Devdas

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Click to Read Chapters ( Chapter 2 ) ( Chapter 3 ) ( Chapter 4 ) ( Chapter 5 )
( Chapter 6 ) ( Chapter 7 ) ( Chapter 8 )( Chapter 9 )

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It was like the blind leading the blind. Neither of them knew the truth of the matter. Dharmadas wiped his tears and said, “Chuni-babu, just do your best to send Deva back to his mother. If he won’t study anymore, what’s the point of staying here in Calcutta?”
This was true. Chunilal pondered over the suggestion. A few days later, again at dusk, just as Chunilal was leaving the mess, Devdas appeared from nowhere and took his hands in his own. “Chuni, are you going there?” he asked.
Diffident, Chunilal said, “Yes—but if you don’t want me to go, I’ll stay.”
Devdas said, “No, I won’t stop you. But tell me something—what do you expect to gain there?”
“There are no expectations. Just a way to whiling away the hours.”
“But do they? While away? The hours, I mean. They don’t for me. I do so want them to.”
Chunilal looked at him intently, trying to gauge his thoughts from the look on his face. Then he said, “Devdas, what is the matter with you- won’t you tell me everything?”
“Nothing is the matter with me.”
“You won’t tell me?”
No, Chuni, there is nothing to say.”
Chunilal was quiet for a few moments and then he asked sheepishly, “Devdas, will you do me a favour?”
“What?”
“Will you go there once more? I have promised.”
“That place where we went the other day?”
“Yes.”
“Oh no, I hated it.”
“I’ll se that you like it this time.”
Devdas mulled over this for a while absentmindedly and then said, “All right, let’s go.”
Chunilal had held the ladder for Devdas to make his descent into the murky depths and then quietly moved away.
Now Devdas sat alone in Chandramukhi’s room. She sat in one corner, looking on wretchedly. Once, she spoke from concern, “Devdas, don’t drink any more.”
Devdas placed the glass on the floor, frowned bitterly and asked, “Why?”
“You have taken to drink very recently, you won’t be able to bear it.”
I don’t drink in order to bear it. I only drink because I am here.”
Chandramukhi had heard this before. Sometimes she wanted to hit her head on the wall and bleed to death. She was in love with Devdas.
He hurled the glass away. It hit the wooden chair and shattered into bits. He lay back against the pillows and spoke incoherently, “I don’t have the strength to get up and go, that’s why I stay here—I am senseless, that’s why I look at you and talk. But Chandra, still I don’t lose my sense completely—a little remains-- I cannot touch you—I feel repulsed.”
Chandramukhi wiped her eyes and said, “Devdas, so many people who come here never touch alcohol.”
Devdas’s eyes widened and he sat up. He flailed his arms about deliriously and said, “Never touch it? If I had a gun I would have shot them. They are worse sinners than me, Chandramukhi.”
He stopped and seemed to drown in his thoughts. Then he said, “If I ever give up drinking—thought I never will—then I will never come here again. I may be saved yet, but what of them?” he paused briefly and then went on, “I have taken to drink from much misery—our friends in times of trouble—I can never let you go…”
Devdas began to chafe his face on the pillow. Chandramukhi came close and held his face up. Devdas frowned and said, Ahh, don’t touch me—I still haven’t lost my senses. Chandramukhi, you don’t know-- only I know how much I hate your kind. I’ll always hate you—but still I’ll come, sit and talk—I have no choice. Will you ever understand? Ha ha—people choose to sin under the cover of darkness and I come here to drown my sorrows in drink; there couldn’t be a better place for this. And you all…”
Devdas focused his eyes to rest on her poignant face and said, “We—ll, the very soul of forbearance. You are the prime example of how much humiliation and assault, how many jibes and insults a woman can stand.”
He lay down flat on his back and whispered. “Chandramukhi claims she loves me—I don’t want it- never—people act on stage, don their makeup, dress like a thief, a beggar, a king or queen--- and they love, they speak of so much love, weep such tears, as if it were all true. My Chandramukhi loves to act and I watch…. But she comes to mind… how did it all go so wrong? In an instant we parted… Now my life is one long act. One desperate drunk and this one, a wh--- …. Oh fine, so be it. No hopes, no faith, no joy and no desires…brilliant.”
Devdas turned away and continued to mutter. Chandramukhi couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore. Very soon he dropped off to sleep. Chandramukhi came and sat beside him. She wiped his face with her sari and changed the soaked pillow. She fanned him for a while and continued to sit there despondently. When it was nearly one at night, she blew out the lamp, shut the door and left the room.
Many of the villagers, and the two brothers Dwijodas and Devdas, performed the last rites of the zamindar Narayan Mukherjee and came back home. Dwijodas wept like a child out of control—it took a few men to hold him in check. Devdas sat beside a pillar, calm and collected. Not a word escaped his lips and not a tear came to his eyes. No one held him, no one even tried to console him. Just once, Madhusudan Ghosh tried to approach him saying, “Fate, my child…”

