অনুবাদ ।। রবীন্দ্রনাথের 'স্ত্রীরপত্র' ।। Letter of Wife By Ranesh Ray

 

Letter of Wife

Translated version of 'Streerpotro' By Rabindranath Tagore

Ranesh Ray

With my humble submission, 

Dear

We got married fifteen years back. Never before I wrote you a letter. In person remained close to you all the days. Both we used to talk a lot face to face. So there was no need to write a letter. This is my first and last letter to you, a humble submission of mine.

At this hour today I am on a pilgrimage  to visit Jagannath temple in Puri. You must be at your business in your office. You are associated  with Calcutta like a snail in a shell. Got stitched with Calcutta in body and soul. So you did not apply for a leave of absence. It must have been the intention of the Almighty. He has given sanction to my leave petition.

I am whom your family addresses  ‘Mejo Bou’, the wife of the second eldest son. Standing on the shore of the ocean I realise today that with my earth and its creator I have a further relation. So I dare to write this letter-------not to be treated as a letter from Mejobou.

Except he who has destined our relation nobody of your family could guess the possibility of this relation to grow. In that infancy of mine my brother and I fell  victim to the virus of typhoid. My brother expired but I survived. All the woman neighbours opined, ‘Mrinal survived simply because she is a girl. Had she been  a lad, she could not have survived.’  The masterminded thief, the greedy Yam, the king of death,  has always a greed for  valuables. 

Death overlooks me, does not touch. To make you understand this fact, I have taken a pen in my hand.

I was only twelve when you visited  our home with your friend Nirad to adjudge me your possible bride. Our home was in a distant inaccessible remote village where jackals cry in the day. A travel  of fourteen miles and then a walk of six along the inaccessible unpaved path from the station was to be made. What an embarrassment you had to face that day? Above all the food of  East Bengal, cooked ---- the satire of it your uncle has not forgotten yet.

Her elder daughter-in-law was not that pretty. So your mother had a strong desire to make good of it with the second daughter-in-law. Otherwise why it prompted you to take so much trouble to visit our village. In Bengal there is no dearth of jaundice hepatitis heartburn or bride----they are made available in plenty on their own. They come without being invited but do not leave.

Heart beating of my father throbbed up and my mother started praying to Goddess Durga. How can a native priest satisfy the city God? All depend on the evaluation of beauty of the daughter by strangers. The appreciation of her beauty depends on those who offer the price.  What price they will offer that will be her value. Her pride of beauty is of no value. The uncertainty of a girl in such matters cannot be ruled out whatever quality she may have unless the strangers value her in appropriate terms.

So I have been pressed down under the pressure of a stone on my heart.  My family along with the neighbourhood were apprehensive about the outcome. I was dying in shame that day before two pairs of eyes  of the strangers who came to examine me as examiners. Nowhere I could hide myself as the whole  sky light and all the forces of the world acted as supervisor to keep vigilance on me so that I appear in the exam properly without any attempt to cheat----I could not keep anything hidden that day. It was ensured that a girl of twelve years be exposed naked to two unknowns without keeping secret anything of her own.

The flute started to play. It made the sky  cry and weep---- I made my entry to your house. I was examined closely by the team of housewives who tried to find flaws with me. But what all they had to admit was my beauty without much fault. My elderly sister-in-law appeared to be depressed on hearing the judgment of the house. Her face turned grim. Alas ! Was it necessary for me to be beautiful, I wondered. If a traditional sculpture with clay would have sculpted something beautiful it might have been better appreciated with regard. But unfortunately the Almighty created me to satisfy his own pleasure and hence it bears no value in your family life of religion.

You took no time to forget the fact that I am beautiful. But in your memory the fact  that I have intelligence keeps alive. You had to accept it. At every step of your life all you are reminded of it. So intrinsic is the quality inherent in me that even though  I spent a long time in your household kitchen my intelligence  remained unrusted. Your uncle was worried about my intelligence. He took it as an embarrassment for a woman. When she has to live within a prescribed bondage of social wisdom but wants to lead her life on her own intelligence, misfortune engulfs her. She is confronted with odds in life. Her fate gets pierced. But what can I do? I am helpless as the Almighty did not take care of it  when he created me more intelligent than the other women in our society. He enriched me with more intelligence than what I needed for your family. Whom should I entrust to share the excess that Almighty provided to me? Your family assaulted me all the time. I have been abused and called a naughty lady. I know that only a disabled resorts to such assault. So I decided to forgive them all.

