OH! LOTUS-EYED, WHO ART THOU?
Kunda arrived safely with Nagendra at Govindpur. At the sight of
Nagendra's dwelling she became speechless with wonder, for she had
never seen one so grand. There were three divisions without and three
within. Each division was a large city. The outer _mahal_ (division)
was entered by an iron gate, and was surrounded on all sides by a
handsome lofty iron railing. From the gate a broad, red, well-metalled
path extended, on each side of which were beds of fresh grass that
would have formed a paradise for cows. In the midst of each plat was
a circle of shrubs, all blooming with variously coloured flowers. In
front rose the lofty demi-upper-roomed _boita khana_ (reception-hall),
approached by a broad flight of steps, the verandah of which was
supported by massive fluted pillars. The floor of the lower part of
this house was of marble. Above the parapet, in its centre, an
enormous clay lion, with dependent mane, hung out its red tongue. This
was Nagendra's _boita khana_. To left and right of the grass plats
stood a row of one-storied buildings, containing on one side the
_daftar khana_ (accountant's office) and _kacheri_ (court-house); on
the other the storehouse, treasury, and servants' dwellings. On both
sides of the gate were the doorkeepers' lodges. This first _mahal_ was
named the _kacheri bari_ (house of business); the next to it was the
_puja mahal_ (division for worship). The large hall of worship formed
one side of the _puja mahal_; on the other three sides were
two-storied houses. No one lived in this _mahal_. At the festival of
Durga it was thronged; but now grass sprouted between the tiles of the
court, pigeons frequented the halls, the houses were full of
furniture, and the doors were kept locked. Beside this was the _thakur
bari_ (room assigned to the family deity): in it on one side was the
temple of the gods, the handsome stone-built dancing-hall; on the
remaining sides, the kitchen for the gods, the dwelling-rooms of the
priests, and a guest-house. In this _mahal_ there was no lack of
people. The tribe of priests, with garlands on their necks and
sandal-wood marks on their foreheads; a troop of cooks; people bearing
baskets of flowers for the altars; some bathing the gods, some ringing
bells, chattering, pounding sandal-wood, cooking; men and women
servants bearing water, cleaning floors, washing rice, quarrelling
with the cooks. In the guest-house an ascetic, with ash-smeared, loose
hair, is lying sleeping; one with upraised arm (stiffened thus through
years) is distributing drugs and charms to the servants of the house;
a white-bearded, red-robed _Brahmachari_, swinging his chaplet of
beads, is reading from a manuscript copy of the _Bhagavat-gita_ in the
_Nagari_ character; holy mendicants are quarrelling for their share of
_ghi_ and flour. Here a company of emaciated _Boiragis_, with wreaths
of _tulsi_ (a sacred plant) round their necks and the marks of their
religion painted on their foreheads, the bead fastened into the knot
of hair on their heads shaking with each movement, are beating the
drums as they sing:
"I could not get the opportunity to speak,
The elder brother Dolai was with me."
The wives of the _Boiragis_, their hair braided in a manner pleasing
to their husbands, are singing the tune of _Govinda Adhi Kari_ to the
accompaniment of the tambourine. Young _Boisnavis_ singing with elder
women of the same class, the middle-aged trying to bring their voices
into unison with those of the old. In the midst of the court-yard
idle boys fighting, and abusing each other's parents.
These three were the outer _mahals_. Behind these came the three inner
ones. The inner _mahal_ behind the _kacheri bari_ was for Nagendra's
private use. In that only himself, his wife, and their personal
attendants were allowed; also the furniture for their use. This place
was new, built by Nagendra himself, and very well arranged. Next to
it, and behind the _puja bari_, came another _mahal_; this was old,
ill-built, the rooms low, small, and dirty. Here was a whole city-full
of female relations, mother's sister and mother's cousin, father's
sister and cousin; mother's widowed sister, mother's married sister;
father's sister's son's wife, mother's sister's son's daughter. All
these female relatives cawing day and night like a set of crows in a
banian tree; at every moment screams, laughter, quarrelling, bad
reasoning, gossip, reproach, the scuffling of boys, the crying of
girls. "Bring water!" "Give the clothes!" "Cook the rice!" "The child
does not eat!" "Where is the milk?" etc., is heard as an ocean of
confused sounds. Next to it, behind the _Thakur bari_, was the
cook-house. Here a woman, having placed the rice-pot on the fire,
gathering up her feet, sits gossiping with her neighbour on the
details of her son's marriage. Another, endeavouring to light a fire
with green wood, her eyes smarting with the smoke, is abusing the
_gomashta_ (factor), and producing abundant proof that he has
supplied this wet wood to pocket part of the price. Another beauty,
throwing fish into the hot oil, closes her eyes and twists her ten
fingers, making a grimace, for oil leaping forth has burnt her skin.
