Part 3
Let me tell you. Every day a pair of blue-throats[1] come and sit on the pomegranate tree in front of my window. Every night, before I sleep, I salute the pole star and say: Sacred star of constancy, if a feather from the wings of the blue-throats finds its way into my room, then I will know my Rañjan is coming. This morning, as soon as I woke, I found a feather on my bed. See, here it is under my breast-cloth. When I meet him I shall put this feather on his crest.
_Bishu_
They say blue-throats’ wings are an omen of victory.
_Nandini_
Rañjan’s way to victory lies through my heart.
_Bishu_
No more of this; let me go to my work.
_Nandini_
I shan’t let you work to-day.
_Bishu_
What must I do then?
_Nandini_
Sing that song of waiting.
_Bishu_
(_Sings_)
_He who ever wants me through the ages,-- is it not he who sits to-day by my wayside? I seem to remember a glimpse I had of his face, in the twilight dusk of some ancient year. Is it not he who sits to-day by the wayside?_
_Nandini_
Bishu, when you sing I cannot help feeling that I owe you much, but have never given anything to you.
_Bishu_
I shall decorate my forehead with the mark of your never-giving, and go my way. No little-giving for me, in return for my song! Where will you go now?
_Nandini_
To the wayside by which Rañjan is coming.
[_They go._
(_The Governor and a Headman come in._)
_Governor_
No, we can’t possibly allow Rañjan to enter this parish.
_Headman_
I put him to work in the tunnels of Vajragarh.
_Governor_
Well, what happened?
_Headman_
He said he was not used to being made to work. The Headman of Vajragarh came with the police, but the fellow doesn’t know what fear is. Threaten him, he bursts out laughing. Asked why he laughs, he says solemnity is the mask of stupidity and he has come to take it off.
_Governor_
Did you set him to work with the diggers?
_Headman_
I did, I thought that pressure would make him yield. But on the contrary it seemed to lift the pressure from the diggers’ minds also. He cheered them up, and asked them to have a digger’s dance!
_Governor_
Digger’s dance! What on earth is that?
_Headman_
Rañjan started singing. Where were they to get drums?--they objected. Rañjan said, if there weren’t any drums, there were spades enough. So they began keeping time with the spades, making a joke of their digging up of nuggets.
The Headman himself came over to reprimand them. “What style of work is this?” he thundered.
“I have unbound the work,” said Rañjan. “It won’t have to be dragged out by main force any more, it will run along of itself, dancing.”
_Governor_
The fellow is mad, I see.
_Headman_
Hopelessly mad. “Use your spade properly,” shouted I. “Much better give me a guitar,” said he, smiling.
_Governor_
But how did he manage to escape from Vajragarh and come up here?
_Headman_
That I do not know. Nothing seems to fasten on to him. His boisterousness is infectious. The diggers are getting frisky.
_Governor_
Hallo, isn’t that Rañjan himself,--going along the road, thrumming on an old guitar? Impudent rascal! He doesn’t even care to hide.
_Headman_
Well, I never! Goodness alone knows how he broke through the wall!
_Governor_
Go and seize him instantly! He must not meet Nandini in this parish, for anything.
(_Enter Assistant Governor._)
Where are you going?
_Assistant Governor_
To arrest Rañjan.
_Governor_
Where is the Deputy Governor?
_Assistant Governor_
He is so much amused by this fellow that he doesn’t want to lay hands on him. He says the man’s laugh shows us what queer creatures we governors have grown into.
_Governor_
I have an idea. Don’t arrest Rañjan. Send him on to the King’s sanctum.
_Assistant Governor_
He refuses to obey our call, even in the King’s name.
_Governor_
Tell him the King has made a slave-girl of his Nandini.
_Assistant Governor_
But if the King----
_Governor_
Don’t you worry. Come on, I’ll go with you myself.
[_They go._
(_Enter Professor and Antiquarian._)
_Antiquarian_
I say, what is this infernal noise going on inside?
_Professor_
The King, probably in a temper with himself, is engaged in breaking some of his own handiwork.
_Antiquarian_
It sounds like big pillars crashing down one after another.
_Professor_
There was a lake, at the foot of our hill over there, in which the waters of this Sankhini river used to gather. One day, suddenly, the rock to its left gave way, and the stored-up water rushed out laughing like mad. To see the King nowadays, it strikes me that his treasure lake has grown weary of its rock wall.
_Antiquarian_
What did you bring me here for, Professor?
