Krishna Kanta's Will (Chatterjee, Knight)/Part 2/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
When Rupo had gone away, Nishâkar, calling Sonâ to him, said, "How long have you been in your master's service?"
"Since he first came here I have been with him."
"Oh, not very long, then. What is your pay?"
"Three rupees a month, with board and clothing."
"How can a Khânsâmâ of your ability keep himself on so small a wage?"
Sona Khânsâmâ was quite melted by this speech. He said, "What can I do? There is no other service to be had in this place."
"You need not be anxious about getting service. In my part of the country you would be snapped up. You would easily get five, seven, or even ten rupees a month."
"If you would favour me by taking me with you."
"How can I take you? Would you leave the service of such a master?"
"The master is not bad, but the mistress is an evil woman."
"Of that I have proof in hand. Is it agreed that you go with me?"
"Why, of course I agree."
"Well, before going you must do your master a good turn, but it must be done very cautiously. Can you do it?"
"If it is a good thing; why not?"
"It is good for your master; very bad for your mistress."
"Then tell me at once. I need not delay. I consent gladly."
"Your mistress has sent me word to wait at the Chitrâ ghât, and that at night she will meet me secretly. Do you understand? I too have consented to this. My object is to open your master's eyes. Can you go very cautiously, let your master know this, and then join me?"
"I'll go at once. It will be a good thing if that wretch of a woman dies."
"Not now. I am going now to sit down at the ghât. You must be on the watch. When you see your mistress go in that direction, inform your master at once. After that come and join me."
Promising obedience, Sonâ took dust from his new master's feet. Nishâkar, with easy gait and stately walk, went and seated himself on the flight of steps which adorn the bank of the river Chitrâ. The waters of the Chitrâ flowed silently by the light of the stars in the darkness. All around jackal and dog made their voices heard in many strains. Somewhere in the distance, a fisherman, seated on his boat, chanted loudly the praises of Krishnâ. Other than these no sound was to be heard in the solitary place. Nishâkar listened to the song and gazed at the bright light which came from the window of a room in the upper story of Gobind Lâl's house. In thought he said, "How malignant I am! To destroy a woman, to what tricks have I descended! Yet what malevolence is there in that? It is right to defeat the wicked. Since I have agreed with my friend to do this work, to save the life of his daughter, I am bound to do it. But I don't like it. Rohini is a sinner, I will give her the punishment of sin. I will check the tide of sin. Why is this disagreeable to me? I can't say; but I think if I had walked in straight paths I should not have felt as I do. It is because I have followed crooked paths that I shrink. And then, who am I that I should punish sin or reward righteousness? He who will punish sin or reward righteousness in me is also Rohini's judge. I cannot tell, but perhaps He has appointed me to do this work. How do I know?"
"O Krishna! thou who ever livest in my heart,
I can do nought save what thou biddest me."[1]
As he thus mused, the night deepened. He saw Rohini approach with noiseless step and take her stand near him. To make certain, Nishâkar asked, "Who is that?"
Rohini also, for the same reason, asked the same question.
"I am Râs Bihâri."
"And I am Rohini."
"Why are you come so late?"
"I had to watch my opportunity. How could I tell but some one might see me from somewhere. Are you much annoyed about it?"
"Annoyed or not, I began to fear you had forgotten."
"If I were a forgetful person, I had not been in my present condition. Because of one I could not forget I came to this place. And now I am come, not being able to forget you."
As she spoke, some one, coming from behind, seized Rohini by the throat. Startled, she exclaimed, "Who is that?"
A grave voice replied, "Your death!"
Rohini recognised Gobind Lâl. Feeling danger at hand, darkness all around, Rohini in a frightened, trembling voice said, "Let go! let go! I am not come with evil intent. Ask the bâbu who is here what I have come for." And Rohini pointed to the spot where Nishâkar had been seated, and she saw that no one was there! At sight of Gobind Lâl, Nishâkar had instantly vanished. In amazement, Rohini exclaimed, "Hallo! I declare! there is no one there!"
Gobind Lâl replied, "There is no one here. Come home with me."
In great dejection, Rohini slowly accompanied Gobind Lâl to the house.
- ↑ The author quotes from the Bhagavad gîta, a Sanscrit philosophical poem.