Chapter 9

And Devdas? He spent that night sitting on a bench in Calcutta’s Eden Gardens. It was not that he was suffering acute agony, or that his heart was torn with pain. Rather, a strange, slack apathy was slowly settling in his chest. If a limb should suddenly be paralyzed while one is asleep, one wakes up to find no command over it, and the bewildered, astonished mind cannot instantly comprehend why this lifelong companion, this ever-faithful limb, fails to answer its call; only gradually does the realization dawn that it no longer belongs to oneself. In just this manner, through the long night, Devdas came to realize that the world had suffered a sudden paralysis, severing its ties with him forever. Vain anger and grievance would no longer apply. To cling to old claims of right would be a folly. The sun was rising. Devdas stood up and thought, where shall I go? Suddenly he remembered his lodgings in Calcutta. Chunilal was there. Devdas set off. On the way he bumped into passersby twice; stumbling, he cut his toes and drew blood; swaying, he almost fell against someone, who shoved him away, calling him a drunkard. Wandering aimlessly like this, he stood at the door of his mess-house at the end of the day. Chunibabu was dressed up and just stepping out—"Why, Devdas! Is that you?"

Devdas looked at him in silence.

"When did you arrive, my friend? Your face looks so pale—haven't you bathed or eaten? What's... what's wrong!" Devdas was sinking onto the street itself; Chunilal caught him by the hand and led him inside. Seating him on his own bed, he asked gently, "What is the matter, Devdas?"

"I came from home yesterday."

"Yesterday? Where have you been all day, then? And where were you last night?"

"At Eden Gardens."

"Are you out of your mind! Tell me, what has happened?"

"What good will hearing it do?"

"Come, tell me, but first have something to eat. Where are your things?"

"I brought nothing."

"Never mind that. Sit down and eat now."

Chunilal forced him to eat a little, bade him lie down on the bed, and as he locked the door, said, "Try to get some sleep. I shall come back tonight and wake you." With that, he left for the time being. Returning by ten that night, he found Devdas fast asleep in his bed. Without waking him, Chunilal pulled a blanket over himself and lay down on a mat on the floor. Devdas did not wake all night, nor in the morning; at ten o'clock in the morning he sat up and asked, "Chunibabu, when did you arrive?"

"Just now."

"Then you weren't put to any inconvenience!"

"Not at all."

Devdas looked into his face for a moment and said, "Chunibabu, I have nothing left of my own—will you support me?"

Chunilal laughed. He knew that Devdas’s father was a very wealthy man. So he said with a smile, "Support you! A fine idea. Stay as long as you wish, you needn't worry about a thing."

"Chunibabu, what is your income?"

"My friend, my income is modest. We have some property back home, which I've left in my elder brother's care while I live here. He sends me seventy rupees a month. That will be more than enough for the two of us."

"Why don't you go home?"

Chunilal turned his face slightly away and said, "That is a long story."

Devdas asked no further questions. In due course came the call for meals. When they had finished bathing and eating and returned to sit in the room, Chunilal asked, "Devdas, have you had a quarrel with your father?"

"No."

"With anyone else, then?"

Devdas replied in the same tone, "No."

Then Chunilal suddenly remembered something else. He said, "Ah, of course—you aren't even married yet!"

At this, Devdas turned his face away and lay down. In a short while Chunilal saw that Devdas had fallen asleep. Two more days passed in this constant sleeping. On the morning of the third day, Devdas woke up feeling restored and sat up. It seemed as though that heavy shadow had mostly lifted from his face. Chunilal asked, "How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, I think. Tell me, Chunibabu, where do you go at night?"

Today Chunilal felt embarrassed; he said, "Yes, I do go somewhere, it's true... but why do you ask?"

"Well—and why don't you go to college?"

"No—I've given up my studies."

"For shame! How can that be? Your examinations are only two months away. You were not bad at your studies either—why don't you sit for the exams this time?"

"No—I've given up studying."

Chunilal remained silent. Devdas asked again, "Where do you go—won't you tell me? I shall go with you."

Chunilal looked at Devdas's face and said, "You know, Devdas, the place I go to isn't very respectable."

Devdas said as if to himself, "Good and bad! What rubbish!—Chunibabu, won't you take me with you?"

"I could take you. But you shouldn't go."

"No, I must go. If I don't like it, I won't go again. But the pleasure you look forward to every day—whatever it is, Chunibabu, I am certainly going."

Chunilal turned his head and smiled slightly; to himself he thought, Look at my plight! Aloud he said, "Very well, come along then."

In the late afternoon, Dharmadas arrived with the luggage. Seeing Devdas, he burst into tears. "Young master, for these three or four days, how mother has wept—"

"Why?"

"Why did you leave all of a sudden without a word?" Pulling out a letter, he handed it over and said, "Mother's letter."

Chunilal looked on eagerly, anxious to understand what was going on. Devdas read the letter and put it aside. His mother had written commanding and begging him to return home. Of the entire household, she alone had guessed something of the reason for Devdas's abrupt disappearance. She had also secretly sent a good deal of money with Dharmadas. Handing the money over, Dharmadas said, "Young master, come home."

"I will not go. You go back."