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Devdas raised his arm, indicating Dwijodas, and said, “Over there.”
Ghosh-babu backed off, embarrassed, muttering, “Yes, well, he was a great man…” No one else ventured close. When it was past noon, Devdas went and sat at his mother’s feet where she lay in a faint. Some women sat around her; Parvati’s grandmother was also present. Her voice broke as she addressed the bereaved widow, “Child, look who is here—it’s Devdas.”
Devdas called out, “Mother”. She opened her eyes and merely said, “Son”. Then the tears began to roll from the eyes shut tight. The assembled women broke out into loud wails.
Devdas laid his face on his mother’s feet. Then he got up slowly and walked away. He went into his dead father’s room. His eyes were dry and his body was cold as a statue. He squatted on the floor and raised his bloodshot eyes to the roof. The very sight of him now would have driven anyone cold with fear. His veins stood out in his temples and his hair stood on end. His fair skin was now a burnished copper shade, what with all the excesses in Calcutta and then the sleepeless nights following his father’s death. Those who had seen him a year ago would perhaps not even recognize him now.
A little later Parvati’s mother came looking for him. She pushed the door open and called, “Devdas.”
What is it Aunty?”
“This won’t do, my son.”
Devdas stared at her, “What have I done, Aunty?”
Parvati’s mother knew the answer,but it wouldn’t escape her lips. She pulled his head on her lap and said, “Dev-ta , child.”
“What is it?”
Devtacharan, son..”
At last he hid his face in her bosom and shed a single tear.
Even a bereaved family’s day pass swiftly. A new day dawned, the weeping and wailing was less intense. Dwijodas was himself again. His mother had also roused herself and went about her chores, wiping her eyes frequently. Two days later Dwijodas called Devdas and asked, “How much should be spent on Father’s last rites?”

He squatted on the floor and raised his bloodshot eyes to the roof. The very sight of him now would have driven anyone cold with fear. His veins stood out in his temples and his hair stood on end. His fair skin was now a burnished copper shade, what with all the excesses in Calcutta and then the sleepeless nights following his father’s death. Those who had seen him a year ago would perhaps not even recognize him now.

Devdas looked at his elder brother, “Whatever is deemed necessary.”
“But brother, it is no longer my decision alone. You have grown up and your opinion is important too.”
Devdas asked, “How much cash is there?”
“There is a lack and a half in Father’s account. I feel ten thousand would be good amount to spend.”
“How much is my share?”
Dwijodas hesitated, “You get half. If we spend ten thousand, then you and I will get seventy thousand each.”
“What will mother have?”
She doesn’t need cash. She is the mistress of the house—we will look after her.”
Devdas thought for some time and then said, “I think we should spend five thousand from your share and twenty –five from mine. Of the remaining fifty thousand in m name, half should be kept in Mother’s account and half can be handed over to me. What do you think?”
At first Dwijodas seemed a little embarrassed. But then he said, “Excellent. Actually, you knowsince I have a family- weddings, education and so on—you know how it is. This would be the best.”
After brief pause he said, “If you could just put it on paper”
“Is it really necessary? It doesn’t look good. At such a time—I think all this money-talk should just be between us.”
“That’s true. But you know..”
“Okay, I’ll put it in writing.” The same day devdas made out the requisite papers.
The next day, as he climbed down the stairs he spotted Parvati standing in a corner and stopped in his tracks. Parvati was staring at him, as if she could hardly recognize him. Devdas walked up to her and his calm and serene he asked her, “When did you get her Paro?’
That same voice. They were meeting after three years. Abashed, Parvati looked at her feet and said, “This morning.”
Its been along time. Are you all right?”
Parvati nooded.
“How is Chowdhry-babu? And the children?”
“They are all fine.” Parvati stole a glance at his face. But she simple couldn’t bring herself to ask how he was, what he was doing. At that moment she had run of questions all of a sudden.