Something else in me was there beyond  your family household management that you could never guess. That was my ability to write poems. I used to write poems in secret. Whatever it might be, good or bad, no wall of your female chamber could obstruct my entry to that end. There I enjoyed my freedom--- it was my independent identity. I discovered myself within me. You never liked my qualities beyond the orbit of your family necessities that made me an independent personality. Neither  could you identify those qualities.  Even after fifteen years you failed to know my identity as a poet.

The cow shed of your house was my first  attraction among all that still shines so bright and strong in my memory. By the left side of the staircase of the inner chamber of your house the cowshed was there where the cows used to take shelter. The front yard was their only open space to roam around. In the wooden basin at a corner of the yard the fodder for the cows was used to be kept in store. The caretaker servant had many other jobs to do. So he was late to take care of them. By that time  the starved cows used to lick and bite the sides of the basin to satisfy their hunger. Being a village daughter I felt bad. My heart cried for them. When I first came here the two cows and their   calves appeared to be my closest ever known relatives among all in the town. So long I remained a new bride in your house I used to feed them in secret even if  I had to forgo my share of meals and remained in fast. When I grew older some of your family members started ridiculing me, noticing my attachment with the cows and casted doubt  about my caste.

Immediately after  birth my daughter expired. She wanted me to be her associate. If she would have survived, everything that is noble, all that is true for my life, she would have brought for me. I could enjoy the honour of motherhood and not remain a mere daughter-in-law in your house. Apart from being a part of a family, a mother becomes a co-sharer of the world. Pain of motherhood pinched me but the feeling of emancipation bared me.

The English doctor of your family who is still in my memory got surprised and disturbed to visit our inner chamber of the house. He expressed his anger and scolded us seeing the labour room. A small garden was there in front of your house. The rooms are beautifully decorated and furnished. But the condition of the inner parts is just the reverse. It appears to be the reverse side of the artwork in silk. It speaks of the wretched condition of a rich heritage lacking modesty, grace and adornment. The dimming light glow meekly, the wind sneaks through like a thief, the rubbish in the yard is spread over. The floor and wall expose the wretched and blemished condition of the house. But the doctor made a mistake. He thought that this wretched condition is the cause of our humiliation, this remains a source of unhappiness for our family. But in reality it is just the reverse. Negligence is a store of ashes the fire of which is in flame within itself, it cannot be felt on the surface. If self-respect is lost, this negligence one is accustomed with. So it does not pain one when neglected. That is why the womanhood in our society is ashamed even to feel unhappy. Negligence does not touch them. So if in your system imparting unhappiness  is the fate for womanhood I suggest you ensure unhappiness for them,   you simply neglect them. It is better to keep them neglected otherwise their pain is intensified with care being taken for them. In whatever condition you put me I never feel the brunt of unhappiness. The feeling does not come to me. In the labour room the death haunted me but I was not afraid. What meaning our life bears  so that we have to fear death. Whose life is bonded with care and affection they don't want to die. If Yama (King of Death) would have pulled me back that day, I would have taken no time to be rooted out at ease like a loose clod of grass on the earth. Bengali girls are fond of such death at will.  But is there any credit to such death?  It is so easy a task that we feel ashamed to die. 

My daughter,  like an evening star, dawned for a moment only to set  in no time. Again I got back to my  daily routine of the family. Got myself involved with the cows and calves. Life could have  passed  as usual till the end. In fact it would have been unnecessary to write the letter to you. But in the air an insignificant seed blows to  be stuck on a concrete wall to be bloomed in bud of a tree. So powerful it is that  ultimately it breaks the ribs of brick and mortar. Similarly a spark from nowhere flew into the wall of my concrete family life. It has been cracking since then. 

After the death of her widowed mother, to protect herself from the tyranny of her cousins, Bindu came to our house with her elder cousin, my sister in law. All of you apprehended what kind of nuisance she would be for your family. My accursed nature could not toe with your apprehension. I am helpless. Cannot go against my nature. Finding all of you to be annoyed, my heart cried for Bindu and wanted to leap to the aid of the poor homeless girl. It is really a humiliation for the girl to seek shelter in one's house against their will. How can I protect her from such humiliation when she is forced to accept it under circumstances, that became my concern.

