Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 1/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV.
Thus two or three days passed. No one brought Bhramar, Bhramar did not come. Gobind Lâl thought, "Bhramar has dared me, I'll make her cry for a bit. She has been very unjust to me, let her weep a little." He wept himself at the sight of their vacant room. He wept as he thought of Bhramar's want of faith in him. To think of quarrelling with Bhramar brought tears. Then, wiping them away, he became angry. In anger he sought to forget her. But how could he forget? Joy goes, memory remains. A sore may heal, but the scar remains. Man goes, his name remains.
Finally, foolish Gobind Lâl thought that the best way to forget Bhramar was to think of Rohini. The brilliancy of Rohini's unusual beauty had not for a single day deserted the heart of Gobind Lâl. He forcibly refused it admission, but it never left him. There is a story told of a certain demon who took violent possession of a house. Night and day it peeped about, but the exorcist always drove it away. In like manner the demon Rohini constantly sought entrance into the temple of Gobind Lâl's heart; he as constantly drove it away. As on the water the reflection of the sun and moon is to be seen where the sun and moon are not, so daily in Gobind Lâl's heart is the shadow of Rohini, but not Rohini herself. He thought, "If I could for the time being forget Bhramar I should think of Rohini, else I cannot forget this pain." Many quacks use strong and poisonous remedies to cure small ills; Gobind Lâl was ready to use a harsh poison to cure this small evil. Of his own will he was ready to effect his own undoing.
Rohini's existence was at first merely a memory, but afterwards changed into a trouble. From a trouble it became a desire. Gobind Lâl sat in the summer house on the borders of the tank repenting this desire. It was the rainy season, the sky covered with clouds. The rain fell, now stormily, now gently. but without ceasing. Evening had come, the darkness of approaching night added to the darkness of the clouds obscured the steps of the tank, they could not be clearly seen. Gobind Lâl dimly perceived the figure of a woman descending the steps. Rohini's descent of that ghât recurred to his mind. The rain had made it very slippery, and Gobind Lâl became distressed at the idea that the woman might slip and fall into the water. So he called from the arbour, "Who is that? Don’t go down those slippery steps, you may fall!" Whether the woman understood I can't say, the sound of the falling rain may have prevented her hearing clearly. The woman with the kalsi resting on the hip went down the steps and came up again. Very slowly she approached the flower garden, opened the garden gate, came in, came up to Gobind Lâl, who saw Rohini standing before him. "Why have you come hither, Rohini, getting so wet?"
"Did you not call me, sir?"
"No, I forbad your descending the slippery ghât. Why stand there in the rain?"
Rohini, gaining courage, stepped into the bower. Gobind Lâl said, "If people see you what will they say?"
Rohini. "They are already saying what there is to say. I have made many efforts to get speech with you about that."
Gobind. "I also have some questions to put about that matter. Who spread the report? Why do you put the blame on Bhramar?"
Rohini. "Every one says so. But am I to talk standing here?"
Gobind. "No, come with me." Thus saying, Gobind Lâl, calling Rohini, went into the garden house. I am not disposed to give the conversation that ensued between these two. I will say only that that night before going home Rohini saw that Gobind Lâl had become infatuated with her beauty.