The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore (children's ebooks online .txt) 📖

desperately as the chick is infatuated about the

bankruptcy of its shell," he replied. "The shell is real enough,

yet it is given up in exchange for intangible light and air. A

sorry exchange, I suppose you would call it?"

When once Nikhil gets on to metaphor, there is no hope of making

him see that he is merely dealing with words, not with realities.

Well, well, let him be happy with his metaphors. We are the

flesh-eaters of the world; we have teeth and nails; we pursue and

grab and tear. We are not satisfied with chewing in the evening

the cud of the grass we have eaten in the morning. Anyhow, we

cannot allow your metaphor-mongers to bar the door to our

sustenance. In that case we shall simply steal or rob, for we

must live.

People will say that I am starting some novel theory just because

those who are moving in this world are in the habit of talking

differently though they are really acting up to it all the time.

Therefore they fail to understand, as I do, that this is the only

working moral principle. In point of fact, I know that my idea

is not an empty theory at all, for it has been proved in

practical life. I have found that my way always wins over the

hearts of women, who are creatures of this world of reality and

do not roam about in cloud-land, as men do, in idea-filled

balloons.

Women find in my features, my manner, my gait, my speech, a

masterful passion--not a passion dried thin with the heat of

asceticism, not a passion with its face turned back at every step

in doubt and debate, but a full-blooded passion. It roars and

rolls on, like a flood, with the cry: "I want, I want, I want."

Women feel, in their own heart of hearts, that this indomitable

passion is the lifeblood of the world, acknowledging no law but

itself, and therefore victorious. For this reason they have so

often abandoned themselves to be swept away on the flood-tide of

my passion, recking naught as to whether it takes them to life or

to death. This power which wins these women is the power of

mighty men, the power which wins the world of reality.

Those who imagine the greater desirability of another world

merely shift their desires from the earth to the skies. It

remains to be seen how high their gushing fountain will play, and

for how long. But this much is certain: women were not created

for these pale creatures--these lotus-eaters of idealism.

"Affinity!" When it suited my need, I have often said that God

has created special pairs of men and women, and that the union of

such is the only legitimate union, higher than all unions made by

law. The reason of it is, that though man wants to follow

nature, he can find no pleasure in it unless he screens himself

with some phrase--and that is why this world is so overflowing

with lies.

"Affinity!" Why should there be only one? There may be affinity

with thousands. It was never in my agreement with nature that I

should overlook all my innumerable affinities for the sake of

only one. I have discovered many in my own life up to now, yet

that has not closed the door to one more--and that one is clearly

visible to my eyes. She has also discovered her own affinity to

me.

And then?

Then, if I do not win I am a coward.

Chapter Three

Bimala's Story

VI

I WONDER what could have happened to my feeling of shame. The

fact is, I had no time to think about myself. My days and nights

were passing in a whirl, like an eddy with myself in the centre.

No gap was left for hesitation or delicacy to enter.

One day my sister-in-law remarked to my husband: "Up to now the

women of this house have been kept weeping. Here comes the men's

turn.

"We must see that they do not miss it," she continued, turning to

me. "I see you are out for the fray, Chota [12] Rani! Hurl your

shafts straight at their hearts."

Her keen eyes looked me up and down. Not one of the colours into

which my toilet, my dress, my manners, my speech, had blossomed

out had escaped her. I am ashamed to speak of it today, but I

felt no shame then. Something within me was at work of which I

was not even conscious. I used to overdress, it is true, but

more like an automaton, with no particular design. No doubt I

knew which effort of mine would prove specially pleasing to

Sandip Babu, but that required no intuition, for he would discuss

it openly before all of them.

One day he said to my husband: "Do you know, Nikhil, when I first

saw our Queen Bee, she was sitting there so demurely in her gold-

bordered sari. Her eyes were gazing inquiringly into

space, like stars which had lost their way, just as if she had

been for ages standing on the edge of some darkness, looking out

for something unknown. But when I saw her, I felt a quiver run

through me. It seemed to me that the gold border of her

sari was her own inner fire flaming out and twining round

her. That is the flame we want, visible fire! Look here, Queen

Bee, you really must do us the favour of dressing once more as a

living flame."

So long I had been like a small river at the border of a village.

My rhythm and my language were different from what they are now.

