Part 25 (1/2)
That sort of thing did not make her or any of the other women quiver; yet they were affectionate, emotional, kind-hearted. ”Without shedding of blood is no remission of sin,” is a Pauline text; but it was theirs also. Graven by age-long iteration in their limited minds and lives was the dogma that the Blood is the Life thereof. There was but one Sacrament; the Sacrament of Blood. Marriage was secondary, but cognate to it, of course; that was because it was the Gate to Birth and Death, through which none pa.s.s without the Great Sacrifice. So they clothed the bride in scarlet, and smeared her forehead with vermilion. It was this stability of inner thought which enabled the women to be so untiring in their variants of its outward application. All the bathings and anointings and soothsayings had this unchangeable dogma as foundation. So the round of ritual went on, the drums throbbed in unending rhythm, the conches blared in deafening yells, the whole house was full of the rustlings and bustlings of womenfolk. It must surely have been a wedding which made Babu Kishub Chander Sen write the ponderous dictum: ”Man is a noun in the objective case, governed by the active verb woman.”
Parb.u.t.ti's father, being a sensible man, removed himself as much as possible from the ebullient atmosphere; perhaps it was as well, since he was a light in the Nationalist party, and the ceremonials of a Sakta wedding do not go well with talk of political rights and wrongs, of education, and equality, and exotic tyranny.
Even Parb.u.t.ti's solemnity was not quite proof against the silly suggestiveness, the almost indecent jokes and tricks, the hysterical enhancing of emotions with which she was surrounded.
She felt it a relief when, the guests having retired for some sleep, she was free to perform her daily devotion at the shrine downstairs.
It was a quaint place, this shrine dedicated to Mai Kali in her terrific form--in other words, to Our Lady of Pain--the Woman ever in travail of mind and body--the Ewig Weiblichkeit which is never satisfied. It formed on the river side of the house, a sort of low bas.e.m.e.nt, private in so far that a flight of steep stone steps led down to it from the lowest storey of the house, public in that it opened on to some bathing steps. But few people came thither except on certain festivals; so Parb.u.t.ti, still in her wedding finery, stole down to it confidently. She liked the small, dim, arched chamber where you could only see Mai Kali as a blotch of crimson in her dark niche. And as you crept down the stairs behind that niche, and looked through the crisscross iron bars that filled up the arch, ”She” showed nothing but a black shadow against the brilliance beyond. Parb.u.t.ti used often to stand for an instant or two on the cornerwise landing of the stairs to look before pa.s.sing up. Everything showed black but the low square of the outside doorway; and even the pigeons when they flew across it seemed flitting shadows on the light. To-day she was in a hurry, so she squatted down promptly at a respectful distance from the image, and began to smear the floor from a goglet of red paint she had brought with her. And as she did so she chanted:
”Om! Om! Kali Ma!-- Ruler, Thou, of blackest night-- Dark, Dark, not a Star-- In Thy Heaven Kali Ma!-- Thou who lovest the flesh of man-- By this blood I pray thee ban-- Aliens in Hindustan-- Kill them, Kali Ma!-- Drink their blood and eat their flesh-- Thou shalt have it fresh and fresh-- Lo! devour it! lick thy lips-- Flesh in lumps and blood in sips-- Stain thyself with sacred red-- Make them lifeless, dead! dead! dead!
Blessed Kali Ma!
Ho-o-m! 'Phut!”
The last two words were spoken with relish, not only because they were supposed to be the most potent part of the charm, but because they lent themselves to dramatic effect. _Ho-om_ being given soft and low; _phut_ explosively. The result being suggestive of an angry tom-cat. But the rest of the doggerel came slackly, for Parb.u.t.ti was not much interested in it. It was not her curse at all, but one she had promised her schoolboy brother, Govinda, to say every evening. For many reasons; chiefly, it is to be feared, because someone else, at present nameless, was a cla.s.s-fellow of the said Govinda's. But everyone knew, that if there was one compelling prayer on earth it was that of a maiden bride; even Mai Kali could not resist it. And the pet.i.tion was a fair one. Who wanted aliens in Hindustani? Not she! Why! their presence made your menkind do unspeakable things, so that life became wearisome with pacifying the G.o.ds. Imagine not being able to kiss ...
Voices close at hand, made her leap to her feet, and gain the staircase like a frightened hare. Then, of course, being a girl, she paused to peep through the grating.
