f
TTTE SUNDAY OREGOXTAT5", PORTXANX), OCTOBER 17, 1915.
(Translated from the original Bengali by
Fasanta Koomar Roy. author of "Rabln
dranath Tagore: The M.n and His Poetry.'-)
APURBA KRISHNA received his A.
B. degree and ' was returning
home in a boat from Calcutta,
The river was small. It had almost
dried up by the end" of Summer. But
In the month of Straban it was full to
the brim, so much so that it kissed
the feet of the village hedges and the
clumps of bamboo trees. The sun was
smiling in a sky that for. many days
past had been enveloped in the darkness
of rain and cloud. If we could but
have a glance at the picture that lay
latent in the heart of Apurba Krishna
we could see that the ripples in the
full to the brim stream of his mind
were lit with the light of youth as
they danced in merriment.
The boat was moored in proper place
In the village ghat. The roof of the
-Apurba's brick built mansion could be
seen through the trees surrounding it.
As the news of his homecoming was
not known, there was no one in the
ghat to receive him. A boatman was
about to carry the hand bag, but
Apurba asked him not to do so, and he
himself took the bag in his hand and
quickly got of the boat in" great joy
- the joy of homecoming.
The landing place was slippery, and
as soon as Apurba's feet struck the
ground he fell flat in the mud, bag in
hand. And almost simultaneously rip
ples of a sweet and loud laughter
startled the birds on the nearby asatha
tree. .Apurba was embarrassed, but he
soon regained his self-possession and
looked around to see a girl seated on
a heap of brick on. the shore. She was
laughing so heartily that it seemed as
if her body would burst into a thousand
pieces. Apurba at once knew her to be
Mrlnmayi, the daughter of their new
neighbors. They formerly lived by the
large river at a distance, but on ac
count of the encroachments of the
boisterous river they had left their old
home and built a new one in the vil
lage two or three years ago.
A good deal was heard about the
naughtiness of the girl. The men of
the village affectionately called her the
"mad girl," but the village women
were always fearful of the danger from
her on account of tier notoriously way
ward temperament. She was wont to
play with the boys of the village, and
had no use, rather had a positive
hatred, for the girls of her age. In the
children's world she was somewhat like
a highway robber.
Mrlnmayi was the favorite daughter
of her father, and to this may be at
tributed the cause of her untamed
overbeurance.
Mrlnmayl's complexion was a shade
lighter than olive. Her wavy hair Just
touched her back. Her face looked like
that of a boy. Her large luminous
black eyes were destitute of bashful
ness or fear, and there was not to be
found the least trace of coquetry. Her
stature was tall in proportion to her
age. Her physique was full, healthy,
and strong. Her physical development
was of such a nature that no one ever
felt Inclined to guess her age. If such
a thought could ever enter into the
minds of the villagers, they would have
accused her parents of not having
given her in marriage before this.
Heretofore, during holidays, Apurba
had seen this free as air girl a few
times. This made him think of her at
leisure, at times even when he was
busy. We notice and are attracted by
many faces, but some faces force their
way- into the Innermost chambers of
our hearts and occupy them outright.
This is not due to phyisical attractive
ness alone. There is something be
yond this which is not easy to explain.
It is not necessary to say that, how
ever sweet the laughter of Mrlnmayi
might have been to listen to. it was,
nevertheless, somewhat painful to
Apurba. He handed over the bag to the
boatman, blushed red, and rapidly
walked. toward thome.
As Apurba walked along the shady
road homeward he heard Mrlnmayi
laugh contlnuou&Jy. He eventually
reached homo with mud - besmeared
clothes and the hand bag. His wid
owed mother was wild with joy to see
her son come home quite unexpectedly.
And she at once sent out servants far
and near to buy special things for din
ner. The entire village soon was in a
state of commotion.
After dinner Apurba's mother spoke
to her son of his marriage. He was
perpared for this, for this question of
marriage was of long standing. Apurba
deferred it by refusing to marry before
receiving his B. A. degree, as was wont
of many of the younger generation.
His mother had waited so long that it
was useless to make excuses any
longer.
"Let us see the bride." said Apurba,
"and then we shall decide."