Then I saw the condition of my sister-in-law. She took her cousin to our family out of mere compassion. But when she saw her husband to be unwilling, she turned around. After all she is a faithful loyal attendant of her husband by custom. She started to consider Bindu as her burden. She wanted to be relieved of her by getting rid of her. She did not dare to open her heart to show affection to Bindu, her orphaned cousin.

It pained me severely to see my sister-in-law in a mental crisis. She showed everybody what frugal arrangement of food and clothing she made for Bindu. She engaged Bindu in domestic works like a maid servant of the family. She tried to prove that to the benefit of the family  she was using Bindu at low cost. Because of her Bindu  gave hectic service for which  the family had to bear a nominal cost. Seeing all these I have not only felt sorry but I felt ashamed. 

The family of the father of my elder sister-in-law had nothing than the heritage-----neither financial support nor the beauty of a daughter. You better know how she got married in your family. Her father had to bow down to the feet of my father-in-law and submitted himself to the  cause of marriage. She always considered her marriage to be an injustice to her family--‐--she took it as a heinous crime on the part of your family. In every respect she kept herself sunk as far as possible. She occupied a very little space in your family.

Her  faithful appeasing character was an embarrassment to us. I cannot dishonour myself and sink down to that low level. In order to please anybody it is not possible for me to disown my own belief and consider that to be good which I believe to be bad---- you have got enough proof of that.

I called Bindu to my own room. Didi, my elder-sister in-law, opined that I indulge a girl of poor family to cause a spoil for your family. As if I have done a crime. She started complaining to everybody against me. But I am sure that she got relief and is happy from the core of her heart since henceforth the burden  of blame game I have to bear. She may  find escape in me. She was scared to show her affection to her sister in an open forum. Now it may be compensated through me. That will give her satisfaction.She will feel at ease. My sister-in-law  always claimed that by age she is junior to Bindu. She used to deduct one or two digits from her age. But her age was not less than fourteen. There is nothing wrong in admitting the fact  in private. You better know that she was so ugly that if she gets injured by throwing her head off the floor everybody feels worried for the floor but not for her. In fact except her parents none you will find who would have taken care to arrange her marriage. It is doubtful if you find anybody who has the mental strength to get her married.

Bindu appeared  before me with great hesitation and apprehension as if her touch might cause contamination. She remained always conscious to avoid people and kept herself beyond the vision of them. As though she was not supposed to take birth in this world, her birth was not conditioned---- it was accidental only. Her cousins at home never left for her a minimum space where a piece of rubbish might find shelter. Unnecessary wastage even get space here and there in a corner of a room without haste as  people ignore them. But unnecessary women are useless spoils but it is difficult to ignore them. So do not get any space in a dustbin. But it cannot be claimed that her elder cousins  are that price worthy to be considered unsparable in world. Still they are thriving, keeping well in life.

When on my call Bindu entered my room she was trembling in fear. I was shocked to see her so scared. With great care and affection I took her to my side and ensured  that there would always remain a little space for her in my room .

But my room does not belong to me alone. So my task was not that easy. Within a few days after she moved in, red spots appeared on her skin. To me it was not rash but something else. But to  you it was smallpox. It was smallpox because she was Bindu. A quack doctor of your locality adjudged that immediately it cannot be said with certainty. It  will take a few days to be sure. But none of you had the patience to wait for two days. Bindu was about to die in shame of being attacked by the disease. I dared to say that even if it is pox I will stay with her in the cow shade to take care of her. None requires  getting involved in it. All you became furious. It appeared that you could even  beat me up in anger. Even the elder sister of Bindu expressed annoyance and proposed to hospitalise her. By this time all the marks of body disappeared. All you turned more apprehensive and opined that the pox must have settled within the body. It is because she is none but  Bindu.

If one is brought up in negligence and remains uncared for, it is beneficial since the body gets immune and he grows immortal. Illness is a rare incident in his life.The doors of death remain bolted tight. So for Bindu also. It is a mockery of sickness that played with her life but ultimately did no harm. It is beyond question that  to provide shelter to the marginalised people is a most difficult task in life. Their necessity of a shelter is not that important but the problem in the way to provide them shelter is great.