_Professor_
Latterly he has begun to get angry with my science. He says it only burgles through one wall to reveal another behind it, and never reaches the inner chamber of the Life spirit. I thought that, perhaps in the study of antiquity, he might explore the secret of Life’s play. My knapsack has been rifled empty, now he can go on pocket-picking history.
Do you see who that is passing by?
_Antiquarian_
A girl wearing a grass-green robe.
_Professor_
She has for her mantle the green joy of the earth. That is our Nandini. In this Yaksha Town there are governors, foremen, headmen, tunnel-diggers, scholars like myself; there are policemen, executioners, and undertakers,--altogether a beautiful assortment! Only _she_ is out of element. Midst the clamour of the market place she is a tuned-up lyre. There are days when the mesh of my studies is torn by the sudden breeze of her passing by, and through that rent my attention flies away _swish_, like a bird.
_Antiquarian_
Good heavens, man! Are even your well-seasoned bones subject to these poetic fits?
_Professor_
Life’s attraction, like the tidal wave, tears away mind from its anchorage of books.
_Antiquarian_
Tell me, where am I to meet the King?
_Professor_
There’s no means of meeting him. You’ll have to talk to him from outside this network.
_Antiquarian_
We’re to converse with this net between us?
_Professor_
Not the kind of whispered talk that may take place through a woman’s veil, but solidly concentrated conversation. Even the cows in his stall don’t dare to give milk, they yield their butter straight off!
_Antiquarian_
Admirable! To extract the essential from the diluted, is what scholars aim at.
_Professor_
But not what God in His creation aims at. He respects the fruit stones that are hard, but rejoices in the pulp that is sweet.
_Antiquarian_
Professor, I see that your grey science is galloping fast towards grass-green. But I wonder how you can stand this King of yours.
_Professor_
Shall I tell you the truth? I love him.
_Antiquarian_
You don’t mean to say so?
_Professor_
He is so great that even what is wrong with him will not be able to spoil him.
(_The Governor comes in._)
_Governor_
I say, man of science, so this is the person you volunteered to bring here. Our King flew into a passion at the very mention of his special subject.
_Antiquarian_
May I ask why?
_Governor_
The King says there is no age of history which may be called old. It is always an eternal extension of the present.
_Antiquarian_
Can the front exist without the back?
_Governor_
What he said was: “Time proceeds by revealing the new on his front; but the men of learning, suppressing that fact, will have it that Time ever carries the burden of the old on his back.”
(_Nandini comes in hurriedly._)
_Nandini_
What is happening? Who are they?
_Governor_
Hallo, Nandini, is that you? I shall wear your _kunda_ chain late in the evening. When three-quarters of me can hardly be seen for the dark, then perchance a flower garland might become even me.
_Nandini_
Look over there--what a piteous sight! Who are those people, going along with the guards, filing out from the back door of the King’s apartments?
_Governor_
We call them the King’s leavings.
_Nandini_
What does that mean?
_Governor_
Some day you too will know its meaning; let it be for to-day.
_Nandini_
But are these men? Have they flesh and marrow, life and soul?
_Governor_
Maybe they haven’t.
_Nandini_
Had they never any?
_Governor_
Maybe they had.
_Nandini_
Where then is it all gone now?
_Governor_
Man of science, explain it if you can, I’m off.
[_He goes._
_Nandini_
Alas, alas! I see amongst these shadows faces that I know. Surely that is our Anup and Upamanyu?
Professor, they belong to our neighbouring village. Two brothers as tall as they were strong. They used to come and race their boats in our river on the fourteenth day of the moon in rainy June. Oh, who has brought them to this miserable plight?
See, there goes Shaklu,--in sword play he used to win the prize garland before all the others. Anu-up! Shaklu-u! look this way; it’s I, your Nandini, Nandin of Isháni, your very next village. They won’t even raise their heads--heads lowered for ever!
Who is that? Surely, it is Kanku! Ah misery me! Even a boy like him has been chewed dry and thrown away a piece of sugar cane. He was a very shy lad. He would sit by the sloping side of the river landing where I used to go and fetch water, pretending he had come to gather reeds for making arrows. How often have I mischievously teased him. Kanku, look back at me! Alas, he whose blood would dance in his veins at a mere sign from me, now leaves my call unanswered.
Gone, gone, all the lights of our village are gone out! Professor, the steel is all eaten away, only the dark rust remains,--however did this happen?
_Professor_
Nandini, your notice happens to be attracted towards the ashes, but turn your eyes towards the flame, and you will behold the brilliance of its writhing tongues.