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Devdas asked, “Will you be here for a while?’
“Yes.”
“Well then –”
He walked away.
The last rites were performed in due course. The day after, Parvati took Dharmadas aside and handed him a gold chain. “Dharma, this is for your daughter.”
Dharmadas’s eyes grew moist as he said, “It’s been so long sine we saw you. Is everything all right, didi?”
“Everything’s fine. And your family?”
“They’re fine, didi.”
“How are you?”
Dharmadas sighed deeply and said, “How do you think? Master has gone, now I wish to go as well.” Dharmdas looked like he would pour out his heart. But Parvati stopped him. She hadn’t gifted him the chain for nothing. She asked, “Don’t talk like that , Dharma, if you go who will look after Dev-da?”
Dharmadas struck his brow and said, “Oh, I’ve looked after him enough when he was a child; now I wish I didn’t have to see him.”
Parvati edgd closer to him, “Dharma, will you give me an honest answer?”
“Why not, didi.”
“Then tell me the truth—what does Dev-da do nowadays?”
“Rubbish and nonsense, what else?”
“Dharmadas, do tell me.”
He struck his brow again and said, “What is there to tell, didi, there’s nothing left to tell. Now that Master’s gone and Deva has come into a lot of money, things can only get worse.”
Parvati’s face fell. She had heard some rumours. Apprehensively she asked, “Really Dharma?”
She had got a whiff of something from Manorama’s letters, but she hadn’t believed it. Dharmadas shook his head and went on,”No food, no sleep, just the bottle and nothing else. He stays away for days on end. He’s blown so much money away—I’ve heard that he has given that woman jewellery worth many thousand rupees.”
Parvati shivered from head to toe. “Is this all true, Dharmadas?”
He mumbled to himself, “He may listen to you—please stop him. Look at the state his health is in—at this rate his days are numbered. Who can I talk to about this? This is not something you can say to his parents or his brother.” Dharmadas banged his head on the wall, and wailed, “Sometimes I want to die, Paro.”
Parvati left. She had hastened back when she heard of Narayan babu’s death. She had thought that she should be at Devdas’s side in these troubled times. But what had become of her beloved Dev-da? Memories crowded her mind. If she directed one criticism at Devdas, she hurled a thousand curses at herself. If she had been there, would things have come to such a pass? She had already cut her nose to spit her face, but now the joke was truly on her. Here was her Dev-da, wasting away, rotting in fact…..and she was busy setting up someone else’s home. She was doling out charity everyday to strangers, and the one person who meant everything to her—he was starving to death. Parvati promised herself that she would go and talk to Devdas

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( Chapter 6 )

It was a little before dusk when Parvati entered Devdas’s room. He was sitting on the bed studying some accounts. He looked up as she entered. Slowly, Parvati shut the door, bolted it and sat on the floor. Devdas looked at her with a smile on his lips. His face was sad, yet calm. Suddenly, he said, “What if I dragged your name in the mud?”
Parvati shot him a quick, pained glance from her bright eyes and lowered them immediately. That look made it very clear that the comment would always be lodged in her heart a painful reminder. She had come with so much to say, but her mind went blank now. Every time she came near him, she seemed to lose her powers of speech.
Devdas laughed again, “I know, I know, you’re feeling shy, right?”
But she still couldn’t talk. He went on, Don’t be. So, okay we made a mistake the fault was on both ends--- now look at the mess we are both in. You spoke in anger and haste, I wounded you on the brow – I suppose that makes us even.”
His words were devoid of sarcasm or derision; he spoke of the past with a pleasant , contented look. But Parvati felt her heart was ready to burst. She covered her face, held her breath and said to herself,”Dev-da, that wound is my salvation, my only hope. You loved me and so you were kind enough to inscribe our sweet memories on my brow. It is no shame to me, no disgrace --- but a matter of pride.”
“Paro.”
She answered through the cover of her sari, “What is it?”
“I often feel very angry with you—”
At last, his voice took on a bitter edge. “Father is gone, it is a difficult time in my life; but if you were with me, I wouldn’t feel it so. You know my brother’s wife and my brother’s nature too. What am I to do with Mother now? And I simply do not know what will become of me. If you were here I could happily drop it all in your lap and ..what’s that Paro?”
Parvati was sobbing helplessly.
Devdas said, “Are you crying? Then I have to stop talking.”
Parvati wiped her eyes and said, “No, go on.”
In an instant Devdas cleared his voice of all emotion and asked, “Paro, I believe you have turned into an expert homemaker? A proper wife, are you?”
Inwardly Parvati bit into her lips and thought, “Not really. What’s the point if the flower is never laid at the feet of the diety?”
Devdas laughed out loud “I think it’s really funny. You were this tiny little thing, and now look at you. Big house, large estate, grown children—and Chowdhury –babu, everything suitably aged… what are you laughing about?”
Chowdhury-babu was a great amusement to Parvati, whenever he came to mind, she wanted to smile. Even in this tearful state, she grinned.
Devdas assumed a fake air of gravity and asked, “Could you do me a favour?”
“What?”
“Are there any nice girls in your part of the land?”
Parvati gulped, choked and spluttered, “Nice girls? Whatever for ?”
“I could marry one. I feel like settling down, just for once.”
Parvati donned a straight and sweet face, “She has to be very beautiful, right?”
“No more than you.”
“And she has to be a good soul?”
“No, not much of that—perhaps a little playful—someone who can squabble with me like you used to do.”
Parvati thought, no one else can do that, Dev-da. For that she’d have to love you as as much as I do. But instead, she said, “Well, that’s easy. Thousands like me would be honoured to call you their own.”
Devdas jested meerily, “For the moment, just one will do. Can you get me one?”
“Dev-da, would you really marry?”
“I just told you.” But he didn’t tell her that she was the only woman he would ever be interested in, for as long as he lived.
“Devdas, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
Parvati collected her wits and asked him, “Why did you suddenly start drinking?”
Devdas laughed,”That doesn’t take a lot of practice, does it?”
All right, but why did you make it a habit?”
“Who told you this, Dharmadas?”
“That doesn’t matter. Isn’t it true?”
Devdas didn’t deceive her. He said, “Yes, to some extent.”
Parvati sat there in shocked silence. After a while she asked, “And have you given this woman a few thousand rupees’ worth of jewellery?”
Devdas laughed again, “ I haven’t given them to her, but I have got them made. Do you want them?”
Parvati stretched out her palm, “Why not? Look, I have no ornaments.”

