SURJA MUKHI'S LETTER.
Dearest Srimati Kamal Mani Dasi, long may you live!
"I am ashamed to address you any longer with a blessing. You have
become a woman, and the mistress of a house. Still I cannot think of
you otherwise than as my younger sister. I have brought you up to
womanhood, I taught you your letters; but now when I see your writing
I am ashamed to send this scrawl. But of what use to be ashamed? My
day is over; were it not so how should I be in this condition? What
condition?--it is a thing I cannot speak of to any one; should I do
so there will be sorrow and shame; yet if I do not tell some one of my
heart's trouble I cannot endure it. To whom can I speak? You are my
beloved sister; except you no one loves me. Also it concerns your
brother. I can speak of it to no one but you.
"I have prepared my own funeral pyre. If I had not cared for Kunda
Nandini, and she had died, would that have been any loss to me? God
cares for so many others--would He not have cared for her? Why did I
bring her home to my own destruction! When you saw that unfortunate
being she was a child, now she is seventeen or eighteen. I admit she
is beautiful; her beauty is fatal to me. If I have any happiness on
earth it is in my husband; if I care about anything in this world it
is for my husband; if there is any wealth belonging to me it is my
husband: this husband Kunda Nandini is snatching from me. If I have a
desire on earth it is for my husband's love: of that love Kunda
Nandini is cheating me. Do not think evil of your brother; I am not
reproaching him. He is virtuous, not even his enemies can find a
fault in him. I can see daily that he tries to subdue his heart.
Wherever Kunda Nandini may happen to be, from that spot, if possible,
he averts his eyes; unless there is absolute necessity he does not
speak her name. He is even harsh towards her; I have heard him scold
her when she has committed no fault. Then why am I writing all this
trash? Should a man ask this question it would be difficult to make
him understand, but you being a woman will comprehend. If Kunda
Nandini is in his eyes but as other women, why is he so careful not to
look towards her? why take such pains to avoid speaking her name? He
is conscious of guilt towards Kunda Nandini, therefore he scolds her
without cause; that anger is not with her, but with himself; that
scolding is not for her, but for himself. This I can understand. I who
have been so long devoted to him, who within and without see only him,
if I but see his shadow I can tell his thoughts. What can he hide from
me? Occasionally when his mind is absent his eyes wander hither and
thither; do I not know what they are seeking? If he meets it, again
becoming troubled he withdraws his eyes; can I not understand that?
For whose voice is he listening at meal-times when he pauses in the
act of carrying food to his mouth? and when Kunda's tones reach his
ear, and he fastens to eat his meal, can one not understand that? My
beloved always had a gracious countenance; why is he now always so
absent-minded? If one speaks to him he does not hear, but gives an
absent answer. If, becoming angry, I say, 'May I die?' paying no
attention he answers, 'Yes.' If I ask where his thoughts are, he says
with his lawsuits; but I know they have no place in his mind; when he
speaks of his lawsuits he is always merry. Another point. One day the
old women of the neighbourhood were speaking of Kunda Nandini, pitying
her young widowhood, her unprotected condition. Your brother came up;
from within I saw his eyes fill with tears; he turned away and left
them quickly. The other day I engaged a new servant; her name is
Kumuda. Sometimes the Babu calls Kumuda; when so doing he often slips
out the name Kunda instead of Kumuda, then how confused he is--why
should he be confused? I cannot say he is neglectful of me, or
unaffectionate; rather he is more attentive than before, more
affectionate. The reason of this I fully understand: he is conscious
of fault towards me; but I know that I have no longer a place in his
heart. Attention is one thing, love quite another; the difference
between these two we women can easily understand.
"There is another amusing matter. A learned _pandit_ in Calcutta,
named Iswara Chandra Bidya Sagar, has published a book on the marriage
of widows. If he who would establish the custom of marrying widows is
a _pandit_, then who can be called a dunce? Just now, the Brahman
Bhattacharjya bringing the book into the _boita khana_, there was a
great discussion.
"After much talk in favour of widow-marriage, the Brahman, taking ten
rupees from the Babu for the repairs of the _Tote_,[6] went his way.
On the following day Sharbabhoum Thakur replied on the same subject. I
had some golden bracelets made for his daughter's wedding. No one else
was in favour of widow-marriage.
[Footnote 6: The village school in which Sanscrit is taught.]
"I have taken up much time in wearying you with my sorrows. Do I not
know how vexed you will be? but what can I do, sister? If I do not
tell you my sorrows, to whom shall I tell them? I have not said all
yet, but hoping for some relief from you has calmed me a little. Say
nothing of this to anyone; above all, I conjure you, show not this
letter to your husband. Will you not come and see me? if you will come
now your presence will heal many of my troubles. Send me quickly news
of your husband and of your child.
"SURJA MUKHI.
"P.S.--Another word. If I can get rid of this girl I may be happy once
more; but how to get rid of her? Can you take her? Would you not fear
to do so?"
Kamal Mani replied--
"You have become quite foolish, else how can you doubt your husband's
heart? Do not lose faith in him; if you really cannot trust him you
had better drown yourself. I, Kamal Mani, tell you you had better
drown yourself. She who can no longer trust her husband had better
die."