Gora (Modern Classics) by Tagore Rabindranath

Author:Tagore, Rabindranath [Tagore, Rabindranath]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788184757286
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2009-02-10T00:00:00+00:00

~38~

In Borodasundari’s absence, Poresh had given shelter to Harimohini. Offering her the secluded room on the terrace, he had made all arrangements to ensure that her observance of orthodox rituals could proceed unimpeded. Upon her return, Borodasundari was aflame with fury at finding such an unimaginable presence in her household.

‘I can’t accept this,’ she protested very sharply to Poresh.

‘You can tolerate all of us, but not this widow who has no support?’ Poresh reproached her.

Borodasundari knew that Poresh had no practical sense; every now and then, he would suddenly do something outrageous, never sparing a thought for matters of worldly advantage. Subsequently, one may rave or rant, scold or weep, but he would remain unmoved as a statue. Who could cope with such a man? Which woman could live with a man who could not even be provoked into a quarrel when necessary!

Sucharita was about the same age as Manorama. Harimohini began to feel that she even resembled Manorama a great deal. She appeared similar in temperament as well, calm but firm by nature. At times, when Sucharita’s back was turned, Harimohini’s heart would miss a beat, looking at her. When she sometimes wept silently in the evening, if Sucharita approached her, Harimohini would clasp her to her bosom, eyes shut tight, and say:

‘Aha, I feel as if it is she herself I have found, here in my heart. She did not want to go but I forced her to leave. Can I ever, under any circumstances, be pardoned! I have suffered the punishment that was my due. Now she is here. Here she is, back with me, back with the same smiling countenance. Here’s my ma, my jewel, my treasure!’ Saying this, she would stroke Sucharita’s face all over, kiss her, shed floods of tears. Tears would stream from Sucharita’s eyes as well. Throwing her arms around Harimohini’s neck, she would declare:

‘Mashi, I too could not enjoy my mother’s love for long, but now my lost mother has returned. How often, when things were difficult, when I lacked the strength to pray to Ishwar, when my heart had shrivelled within, I would call out to my Ma! Today, my Ma has come, in response to my call.’

‘Don’t, please don’t say such things,’ Harimohini would plead. ‘Your words bring me such joy that I feel apprehensive. O Thakur, please spare us from the evil eye! I plan to avoid any further attachments, wanting my heart to turn to stone, but indeed I can’t! I’m very weak. Have pity on me, strike me no more. O my Radharani, go, go, go away from me. Don’t entangle me further, please don’t! O my Gopiballav, Lord of my life, my Gopal, my priceless jewel, what predicament have you placed me in this time!’

‘You can’t get rid of me by force, Mashi,’ Sucharita would reply. ‘I’ll never let you go—I’m here to stay by your side forever.’ Like an infant she would nestle her head in Harimohini’s bosom, and fall silent.

In no time, a deep bond evolved between Sucharita and her mashi, not to be measured by the yardstick of time.

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