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Chowdhury-babu didn’t give you any?”
“He did. But I gave it all away to his eldest daughter.”
“Don’t you want any?”
Parvati shook her head and dropped her gaze.
Now Devdas truly wanted to weep. He could well imagine the despair that would drive a woman to give away her ornaments.

Devdas stayed at home for six months after his father’s death, then he grew restless. Life seemed to drag on—there was no peace, no joy. Moreover he was constantly plagued with thoughts of Parvati. These days she came to mind ever so often.

But held his tears in check and spoke slowly, “It’s all a lie, Paro. I do not love another woman and I have not given her any jewels.”
Parvati heaved a great sigh and said to herself, “I thought a much.”
They were both silent for many minutes. Finally Parvati said, “But promise me, you’ll never touch liquor again.”
“ I can’t do that. Could you promise never to think of me again?”
Parvati was quiet. Someone blew on the conch outside, heralding the dusk. Devdas glanced at the window anxiously and said, “It’s getting late, Paro, go home now.”
“I won’t go. Promise me first.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Not everyone can do everything.”
“I’m sure they can if they want to.”
“Really? Can you run away with me tonight?”
For split second Parvati’s heart forgot to beat. Bemused, she mumbled, “That’s impossible.”
Devdas edgd on the bed and commanded, “Paro, open the door.”
Parvati moved a little to cover the door with her back and said, “Promise me.”
Devdas stood up and spoke with calm deliberation,”Paro, is there any point in forcing a promise? Today’s promise may be broken tomorrow. Why would you have me marked faithless?”
Again, many minutes passed in utter silence. Suddenly a clock chimed somewhere, signaling nine o’clock. Devdas came to life at that. “Oh Paro, open the door quick—” he said.
Parvati didn’t speak.
“Paro……”
I won’t go, “Parvati broke down and fell to the ground. She wept bitterly.
It was pitch dark inside the room and nothing was visible. Devdas could merely guess that Parvati lay on the floor, weeping. He called softly, “Paro.”
Parvati sobbed, “Dev-da, I am miserable.”
Devdas edged closer. He too had tears in his eye, but his voice a still steady. “Don’t I know it?” he said softly.
“Dev-da, I feel like death. I could never get to take care of you—I always wanted to—”
In the dark, Devdas wiped his eyes. “There’s time yet for that,” he said.
“Then come home with me. There’s no one to look after you here.”
“If I go to your house, will you take real good care of me?”
“I have always wanted to. Dear God, please make this wish come true. After that, I wouldn’t even mind if I died.”
Now Devdas’s tears flowed.
Parvati spoke again, “Dev-da come with me.”
Devdas tried to wipe his tears away and said, All right, I will.”
“Will you? Swear on me?”
Devdas aimed somewhere at her feet and said, “I will never forget this promise: if it makes you happy to take care of me, I will come. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll come to you.”
Devdas stayed at home for six months after his father’s death, then he grew restless. Life seemed to drag on—there was no peace, no joy. Moreover he was constantly plagued with thoughts of Parvati. These days she came to mind ever so often. His brother Dwijodas and his nagging wife made life even more difficult for him.

