Suksar, within our estates, is one of the biggest trade centres
in the district. On one side of a stretch of water there is held
a daily bazar; on the other, a weekly market. During the rains
when this piece of water gets connected with the river, and boats
can come through, great quantities of cotton yarns, and woollen
stuffs for the coming winter, are brought in for sale.
At the height of our enthusiasm, Sandip laid it down that all
foreign articles, together with the demon of foreign influence,
must be driven out of our territory.
"Of course!" said I, girding myself up for a fight.
"I have had words with Nikhil about it," said Sandip. "He tells
me, he does not mind speechifying, but he will not have
coercion."
"I will see to that," I said, with a proud sense of power. I
knew how deep was my husband's love for me. Had I been in my
senses I should have allowed myself to be torn to pieces rather
than assert my claim to that, at such a time. But Sandip had to
be impressed with the full strength of my __Shakti__.
Sandip had brought home to me, in his irresistible way, how the
cosmic Energy was revealed for each individual in the shape of
some special affinity. Vaishnava Philosophy, he said, speaks of
the __Shakti__ of Delight that dwells in the heart of
creation, ever attracting the heart of her Eternal Lover. Men
have a perpetual longing to bring out this __Shakti__ from the
hidden depths of their own nature, and those of us who succeed in
doing so at once clearly understand the meaning of the music
coming to us from the Dark. He broke out singing:
/*
"My flute, that was busy with its song,
Is silent now when we stand face to face.
My call went seeking you from sky to sky
When you lay hidden;
But now all my cry finds its smile
In the face of my beloved."
*/
Listening to his allegories, I had forgotten that I was plain and
simple Bimala. I was __Shakti__; also an embodiment of
Universal joy. Nothing could fetter me, nothing was impossible
for me; whatever I touched would gain new life. The world around
me was a fresh creation of mine; for behold, before my heart's
response had touched it, there had not been this wealth of gold
in the Autumn sky! And this hero, this true servant of the
country, this devotee of mine--this flaming intelligence, this
burning energy, this shining genius--him also was I creating from
moment to moment. Have I not seen how my presence pours fresh
life into him time after time?
The other day Sandip begged me to receive a young lad, Amulya, an
ardent disciple of his. In a moment I could see a new light
flash out from the boy's eyes, and knew that he, too, had a
vision of __Shakti__ manifest, that my creative force had
begun its work in his blood. "What sorcery is this of yours!"
exclaimed Sandip next day. "Amulya is a boy no longer, the wick
of his life is all ablaze. Who can hide your fire under your
home-roof? Every one of them must be touched up by it, sooner or
later, and when every lamp is alight what a grand carnival of a
__Dewali__ we shall have in the country!"
Blinded with the brilliance of my own glory I had decided to
grant my devotee this boon. I was overweeningly confident that
none could baulk me of what I really wanted. When I returned to
my room after my talk with Sandip, I loosed my hair and tied it
up over again. Miss Gilby had taught me a way of brushing it up
from the neck and piling it in a knot over my head. This style
was a favourite one with my husband. "It is a pity," he once
said, "that Providence should have chosen poor me, instead of
poet Kalidas, for revealing all the wonders of a woman's neck.
The poet would probably have likened it to a flower-stem; but I
feel it to be a torch, holding aloft the black flame of your
hair." With which he ... but why, oh why, do I go back to all
that?
I sent for my husband. In the old days I could contrive a
hundred and one excuses, good or bad, to get him to come to me.
Now that all this had stopped for days I had lost the art of
contriving.