decked with jewels, had the form of a woman. The
beautiful, compassionate face had a loving smile upon its lips. Kunda
recognized, with mingled joy and fear, in this compassionate being
the features of her long-dead mother. The shining, loving being,
raising Kunda from the earth, took her into her bosom, and the orphan
girl could for a long period do nought but utter the sweet word
"Mother!"
Then the shining figure, kissing Kunda's face, said to her: "Child,
thou hast suffered much, and I know thou hast yet more to suffer; thou
so young, thy tender frame cannot endure such sorrow. Therefore abide
not here; leave the earth and come with me."
Kunda seemed to reply: "Whither shall I go?"
Then the mother, with uplifted finger indicating the shining
constellations, answered, "There!"
Kunda seemed, in her dream, to gaze into the timeless, shoreless ocean
of stars, and to say, "I have no strength; I cannot go so far."
Hearing this, the mother's kind and cheerful but somewhat grave face
saddened, her brows knitted a little, as she said in grave, sweet
tones:
"Child, follow thy own will, but it would be well for thee to go with
me. The day will come when thou wilt gaze upon the stars, and long
bitterly to go thither. I will once more appear to thee; when, bowed
to the dust with affliction, thou rememberest me, and weepest to come
to me, I will return. Then do thou come. But now do thou, looking on
the horizon, follow the design of my finger. I will show thee two
human figures. These two beings are in this world the arbiters of thy
destiny. If possible, when thou meetest them turn away as from
venomous snakes. In their paths walk thou not."
Then the shining figure pointed to the opposite sky. Kunda, following
the indication, saw traced on the blue vault the figure of a man more
beautiful than a god. Beholding his high, capacious forehead, his
sincere kindly glance, his swan-like neck a little bent, and other
traits of a fine man, no one would have believed that from him there
was anything to be feared.
Then the figure dissolving as a cloud in the sky, the mother said--
"Forget not this god-like form. Though benevolent, he will be the
cause of thy misery; therefore avoid him as a snake."
Again pointing to the heavens she continued--
"Look hither."
Kunda, looking, saw a second figure sketched before her, not this time
that of a man, but a young woman of bright complexion and lotus-shaped
eyes. At this sight she felt no fear; but the mother said--
"This dark figure in a woman's dress is a _Rakshasi_.[2] When thou
seest her, flee from her."
[Footnote 2: A female demon.]
As she thus spoke the heavens suddenly became dark, the halo
disappeared from the sky, and with it the bright figure in its midst.
Then Kunda awoke from her sleep.
Nagendra went to the village, the name of which he heard was
Jhunjhunpur. At his recommendation and expense, some of the villagers
performed the necessary rites for the dead, one of the female
neighbours remaining with the bereaved girl. When Kunda saw that they
had taken her father away, she became convinced of his death, and
gave way to ceaseless weeping.
In the morning the neighbour returned to her own house, but sent her
daughter Champa to comfort Kunda Nandini.
Champa was of the same age as Kunda, and her friend. She strove to
divert her mind by talking of various matters, but she saw that Kunda
did not attend. She wept constantly, looking up every now and then
into the sky as though in expectation.
Champa jestingly asked, "What do you see that you look into the sky a
hundred times?"
Kunda replied, "My mother appeared to me yesterday, and bade me go
with her, but I feared to do so; now I mourn that I did not. If she
came again I would go: therefore I look constantly into the sky."
Champa said, "How can the dead return?"
To which Kunda replied by relating her vision.
Greatly astonished, Champa asked, "Are you acquainted with the man and
woman whose forms you saw in the sky?"
"No, I had never seen them. There cannot be anywhere a man so
handsome; I never saw such beauty."
On rising in the morning, Nagendra inquired of the people in the
village what would become of the dead man's daughter, where she would
live, and whether she had any relatives. He was told that there was no
dwelling-place for her, and that she had no relatives.
Then Nagendra said, "Will not some of you receive her and give her in
marriage? I will pay the expense, and so long as she remains amongst
you I will pay so much a month for her board and lodging."
If he had offered ready money many would have consented to his
proposal; but after he had gone away Kunda would have been reduced to
servitude, or turned out of the house. Nagendra did not act in so
foolish a manner; therefore, money not being forthcoming, no one
consented to his suggestion.
At length one, seeing him at the end of his resources, observed: "A
sister of her mother's lives at Sham Bazar; Binod Ghosh is the
husband's name. You are on you way to Calcutta; if you take her with
you and place her with her aunt, then this _Kaystha_ girl will be
cared for, and you will have done your duty to your caste."
Seeing no other plan, Nagendra adopted this suggestion, and sent for
Kunda to acquaint her with the arrangement.
Champa accompanied Kunda. As they were coming, Kunda, seeing Nagendra
from afar, suddenly stood still like one stunned. Her feet refused to
move; she stood looking at him with eyes full of astonishment.
Champa asked, "Why do you stand thus?"
Kunda, pointing with her finger, said, "It is he!"
"He! Who?" said Champa.
"He whom last night my mother pictured in the heavens."
Then Champa also stood frightened and astonished. Seeing that the
girls shrank from approaching, Nagendra came near and explained
everything. Kunda was unable to reply; she could only gaze with eyes
full of surprise.