One having bathed her long hair, plentifully besmeared with oil,
braiding it in a curve on the temples and fastening it in a knot on
the top of her head, stirs the pulse cooking in an earthen pot, like
Krishna prodding the cows with a stick. Here Bami, Kaymi, Gopal's
mother, Nipal's mother, are shredding with a big knife vegetable
pumpkins, brinjals, the sound of the cutting steel mingling with abuse
of the neighbours, of the masters, of everybody: that Golapi has
become a widow very young; that Chandi's husband is a great drunkard;
that Koylash's husband has secured a fine appointment as writer to the
_Darogah_; that there could not be in the world such a flying journey
as that of Gopal, nor such a wicked child as Parvati's; how the
English must be of the race of _Ravan_ (the ten-headed king of
Ceylon); how _Bhagirati_ had brought _Ganga_; how Sham Biswas was the
lover of the daughter of the Bhattacharjyas; with many other
subjects. A dark, stout-bodied woman, placing a large _bonti_ (a
fish-cutter) on a heap of ashes in the court, is cutting fish; the
kites, frightened at her gigantic size and her quick-handedness,
keeping away, yet now and again darting forward to peck at the fish.
Here a white-haired woman is bringing water; there one with powerful
hand is grinding spices. Here, in the storehouse, a servant, a cook,
and the store-keeper are quarrelling together; the store-keeper
maintaining, "The _ghi_ (clarified butter) I have given is the right
quantity;" the cook disputing it; the servant saying, "We could manage
with the quantity you give if you left the storehouse unlocked." In
the hope of receiving doles of rice, many children and beggars with
their dogs are sitting waiting. The cats do not flatter any one; they
watch their opportunity, steal in, and help themselves. Here a cow
without an owner is feasting with closed eyes upon the husks of
pumpkins, other vegetables, and fruit.
Behind these three inner _mahals_ is the flower-garden; and further
yet a broad tank, blue as the sky. This tank is walled in. The inner
house (the women's) has three divisions, and in the flower-garden is a
private path, and at each end of the path two doors; these doors are
private, they give entrance to the three _mahals_ of the inner house.
Outside the house are the stables, the elephant-house, the kennels,
the cow-house, the aviaries, etc.
Kunda Nandini, full of astonishment at Nagendra's unbounded wealth,
was borne in a palanquin to the inner apartments, where she saluted
Surja Mukhi, who received her with a blessing.
Having recognized in Nagendra the likeness of the man she had seen in
her dream, Kunda Nandini doubted whether his wife would not resemble
the female figure she had seen later; but the sight of Surja Mukhi
removed this doubt. Surja Mukhi was of a warm, golden colour, like the
full moon; the figure in the dream was dark. Surja Mukhi's eyes were
beautiful, but not like those in the dream. They were long deer-eyes,
extending to the side hair; the eye-brows joined in a beautiful curve
over the dilated, densely black pupils, full but steady. The eyes of
the dark woman in the dream were not so enchanting. Then Surja Mukhi's
features were not similar. The dream figure was dwarfish; Surja Mukhi
rather tall, her figure swaying with the beauty of the honeysuckle
creeper. The dream figure was beautiful, but Surja Mukhi was a
hundredfold more so. The dream figure was not more than twenty years
of age; Surja Mukhi was nearly twenty-six. Kunda saw clearly that
there was no resemblance between the two. Surja Mukhi conversed
pleasantly with Kunda, and summoned the attendants, to the chief among
whom she said, "This is Kunda with whom I shall give Tara Charan in
marriage; therefore see that you treat her as my brother's wife."
The servant expressed her assent, and took Kunda aside with her to
another place. At sight of her Kunda's flesh crept; a cold moisture
came over her from head to foot. The female figure which Kunda in her
dream had seen her mother's fingers trace upon the heavens, this
servant was that lotus-eyed, dark-complexioned woman.
Kunda, agitated with fear, breathing with difficulty, asked, "Who are
you?"
The servant answered, "My name is Hira."