When Bindu got rid of my fear, her hesitation was over, she was confronted with a new problem. She fell in love with me so intensely that I got scared. Never before in my life  have I seen such deep love. I have gone through a story of love in a book, that too love between men and women. There was no reason  for me to recapitulate the fact that I am beautiful. But with my beauty this ugly girl became preoccupied. There was no end to her lust to gaze at me. She used to say, ‘None  but me could discover you in your beautiful face. None else can see this face.’ On the day when I dressed my hair, she used to become upset. She loved playing with my mass of hair in her finger. There was no need for me to dress up unless I had to attend any invitation, I had to get ready. But Bindu used to force me to insist on getting properly dressed everyday in a way or another. She used to force me to submit to her insistence. An obsession I found in her with regard to my dressing. It made her mad to get me dressed up.

Not an inch of land remained open in the inner chamber of your house. In the northern part next to the drain by the side of the wall, an ebony tree  grew  up somehow. When I saw the ebony tree to be adorned in fresh reddish leaves, I anticipated that spring was arriving on arrival in the earth. In the midst of her cumbersome preoccupation with domestics, Bindu’s soul was also adorned in  reddish colour to my belief. I realised that the spring breeze blows soft in the heart of the girl also----- it blows down from the heaven unknown and definitely not from the junction of the lane.

Bindu’s irresistible passion of love for me perturbed me, it caused restlessness in me. I admit that I used to be agonised sometimes, but in her love I found my own self that I never saw in my life. That is my liberated self. 

My affectionate care for Bindu appeared to be too much, an excess to all of you.You felt endless irritation for it, it was disturbing for you and you reacted. Ugly words were showered on me. There was no end of  constant bickering. You were not ashamed to blame Bindu on the day when a necklace from your room was stolen. You shamelessly hinted at Bindu for the misdeed. When police raided your house in search of the rebels, you opined that Bindu was a police spy. No proof was there in favour of your allegation. The only proof was that she was Bindu.

Your maid servant used to refuse any job for Bindu---- if I would have directed them to get such work done, the girl used to sink down in shame and embarrassment. Due to all these my family expenses went up as I had to engage someone else to get the things done for Bindu and bear the expense. It was not to your liking.  When I gave Bindu the extra clothes to wear you got so annoyed that you stopped paying me my pocket money. From the very next day I started wearing mill made course clothes that cost only five quarters. I  no longer allowed to take the dish that I used to eat. I myself took it to the tap in the yard to wash. I used the leftovers to feed the calves. With this in sight you were not happy. I never acquired the craftsmanship to please  anybody unconditionally, irrespective of your effort to do the same for me or not. This minimum sense I could not attain yet that you need not do anything to please me  but I have acted to please you all.

By this time Bindu grew in age as your rage grew within you. It was your unnatural growth in rage whereas Bindu started to grow in natural way in age. It surprised me that when I gave indulgence to Bindu why you did not throw her out. I understand it is because all you were scared of me and of my intelligence that is the gift of Almighty to me since my birthood. You could not but had to admit that. 

At last failing to get rid of Bindu   you resorted to a different policy. You prayed for the grace of the goddess of marriage. A groom for Bindu was arranged for. My sister-in-law exclaimed, ‘Whar a great relief ! Family prestige has been saved. Thank God, so kind of you.‘

Groom was unknown to me. What kind of  man he was, I did not know. You certified him to be a good suitable match. Bindu fell to my feet and started crying. She wanted to know, ‘ Why are you so eager to get me married.‘ In fact I had no answer to her question. Still I said to console her, ‘ Don't get upset, I have been told that he is quite a good match.‘ 

‘If that be so, why should he choose me to get married? What should I have to be matched ?‘ asked Bindu further. 

The groom‘s family showed no interest to see Bindu, even once to look at her. It appeared that my elder sister in law got extremely relieved.

But there was no end to Bindu‘s weeping for a while, he wept day and night. It was known to me better  what made her unhappy. For her I had to take a great fight  with you and your family. But did not care to ask you to call off the marriage. On the strength of what could I suggest to you that. In case I would die, what would have happened to her ? She was a girl, moreover she was black skinned. So it was useless to wonder which family she was getting married to, what would happen to her after marriage. If it is bothered, it is frightening.

Five days before the wedding   Bindu told me,‘ Is there no way for me to die before the wedding takes place.‘ ?

I scolded her, gave her a thrash. But it is better known to the Almighty that I would have felt relieved if Bindu would have died a natural death.