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His mother was in the same state. With her husband’s death all joy seemed to have gone out of her life. The house became unbearable to her, she felt like she was living in a cage. She considered moving to Varanasi; but she couldn’t go without getting Devdas married first.
She told him, Devdas, get married; let me see you settled--- then I can die in peace.”
But it wasn’t so easy. The period of mourning was still on and they would also have to find a suitable girl. These days she felt a little sad—sometimes she felt that perhaps it would have been for the best if they had got him wedded to Parvati when the matter had come up.
One day she called Devdas to her and said, “Devdas, I can’t stand this any more. I want to go to Varanasi.” Devdas was of the same mind. He said “I agree with you. Go there for six months and then come back.”
“Yes, my son, make the arrangements. After I return we can complete his annual rites, I can get you married and then move back to Varanasi for good.”
Devdas agreed. He went and left his mother in Varanasi and then returned to Calcutta. Back in the city, he spent three or four days hunting for Chunilal, but apparently he had moved out and gone somewhere else.
Then one evening Devdas remembered Chandramukhi. He could look her up, couldn’t he? In all these days he had never once thought of her. He felt a trifle abashed. That evening he hired a buggy and arrived at Chandramukhi’s house. After much calling and hollering, a voice spoke from within, “Not here.”
There was a gas lamp close by. Devdas went and stood below it and shouted, “Could you tell me where that woman has gone?”
Someone opened a window and stared at him for a while, “Are you Devdas?” a woman’s voice said.
“Yes.”
“Wait, I’ll open the door.”
She opened the door and said, “Come in.”
He felt the voice was familiar, but couldn’t quite place it. It was quite dark as well. Suspiciously, he asked “Could you tell me where Chandramukhi has gone?”
The woman smiled, “I could. Please come upstairs.”
Now Devdas recognized her, “You.”
When he went upstairs, Devdas saw that she was dressed in a black bordered plain white sari which looked quite worn. There were two bangles on her wrists and no other jewellery besides that.
Her hair was disheveled. Taken aback, he asked, “What happened?”
He noticed that she had lost a lot of weight. He asked, “Have you been ill?”
Chadramukhi laughed and said, “Not physically, no, have a seat.”
Devdas sat on the bed and noticed that the room had changed a fair bit. Like it mistress, it looked worn out and frayed. The furniture was gone; there was just the bed. Even the sheets were shabby. The pictures on the wall were gone; the nails on which they had hung stuck out. Some of them still had bits of thread hanging from them. The wall clock was still there, but it had fallen silent. Spiders had woven their webs to their heart’s content all around it. A lamp burned in one corner and gave enough light for Devdas to take in the new look of the room. A little shocked, a little outraged he asked, “Chandra, how did this disaster happen?”
Chandrmukhi smiled wanly and said, “You call it a disaster? I’d call it a stroke of luck.”
Devdas was puzzled. “Where are all your ornaments?” he asked.
“I’ve sold them.”
“The furniture?”
“Sold those too.”
“Have you sold the paintings as well?”
This time she giggled and pointed to the house across the road.
“I gave them away to the maid.”
Devdas gazed at her for some time. “Where is Chuni?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know. He squabbled with me a couple of months ago and left. Never came back.”
Even more surprised Devdas asked, “Why the squabble?”
“Don’t they happen?”
“They do—but why?”
“He was touting and so I threw him out.”
“What was he touting?”
Chandramukhi smiled, “Jute.” The she said, “Don’t you know what? He brought a rich man , two hundred rupees a month, hordes of jewellery and a guard at my door, do you understand?”
The penny dropped and Devdas laughed, “But I don’t see all that anywhere?”
“You would have if they were here. I showed them the door.”
“What were they guilty of ?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t like it.”
Devdas mulled over the matter for a long time, “And since then no one has been here?”
“No. Not just since then, but since the day you left, no one has been here. Only Chuni-babu came and sat around sometimes. But for the last two months even that has stopped.”
Devdas lay down on the bed. He was quite, in a world of his own. Slowly he asked, “Chandramukhi, have you closed the business?”
“Yes—I went bankrupt.”
Devdas hedged, “But how will you survive?”
“Didn’t I just tell you, I have sold my jewellery.”
“That can’t be much.”
“True. I have about eight or nine hundred rupees. I have kept the money with a grocer. He gives me twenty rupees a month.”
“But earlier, that wouldn’t have sustained you?”
“No, and I doesn’t do very well now either. I still have three month’s rent to pay. So I think I’ll just sell these two bangles, pay off all debts and move away somewhere.”
“Where?”