"We have seen the bride," said the
mother. "You won't have to think of
It at all."
But Apurba was quite willing to think
of that himself and said: "I can't agree
to marry without seeing the girl."
The mother was shocked and said: "I
have never heard a more absurd thing
than this in my life." But she gave
Apurba permission to see the prospec
tive bride.
That night Apurba put out the light
in his room, and as he lay down on the
bed the sweet laughter of the morning
began to vibrate in his ears continu
ously. His mind was being racked as
he thus cogitated: "1 ought to rectify
the accident of the morning some way
or other. The girl did not know that
I was Apurba Krishna, an erudite
scholar; that I had spent so many years
in Calcutta, that even though I fell in
the mud I was not an ordinary village
boy to be an object of her neglect."
The next morning Apurba was to go
to see the bride, in the same village,
not far from his home. He took pains
to dress well. Instead of dhoti and
chadar he put on silk chapkan and
jobba, a round turban, and a pair of
patent leather shoes. He walked to the
bride's home, a silk umbrella in hand.
There he was received with proper
honors, and soon the trembling bride
was brought before the groom dressed
In a sari and bedecked with jewels. She
at bowed to her knees In bashfulness.
A maid sat behind to cheer her up. One
ove5
Story, Breathing
the Spirit of India and -Reflecting
Her Customs,
by the Only Oriental
Ever to Win the Nobel
Prize for Literature,
It Is a Story in Tagore's
Quaint Style of Ho
Man Won
His Wife.
of the Drothers of the bride was look-
ing at the turban. watcX cha'in. and the
newly grown beard of the young man
who was about to be a member of their
family
Apurba twisted his mustache for'a
wVillA n nH aelrsil . V, a n.ncnuitlv. K.li1.
"What do you study?" No reply was
forthcoming from the bashful girl.
After repeated asking and coaxing, the
girl faintly spoke in one breath: "Cha
rupat, Bengali grammar, geography,
arithmetic, and history of India."
Of a sudden there could be heard the
thud of some approaching footsteps
outside, and in a moment Mrlnmayi ran
into the room panting and waving her
hair. Ignoring Apurba altogether, she
at once began to pull the bride's broth
er, Rakhal. to take him out. As Rak
hal was engrossed in looking at the
groom, he refused to leave his seat. The
maid began to rebuke Mrinmayl as
sharply as she could without sacrific
ing the modesty of her voice. Apurba
mastered all the gravity at his com
mand, sat quite straight, and kept play
ing with his gold chain. Mrinmayl, on
the other hand, being disappointed in
her mission, slapped Rakhal hard on
his back, suddenly pulled off the veil
of the bride, and ran out of the room
as fast as a storm.
The silent gathering soon ended and
the girl sighed a sigh of relief and
returned to the zenana, led by the maid.
Apurba was gravely twisting his thin
mustache and was about to come out
of the room. When he came near the
door he found his new pair of shoes
missing. A search was made for them,
but they were nowhere to be found.
The host and the hostess were embar
rassed and began to shower rebukes
on the person who might have stolen
them. At last, when all endeavors
failed to locate the lost property. Apur-
ba put on a pair of old. loose-fitting
suppers oi nis nose, ana la us oaaiy beautiful.
dressed, he carefully walked along the on the final settlement of the match,
muddy village path. . Mrlnmayl's mother and the elderly
Apurba again heard the outburst of women of the neighborhood began to
the same continuous and intense laugh- Kive vice to tne prospective bride re
ter by a lonely pond on the wayside, yarding her. future duties. They all
It seemed as if some sylvan deity could succeeded in making married life ap
not resist her laughter at the inappro- pear to ner a terrible thing by for
priate slippers. Apurba stood still In bidding her games, fast walking, loud
embarrassment and Immediately saw a laughter, conversation with boys and
guilty girl place his shoes before him. eating to satiety. Mrlnmayi felt as If
The girl was about to run away, but she had been sentenced to 20 years
Apurba quickly made a captive of her. rigorous imprisonment and after the
Mrinmayl wiggled around to get
away, but failed. The sun's rays from
nenind tne Drancnes oi tne trees uaiaea
her face a face that was lit up with
a soulful smile and encroached upon
by locks of her wavy hair. Just as
an inquisitive traveler intently looks
at tne oottom oi a transparent ana
..... m . -
resuess lountain, eve so apuroa
Labor.-
v Sm Iff lmsm0
gravely and absorbingly looked upon
the translucent and magnetic eyes of
Mrinmayl that so much enhanced the
beauty of her upturned face. And he
slowly loosened the grip and" let the
captive go.
