The Slave Girl of Agra/Book 3/Chapter 4
IV. HE MET HIS MISTRESS
They met at last—Nobo Kumar's widow and Gokul Das.
None among the old hereditary servants of the Debipur House mourned the death of Nobo Kumar more sincerely than Gokul Das. His life had been interwoven with that of his Master; he had followed him in his exile, schemed for his restoration, shared in his successes. And now, when the time had come to do his last signal service, his Master for whom he had lived and worked disappeared from the scene. The workman whose tool breaks in his hand when the work is all but finished mourns the loss, but Gokul Das's grief was personal and sincere. With little of human sentiments in his nature he had a dog's blind attachment for him whom he had followed from a boy for forty years. Few people believed the tears of the old intriguer to be genuine, but in truth they were so. If Gokul Das ever wept in real sorrow it was by the bed where Nobo Kumar's lifeless body lay.
He had followed that body to the banks of the Ganges and attended the cremation. He had returned bare-footed to Debipur and arranged for the great funeral sacrifice which was celebrated. He had accosted Sirish as his new Master and waited for further commands.
The commands came in due course. The venerable old widow, who had no other tie on earth, would retire to religious life at Mathura on the banks of the Jumna. Sirish and Saibalini and Hemlata would accompany her in the long journey, and would see her comfortably settled there before their return. The invaluable Gokul Das would make all the arrangements for the journey, would accompany the family as far as Rajmahal, and would then return to Debipur to look after the estate in the absence of his Master.
Gokul Das listened and obeyed. Every arrangement was made, and the party waited for the auspicious day fixed by the family priests to commence their journey. Before that day came Gokul Das sent his humble respects to his old mistress, and craved an interview and her blessings before she left Debipur.
They met at last—Nobo Kumar's widow and Gokul Das—but not as they had met before. Their angry passions had been silenced, their strong purposes had been solved by the hand of Fate, their years on this earth were drawing to a close. They had struggled and schemed and fought, they had won or lost. But the stately and venerable widow, now entering on the last stage of life, effaced the memory of all bitterness with a word of gentle blessing when Gokul Das bowed before her to the ground. And he, too, when he received that blessing from the saintly widow, robed in the vestments of a religious woman, perhaps felt a secret pang in his heart. His memory travelled back to those old days when this woman had fed him as a boy and helped him as a friendless dependant of the house. Not often had Gokul Das felt humbled even before the great and the mighty on earth, but before this silent grey-haired woman, smiling benignantly on him, Gokul Das felt somewhat like a culprit before a Queen.
"Mother goes to holy Mathura to retire from worldly affairs?" he asked, using the third person and calling her "mother," as is the custom in India, when speaking to an honoured lady.
"So I propose, Gokul Das. The Great Bhagavan disposes."
"The Great Bhagavan will fulfil the last earthly wishes of mother's righteous heart, and she will be happy in the joys of religion. It is we poor sinners, wedded to this earth, that will suffer and mourn in her absence."
"There are not many, Gokul Das, who will feel the absence of an old woman now past the time of all earthly duties. My daughter will soon be absorbed in her new duties in life, and Sirish will worthily maintain the dignity of the House."
"Be it as mother wishes."
"And you have made all arrangements, Gokul Das?"
"All arrangements have been made. The litters and bearers are ready to convey the family to Rajmahal, and two large boats, with the usual crew and twenty armed retainers, wait there to take them by river to sacred Mathura."
"You have done well, Gokul Das. You have ever been a duteous servant to the House, and to me."
Spoken with the utmost kindness, the last words nevertheless touched Gokul Das's guilty conscience, and the culprit winced. "And you know, Gokul Das, it is my desire to break my journey for a few days at Benares. The holy temple of that sacred place, where the Ganges flows northwards, claim a lone woman's worship."
"I am acquainted with mother's wishes, and a proper house has been secured on the banks of the Ganges, where the family can rest a few days. The boats will wait there till it is time to depart."
"And at Allahabad too, where the blue Jumna mingles with the ruddy Ganges, we must make a halt. Much merit is acquired, Gokul Das, by those who bathe at the confluence of the sister rivers, and the auspicious day for bathing will come shortly after we reach that place."
"There, too, a proper residence has been secured for mother, and for my young Master and his wife and sister. They say the climate of that place is dry and bracing for those who go from marshy Bengal, and I am sure my young Master needs a change and rest."