Day before the wedding Bindu urged  her elder cousin and begged to say, ‘I will take shelter in the cow shed, will do whatever you want me  to do. I bow down to your feet-----please do not through me out.‘

Since a few days back the elder cousin wept for Bindu, it poured tears from her eyes. That day too she cried for her sister. But it is not a matter of heart alone. There is also a social custom that matters for women in our society. So she said,‘ Bindi you realise the fact that to a woman husband is everything. Your freedom and salvation all are to be met through him. If fate is undone, it keeps  something unfortunate, stored in your forehead for you; nobody can stop it.’

The reality in   Bindu’s life is more harsh and more cruel. She had no option, no way out but to get married. It is mandatory whatever be the outcome of the fate.

It was my desire to get the wedding arranged in our house. But your family forced to get it held in the groom's house. I was sure that the expense to be born for that your household deity would have not agreed to bear that. Hence I had to keep mum. Beyond all these there was something that was not known to any of you. I wanted to tell it to my sister-in-law but I could not as I apprehended that the news would have caused death to her in sheer fear. I adorned Bindu in secret with some of my ornaments. It might have been in her notice but she pretended as if she did not know. I beg to you, may god bless, please forgive her.

On the occasion of her leaving our house Bindu embraced me around my neck and said, ‘ Didi, at last you get rid of me, leave me abandoned.’

I told her,’ Not at all.Till the end I will remain with you, you will not be abandoned.’

Time passed by in three days. A lamb, to be slaughtered, was presented by your subjects. I gave protection  to the lamb providing  shelter in a corner of the coal shed and saved it from the rage of your hungry womb. Every morning before everything I used to feed the lamb grains. I noticed that if the things are left to your servants, they are more fond of slaughtering it to satisfy their appetite .

The other day, on entering the room, I found Bindu crouching in fear and sorrow at a corner of the shed. Seeing me enter she flung herself down on my feet and started crying in silence.

I was told that Bindu’s husband was mad.

‘Is it so’ ? I asked  Bindu.

Do you believe that I lied to you,Didi? Really he is mad. This marriage was not to the liking of my father-in-law but he was scared of my mother in law. Before the wedding he left his house for Kashi. My mother in law was adamant to get her son married.

I felt heavy in my heart. On a heap of coal stuck down to sit. One woman is the enemy of the other. One does not spare the other. ‘Bindu is nothing but a woman'.They argue,’what is wrong in it that my son is mad. He is a man  after all.’

It did not always appear clearly that Bindu’s husband was mad. But sometimes the situation turns vicious, he becomes wildly mad. He had to be abandoned and locked up. On the wedding night he was seen to be alright, he was stable. But remaining awake all night and many more disturbances with the customs led him to be unstable very next day. But in the afternoon when Bindu sat to take her lunch for herself on a brass plate, suddenly her husband snatched the plate full of rice to throw it out on the yard. All of a sudden it appeared to her mind that Bindu is a queen. The gold plate was stolen by the servant and instead served her queen  in his own plate. He got furious. Bindu was about to  collapse in fear. When her mother-in-law directed her to share her bed with husband on the third night, Bindu’s heart stopped breathing in fear. Bindu’s mother-in-law was wildly tempered— once annoyed loses her control. She was mad but not fully. And it is more dangerous to be half mad, not to be entirely insane. Having no choice left, Bindu had to enter husband's room to share a bed with him.  Frightened, she was in fear. But fortunately for Bindu, her husband remained calm and stable that night. Bindu freezed to ice. Late at night when her husband remained asleep Bindu made a trick to find escape. No use discussing about that in detail here.

It was hatred that burnt me, I was inflamed.

‘Is it a marriage for a girl, the marriage by compulsion?’ I wonder. I drew Bindu close to me and said,’ Don't hesitate to come to me to live with  as you used to do. I want to see who dares to take you away from me.’

‘Bindu is lying’ All you were in chorus.

‘No, it is not her lie’ I exclaimed.

‘ Are you sure’? You questioned me

‘Yes’ I replied in affirmative, in confidence.

‘If a police case is filed, we will be put in trouble.’ A warning to scare me on your family's part.

‘Will not the judge be wise enough to give heed to us  if we  make the complaint that it is by trick they gave the marriage of their mad son to our daughter’?  I advocated.

‘It means we have to recourse to court. But how can it be our responsibility?  

 ‘I will sell all my jewellery to do what I ought to.’ I opined.

‘Then you must have a plan to consult a law expert’. Your family told me.

