NEWS OF SURJA MUKHI.
It is late autumn. The waters from the fields are drying up; the rice
crop is ripening; the lotus flowers have disappeared from the tanks.
At dawn, dew falls from the boughs of the trees; at evening, mist
rises over the plains. One day at dawn a palanquin was borne along the
Madhupur road. At this sight all the boys of the place assembled in a
row; all the daughters and wives, old and young, resting their
water-vessels on the hip, stood awhile to gaze. The husbandmen,
leaving the rice crop, sickle in hand and with turbaned heads, stood
staring at the palanquin. The influential men of the village sat in
committee. A booted foot was set down from the palanquin: the general
opinion was that an English gentleman had arrived; the children
thought it was Bogie.
When Nagendra Natha had descended from the palanquin, half a dozen
people saluted him because he wore pantaloons and a smoking-cap. Some
thought he was the police inspector; others that he was a constable.
Addressing an old man in the crowd, Nagendra inquired for Siva Prasad
_Brahmachari_.
The person addressed felt certain that this must be a case of
investigation into a murder, and that therefore it would not be well
to give a truthful answer. He replied, "Sir, I am but a child; I do
not know as much as that."
Nagendra perceived that unless he could meet with an educated man he
would learn nothing. There were many in the village, therefore
Nagendra went to a house of superior class. It proved to be that of
Ram Kristo Rai, who, noticing the arrival of a strange gentleman,
requested him to sit down. Nagendra, inquiring for Siva Prasad
_Brahmachari_, was informed that he had left the place.
Much dejected, Nagendra asked, "Where is he gone?"
"That I do not know; he never remains long in one place."
"Does any one know when he will return?" asked Nagendra.
"I have some business with him, therefore I also made that inquiry,
but no one can tell me."
"How long is it since he left?"
"About a month."
"Could any one show me the house of Haro Mani _Boisnavi_, of this
village?"
"Haro Mani's house stood by the roadside; but it exists no longer, it
has been destroyed by fire."
Nagendra pressed his forehead. In a weak voice he asked, "Where is
Haro Mani?"
"No one can say. Since the night her house was burned she has fled
somewhere. Some even say that she herself set fire to it."
In a broken voice Nagendra asked, "Did any other woman live in her
house?"
"No. In the month _Sraban_ a stranger, falling sick, stayed in her
house. She was placed there by the _Brahmachari_. I heard her name was
Surja Mukhi. She was ill of consumption; I attended her, had almost
cured her. Now--"
Breathing hard, Nagendra repeated, "Now?"
"In the destruction of Haro Mani's house the woman was burnt."
Nagendra fell from his chair, striking his head severely. The blow
stunned him. The doctor attended to his needs.
Who would live in a world so full of sorrow? The poison tree grows in
every one's court. Who would love? to have one's heart torn in pieces.
Oh, Creator! why hast Thou not made this a happy world? Thou hadst the
power if Thou hadst wished to make it a world of joy! Why is there so
much sorrow in it?
When, at evening, Nagendra Natha left Madhupur in his palanquin, he
said to himself--
"Now I have lost all. What is lost--happiness? that was lost on the
day when Surja Mukhi left home. Then what is lost now--hope? So long
as hope remains to man all is not lost; when hope dies, all dies."
Now, therefore, he resolved to go to Govindpur, not with the purpose
of remaining, but to arrange all his affairs and bid farewell to the
house. The zemindari, the family house, and the rest of his landed
property of his own acquiring, he would make over by deed to his
nephew, Satish Chandra. The deed would need to be drawn up by a
lawyer, or it would not stand. The movable wealth he would send to
Kamal Mani in Calcutta, sending Kunda Nandini there also. A certain
amount of money he would reserve for his own support in Government
securities. The account-books of the estate he would place in the
hands of Srish Chandra.
He would not give Surja Mukhi's ornaments to his sister, but would
keep them beside him wherever he went, and when his time came would
die looking at them. After completing the needful arrangements he
would leave home, revisit the spot where Surja Mukhi had died, and
then resume his wandering life. So long as he should live he would
hide in some corner of the earth.