_Nandini_
I don’t follow you at all.
_Professor_
Well, you have seen the King, haven’t you? I hear you were charmed by his appearance.
_Nandini_
Of course I was! Isn’t he marvellous in his strength?
_Professor_
That marvellousness is the credit side of the account, and this ghastliness is the debit. These small ones are consumed to ash, that the great ones may leap up in flame. This is the principle underlying all rise to greatness.
_Nandini_
It’s a fiendish principle!
_Professor_
It’s no use getting annoyed with a principle. Principles are neither good nor bad. That which happens _does_ happen. To go against it, is to knock your head against the law of being.
_Nandini_
If this is the way of man’s being, I refuse to _be_, I want to depart with those shadows,--show me the way.
_Professor_
When the time comes for showing us out, the great ones themselves will point the way. Before that, there’s no such nuisance as a way at all! You see how our Antiquarian has quietly slipped off, thinking he’ll fly and save himself. After going a few steps, he’ll soon discover that there’s a wire network stretched from post to post, from country to country.
Nandini, I see, your temper is rising. The red oleanders against your flaming cheek are beginning to look like evening storm clouds gathering for a night of terror.
_Nandini_
(_Knocking at the net window_) Listen, listen!
_Professor_
Whom are you calling?
_Nandini_
That King of yours, shrouded in his mist of netting.
_Professor_
The door of the inner room has been closed. He won’t hear you.
_Nandini_
(_Calling out_) Bishu, mad brother mine!
_Professor_
What d’you want with _him_?
_Nandini_
Why hasn’t he come back yet? I feel afraid.
_Professor_
He was with you only a little while ago.
_Nandini_
The Governor said he was wanted to identify Rañjan. I tried to go with him, but they wouldn’t let me. Whose groaning is that?
_Professor_
It must be that wrestler of ours.
_Nandini_
What wrestler?
_Professor_
The world-famous Gajju, whose brother, Bhajan, had the bravado to challenge the King to a wrestling match, since when not even a thread of his loin cloth is anywhere to be seen. That put Gajju on his mettle, and he came on with great sound and fury. I told him at the outset that, if he wanted to dig in the tunnels underneath this kingdom, he was welcome,--he could at least drag on a dead and alive existence for some time. But if he wanted to make a show of heroics, that would not be tolerated for a moment.
_Nandini_
Does it at all make for their well-being thus to keep watch and ward over these man-traps night and day?
_Professor_
Well-being! There’s no question of “well” in it at all,--only “being.” That _being_ of theirs has expanded so terribly that, unless millions of men are pressed into service, who’s going to support its weight? So the net is spreading farther and farther. They must exist, you see.
_Nandini_
Must they? If it is necessary to die in order to live like men, what harm in dying?
_Professor_
Again that anger, the wild cry of red oleander? It is sweet, no doubt, yet what is true is true. If it gives you pleasure to say that one must die to live, well, say so by all means; but those who say that others must die that they themselves may live,--it’s only they who are actually alive. You may cry out that this shows a lack of humanity, but you forget, in your indignation, that this is what humanity itself happens to be. The tiger does not feed on the tiger, it’s only man who fattens on his fellow-man.
(_The Wrestler totters in._)
_Nandini_
Oh poor thing, see how he comes, staggering. Wrestler, lie down here. Professor, do see where he’s hurt.
_Professor_
You won’t see any outward sign of a wound.
_Wrestler_
All-merciful God, grant me strength once more in my life, if only for one little day!
_Professor_
Why, my dear fellow?
_Wrestler_
Just to wring that Governor’s neck!
_Professor_
What has the Governor done to you?
_Wrestler_
It’s he who brought about the whole thing. I never wanted to fight. Now, after egging me on, he goes about saying it’s my fault.
_Professor_
Why, what interest had he in your fighting?
_Wrestler_
They only feel safe when they rob the whole world of strength. Lord of Mercy, grant that I may be able to gouge his eyes out some day, to tear asunder his lying tongue!
_Nandini_
How do you feel now, Wrestler?
_Wrestler_
Altogether hollowed out! These demons know the magic art of sucking away not only strength but hope.
If only once I could somehow,--O good God, but once,--everything is possible to Thy mercy,--if only I could fasten my teeth for once in the Governor’s throat!
_Nandini_
Professor, help me to raise him.
_Professor_
That would be a crime, Nandini, according to the custom of this land.