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I haven’t decided yet. Somewhere cheap—maybe a village—where twenty rupees would be enough for me.”
“Why haven’t you gone yet? If you really don’t need anything more, why did you let the debts pile up over all these months?”
Chandramukhi lowered her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts. For the first time in her life, she was embarrassed to speak. Devdas asked, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Chandramukhi sat on the edge of the bed hesitantly and spoke with great trepidation, Don’t get angry—I had hoped to see you once before I go. I wished you’d come back, just once. Now that you have come, I’ll make my arrangements tomorrow. But, could you tell me where I should go?”
Staggered, Devdas sat up in bed. “Just to see me?” “But why?”
“Just a whim. Perhaps because no one had ever rejected me in that way. You hated me fervently. I don’t know if you remember, but I remember it well—the day you came here for the first time I felt attracted to you. I knew you were the son of a wealthy man; but that wasn’t what drew me to you. So many men had come and gone before you, but I had never sensed such boldness in them.
You came and you wounded me- an unprovoked assault—strangely appropriate—and yet so, so unfair. You turned away from me in revulsion and finally, almost in jest, you threw some money at me. Do you remember?”
Devdas was silent. Chandramuki continued, “Since then, I had eyes only for you. Not for love, not hatred. I couldn’t forget you, the way it is difficult to forget a novelty. I suppose. When you’d come, I used to be tense and fearful, but when you didn’t come, nothing seemed right. And then, I don’t know what went wrong-- but everything started looking very different. I changed so much that the earlier “I” could no longer recognize myself. You had taken to the bottle. I hate alcohol. I always hated it when someone got drunk in my house. But when you got drunk, I never felt anger. I only felt misery.”
Chandramukhi touched Devdas’s feet. There were tears in her eyes as she said, “I am a sinner, please forgive me. The more you hurled insults at me, the more you pushed me away, the more I wanted to draw you closer. Finally, whenever you fell asleep….. anyway, let all that be. You might fly into a rage again.”
Devdas didn’t say a word. These new sentiments were very distressful to him. Chandramukhi wiped away her tears and said, “One day, you spoke of how much we tolerate, the insults, the assaults—I felt very hurt. The very next day I stopped it all.”
Devdas sat up. “But what about survival?”
Chandramukhi said, “I just told you.”
“What if the grocer cheats you out of all your money?”
Chandramukhi didn’t look troubled. Quite calmly she replied, “That won’t be unusual. I have thought of that too. If I am in real trouble, I’ll beg some money from you.”
Devdas thought about this. “That’s all right,” he said. But for now, make your plans and move somewhere else.”
“I’ll start the arrangements tomorrow. I’ll sell my bangles and then go and meet the grocer.”
Devdas fished into his pocket, brought out five hundred-rupee notes and tucked them under the pillow. “Don’t sell the bangles, but meet the grocer for sure. Where would you go, on a pilgrimage?”
“No, Devdas. I am not a great one for faith. I won’t go too far from Calcutta—some nearby village perhaps.”
“Do you want to work as a maid with some genteel family?”
Chandramukhi’s eyes filled with tears again. She wiped them and said, “I don’t want to do that. I would like to live independently and comfortably. Why should I slave? I have never done a day’s hard labour in my life and I won’t be able to do it now. If I submit my body to much more, it might fall apart.”
Despondent, Devdas smiled at that. He said, “But if you live close to the city, you may be tempted again. You can never trust the human mind.”
Chandramukhi smiled. She said, “That is very true indeed. But I will never be tempted again. I do accept that women can be tempted by very little. But since I have given up all the temptations of my own free will, I am afraid. If it had been a momentary whim, I may have been in danger of going back to it all. But in all these days, there hasn’t been a moment when I have regretted my decision. I am really quite happy.”
Devdas still shook his head, “Women are very restless, very fickle.”
Chanramukhi came and sat very close to him and took his hand, “Devdas.”
He looked at her, but couldn’t bring himself to say, “Don’t touch me.”
Chandramukhi pulled his hands on the lap, looking at them lovingly, eyes widened with bliss, and said, “This is the last day—don’t be angry with me. I have always wanted to ask to you something.”
Her eyes scanned his face for a while and she asked quietly, “Did Parvati hurt you very badly?”
Devdas frowned, “Why do you ask?”
Chandramukhi didn’t falter. In a calm and confident tone, she said, “I need to know. Very honestly speaking, I feel the pain whenever you are hurt. Besides, I probably know lot about this. Sometimes, when you were dead drunk, you’ve said a lot and I have listened. But still, I don’t believe Parvati has cheated you. Instead, I feel, you have cheated yourself. Devdas, I am older than you, I have seen much of the world. Do you know what I think? I feel quite sure that you are in the wrong. I feel women do not deserve all their reputation for being whimsical and fickle. It’s you, men, who praise them no end--- and then it’s you who blame them and pull them down from their pedestal. You are able to speak your mind with ease. They cannot express themselves so easily. Even if they do, few understand them, because what they say is mumbled, easily drowned out by your loud voice. What happens in the end is that nobody sees the women’s point of view- they are simply badmouthed.”

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( Chapter 7 )