Mrlnmayl's soulful laughter began to
reverberate in the sky like the music
of dancing nature's ornaments. And
Apurbakrishna reached home with
mea"'''ed steps and wrapped in intense
thought.
An that Jay under many pretenses,
APurba Krishna did not go In the zenana
to see his mother. He was invited out
to dlnner, so he did not go in even for
dinner.
"How did you like the girl, Apu?"
inquired Apurba's mother, when her
son entered the zenana In the evening.
"Yes. mother." said Apurba. rather
embarrassed, "I have .seen the girls
and I like one of them."
"How many girls did you see?"
asked the mother, quite surprised.
After much discussion it became
known that her son liked her neigh
bor's daughter, Mrinmayl. She was
shocked at the taste of her son, a uni
versity man.
At first Apurba felt rather bashful
to discuss the matter. But when his
mother began strenuously to object to
the match Apurba lost all sense, of
delicacy and in burst of anger said:
"I shall never marry any girl but
Mrinmayl." The more he thought of
that almost inanimate girl he went to
see that morning the more he becamf
disgusted with the Idea of marriage.
After two days' fast, sleeplessness
and discussions, Apurba was victorious.
His mother consoled herself by think
ing that Mrlnmayi was a little girl,
that her mother was n'ot fit to give
her proper education, and that after
marriage, when Mrlnmayi would be un
der her mother-in-law's control, the
girl's character, by proper training,
would undergo a thorough change.
And gradually she began to see that
Mrlnmayl's face was really pretty. But
at the next moment, when she thought
of Mrlnmayl's short hair, she became
exceedingly discouraged. But she
hoped, however, that by tying her hair
tight in the back knot and by applica
tion of plenty of perfumed hair tonio
Mrlnmayl's hair might grow long and
expiration of that term she was to be
hanged from the gallows. So Mrinmayl,
nke a naughty little pony, curled her
neck, walked backward and said: "I
shall not marry at all."
And yet Mrlnmayi had to marry. Her
education began after her marriajre.
-
The entire world of the freedom-loving
girl shrunk outright Into the xenana
of Apurba's mother. The mother-in-law
began her work of correction. She
thus spoke to her daughter-in-law.
with an elongated face: "Look here,
darling, you are no longer a baby: you
Women Now the
Messenger
mHB work of delivering telegrams
in erun nas iaiien upon tne
-'- young girls and old women since
the war has made itself so much felt
in the German Empire. The fleet work
that has heretofore been done by
the German messenger men and boys.
so different from the lax work done
by the picturesque dime-novel-reading
messenger boy of a decade ago in
America, has now fallen almost totally
on the shoulders of the women in Ger-
many, especially in Berlin. The women
In this, u In other work thev have
been forced to adopt since the crimson
conflict began, have shown marvelous
j Zvl s' ' ,? 4. 9 V4.rfAsJ
r 7" j c a7 3- i
have to behave properly in our home.
Mrinmayl did not understand the
spirit of her mother-in-law's command.
She thought that If she could not do
there just as she pleased she would
rather go somewhere else, and in the
afternoon she was nowhere to be found,
though a thorough search was made all
over the village. But at last treach
erous Rakhal discovered her in her hid
ing place. She was hiding herself In a
broken and discarded car of Juggernaut
belonging to Radhanath Thakur tiiat
was lying under a banyan tree.
It is easy to Imagine the way In
which Mrinmayl was reprimanded by
her mother, mother-in-law, and all the
benefactresses of the neighborhood.'
It was raining In torrents that night,
and Apurba Krishna slowly approached
his bride and whispered in her ears:
"Don't you love me, Mrinmayl?"