_Nandini_
Wouldn’t it be a crime to let the man perish?
_Professor_
That which there is none to punish may be a sin, but never a crime. Nandini, come away, come right away out of this. The tree spreads its root-fingers and does its grabbing underground, but there it does not bring forth its flowers. Flowers bloom on the branches which reach towards the light. My sweet Red Oleander, don’t try to probe our secrets in the depths of their dust. Be for us swaying in the air above, that we may gaze upwards to see you.
There comes the Governor. He hates to see me talk to you. So I must go.
_Nandini_
Why is he so dead against me?
_Professor_
I can guess. You have touched his heart-strings. The longer it takes to tune them up, the more awful the discord meanwhile.
(_The Professor goes, the Governor comes in._)
_Nandini_
Sir Governor!
_Governor_
Nandini, when our Gosain saw that _kunda_ garland of yours in my room, both his eyes,--but here he comes----
(_The Gosain comes in._)
Your Holiness, accept my reverence. That garland was given to me by our Nandini here.
_Gosain_
Ah indeed! the gift of a pure heart! God’s own white _kunda_ flowers! Their beauty remains unsullied even in the hands of a man of the world. This is what gives one faith in the power of virtue, and hope for the sinners’ redemption.
_Nandini_
Please do something for this man, Your Reverence. There’s very little life left in him.
_Gosain_
The Governor is sure to keep him as much alive as it is necessary for him to be. But, my child, these discussions ill become your lips.
_Nandini_
So in this kingdom you follow some calculation in apportioning life?
_Gosain_
Of course,--for mortal life has its limits. Our class of people have their great burden to bear, therefore we have to claim a larger portion of life’s sustenance for our share. That’s according to Almighty God’s own decree.
_Nandini_
Reverend Sir, may I know what good God has so heavily charged you to do to these people?
_Gosain_
The life that is unlimited gives no provocation to fight for its distribution. We Preachers have the charge of turning these people towards this unlimited life. So long as they remain content with that, we are their friends.
_Nandini_
Then will this man with his very limited life have to remain lying here half dead?
_Gosain_
Why should he remain lying down anyway? What say you, Governor?
_Governor_
Quite right. Why should we let him lie? From now he won’t need to walk by his own strength alone, we shall carry him along with ours.
Here, Gajju!
_Wrestler_
Yes, Sir Governor!
_Gosain_
Good Lord, his voice has already become ever so much reedier. It strikes me we shall be able to make him join our choir of the Holy Name.
_Governor_
Gajju!
_Wrestler_
At your service, Sir!
_Governor_
Report yourself at the Headman’s quarters, parish Y-Z.
_Nandini_
How can the poor man possibly walk?
_Governor_
Look here, Nandini, it is our business to drive men. With the right kind of push a man can be made to go a good distance, even when he is at the point of collapse.
Get along with you, Gajju!
_Wrestler_
As you command, Sir!
_Nandini_
Let me come over to the Headman’s quarters to help you.
_Wrestler_
No. Don’t add to my troubles, I beg of you.
[_The Wrestler goes._
_Nandini_
Governor, stay, tell me, whither have you taken my Bishu?
_Governor_
Who am I that I should take him? The wind carries off the clouds,--if you think that to be a crime, make enquiries as to who is behind the wind.
_Nandini_
Dear me, what an awful place! You are not men, and those you drive are not men, either,--you are winds and they are clouds!
Reverend Gosain, I am sure, _you_ know where my Bishu is.
_Gosain_
I know, for sure, that wherever he is, it’s for the best.
_Nandini_
For whose best?
_Gosain_
That you won’t understand--
Oh, I say, leave off, let go of that, it’s my rosary.--Hallo, Governor, what wild girl is this you have----
_Governor_
The girl has somehow managed to ensconce herself in a niche, safe from the laws of this land, and we can’t lay hands on her. Our King himself----
_Gosain_
Good heavens, now she’ll tear off my wrap of the Holy Name too. What unspeakable outrage!
[_The Gosain flies._
_Nandini_
Governor, you _must_ tell me where you have taken Bishu.
_Governor_
They have summoned him to the court of judgement. That’s all that there is to tell you. Let me go.
_Nandini_
Because I am a woman, you are not afraid of me? God sends His thunderbolt through His messenger, the lightning spark--that bolt I have borne here with me; it will shatter the golden spire of your mastery.
_Governor_
Then let me tell you the truth before I go. It’s you who have dragged Bishu into danger.
_Nandini_
I?
