Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 1/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII.
In taking the tank Bârunî for a subject I have got into difficulties: I cannot rise to the description of it. The tank was very large. It lay like a blue mirror framed by a border of grass. Beyond the grass frame was another frame, that of the flower garden. On the four sides of the tank stretched Gobind Lâl’s' flower garden; the trees and the walls of the garden seemed to continue endlessly. This frame was very brilliant, enamelled with flowers of varied hue—red, black, green, rose, white, yellow—and studded with gems of many sorts of fruits in their leafy sheaths. Here and there the white summer houses glittered, each like an enormous diamond in the rays of the setting sun. And overhead the sky: that also enframed the garden, that also was a sort of blue mirror. This blue sky, this frame of garden, this frame of grass, the flowers, the fruits, the trees, the houses, were all reflected in that blue water mirror. Now and again the cuckoo’s voice. All this can in some way be described, but what Rohini was thinking of in connection with that sky, the tank, and the cuckoo's song I cannot explain. This was my meaning in saying that the telling about this tank had thrown me into difficulties.
I am in a difficulty, and so also was Gobind Lâl. He also, from behind that mass of flowering creepers, had seen Rohini descend the ghât steps and sit alone, weeping. Gobind Lâl came to the conclusion. that it was some girl from the village who was crying in consequence of some quarrel with a boy. I cannot trust so much to his conclusions. Rohini still wept.
I know not what Rohini was thinking of, but I fancy it was something in this strain. "For what fault was I destined to become a widow while still a child? In what am I a greater sinner than others that I should be permitted none of the joys of earth? For what fault am I, still young, condemned to pass my life like a piece of dried wood? Those who have all the joys of this life—as, for instance, that Gobind Lâl Babu’s wife—in what are they more virtuous than I? For what former merit is this happiness their reward? Why am I destined to have none? But, never mind! I don't grudge other people their happiness—but why are all paths closed to me? Why should I continue this joyless life?"
There! I told you Rohini was not good. See how her bad temper comes out in a trifle like this! Her faults indeed were many—should the sight of her tears excite sympathy? No, not at all. And yet, why judge so harshly? We should weep with others in their grief. The gods do not withhold their rain even from the thorny field.
So granta little pity to Rohini! Look at her there, still sitting on the steps, her hands pressed to her temples, weeping, her empty kalsi on the water, dancing in the breeze.
At last the sun has set, gradually black shadows fall on Bârunî's blue water, at last darkness has come. The birds have all flown to the trees. The cows have all turned homewards. The moon rises and sheds her soft light on the darkness. Still Rohini sits weeping on the ghât, her kalsi floating on the water. Then Gobind Lâl turned homewards from the garden. As he went he perceived Rohini still sitting on the steps.
That a woman should sit so long alone, weeping, troubled him. He reflected that, whether she were of good or of bad character, she was still one of God's creatures. I, also, am one of His creatures, therefore she is my sister. If I can end her trouble why should I not do so?
Gobind Lâl, slowly descending the steps, approached Rohini. He stood beside her in the brilliant moonlight like a lovely statue. Rohini, startled at seeing him, stood up. He also was surprised at recognising Rohini. He said, "Rohini! Why are you sitting so long alone, weeping?"
Rohini remained standing, but did not speak.
Gobind. "Will you not tell me your trouble? I may be able to help you."
That Rohini, who could speak so bitterly to Hara Lâl, stood dumb before Gobind Lâl. Not a word did she speak, but, like a sculptured figure, enhanced the beauty of the steps. Gobind Lâl saw in the clear water the reflections of that radiant statue, of the moon and of the golden flowered trees. All was beautiful; hard-heartedness alone not beautiful. The Creator is merciful, man unmerciful. Gobind Lâl felt the influence of Nature; his thoughts might have been expressed in the words of the poet—
"The book I read is Nature's;
There simple truths appear,
Her dictates still are clear."
Again he spoke to Rohini. "If you are in any trouble let me know about it, to-day or to-morrow, If you cannot speak of it yourself let me know through one of the ladies of the family."
Rohini at last summoned courage to speak. She said: "One day I will tell you. Not to-day. One day you must hear what I have to say."
Gobind Lâl, assenting, went towards the house. Rohini springing into the water, kalsi in hand, began to fill it.
"Bok, bok, goll, goll,"[1] went the water as it gurgled into the kalsi, which seemed as though it objected to be filled. I have noticed that empty vessels, whether human or of earthenware, generally do object to be filled, and make a great hubbub over the process.
The kalsi being filled, Rohini ascended the steps, draped her wet garments gracefully about her, and walked very slowly home.
Then "chhollot-chhollot, thonâk, jhinik, thininikie-thin." In language such as this a conversation ensued between the kalsi, the water in the kalsi, and Rohini’s bracelets, in which Rohini mentally joined.
Rohini's mind. "What about the stealing of the will?"
Water. "Chhollot!"
Rohini's mind. "It was a bad piece of business!"
Bracelets. "Thin—thin—no—yes, indeed!"
Rohini's mind. "What resource is there?"
Kalsi. "Thonok—dhonok—dhon—I am the resource—with the help of a rope."[2]
- ↑ The Bengali language is particularly rich in onomatopoetic words. The sound of the water as it fills the jar is cleverly reproduced in these unmeaning words. So also, later, we have a close imitation of the water tossing about in the jar whilst carried on the hip of Rohini, and of the jingling of the bangles on her encircling arm.
- ↑ See Appendix, Note 6.