"No," said Mrlnmayi, angrily. "I shall
never love you." And with this all her
sense of rage and feeling of retaliation
were thrown like a thunderbolt, as it
were, on the head of Apurba Krishna.
Apurba was sad and said: "Why,
what have I done to you?"
"Why did you marry me?"
It was really difficult for Apurba to
offer an explanation for such an indis
creet act, and he thought within him
self: "Anyhow, I have to conquer her
boisterous heart."
The next day Mrlnmayi received a
letter from her father. He expressed
"Telegraph
Boys" in Germany
aptitude and they ride their bicycles
with the same dispatch as character
ized their men predecessors a few
months ago. The messenger service
has remained well organized and the
women, who perhaps could not do
heavier work in the exigency of war,
have willingly fallen into this breach
made when certain classes were called
to arms and other and older men were
sent to the harvest field. The women
inc.acugcia an wear oauges 10 denote
their calling. Even Berlin was startled
men wi 'precipitated, uVTn"" short
uiudl w h.b uraciuiuLea our in nn tt
time the woman messenger was taken
-a a matter of course,
AABNDPANATff
TA GOfff:.
his heartfelt sorrow that he could not
be present at the wedding, and he
blessed the newly married couple most
warmly.
"I want to go to see my father, said
Mrlnmayi to her mother-in-law. Quite
enraged at such an unusual request,
the mother-in-law said, reproachfully:
Goodness knows where her father
Uvea and yet she wants to go to see
him. How absurd a request!" Mrln
mayi went away without saying a
word, entered her room, locked.it from
lnslde and began to speak, just as ut
terly helpless people pray to God: "Oh.
father dear, do take me away; I have
no one here whom I can call my own.
I could not live If I were to stay here
much longer."
It rained outside that entire day. and
things were equally unpleasant In the
house. The next midnight Apurba
gently woke up Mrlnmayi and said:
"Mrlnmayi. do you want to go to your
father?
Mrlnmayi clasped Apurba's hands
with fervor and said startlngly: "Yes,
I do; by all means. I do."
men. whispered Apurba. let us
run away quietly. I have arranged for
a boat, and it is waiting for us at the
ghat," ,
Mrinmayl gratefully looked at her
husband's face. To assuage his mother's
anxiety, Apurba left a note for her and
then he left home with his wife. The
night was dark and the village path
was lonely. Mrlnmayi for the first
time willingly and feelingly caught
hold of her husband's hand. The un
limited joy of her heart Imparted an
exalted ecstasy In the heart of her hus
band. The boat reached Kushigunj the next
evening. Iscbanchandra was seated
on a stool. A little oil lamp was
burning In the room. The' station
master placed his leather-bound ac
count book on a small desk, and was
busy checking th- accounts. The bride
and the groom entered the room, and
the former called. "Father." Never
before did Ishan hear such a sound
in that house.
Tears of Joy began to trickle down
the cheeks of Ichanchandra. He was
at a loss to know what to say or what
to do. He looked down upon his
daughter ad son-in-law as a princess
and a prince, and did not know as to
how they could be accommodated in a
house so full of bales of Jute. Then,
what to offer them to eat! The poor
station master was wont to cook for
himself simple meals of rice and curry,
What was he to do on such a joyous
occasion? While he wu thinking of
such things Mrlnmayi said: "Father,
come let us all cook together." Apurba
heartily approved of the proposal.
At last Apurba expressed his desire
to return home. Mrlnwayl begged to
stay a few days longer, but her father
asked ber to please her husband in the
matter. .
When the guilty pair returned home
Apurba's mother looked exceedingly
grave and spoke not a word. She cast
no reflection on their conduct for
which they might offer an explanation,
This silent reproach and unexpressed
disapproval of their conduct made it
uncomfortable for the young couple,
Gradually this punishment became so
unbearable that Apurba approached
his mother and said: "Mother, my col-
lege has reopened.
I must go to study
law." '
"What are you going to do with your
wife'-" Apurba's mother Inquired,
rather indifferently.
"Why. she will stay with you."
"No, dear child, you had better take
her to Calcutta with iu," said the
mother In an unusually respectful tone.
