Chapter Twelve

The two brothers, Dwijadas and Devdas, along with many from the village, returned home after performing the last rites for the zamindar Narayan Mukherjee. Dwijadas was weeping loudly like a madman—his neighbours were unable to hold him down. Devdas, however, sat quietly beside a pillar. He uttered not a word, shed not a single tear. No one was holding him, nor was anyone making an effort to console him. Madhusudan Ghosh had gone up to him once and begun to say, 'Well, my boy, what is written in one's destiny—'

Devdas pointed towards Dwijadas and said, 'Over there.' Mr Ghosh felt awkward, mumbled, 'Yes, well he—what a great man,' and moved away. No one else came near. When noon had passed, Devdas went and sat at the feet of his half-conscious mother. Several women sat surrounding her. Parvati's grandmother was also present. In a broken voice, she addressed the grief-stricken, newly-widowed mother, 'Bou-ma, look dear, Devdas has come.' Devdas called out, 'Mother.'

She looked up just once and said, 'My son!' Then copious tears began to stream from the corners of her closed eyes. The throng of women broke into a loud wail. Devdas kept his face buried at his mother's feet for a while; then he slowly got up and left. He went into his late father's bedroom. There were no tears in his eyes, his demeanour was sombre and calm. Raising his bloodshot eyes upwards, he sank to the floor. Anyone seeing that figure would probably have been terrified. The veins on both sides of his forehead throbbed visibly, his long, unkempt hair stood out wildly. His complexion, once the colour of molten gold, was now shadowed and dark—the abhorrent excesses in Calcutta, followed by this long, sleepless night, and then his father's death! Anyone who had seen him a year ago would scarcely have recognised him now. After a while, Parvati's mother came looking for him, pushed the door open, and entered—'Devdas!'

'Yes, Khurima?'

'This will not do, my child!'

Devdas looked at her face and said, 'What have I done, Khurima?'

Khurima understood, but could not reply. Drawing Devdas's head into her lap, she said, 'Devta—my child!'

'What is it, Khurima?'

'Devta-charan—my child—'

Burying his face against her breast, Devdas now shed a single tear.

Time passes even for a family in mourning. Gradually, morning came, and the weeping largely subsided. Dwijadas had fully composed himself. His mother too had sat up—she was going about the day's tasks, wiping her eyes. Two days later, Dwijadas called Devdas and said, 'Devdas, how much should we spend on our father's shraddha ceremony?'

Devdas looked at his elder brother and said, 'Whatever you consider appropriate.'

'No, brother, my consideration alone will not suffice now. You are grown up, it is necessary to know your opinion.'

Devdas asked, 'How much cash is there?'

'There is a hundred and fifty thousand rupees in Father's treasury. I believe spending about ten thousand rupees will be enough—what do you say?'

'How much will I receive?'

Dwijadas hesitated slightly before saying, 'Well, you will get half too. If ten thousand is spent, you will have seventy thousand and I will have seventy thousand.'

'What will Mother get?'

'What will Mother do with cash? She is the mistress of the house—we shall provide for her.'

Devdas thought for a moment and said, 'In my view, let five thousand be spent from your share, and twenty-five thousand from mine. Of the remaining fifty thousand, I shall take twenty-five, and the other twenty-five thousand will be deposited in Mother's name. What do you think?'

At first, Dwijadas seemed a little embarrassed; then he said, 'An excellent proposal. But you see, I have—a wife, sons, daughters; there are marriages, sacred thread ceremonies—many expenses. So this arrangement is for the best.' Pausing briefly, he added, 'If it is just put down in writing—will a formal deed be necessary? It would not look good. My wish is that matters of money—should be kept private at a time like this.'

'That is fine; but you know, brother—'

'Very well, I shall put it in writing.' That very day, Devdas drew up the deed.

The next afternoon, Devdas was coming downstairs when he saw Parvati by the stairs and stopped in his tracks. Parvati was staring at his face—she seemed to be struggling to recognise him. Approaching her with a grave and calm expression, Devdas asked, 'When did you arrive, Parvati?'

That same voice! They were meeting today after three years. Looking down, Parvati said, 'I came in the morning.'

'We haven't seen each other in a long time. Have you been well?'

Parvati nodded.

'Is Mr Chowdhury well? Are the children all well?'

'Everyone is well.' Parvati looked up at his face once. But she could not bring herself to ask how he was, or what he was doing. No questions felt appropriate now.

Devdas asked, 'You are here for a few days, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'Well then—' With this, Devdas walked out.

The shraddha ceremony was over. Describing it would require writing a great deal, so there is no need for it. The day after the shraddha, Parvati took Dharmadas aside, pressed a gold necklace into his hand, and said, 'Dharma, give this to your daughter to wear—'

Dharmadas looked at her, his moist eyes growing wetter still, and said, 'Ah, I haven't seen you in so long; all is well with you, Didi?'

'All is well. Are your children well?'

'They are, Paru.'