Chandramukhi paused, cleared her throat and went on, “I have traded in love many times in my life, but only once have I truly loved. It is very precious thing. I have learnt a lot from it. Do you know that love is one thing and desire another? The two are often confused- and it’s men who confuse them the most. I believe women are less inclined to be blinded by looks and hence we don’t get carried away as easily as you do. When you come and tell us of your love, in so many ways, means, words and gestures, we are silent. Sometimes we don’t wish to hurt you, or we are unsure. Even when we hate the very sight of your face, we are perhaps too shy to say it. Then there starts an act—a pretence at loving. One day, when the performance ends, men are furious and they say, “treachery.” Everyone listens to them, pays them heed—and we still hold our tongue. There’s so much hurt, such misery, but who cares about all that?”
Devdas was silent.
Chandramukhi looked at him long and hard before going on, “Sometimes a woman takes pity on a man, and, mistakenly, feels that is love. She goes about her duties, supports you staunchly in times of trouble—and you praise her to the skies. But perhaps she is still a novice at the game of love. Then, it at an unfortunate moment her heart shatters and she bares her feelings to you in unbearable pain, then,” she glanced at Devdas and said, “then you all call her a faithless creature.”
Suddenly Devdas placed is fingers against her lips and said, “Chandramukhi, what…”
Chandramukhi moved his hands away from her mouth slowly and said, “Don’t worry Devdas, I wasn’t talking of your Parvati.” She fell silent.
Devdas was lost in thought for some time. Then he said, “But there are customs, there are social norms.”
Chandramukhi said, “Of course they are there. And that is why Devdas, whoever is truly in love, simply bears his pain. If one can feel the satisfaction of just loving someone deep in his heart, then he wouldn’t want to disrupt the rhythm of society and its rules. But where was I … for sure, I feel that Parvati hasn’t cheated you one bit and you have done it all by yourself; I know you do not have the capacity to understand this today. But if the time ever comes, you will know that I spoke the truth.”
Devdas’s eyes brimmed with tears. For some strange reason, today he began to feel Chanadramukhi was right. She saw his tears, but didn’t try to wipe them away. She said to herself, “I have seen you often in many different moods. I know you well. You would never be able to offer your heart the way ordinary men do. But beauty—ah well, everyone falls for beauty. But could you sacrifice all your pride just for the sake of beauty? No. Parvati may be very beautiful, but even so, I believe she loved you first she spoke of it first. I can feel it.”
As she talked to herself, she spoke aloud the last sentence, “I can tell from myself how much she must love you.”
Devdas sat up on the bed, “What did you say?”
Chandramukhi said, “Nothing I was just saying that she couldn’t have fallen for your looks. You may be handsome, but that wouldn’t make her fall for you. Not everyone can appreciate this aggressive, brash charm of yours. Those who do, of course, can never call their heart their own again.” She heaved a sigh and said, “Only someone who has loved you knows how charming you are .There isn’t a woman on this earth who would deny herself this heaven.” After a few minutes’ silence, she spoke softly and slowly, ‘It’s a beauty that seldom meets the eye. It casts its shadow on the very depth of the heart and then, when the day ends, it burns in the pyre and turns to ash.”
Devdas looked at Chandramukhi with a glazed expression. “What are you saying, Chandramukhi?” He said quietly.
Her slight smile held a bit of mockery. “There’s no greater predicament, Devdas,” she said, “than when the one you do not love speaks to you of love for you. But I really spoke for Parvati, not for me.”
Devdas made as if to rise. “I must go now,” he said.
“Please sit. I have never had your company when you weren’t drunk, I have never held your hands and talked out—oh, what joy.” She burst of laughing.

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Surprised, Devdas asked, “Why do you laugh?”
“Nothing. Just something I remembered—it’s nearly ten years ago, when I first fell in love and left my home. I used to feel that I could die for it. Then, one day, we fought over a piece of jewellery and never ever saw each other’s faces again. I told myself he hadn’t really loved me, if he had he would have given the ornament away to me.” She laughed again. The next instant her face grew calm and somber. “Jewels, my foot. Little did I know that one can be sometimes willing to lay down one’s life even to get rid of a simple headache. I didn’t know the pain of the saints, or the anguish of the virtuous. Devdas, just about everything is possible in this world, isn’t it?”
Devdas couldn’t find an answer. He stared at her, lost for words; then he said, “I must go—”
“What’s the problem? Go a little later. I don’t want to hold on to you; those days are gone. Now I hate myself just as much as you are repulsed by me. But Devdas, why don’t you marry?”
At last, Devdas seemed to breathe; he laughed and said, “I know I should. But I don’t have the inclination.”
“Still you must. The sight of your children can bring you great happiness. Besides, my problems would also end. I could easily be a maid in your house.”
Devdas laughed out loud, “Fine then, I’ll send for you when I marry.”
Chandramukhi didn’t seem to notice his laughter. She said, “Devdas, I want to ask you one more question.”
“What?”
“Why did you sit and listen to me for so long?”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“I don’t know. But it’s certainly different. You never used to look at my face unless you were senseless, in a drunken stupor.”
Devdas avoided the question and spoke glumly, “I cannot drink now, for a year after my father’s death.”
Chandramukhi looked at him with sad eyes and asked, “Do you want to go back to drinking?”
“I can’t say.”
She pulled his hands closer and spoke through the tears clogging her throat. “If it’s possible, don’t take it up again. Don’t bring such a beautiful life to an end before its time.”
Suddenly Devdas got up and said “I must go. Wherever you go, keep me posted—if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me.”
Chandramukhi touched his feet and said, “Bless me and wish me happiness. And…..one more thing; God forbid, but if you ever need someone to attend to you…. Please think of me.”
“I will.”
Devdas left Chandramukhi held her face in her hands and sobbed, “Dear God, please let me meet him just once more this lifetime.”
Two years had passed. Parvati was little relaxed now, after she had got Mahendra married. Jaladbala, his wife, was intelligent and efficient. She had taken over many of the household chores.
So Parvati had time to turn to other things. She had been married for five years now. Since she was childless, she felt greatly drawn to other people’s children. She took up all expenses for the children who came from all families who lived nearby, the poorest of the poor as well as those who had limited means of subsistence. In addition, she spent her days in the puja room, and in serving the ill and aged as well as the guests in her homestead. She had got her husband to open up another set of guest rooms where the homeless could stay as long as they wished. They were cared for and provided for by the zamindar’s household.