Apurba's sense of pride was, hurt
and he said: "Yes, I shall do that."
Things were being made ready for
their departure. The night before the
day of departure Apurba entered his
room to see Mrinmayl crying. He was
instantly hurt in his heart and mourn
fully said: "Mrinmayl, don t you want
to go to Calcutta with me?"
"No," said Mrinmayl.
' Don't you love me?" asked Apurba,
but he received no answer to the ques
tion. At times an answer to the
question was easy, and at others, on
account of metaphysical complica
tions, it was Impossible to expect any
answer.
"Are you feeling bad to have to
leave Rakhal behind?" asked Apurba.
"Yes," replied Mrinmayl unhesitat
ingly. The wise young college graduate felt
a kind of subtle and keen jealousy
against the boy Rakhal, and said: "I
shan't be able to co ne home soon."
Mrinmayl kept silent. ."Perhaps,"
continued Apurba. "two years would
pass before I could return home, maybe
longer."
"When you ccme home," said Mrin
mayl, "please bring a three-bladed
knife for Rakhal."
Apurba' lifted his head a little from
his pillow and asked: "Then you want
to stay here."
"Yes," said Mrinmayl, - "I shall stay
with my mother."
"All right." said Apurba. "Tou may
stay here, but remember that as long
as you don't write to me to come back
I shall never return. Are you sat
isfied?" Mrinmayl thought it superfluous to
answer such a question and went to
sleep. But Apurba could not sleep at
all. He raised his pillow and sat
quiet, leaning against it. Late at
night the moon rose and bathed their
bed with its silver rays. . Apurba
gazed on Mrlnmayi's face by the moon
light, and she looked as charming as a
princess.
At dawn Apurba woke his wife and
said: "Mrinmamyi. it is about time for
me to leave. Come, let me take you to
your mother."
When Mrinmayl left the bed and
stood on the floor Apurba caught hold
of her hands and said: "I beg of you a
gift. I have helped you many times In
more ways than one, and this morning,
at my departure, would you Just re
ward me once for my many acta of
kindness?"
"What is It?" asked Mrinmayl, quite
surprised.
"Just give me a kiss, willingly and
lovingly.
Mrinmayl laughed at such a strange
request, and laughed all the more to
ee such a serious look on Apurba's
face. She suppressed her laughter and
raised her head to kiss Apuroa. when
her Hps were about to touch those of
nis s.ie simpiy coujq not print tne kiss
on them and broke Into loud laughter,
She trled aBa!n to kl" h,m' but faile1-
.
t last she hid her face behind the
and of hep sari aad laughed heartily.
Apurba gently shook her by the ears
by way of punishment.
Our hero had a strong mind. He
deemed it an act of self-abasement to
force an act of kindness. Like a deity,
he enjoyed getting voluntary offerings;
he was quite unwlllilng to take any
thing that was not offered htm by love.
Mrimayl did not laugh any more.
Apurba took her to her mother's home
by the lonely path that was lit by the
light of the dawn. On his return home
8ald to his mother: "After due con-
sideration I have come to think that if
I take Mrlnmayi to Calcutta my studies
may be disturbed, and she, too, has no
female companions there. You don't
want to keep her in this house, so I
have left her with her mother."
The mother and son parted thinking
that each had wronged the other.
This time Mrimayl did not like her
paternal home at all. It seemed that
everything In the house had changed.
Time hung heavy, on her hands. She
did not know what to do, where to go.
whom to meet. All of a sudden she felt
as if there was not a single human
being In the home or In the village.
Kven the sun seemed to refuse to shine
for her. She was at a loss to make out
from whence came this stubborn desire
In her heart to go to Calcutta, and
where did it He hid the night before?
She did not realize that her childhood
life, which she was loath to part with,
had already undergone a transforma
tion. And she most willingly cast aside
her pasV life, as trees part with ripe
leaves.
She could not look upon her old bed
in her mother's home as her own. for
the girl within her that lived there was
no more. Her Imagination began to
rove in another's home, in another's
room, and around another bed.