'Are you well?'

Dharmadas heaved a sigh this time and said, 'How could I be well! I only wish to depart now—the master is gone.' Carried away by grief, Dharmadas might have said much more, but Parvati stopped him. It was not to hear such tidings that she had given him the necklace.

Parvati spoke up, 'What are you saying, Dharma, if you go, who will look after Dev-dada?'

Dharmadas struck his forehead and replied, 'I looked after him when he was a little boy. I would be relieved if I didn't have to see him now, Paru.'

Moving closer, Parvati asked, 'Dharma, will you tell me the truth about something?'

'Why wouldn't I, Didi!'

'Then tell me truly, what does Dev-dada do now?'

'He does nothing but court his own ruin.'

'Dharmadas, why don't you speak plainly?'

Dharmadas struck his forehead once more and said, 'What more can I plainly say, Didi! Is it something one can speak of! The master is gone now, Devta has boundless wealth in his hands; will there be any saving him now?'

Parvati's face turned completely ashen. She had heard a few things through hints and whispers. Going pale, she said, 'What are you saying, Dharmadas?' When she had heard a little of this in Manorama's letters, she had been unable to believe it. Dharmadas shook his head and went on, 'No food, no sleep, just bottle after bottle of liquor. He lies about somewhere for three or four days at a stretch—nobody knows where. He has squandered so much money—I hear he's even had jewellery made for her worth thousands of rupees.'

A shudder ran through Parvati from head to toe—'Dharmadas, is all this true?'

Dharmadas muttered to himself, 'He might listen to you—forbid him just once. Look what has become of his health—how many days will he survive such outrages? And whom can I even tell? Mother, father, brother—one cannot say these things to them.' Striking his head repeatedly, Dharmadas cried out, 'I feel like dashing my brains out, Paru, I have no desire left to live.'

Parvati got up and left. She had come rushing upon receiving the news of Narayan-babu's death. She had thought it only right to visit Devdas once during this time of peril. But to think her beloved Dev-dada had come to this! Memories flooded her mind, without end. As much as she condemned Devdas, she condemned herself a thousand times more; a thousand times she thought, could this have happened if she had been there? She had struck her own foot with an axe long ago, but that axe had now fallen upon her head. Her Dev-dada was becoming this—he was being ruined in this way, while she was frantically trying to improve someone else's household! Embracing strangers as her own, she was distributing alms daily, while her everything—was starving to death today! Parvati vowed that today she would dash her head at Devdas's feet and die!

It was still a while before dusk—Parvati came into Devdas's room. Devdas was sitting on the bed looking over some accounts; he glanced up. Parvati slowly closed the door and sat on the floor. Devdas raised his face and smiled. His face was melancholic, yet serene. Suddenly, in a jesting tone, he asked, 'What if I compromise your reputation?'

Parvati turned her bashful, blue-lotus eyes towards him for a moment, then immediately lowered them. In an instant she conveyed that this remark had pierced her breast forever like a spear. Why bring it up again? She had come to say so much, but forgot it all. She could not speak in Devdas's presence.

Devdas burst out laughing again; he said, 'I understand, I understand! You're feeling shy, aren't you?'

Still, Parvati could not speak. Devdas went on, 'What is there to be shy about? The two of us colluded to do something childish—and just look—what a mess it created in the end. In anger, you said whatever you pleased; and I went and left that mark on your forehead. Quite a sight, isn't it!'

There was not a trace of sarcasm or mockery in Devdas's words; he spoke of the sorrowful past with a cheerful, smiling face. But Parvati's heart was breaking. Stuffing her sari into her mouth and holding her breath, she said to herself, 'Dev-dada, that mark is my only solace, my only treasure. You loved me—and so you kindly inscribed our childhood history upon my forehead. It is not my shame, nor my disgrace; it is my proudest adornment.'

'Paru!'

Without removing the sari from her mouth, Parvati replied, 'What is it?'

'I feel terribly angry with you—'

This time Devdas's voice began to break—'Father is gone, what a day of sorrow this is for me; but if you had been here, what would I have to worry about! You know Baro-bou, and Dada's nature is hardly hidden from you either; tell me, what am I to do with Mother at a time like this! And what is to become of me, I cannot fathom at all. If you were here, I would be at peace—I would leave everything in your hands—why, what's the matter, Paru!'

Parvati burst into loud sobs.

Devdas said, 'You are crying, are you? Then I cannot speak any more.'

Wiping her eyes, Parvati said, 'Tell me.'

Clearing his voice instantly, Devdas asked, 'Paru, I hear you have become quite the formidable mistress of the house?'

Deep within, Parvati bit her lip to suppress her feelings; she said to herself, 'Mistress of the house, indeed! Is the silk-cotton flower ever offered in the worship of the gods?'

Devdas broke into a laugh and said—'It makes me laugh so much! You were only this little—and how grown up you have become. A grand house, a grand estate, grown-up children—and Mr Chowdhury, everyone is grand—isn't that right, Paru!'