I found no answer. I know I can spite my forehead but what more?

By this time the elder brother of Bindu's husband rushed into our house to create a scene, and threatened us to take the case to the police.

Not known to me what strength I possess to fight these odds. But  it is not acceptable to me that when a poor cow who found escape from a butcher and has taken shelter to me out of the fear of death would now be prosecuted to be butchered.

I got the courage from nowhere to rebel and say,’ Iet them take the case to the police.’

Saying this I have decided to take Bindu to my room and get the room locked and we remain seated in the room. But I could not search Bindu out. She is found nowhere nearby. She has left. When I was in dispute to argue with all of you Bindu submitted herself to her elder brother-in-law. She was embarrassed and ashamed to put me in trouble for her own cause. Her shelter to me could put me in a hurdle.

By finding escape Bindu invited more worse for herself. Her mother-in-law placed the logic that her son was not going to swallow her up. There is no dearth of even worse husbands than her son. Her son in comparison to all them for all practical purposes is much better and may be considered to be a jewel. 

My elder daughter-in-law argued,’ What is the use of feeling sigh over it as it is the fate of this wretched girl without the blessing of  god. It has to be accepted, mad or bad fox or ox, to a woman husband is husband after all’.

I was reminded of the faithful virtuous wife who took her leprous husband to a prostitute for the remission of his disease.   You, the males,  are never ashamed of even slightly to sight examples of these cowardly filthy stories of abominable kinds. This is why all you human beings feel no hesitation, no embarrassment to be annoyed with the behaviour of Bindu. Shameless you are. My heart cried for Bindu, it broke for her. I feel ashamed of you all. I am  a girl from a wretched village, moreover incidentally happened to be a member of your family. Why God blessed me with such intelligence, not understandable. Kind of your family righteousness I fail to stand.

  

It was my conviction that  Bindu would  not return back to this house, even if she would die. But  it was my  assurance to her before her wedding that I would never abandon her in my lifetime.

My younger brother Sarat was studying in a Calcutta college. You better know that he was more enthusiastic to volunteer for different social services like  killing rats in prevention of plague, visiting the flooded areas around Damodar river to the aid of the people . He was so engrossed in social services that he bothered little about his F.A exam. It mattered little to him about his failure in two successive years. He was not upset. I told him, ‘Arrange to find out the whereabouts of Bindu and let me know. She will not write to me. Even if she writes the letter will not  reach me’.

I know Sarat would have been happier if I would have suggested him to bring Bindu, even if necessary would have resorted to the act of kidnap.    Or crack the head of her mad husband instead.

By this time you entered and intervened in my discussion with Sarat and asked.” what further trouble are you inviting?”

“The same that I invited  for you all on my very arrival. But it was your family's business to bring me here.” I answered.

"Have you done the nuisance to bring back Bindu again and kept her hidden somewhere?” You asked me.

‘ If Bindu could have been brought I would have kept her hidden.’ I gave the reply in desperation.

None of your family liked Sarat ever visiting here. Obviously Sarat’s visit to me made you  suspicious. You were caught in a fever of apprehension since the police kept him under watch. If he would get involved in a political case you feared to get implicated. For apprehension of you I never could invite my brother even in this house on the occasion of  bhai phota ritual. Therefore I used to perform the function through a messenger.

From you I got the message that Bindu found escape again. Her brother-in-law came here in apprehension that she took shelter here. As if an arrow pierced my body. The fact that the girl was in terrible condition broke my heart. But I remained helpless to  do something for her.

Sarat became worried and rushed  to me to feed me the fact that Bindu begged shelter to  her uncle's sons but they became furious and took her back to her husband. The money they had to spend and the trouble they took for this they cannot forget even today. The rage of it still bites them.

Your aunt came to your house with the purpose to visit Puri, a land of pilgrims .  I told you,’ I will also go’.

All you became so happy with my religious allegiance that none of you objected. An apprehension also engulfed you so strongly that if I stay in Calcutta I might invite fresh trouble for your family involving Bindu. That also acted in you to give sanction to me. With me you were embarrassed and what a trouble I was to you.

Our date of journey was fixed to be Wednesday. By Sunday all arrangements were met.  I told Sarat, ‘On Wednesday by any means you have to arrange the train journey for Bindu. You have to board Bindu in the train.’

