Bhramar

Chapter 3 — Bina’s Bewilderment

A little while later Bina came out of the room bewildered.

The sun rose every day, but why then hadn’t she noticed the copious beauty in its light? One could gaze forever at the mountains in the distance, resplendent in their serenity. The perfumed flowers in the garden bloomed every day in their many-hued multitudes. But this scent, this beauty—why was she noticing it in such intensity for the first time?

Bina wondered. When did the roads and pathways, the forests and the hills of Darjeeling plan and configure this immense beauty that she was seeing today? There was new life in Bina, a spring in her steps, electricity in her moves. The tender caress of the breeze! The comforting warmth of the sun! What joy it was to walk. Life was serene. What melody there was in the chirping of birds and the buzz of the bumble bee!

Bina returned home by the same path every day. But she had never felt this exhilaration, this elation, this excitement. Today it was as if the path had assumed a new and different form.

This jungle path—was it really filled with such splendor? The ferns that lined the road, did they always sway their welcome like this? And the pristine waters of the waterfall—did they always gush down endlessly and murmur to Bina their life story?

Bina gazed all around in wonderment and listened.

Why had it happened like this today? Why…?

It was a mystery. How Shekhar’s smiling face resided and ruled every article of nature. Suddenly a suspicion rose in Bina’s mind.

Is this the reason for this exhilaration, this surfeit of feeling, this transmission of hope?

Bina understood the implication of this train of thought and bent double with shame. It was a solitary path with no one besides the trees and the birds. And yet she could not look up in embarrassment.

After Bina's departure, Maina Devi left Mohan and Shekhar in the room and got back to her chores.

The friends relished that solitude and opened their hearts to each other after the long spell of absence.

Mohan was engrossed in his gossip. He was talking about Banaras city, the temples, the mannerisms of foreigners—there was no end to his talk. Indrashekhar was making a pretense of listening to him but was involved with his own thoughts. He was staring vacantly at the wall. His face had the empty stare of an angler who has caught a fish but has seen it jump right back into the water as soon as he has got it off the hook.

Shekhar had seen Bina earlier too. What a huge difference between the Bina of today and the Bina that he had always seen. Usually to his eyes Bina was no different from five others like her. But he was amazed by the superlative beauty and the unembellished grace that he had witnessed in her today.

There was another cause for amazement. Shekhar was familiar with countless feminine hearts. He prided himself in being able to read them like an open book. But in all these days he hadn't ever met a maiden like Bina. Unlike others she did not put on unnecessary airs in their first meeting; she did not feign embarrassment. She did not steal a glance at him through the corner of her eyes while pretending to stare at the floor. She did not put up a pretense of shame over trivial matters and cover her face in mock shame.

Of course when Bina noticed his intense gaze she had displayed a certain coyness. But that embarrassment was natural. Such bashfulness is a feminine ornament. A lady who lacks it is comparable to a man devoid of self-esteem.

But once the threshold of her initial embarrassment had been crossed she became her natural, serene self. Her laughter was lively but without affectation. Her talk had decency and class; there was no affectation in it.

So then, was Bina different from the countless other women? Was she an anomaly of nature? Buffeted by the waves of such suspicions his mind began to waver. But hope that ever rises and bubbles forth like the constant waters of a mountain spring helped dispel such doubts.

Countless maidens had sacrificed themselves on the altar of Shekhar's lust. Now there was another—the crown jewel of womanhood.

This hope made his handsome face light up. Perhaps the eyes of a predatory animal light up in such a fashion as it spots its prey! There is no especial distinction between man and animal. In certain circumstances man becomes an animal and an animal a deity.

Mohan did his ablutions, ate and generally spent the whole day there. The two friends shared their hopes and fears and talked for a long time.

Mohan was a fastidious worker. His habits were pure and uncomplicated. He was introspective and selfless. Shekhar was just the opposite. He was egoistic. But in spite of such differences in their dispositions the world was amazed at their friendship.

At nightfall Mohan returned home.

At Chowk Bazaar he halted and stood there transfixed for a while. He recognized a face. Thought he had seen it somewhere. He strained to remember. Tulsi Bajey walked straight towards Mohan. Mohan’s face lit up. There is a certain joy in meeting old friends after a long while. Old memories rekindle.

Mohan grasped both his arms and shaking them vigorously said, “Salutations Tulsi Bajay! We are meeting after such a long time. Is everything alright?”

“Bikramji... what can I say... as a classmate I greet you with a Namaste... and as a Brahmin I offer you my blessings... what news do you ask of one who spends his entire time here in this town? Why don't you tell me how you have been? If I begin my sad tale you will run away like a dog with its tail between its legs.”

The same Tulsi Bajay... God bless him. His classmates made fun of him, played practical jokes on him. But he never cowered in front of them. No one ever saw him angry. He bore the mischief of the monkeys of his class with infinite fortitude and spent his time composing verses. Yes, poetry was Tulsi Bajay’s forte. And it was in these poems that he paid back the mischievous boys.

Mohan held him by his arm and said, “Bajay, you need to come and stay over for a night at my place.”

Tulsi Bajey accepted the invitation without any protestation.

After rendering the appropriate formalities on reaching home, Mohan asked, “Revered Poet, where are you these days?” Tulsi answered, “Don’t ask me such a question Mohan ji. What can I say... from where will I begin lamenting the miserable state of our Darjeeling Nepalis? We are either porters or low ranking clerks in offices. With much difficulty I have opened a small grocery at the Chowk Bazaar... but let us stop talking about these banal things. Where were you returning from today? Was it from Shekhar’s house?”

As soon as the topic of Shekhar came up an expression of disgust and pain flashed across Tulsi Bajay's face.

Mohan was surprised at that reaction. Without lifting his gaze from his face, Mohan asked, “Tulsi Bajay, why do you ask this all of a sudden?”

Tulsi Bajay made no answer. He began to look intently at a picture frame hung on the wall. Mohan too became quiet. There was silence in the room.

In the end, Tulsi Bajay spoke, “Look, Mohan ji it is not my custom to gossip about others. But you know this matter very well. If a well respected person while living in the same society attacks its very foundation, it is the duty of each and everyone to protest. You agree with this, isn't it? Good. In our society too, our good friend Indrashekhar has created similar upheaval.”

Gradually Tulsi Bajay explained what had transpired between Indrashekhar and Maya.

“Our friend Indrashekhar, who revels in his intelligence and his good looks, has become a threat to the society. If this continues, if no one stops him, our society is doomed. It is not just Maya. Countless innocent women have fallen prey to his wanton lust and destroyed themselves. And even now countless others are on the verge of similar damnation. The whole society reverberates with the wails of these unfortunate innocents. Think about it Mohan ji... what you need to do. Save your friend and protect the society.”

After uttering these words, Tulsi Bajay took his leave.

Mohan felt his body drained of blood.