That night, the two friends dressed up and set out. Devdas had little heart for such things, but Chunilal refused to go out in ordinary clothes under any circumstances. At nine o'clock at night, a hired carriage pulled up in front of a two-storey house in Chitpur. Chunilal took Devdas by the hand and led him inside. The mistress of the house was named Chandramukhi—she came forward to receive them. At once, Devdas felt a burning revulsion sweep through his entire body. He himself had not realized that over these past few days, he had unknowingly developed an aversion even to the shadow of a woman's body.

The moment he set eyes on Chandramukhi, a deep-seated hatred blazed up within his heart like a forest fire. Looking at Chunilal with a frown, he said, "Chunibabu, what wretched place have you brought me to?" Seeing his sharp tone and the look in his eyes, both Chandramukhi and Chunilal were struck dumb. The next instant, Chunilal composed himself, took Devdas by the hand, and said in a gentle voice, "Come, come, let's go inside and sit down."

Devdas said nothing more—he went into the room and sat on the floor mattress with a sullen, downcast face. Chandramukhi too sat down quietly a little distance away. The maid brought a hookah mounted in silver, packed with tobacco—Devdas did not even touch it. Chunilal sat in gloomy silence. The maid, at a loss as to what to do, finally handed the hookah to Chandramukhi and left. As Chandramukhi took a pull or two, Devdas glared at her face and suddenly blurted out with intense disgust, "How vulgar and repulsive she looks!"

Never before had anyone outwitted Chandramukhi in words. Discomfiting her was an exceedingly difficult task. But this candid, harsh expression of Devdas's genuine hatred cut deep into her. For a moment she was stunned. After a short while, the hookah gurgled once or twice more, but no smoke issued from Chandramukhi's lips. Passing the hookah to Chunilal, she cast a glance at Devdas's face and then sat in silence. All three were silent. Only the gurgling of the hookah could be heard, but even that seemed timid and fearful. Just as when a dispute breaks out among a group of friends and turns into a pointless quarrel, each person fumes silently to himself, their aggrieved hearts crying in vain, What is this!—so all three of them were thinking to themselves, What is this! How did this come about!

Be that as it may, no one felt at ease. Chunilal set the hookah aside and went downstairs, probably because he could find nothing else to do. The two of them remained in the room. Devdas raised his head and said, "Do you take money?"

Chandramukhi could not answer right away. She was twenty-four years old now, and in these nine or ten years she had come to know intimately people of many different temperaments; but never in all her days had she seen such an extraordinary man. Hesitating slightly, she said, "Now that your feet have blessed this place—"

Devdas cut her short before she could finish, exclaiming, "Forget about blessing the place. Do you take money or not?"

"Of course I do. How else are we to live?"

"Enough, I don't care to hear all that." Saying this, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a currency note, and handed it to Chandramukhi as he prepared to leave—without even looking to see how much money he had given.

Chandramukhi said meekly, "Going already?"

Devdas did not speak—he went out and stood on the veranda.

Chandramukhi felt an impulse to return the money; but out of some intense hesitation she could not, perhaps checked by a touch of fear as well. Besides, women like her were accustomed to enduring insults, reproaches, and humiliations, so she remained standing by the doorway, silent and motionless. Devdas walked down the stairs.

On the stairs he met Chunilal. Chunilal asked in surprise, "Where are you off to, Devdas?"

"I'm going back to the mess."

"What on earth?"

Devdas went down two or three steps more.

Chunilal said, "Wait, I'll come with you."

Devdas came close, took his hand, and said, "Come."

"Hold on a moment, let me just step upstairs once."

"No, I am going. You come later," said Devdas, and walked away.

Chunilal came upstairs and found Chandramukhi still standing by the doorway just as before.

Seeing him, she asked, "Has your friend gone?"

"Yes."

Chandramukhi held up the note in her hand and said, "Look at this. If you think it proper, take it; return it to your friend."

Chunilal said, "He gave it of his own accord—why should I take it back?"

Only now could Chandramukhi manage a faint smile; but there was no joy in that smile. She said, "Not of his own accord—he gave it in anger because we take money. Tell me, Chunibabu, is the man mad?"

"Not in the least. But I suppose he hasn't been in good spirits these past few days."

"Why isn't he in good spirits—do you know anything?"

"I don't know. Something must have happened at home, I suppose."

"Then why bring him here?"

"I didn't want to bring him; he insisted on coming himself."

Chandramukhi was truly astonished now. She said, "He insisted on coming himself? Knowing everything?"

Chunilal thought for a moment and said, "Of course! He knew everything. It's not as if I enticed him here."

Chandramukhi was silent for a moment, lost in thought, then said, "Chuni, will you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"Where does your friend live?"

"With me."

"Could you bring him here another day?"

"I don't suppose I can. He has never been to such places before, and I don't suppose he ever will again. But why do you ask?"

Chandramukhi smiled a wistful smile and said, "Chuni, by hook or by crook, coax him and bring him once more."

Chuni smiled and winked, saying, "Fell in love after a scolding, did you?"

Chandramukhi smiled too, and said, "He hands over a bank note without even looking—don't you see what that means?"

Chuni knew Chandramukhi fairly well. Shaking his head, he said, "No, no—the women who go after bank notes are a different breed—that's not you. What is the real truth?"

Chandramukhi said, "I really have taken a slight fondness to him."

Chuni didn't believe her; laughing, he said, "In just five minutes?"

Now Chandramukhi laughed as well. She said, "Be that as it may. When his mood improves, bring him another day—let me see him once more. Will you bring him?"

"Who knows!"

"I swear on my head."

"Very well—I'll see."