"You are right, Gokul Das, Sirish needs a change badly, and will no doubt improve by the change. And he is happy that in his absence the estate will be in charge of a trusted servant who has ever been so faithful and dutiful to us."
"The devil take the woman with her smooth tongue!" Such was the irreverent thought which rose in Gokul Das's mind as the last words were spoken. "I could face her husband's wrath when he thundered volleys of abuse, but this woman's smooth tongue has a sharper edge to it and cuts like a knife."
"Up the river Jumna," continued the widow, "the country they say is pretty, and temples of many gods and goddesses on the sacred river attract crowds of worshippers. They speak a different tongue and dress in a different style, but they will admit us to the shrines where all come to perform the same worship."
"My late Master's name is known far and wide in Upper India, and my mother will be an honoured guest wherever she chooses to go."
"It is many days' journey, they say, up the Jumna from Allahabad to the city where the great Badshah lives. What do they call that city, Gokul Das?"
"They call it Agra, mother, and those who come from those parts say there is not a finer city on earth. Agents from great trading houses in Agra carry on trade in Debipur, and I have arranged with them for securing a suitable house at Agra when mother arrives there."
"So Heaven ordain it that we may arrive there safely. For Sirish often talks of visiting the palaces of the Badshah, and even my Hemlata wishes to see the marble houses of the Queens and Begums who live there."
"It is a natural wish, mother, and Heaven will gratify the wish. And the great Emperor himself has heard of my late Master from Raja Man Singh, and will do suitable honour to his family."
"No honour do I seek, Gokul Das, a poor widow who only wishes to spend her last days at Mathura. But Agra is on the way, and a few days we must be there. Sirish wishes to make some inquiries about that dear child Noren, whom we have not seen for years."
"She means mischief when she begins to talk of Noren," thought Gokul Das to himself. "But I will know how to defend myself if she opens the attack."
"It is nine years, is it not, Gokul Das, that he left his home—that brave, that persecuted youth?"
"I am in for it now, but I will face it," said Gokul Das to himself. But he replied humbly and sadly, "More than nine years have we wept for him, mother. My late Master loved him as a son, but youth is rash, and Noren had the pride of his race."
"Well he might, Gokul Das, seeing from what race he came," spoke the daughter of Birnagar House, roused just for one moment to her old pride of family. "But pride is sin," she added in a sadder voice, "and the high-born youth has suffered for his sins."
"Indeed he has, mother, although the great Raja Man Singh wished to treat him kindly. Another Ruler might not have forgiven the rash act which nearly sent my late beloved Master to a watery grave."
Gokul Das had mustered courage and had now taken the offensive.
"There is mercy in heaven," gently replied Nobo Kumar's widow, "for the rashness and folly of youth. We, too, need his mercy, Gokul Das, we who with our riper experience forget His ways, and intrigue and covet and steal when our foot is on the brink of the grave."
Gokul Das was sorry he had spoken.
"But the evening grows late, Gokul Das, and I wish not to talk of these things; Sirish, perhaps, will have something to tell you about Noren and his grandfather's estate. Tell me how far from Agra is Mathura. My soul hungers for that sacred place, and may He, who is Mercy, let me see that sacred shrine before my eyes are closed for ever."
"It is not far, mother, from Agra to Mathura, and a boat may do the journey in a day."
"Arrange then for a humble house for me there, on the banks of the Jumna. There I wish to bathe in the sacred river every rising sun, there I seek to worship in the holy temples, and there let me pass away in peace, for my work on earth is done."
"Mother's wishes will be carried out, and long may mother live in health and peace, though far from us."
"One word more, Gokul Das, before I go to my evening prayers. I have known you as a boy; I have fed you as a man; I wish not that you should bear one uncharitable thought of me when I am gone. We have sometimes harboured angry thoughts in our pride, we have sometimes nourished hatreds in our vain pursuits on earth—let these be forgotten and forgiven. We shall meet on earth no more, and I seek for peace with all the world before I seek for peace with my God. And if ever I felt that you had done me any injury or wrong in life, I forgive you, my son, with all my heart and all my soul, as I hope the Great and Merciful God will forgive my own sins. Depart, my son, and may God bless you."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spake these words and slowly retired. Gokul Das bowed to the earth before that saintly woman, and a feeling of awe, such as he had never felt in his life, seized him. He rose and wiped his forehead, and walked home slowly in the darkness, a thoughtful and humbled man.