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Parvat did something else in secret-even her husband wasn’t privy to it. She helped out poor but decent families financially, drawing her own resources. Whatever she got from her husband every month towards her own upkeep was spent in meeting these coasts. This didn’t remain a secret from the clerks and officers of the estate though. They talked amongst themselves. The maids whispered back and forth about how the household expenses had nearly doubled. The vaults were empty, there were no savings, the rumour went. The superfluous expenses were seemingly causing the servants grave concern. Jaladbala often heard them talking about it. One night she asked her husband, “Are you a nobody in this house?”
Mahendra said “Why do you say that?”
She said, “The servants can see it all, and you can’t Father may be besotted by his new bride, he won’t say anything. But you should protest.”
Mahendra didn’t quite get it, but he was interested. “Protest about what?”
Jaladbala grew serious and began to advise her husband, “Our new mother doesn’t have children—so she isn’t interested in the family savings. She spends money like water, can’t you see that?”
Mahendra frowned, “How so?”
Jaladbala said, “You would see it if you had a pair of eyes in your head. These days the household expenses have doubled—all these fasts and ceremonies, charities and no end of guests and saintly beggars. She may be doing it all to benefit her in her afterlife. But you are going to have children—what will they eat? If you give away all your wealth, are they going to go begging?”
Mahendra sat up on the bed, “Who are you talking of -- Mother?”
Jaladbala said, “Oh God, hapless am I that I have to spell it out thus.”
Mahendra said, “And so you have come to me with a complaint against Mother?”
Jalal was indignant, “I have no use for complaints and quarrels. I have just told you how things are, or you might blame me some day.”
Mahendra was silent for some minutes and then he said, “Your father’s household scarcely gets two square meals a day. What would you know of the expenses in a landlord’s house?”
Now Jaladbala was furious. “And pray tell me, how many guests room are there in your Mother’s house?”
Mahendra didn’t want to go in for a squabble. He just lay there quietly. In the morning he went to Parvati and said. “What a match you have chosen for me, Mother. I can’t live with her. I’m leaving for Calcutta.”
Surprised, Parvati asked, “Why son?”
“She speaks ill of you—I disown her.”
Parvati had observed Jaladbala for some time; she evaded the issue and laughed. “Shame on you, my son. She is a gem of a girl.”
Parvati then called Jaladbala into her room and asked, “Child, have you and Mahendra fought over something?”
Jaladbala had noticed her husband’s preparations for Calcutta with some trepidation all morning; at her mother-in-laws words she burst into tears and said, “My fault, Mother. But these maids kept talking about the expenses.”
Parvati sat and heard her out. She felt contrite as she wiped her daughter-in-law’s tears, “Child, you have spoken well. You see, I am not good at accounts and so I lose track of the expenditure.”
She called Mahendra to her and said, “Son don’t be angry—you are her husband and your benefit comes before all else for her. She is a good wife.”
From that day on Parvati curbed her generous impulses. The guests didn’t get such lavish care as before; many of the homeless, maimed and ill who showed up had to be turned away. When Bhuvan-babu heard of this, he sent for Parvati and asked her, “Have we gone through our coffers—are we out of money?”
Parvati laughed, Charity isn’t everything. For a while we should also try to save a bit. See how our expenses have shot up.”
“That’s all right. My days are drawing to a close. We should do some good deeds and take care of our afterlife, shouldn’t we?”
Parvati laughed, “That is very selfish. You think of yourself, and what about the children? Let’s just go easy for some time and then it can all begin again. Charity never comes to an end.”
Bhuvan-babu didn’t pursue the matter further.
Parvati had less to do these days and so there was more time on her hands, to think and to think. But thoughts come in patterns. Those who have no hope think in quite a different manner. The thoughts of the hopeful are full of sparkle, joy, expectation, gratification, anxiety and sorrow; the cavalcade tires the soul and can’t go in for long. But the hopeless have no joy, no sorrow, no anxiety and no expectation. It’s not that there aren’t any more, or even new realizations about life, but fresh insights don’t make one sit up and take notice any longer. The thoughts float around like weightless clouds. They stop short where the wind stands still, and when the breeze stirs they move away again. The rapt mind remains occupied with a string of unruffled thoughts without really thinking a thought through. That was how it was with Parvati these days. As she sat for her puja, her restless mind sped away and made a rushed survey of the village of Talshonapur which she had left behind to long ago, glossing over the bamboo clump, the schoolroom, the riverside. And suddenly it would hide itself in places where she couldn’t find herself. Earlier, a smile may have played on her lips at the thought of the past; now a teardrop glistened on her palm.
Still, the days passed. They passed in carrying out chores, in making sweet gestures towards others and providing service to the poor and needy; and sometimes they passed in a hermit-daze, when Parvati was lost in a meditative trance. Some called her a goddess in the flesh, a form of Annapurna, the providing diety. Some called her the absent-minded dryad. But for the last few days, Parvati seemed to have undergone a transformation—she seemed to have become a trifle sharp, a little harsh. The tide seemed to be waning in the river of contentment. No one knew the cause for this—she had got a letter from Manorama, and this was what it said:
Parvati,