A flash of light on Sarat‘s face appeared. He said,’Don't  get worried Didi.I will board her along with me straight to reach Puri. It is a chance for me  to visit the Jagannath temple without a cost.

In the evening of the very date Sarat returned to me. Seeing his face my heart trembled. I turned suspicious to ask ’What is the wrong Sarat ? It did not click.’ ‘No’ Sarat answered. ‘ Could you not persuade her?’

Sarat said ‘It is all over, no longer required. Last night she set herself in fire only to die. The nephew with whom I made friendship intimated me. She left a letter for you. But the letter they burnt to be destroyed.

Oh ! To our relief, peace is brought in.

The country's people became furious. ‘ A new fashion today it is.’

All you said, ’It is a drama.’ Might be. But why is such a drama staged for Bengali girls alone. They have to bear the brunt of the comedy. Why for the male heroes of the society such drama is not staged. Why the brunt of such comedy is not borne by the crinkled dhotis of Bengali valorous males. 

Bindu’s fate always remained dark under the cover of cloud. It was wretched  not only in her lifetime but even beyond death. For her beauty, for her accomplishment not a single praise she earned. In the matter of death no new technique could she invent that would inspire the men to applaud in appreciation. She was only the cause of enragement to the people.

My sister-in-law must have wept in secret. But there was a consolation. Her tears helped her to be consoled. Whatever tragedy it might be but for your family it was a relief  as a crisis could have been averted. She had to die and she died. That was all that mattered. It is frightening to imagine what might happen if Bindu would not die, she would have remained alive.

I am on a pilgrimage tour. It was not necessary for Bindu so she escaped. But for me it is a necessity. So I was on my journey to earn the blessing of God.

In your family what people call  suffering I did not have. There was no dearth of fooding and clothing. Whatever blemish might be in the character of your elder brother no such adverse was there that could have shaded  black spot on your character,  for which I could have blamed  my fate. If your character was like your elder brother  my days would have passed  as usual.   And like my virtuous elder sister-in-law I would have blamed not my husband god but the almighty.

So it is not my intention to play any blame game with you. Nothing to complaint against you. The letter is not written with that purpose. But I am sure that I will not return to your house at 27 Makhan Badal Lane. I have seen Bindu, what respect a woman gets, what is her identity I have come to know. Nothing I require further. I have also seen that she was a tough women, God has not disposed of her. Whatever you might have, whatever might you could enforce, it had a limitation. She was greater than your ill-fated birth as a human being. With all your might you tried her life grinded under your feet at your will forever, but it was not that easy——you are not that powerful. Death is more powerful than you. She turned great in her death——she was not merely a girl in a Bengali family, not a helpless sister of her cousin,not merely a deprived wife of her insane stranger husband——- she turned eternal in her death.

When the song of death was sung in flute through the broken heart of the girl it appeared to be the stream flowing through my heart. As if I was stricken in my heart by an arrow. I asked my Allmighty why the tiniest thing in the world is the hardest nut to crack? Why in this lane the fragile bubble of wall unhappiness is such a fearful impediment to life? Your world wine in hand illuminates light alluringly with dancing of six seasons and calls me. Why did I fail to cross the door-sill of this inner chamber even for a moment? Why should I die inch by inch with my horrible agony behind the barricaded shabby wall of bricks around the world you entrusted to me. How wretched is this daily routine? Meaningless insignificant are the rules and customs of life. Painful tortures are the laws of life. In the last analysis all these will cause to uphold the victory of sin that embraces life like a poisonous snake.But it will be the defeat of Almighty’s joyful loving universe that He intended to create.

The flute was playing in rhythm——but the mason built a wall,where was it? Where was the barrier of thorns made of your domestic rules? How long could you keep people imprisoned in sorrows and humiliation?

You see in the hand of death the victory flag of life is on fly, oh Mejo Bou don’t get frightened any more. It will not take even a moment to uncover the cover of skin of your Mejobou.

You are thinking that I will commit homicide by killing myself on my own. Don’t fear, I am not going to make such an age old foolish joke with you in such a fashion. Mirabai was also a lady like me——her chain was no less heavy, still to live it was not necessary for her to die. She sang the song of life——

‘Father or mother may abandon me, Everyone else may forsake, 

But my Lord ! Meera stuck firmly to life Whatever be the consequence.’ 

Not to give up but stay. I will keep alive. This aspiration to keep alive is the life to live in.

With humble submission, no regret no shame

Your Mejo Bou