_Governor_
Yes, you! He was so long content to be quietly burrowing away underground like a worm. It’s you who taught him to spread the wings of death. O fire of the gods, you’ll yet draw forth many more to their fate.--Then at length will you and I come to our understanding, and that won’t be long.
_Nandini_
So may it be. But tell me one thing before you go. Will you not let Rañjan come and see me?
_Governor_
No, never.
_Nandini_
Never, you say! I defy you to do your worst. This very day I am sure, absolutely sure, that he and I will meet!
[_Governor goes._
(_Knocking and tugging at the network_) Listen, listen, King! Where’s your court of judgement? Open its door to me.
(_Kishôr comes in._)
Who is that? My boy, Kishôr! Do you know where Bishu is?
_Kishôr_
Yes, Nandini, be ready to see him. I don’t know how it was, the Chief of the Guard took a fancy to my youthfulness and yielded to my entreaties. He has consented to take him along by this path.
_Nandini_
Guard! Take him along? Is he then----
_Kishôr_
Yes, here they come.
_Nandini_
What! Handcuffs on your wrists? Friend of my heart, where are they taking you like that?
(_Bishu comes in under arrest._)
_Bishu_
It’s nothing to be anxious about!--Guards, please wait a little, let me say a few words to her.--My wild girl, my heart’s joy, at last I am free.
_Nandini_
What do you mean, Singer of my heart? I don’t understand your words.
_Bishu_
When I used to be afraid, and try to avoid danger at every step, I seemed to be at liberty; but that liberty was the worst form of bondage.
_Nandini_
What offence have you committed that they should take you away thus?
_Bishu_
I spoke out the truth to-day, at last.
_Nandini_
What if you did?
_Bishu_
No harm at all!
_Nandini_
Then why did they bind you like this?
_Bishu_
What harm in that either? These chains will bear witness to the truth of my freedom.
_Nandini_
Don’t they feel ashamed of themselves to lead you along the road chained like a beast? Aren’t they men too?
_Bishu_
They have a big beast inside them, that’s why their heads are not lowered by the indignity of man, rather the inner brute’s tail swells and wags with pride at man’s downfall.
_Nandini_
O dear heart! Have they been hurting you? What are these marks on your body?
_Bishu_
They have whipped me, with the whips they use for their dogs. The string of that whip is made with the same thread which goes to the stringing of their Gosain’s rosary. When they tell their beads they don’t remember that; but probably their God is aware of it.
_Nandini_
Let them bind me like that too, and take me away with you, my heart’s Joy! Unless I share some of your punishment I shan’t be able to touch food from to-day.
_Kishôr_
I’m sure I can persuade them to take me in exchange for you. Let me take your place, Bishu.
_Bishu_
Don’t be silly!
_Kishôr_
Punishment won’t hurt me. I am young. I shall bear it with joy.
_Nandini_
No, no, do not talk like that.
_Kishôr_
Nandini, my absence has been noticed, their bloodhounds are after me. Allow me to escape the indignity awaiting me by taking shelter in a punishment I joyfully accept.
_Bishu_
No, it won’t do for you to be caught--not for a while yet. There’s work for you, dear boy, and dangerous work too. Rañjan has come. You must find him out.
_Kishôr_
Then I bid you farewell, Nandini. What is your message when I meet Rañjan?
_Nandini_
This tassel of red oleanders (_hands it to him_).
[_Kishôr goes._
_Bishu_
May you both be united once again.
_Nandini_
That union will give me no pleasure now. I shall never be able to forget that I sent you away empty-handed. And what has that poor boy, Kishôr, got from me?
_Bishu_
All the treasure hidden in his heart has been revealed to him by the fire you have lighted in his life. Nandini, I remind you, it’s for you to put that blue-throat’s feather on Rañjan’s crest.--There, do you hear them singing the harvest song?
_Nandini_
I do, and it wrings my heart, to tears.
_Bishu_
The play of the fields is ended now, and the field-master is taking the ripe corn home. Come on, Guards, let’s not linger any more.
(_Sings_)
_Mow the corn of the last harvest, bind it in sheaves. The remainder, let it return as dust unto the dust._
[_They go._
(_The Governor and a Doctor come in._)
_Doctor_
I’ve seen him. I find the King dissatisfied with himself. That’s a disease, not of the body, but of the mind.
_Governor_
What’s the remedy?
_Doctor_
A big shock. Try and get up a big row, either with some other king, or amongst the people themselves!
_Governor_