But the tide came up from the sea, and my breast heaved; my banks

gave way and the great drumbeats of the sea waves echoed in my

mad current. I could not understand the meaning of that sound in

my blood. Where was that former self of mine? Whence came

foaming into me this surging flood of glory? Sandip's hungry

eyes burnt like the lamps of worship before my shrine. All his

gaze proclaimed that I was a wonder in beauty and power; and the

loudness of his praise, spoken and unspoken, drowned all other

voices in my world. Had the Creator created me afresh, I

wondered? Did he wish to make up now for neglecting me so long?

I who before was plain had become suddenly beautiful. I who

before had been of no account now felt in myself all the

splendour of Bengal itself.

For Sandip Babu was not a mere individual. In him was the

confluence of millions of minds of the country. When he called

me the Queen Bee of the hive, I was acclaimed with a chorus of

praise by all our patriot workers. After that, the loud jests of

my sister-in-law could not touch me any longer. My relations

with all the world underwent a change. Sandip Babu made it clear

how all the country was in need of me. I had no difficulty in

believing this at the time, for I felt that I had the power to do

everything. Divine strength had come to me. It was something

which I had never felt before, which was beyond myself. I had no

time to question it to find out what was its nature. It seemed

to belong to me, and yet to transcend me. It comprehended the

whole of Bengal.

Sandip Babu would consult me about every little thing touching

the Cause. At first I felt very awkward and would hang back, but

that soon wore off. Whatever I suggested seemed to astonish him.

He would go into raptures and say: "Men can only think. You

women have a way of understanding without thinking. Woman was

created out of God's own fancy. Man, He had to hammer into

shape."

Letters used to come to Sandip Babu from all parts of the country

which were submitted to me for my opinion. Occasionally he

disagreed with me. But I would not argue with him. Then after a

day or two--as if a new light had suddenly dawned upon him--he

would send for me and say: "It was my mistake. Your suggestion

was the correct one." He would often confess to me that wherever

he had taken steps contrary to my advice he had gone wrong. Thus

I gradually came to be convinced that behind whatever was taking

place was Sandip Babu, and behind Sandip Babu was the plain

common sense of a woman. The glory of a great responsibility

filled my being.

My husband had no place in our counsels. Sandip Babu treated him

as a younger brother, of whom personally one may be very fond and

yet have no use for his business advice. He would tenderly and

smilingly talk about my husband's childlike innocence, saying

that his curious doctrine and perversities of mind had a flavour

of humour which made them all the more lovable. It was seemingly

this very affection for Nikhil which led Sandip Babu to forbear

from troubling him with the burden of the country.

Nature has many anodynes in her pharmacy, which she secretly

administers when vital relations are being insidiously severed,

so that none may know of the operation, till at last one awakes

to know what a great rent has been made. When the knife was busy

with my life's most intimate tie, my mind was so clouded with

fumes of intoxicating gas that I was not in the least aware of

what a cruel thing was happening. Possibly this is woman's

nature. When her passion is roused she loses her sensibility for

all that is outside it. When, like the river, we women keep to

our banks, we give nourishment with all that we have: when we

overflow them we destroy with all that we are.

Bimala. the younger brother's wife, was the Chota or

Junior Rani.

Sandip's Story

II

I can see that something has gone wrong. I got an inkling of it

the other day.

Ever since my arrival, Nikhil's sitting-room had become a thing

amphibious--half women's apartment, half men's: Bimala had access

to it from the zenana, it was not barred to me from the outer

side. If we had only gone slow, and made use of our privileges

with some restraint, we might not have fallen foul of other

people. But we went ahead so vehemently that we could not think

of the consequences.

Whenever Bee comes into Nikhil's room, I somehow get to know of

it from mine. There are the tinkle of bangles and other little

sounds; the door is perhaps shut with a shade of unnecessary

vehemence; the bookcase is a trifle stiff and creaks if jerked

open. When I enter I find Bee, with her back to the door, ever

so busy selecting a book from the shelves. And as I offer to

assist her in this difficult task she starts and protests; and

then we naturally get on to other topics.

The other day, on an inauspicious [13] Thursday afternoon, I

sallied forth from my room at the call of these same sounds.

There was a man on guard in the passage. I walked on without so

much as glancing at him, but as I approached the door he put

himself in my way saying: "Not that way, sir."

"Not that