Surely it was Govinda! Then, she need not have run away! No! he had a tall lad with him! Parb.u.t.ti's heart beat to suffocation. Was it possible? Could it be? Was it--well! what she had been taught to consider her prayer, her pilgrimage, her paradise; that is, her duty and her pleasure combined? Stay! there was another lad--short! And yet another--middle-sized!
This was disconcerting; but perhaps if she listened a little she might find out. So she stood still as a mouse, all ears, praying in her inmost heart it might be the tall one.
Though they spoke in Bengali, they used such a plent.i.tude of English words that it was difficult for her to understand fully what they said.
It was not all their fault, as it arose largely from the fact that the ideas they wished to express, being purely Western, had no Eastern equivalents. Parb.u.t.ti, however, had been accustomed to this sort of talk, as she had been a great favourite of her father's, and till the last year or so, had often sate on his knee as he entertained his friends.
So she listened patiently to paeans about Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, mingled with darkling threats--threats which must destroy all three by depriving some brother of the Liberty of Life or at best of an arm or a leg!
For they were only silly schoolboys, who, but for an alien ideal of education, would have been learning, as their father had learnt, unquestioning, unqualified obedience at a Guru's feet. Learning it probably with tears, tied up in a sack with a revengeful tom-cat, or with a heavy brick poised on the back of the neck for livelong hours; such being the approved punishments for the faintest disobedience.
Small wonder then, if the organism accustomed to this immemorial control, runs a bit wild when it finds itself absolutely free to do and think as it likes.
These particular boys were very angry, apparently, because some one of their number had been forced to obey something or someone. It was tyranny. The Mother-land and their religion was outraged. They were all Bengali Brahmans; so Kali wors.h.i.+ppers by birth, and of the Sakta cult; possibly of the Left-handed or Secret form of that cult. Anyhow they talked big of Force being the one ruling principle by which men could rule, of the true Saktas' or Tantriks' contempt for public opinion, of their determination to show the world that the Tantras had been given by the G.o.ds in order to destroy the oppressors of men. So, ”_Jai_ Anarchism! _Jai Kali! Jai Bhairavi! Jai Banda Materam!_”
It was a sad farrago of nonsense; Western individualism dished up skilfully by professional agitators in a garb of Eastern mysticism; but they talked it complacently, while Parb.u.t.ti, still as a mouse, told herself it must be the tall one; he had such a nice voice.
Her hopes gained confidence when he lingered behind with Govinda after the others departed, and began speaking in a lower voice. Could he be talking about her? Ever and always that came as the uppermost thought.
Then consideration told her this was not possible; no respectable bridegroom could talk of his bride to another--not even if he also were a Kulin and a brother. What was it then, about which they were so mysterious when there was n.o.body nigh?--here a twinge of compunction shot through her--at least n.o.body they could know about.
At last, her ears becoming accustomed to the strain, she caught one sentence: ”My father was Mai Kali's priest here”; so by degrees gathered that there was some secret receptacle somewhere, and that the tall youth wished to hide something.
The something appeared to be in what Parb.u.t.ti had supposed to be a hooded cage such as students often carry about with their pet _avitovats_ or fighting quails inside. But this one contained a square box, which the boy removed with great care, and then, before Parb.u.t.ti had grasped what he was doing, he was round at the back of the carven image, kneeling with his back towards her, and fumbling at the gilt wooden drapery about Mai Kali's waist; Govinda meanwhile keeping a look-out at the door.
How close he was! If she put out a hand she could touch him--she thrilled all over at the thought! Too close at any rate for her to move; besides, she must see what happened.
Ye G.o.ds! The drapery slid up! Mai Kali was hollow!
”If aught happens to me,” said the nice voice solemnly, ”I leave this in thy charge, oh! Govinda Ram, Kulin. Thou art the only other living soul who knows of it. And see thou use it as it should be used. A cocoanut full for a bomb. It requires no fuse. The concussion is sufficient if the hand is bold.”
The box deposited, the panel slid back again, and the tall lad rising from his knees stepped to the front again. As he did so, Parb.u.t.ti caught a glimpse of his face. It was beautiful as the young Bala-Krishna, and the whole soul and body of her went out to him--her hand stole through the bars to touch the air in which he had stood--the happy air which had touched him.