Mr Chowdhury was an object of great amusement to Parvati; the mere thought of him used to make her laugh. Even in such anguish, she therefore cracked a smile.

With feigned solemnity, Devdas asked, 'Could you do me a favour?'

Parvati looked up and asked, 'What?'

'Are there good girls to be found in your part of the country?'

Swallowing hard and clearing her throat, Parvati said—'A good girl? What for?'

'If I find one, I shall marry her. I have a sudden desire to settle down to family life.'

Parvati asked, playing the innocent, 'Very beautiful, I suppose?'

'Yes, like you.'

'And very good-natured?'

'No, I have no use for someone too good-natured—a little mischievous rather,—someone who can quarrel with me, like you.'

Parvati said to herself, 'No one will be able to do that, Dev-dada; for that would require loving you as much as I do.' Aloud, she said, 'Wretched as I am, thousands like me would consider themselves blessed just to fall at your feet.'

Devdas laughed teasingly and said, 'Could you just provide one for now, Didi?'

'Dev-dada, will you truly marry?'

'I just told you so.'

The only thing he did not say aloud was that, apart from her, he would have no inclination towards any other woman in this life.

'Dev-dada, may I ask you something?'

'What is it?'

Composing herself a little, Parvati asked, 'Why did you learn to drink alcohol?'

Devdas laughed out loud and replied, 'Does one need to learn how to consume something?'

'I didn't mean that. Why did you make a habit of it?'

'Who told you, Dharmadas?'

'Whoever it was, is it true?'

Devdas did not deceive her; he said, 'To some extent, yes.'

Parvati sat in stunned silence for a while, then asked, 'And how many thousands of rupees worth of jewellery have you had made for her, hm?'

Devdas smiled and said, 'I haven't given them away, I've just had them made. Do you want them?'

Parvati held out her hand and said, 'Give them to me. Look here, I don't have a single piece of jewellery on me.'

'Didn't Mr Chowdhury give you any?'

'He did; I have given them all away to his eldest daughter.'

'You have no need for them, then?'

Parvati shook her head and lowered her face.

This time tears genuinely came to Devdas's eyes. In his heart, Devdas understood that a woman would not take off and give away her jewellery unless she was in profound sorrow. But holding back his tears, he said softly, 'It is a lie, Paru. I have never loved any woman, nor have I given anyone jewellery.'

Heaving a sigh, Parvati said to herself, 'That is what I believe.'

Both remained quiet for a long time. Then Parvati said, 'But, promise me—you will not drink anymore!'

'I cannot do that. Can you promise that you will not think of me even once more?'

Parvati did not reply. Just then, the sound of conch shells marking the evening rang out outside. Startled, Devdas looked out the window and said, 'It is dusk, go home now, Paru!'

'I will not go. You must promise.'

'I cannot.'

'Why can't you?'

'Is everyone capable of everything?'

'They certainly are, if they wish to be.'

'Could you run away with me tonight?'

It was as if Parvati's heartbeat suddenly stopped. Unconsciously, a faint murmur escaped her lips, 'How can that be?'

Shifting slightly on the bed, Devdas said, 'Parvati, open the door.'

Parvati moved closer and, planting her back firmly against the door, said, 'Promise me!'

Devdas stood up and began to speak calmly—'Paru, is it a good thing to extract a promise by force, or is there much to be gained by it? A promise made today might not hold tomorrow—why make a liar of me too?'

Again, a long time passed in silence. Around then, somewhere in some room, a clock chimed nine. Devdas became anxious; he said, 'Paru dear, open the door—'

Parvati did not speak.

'Oh Paru—'

'I will not go under any circumstances,' Parvati said, and suddenly overcome with pent-up emotion, she collapsed to the floor right there—and wept bitterly for a long time. Inside the room, it was now pitch dark—nothing could be seen. Devdas merely guessed that Parvati had fallen to the ground and was crying. He called out softly—'Paru!'

Weeping, Parvati replied, 'Dev-dada, I am in such agony!'

Devdas moved closer. He had tears in his eyes as well—but his voice had not wavered. He said, 'Do you think I don't know that?'

'Dev-dada, I am dying. I never got to serve you—it has been the desire of my whole life—'

Wiping his eyes in the dark, Devdas replied—'There is time for that yet.'

'Then come to my place; there is no one here to look after you!'

'Will you take great care of me if I go to your house?'

'The desire of my childhood! Oh Lord in heaven! Fulfill this one desire of mine! If I die after that—I will have no regrets.'

This time tears spilled from Devdas's eyes as well.

Parvati spoke again, 'Dev-dada, come to my house.'

Wiping his eyes, Devdas said, 'Alright, I will.'

'Touch me and swear, you will go?'

Guiding himself by guesswork, Devdas touched Parvati's feet and said, 'I will never forget this. If caring for me dispels your sorrow—I shall go. Even before I die, I will remember this promise.'