Such were Nagendra's thoughts as he was borne on in his palanquin; its
doors were open, the night was lightened by the October moon, stars
shone in the sky. The telegraph-wires by the wayside hummed in the
wind; but on that night not even a star could seem beautiful in the
eyes of Nagendra, even the moonlight seemed harsh. All things seemed
to give pain. The earth was cruel. Why should everything that seemed
beautiful in days of happiness seem to-day so ugly? Those long slender
moonbeams by which the heart was wont to be refreshed, why did they
now seem so glaring? The sky is to-day as blue, the clouds as white,
the stars as bright, the wind as playful; the animal creation, as
ever, rove at will. Man is as smiling and joyous, the earth pursues
its endless course, family affairs follow their daily round. The
world's hardness is unendurable. Why did not the earth open and
swallow up Nagendra in his palanquin?
Thus thinking, Nagendra perceived that he was himself to blame for
all. He had reached his thirty-third year only, yet he had lost all.
God had given him everything that makes the happiness of man. Riches,
greatness, prosperity, honour--all these he had received from the
beginning in unwonted measure. Without intelligence these had been
nothing, but God had given that also without stint. His education had
not been neglected by his parents; who was so well instructed as
himself? Beauty, strength, health, lovableness--these also nature had
given to him with liberal hand. That gift which is priceless in the
world, a loving, faithful wife, even this had been granted to him; who
on this earth had possessed more of the elements of happiness? who was
there on earth to-day more wretched? If by giving up everything,
riches, honour, beauty, youth, learning, intelligence, he could have
changed conditions with one of his palanquin-bearers, he would have
considered it a heavenly happiness. "Yet why a bearer?" thought he;
"is there a prisoner in the gaols of this country who is not more
happy than I? not more holy than I? They have slain others; I have
slain Surja Mukhi. If I had ruled my passions, would she have been
brought to die such a death in a strange place? I am her murderer.
What slayer of father, mother, or son, is a greater sinner than I? Was
Surja Mukhi my wife only? She was my all. In relation a wife, in
friendship a brother, in care a sister, abounding in hospitality, in
love a mother, in devotion a daughter, in pleasure a friend, in
counsel a teacher, in attendance a servant! My Surja Mukhi! who else
possesses such a wife? A helper in domestic affairs, a fortune in the
house, a religion in the heart, an ornament round the neck, the pupil
of my eyes, the blood of my heart, the life of my body, the smile of
my happiness, my comfort in dejection, the enlightener of my mind, my
spur in work, the light of my eyes, the music of my ears, the breath
of my life, the world to my touch! My present delight, the memory of
my past, the hope of my future, my salvation in the next world! I am a
swine--how should I recognize a pearl?"
Suddenly it occurred to him that he was being borne in a palanquin at
his ease, while Surja Mukhi had worn herself out by travelling on
foot. At this thought Nagendra leaped from the palanquin and proceeded
on foot, his bearers carrying the empty vehicle in the rear. When he
reached the bazaar where he had arrived in the morning he dismissed
the men with their palanquin, resolving to finish his journey on foot.
"I will devote my life to expiating the death of Surja Mukhi. What
expiation? All the joys of which Surja Mukhi was deprived in leaving
her home, I will henceforth give up. Wealth, servants, friends, none
of these will I retain. I will subject myself to all the sufferings
she endured. From the day I leave Govindpur I will go on foot, live
upon rice, sleep beneath a tree or in a hut. What further expiation?
Whenever I see a helpless woman I will serve her to the utmost of my
power. Of the wealth I reserve to myself I will take only enough to
sustain life; the rest I will devote to the service of helpless women.
Even of that portion of my wealth that I give to Satish, I will
direct that half of it shall be devoted during my life to the support
of destitute women. Expiation! Sin may be expiated, sorrow cannot be.
The only expiation for sorrow is death. In dying, sorrow leaves you:
why do I not seek that expiation?"
Then covering his face with his hands, and remembering his Creator,
Nagendra Natha put from him the desire to seek death.