Henceforth Mrinmayl did not like to
be seen outside. No one could hear her
laugh, Rakhal was afraid to go near
her, much less could he think of play
ing with her.
"Mother," said Mrinmayl. "please
take me back to my mother-in-law's
home."
The mother-in-law's heart, on the
other hand, was being racked with sor
row over the sad face of Apurba at
his departure. And again she felt ex
ceedingly sorry that her son. out of
anger, had left his wife with her
mother.
One of these days Mrimayl came back:
with a veil over her face, and sorrow
fully touched the feet of her mother-in-law
by way of salutation. The mother-in-law
immediately embraced her en
dearingly and looked at her with eyes
bedewd with tears. In a moment both
were reconciled. Apurba's mother was
pleasantly surprised to look at the
transformed face of her 'daughter-in-law.
This was a different Mrinmayl
altogether. Such a change but tew can
experience. Great changes necessarily
imply great force of character.
The mother-in-law once thought of
correcting Mrinmaysi's faults one by
one. But some unseen force, by some
unknown short method, caused her to
be born anew. Mrinmayl now under
stood her mother-in-law and the
mother-in-law Mrlnmayi. . Just as a
tree was indissolubly connected with
its branches as one organism, similarly
the family reunion between the two
was complete.
The deep, serene and vast feeling of
her awakened womanhood most fully
permeated every fiber of her being,
and it caused her pain. Like the new
clouds of early Ashar, her heart was
softened with a tearful dignity. This
cast a shade of deeper luster in her
eyes. And she thus spoke to herself:
"It is true that I did not know myself,
but why didn't you, my dear husband,
understand me? Why didn't you pun
ish me? Why didn't you guide me as
you liked? When I refused to go to
Calcutta with you, naughty girl as I
was, why didn't you take me by force? ,
Why did you do as I wanted you to do?
Why did you bear with my disobedi
ence?" Then she thought of that morning
when on the lonely village path by the
pond Apurba captured her by the arms,
spoke not a word, but simply gazed on
her face, and she remembered that
path, that pond, the shade of those
trees, that gentle touch of the rays of
the morning sun, and above all she re
membered that gaze of Apurba a gaze
that was saturated with the most ex
alted feeling of love. And she at once
understood the meaning of It all. Then
she thought of the kiss at Apurba's de
parture that did not reach its goal.
That unfinished kiss now began re
peatedly to haunt her memory, like a
bird in a desert that followed a mirage
for a drink. Her thirst for a kiss be
gan to increase as she thought of her
mistakes. "Why didn't I do this way
at that time? Why didn't I act differ
ently at others? Why didn't I answer
Apurba's questions differently?"
Then she remembered that Apurba
told her that he would never return
home until Mrinmayl asked him to do
so. So she closed her door and sat
down to write a letter. She took out
the gilt-edged letter paper that
Apurba presented to her once and be
gan to write. With great care, but
with crooked lines and uneven letters,
she at once wrote without even ad
dressing him: "Why don't you write
to me? How are you? Come home."
She could not think out what more to
add. All that she wanted to say had
been said, but she felt, nevertheless,
that In human society feelings should
be expressed In a more superfluous
way. So- she added, after a good deal
of thinking: "Now be good and write
to me, and let me know how you are.
Come home soon. ' Mother is well.
Bishu and Putl are well. Yesterday
our black cow had a new calf." The
letter finished, she closed the envelope
and with a profound feeling of love
and adoration wrote on it: "Apurba
Krishna Roy." In spite of all her love,
the lines were not straight, the letters
were not even, nor was the spelling
correct.
Mrinmayl did not know that she had
to write anything beside her husband's
name on the envelope. Lest her
mother-in-law or other members of the
household saw the letter she hurriedly
sent it to be mailed through a trust
worthy maid.
It is useless to add that nothing
came of this letter,
come home.
Apurba. did not
Apurbas' college closed again.
mother was sorry not to see her son
come home for the holiday. She felt
that Apurba was still angry with her.
Mrinmayl tnougnt that Apurba was
provoked at her. She then thought cf
ths letter she wrote to him nd felt
exceedingly humilLited
She was rett-
(Concluded oa fsse ft.).
wc
tter