Fate Quotes, Sayings about Destiny
  
  
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Quotations about Fate
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That's life & whichever way you turn, fate sticks out its foot to trip you. ~Martin Goldsmith & Martin Mooney, Detour, 1945, spoken by the character Al Roberts
On a windswept hill
by a billowing sea,
my destiny sits
and waits for me.
~Robert Brault,
Fo he cannot go to it. ~James Lendall Basford (), Seven Seventy Seven Sensations, 1897
It is not what life brings us, but the manner in which we receive it, that shapes our destiny. ~Marie Dubsky, Freifrau von Ebner-Eschenbach (), translated by Mrs Annis Lee Wister, 1882
Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are
the way you play it is free will. ~Jawaharlal Nehru
Lots of folks confuse bad management with destiny. ~Kin Hubbard
Failure and success seem to have been allotted to men by their stars. But they retain the power of wriggling, of fighting with their star or against it, and in the whole universe the only really interesting movement is this wriggle. ~E.M. Forester
If fate means you to lose, give him a good fight anyhow. ~William McFee
Sometimes, perhaps, we are allowed to get lost that we may find the right person to ask directions of. ~Robert Brault,
There’s much to be said for challenging fate instead of ducking behind it. ~Diana Trilling
He that is born to be hanged shall never be drowned. ~Author Unknown
Fate laughs at probabilities. ~Edward George Earle Bulwer-Lytton
They... who await
No gifts from Chance, have conquered Fate.
~Matthew Arnold, "Resignation," 1849
A door that seems to stand open must be a man’s size, or it is not the door that Providence means for him. ~Henry Ward Beecher
A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. ~Jean de La Fontaine
The last I heard from my destiny, it wanted me to make a legal U-Turn at my next opportunity. ~Robert Brault,
We cannot bear to regard ourselves simply as playth we cannot admit to feeling ourselves abandoned. ~Ugo Betti, Struggle till Dawn, 1949
You know that saying, that when God closes a door he opens a window, well, sometimes out of nowhere he’ll do you one better and he’ll kick a whole wall down. ~Glee, "Furt" (season 2, episode 8, original airdate November 23, 2010), written by Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Ian Brennan, spoken by the character Burt Hummel
Accept the things to which fate binds you and love the people with whom fate brings you together, and do so with all your heart. ~Marcus Aurelius
Amor Fati & "Love Your Fate," which is in fact your life. ~Friedrich Nietzsche
Sometimes what we believe as coincidence is really just getting ourselves caught in an angel booby trap. ~Terri Guillemets
Alas, by the time Fate caught up with my life, Chance had it all planned. ~Robert Brault,
He is God-like who pulls hard against the swift stream of Fate, though he may go over the terrible Niagara of circumstances. ~James Lendall Basford (), Seven Seventy Seven Sensations, 1897
The pulse of destiny still shook the foundations of the world. The will that had willed this thing to happen had now another will to deal with&nor should the stream of Fate swallow up his heart without a cry. ~Frederic Jesup Stimson, In Cure of Her Soul, 1906, wording slightly altered
There is an unseen life that dreams us. It knows our true direction and destiny. We can trust ourselves more than we realize and we need have no fear of change. ~John O’Donohue
Again, you can’t connect the
you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something & your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life. ~Steve Jobs
The light goes out on purpose sometimes so we can get lost and then realize we weren't even on the right path to begin with. ~Michelle Christine, December 2009 entry to The Quote Garden create your own quote contest on
It is sad when two people turn from the paths they’re traveling, and their paths go on to cross without them. ~Robert Brault,
Destiny = our free will + God’s free will ~Terri Guillemets
Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant, filled with odd waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don’t always like. ~Lemony Snicket
I’m not absolutely certain of the facts, but I rather fancy it’s Shakespeare who says that it’s always just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping. ~P.G. Wodehouse
Unseen in the background, Fate was quietly slipping lead into the boxing-glove. ~P.G. Wodehouse
Whose madness was a challenge hurled at fate... ~Edgar Fawcett, "At a Window," Songs of Doubt and Dream, 1891
Fate loves the fearless. ~James Russell Lowell
If you do not do what you are supposed to do in life, the universe will do it for you. ~Kim Russo, "The Haunting Of… Meat Loaf" (original airdate 2015 October 22nd, season 4, episode 20)
We are all subject to the fates. But we must act as if we are not, or die of despair. ~Philip Pullman
Our destiny hides among our free choices, disguised as the free-est of all. ~Robert Brault,
And yet&and yet&ah, who understands?
We men and women are complex things!
A hundred tunes Fate's inexorable hands
May play on the sensitive soul-strings.
~Amy Levy, "In a Minor Key (An Echo from a Larger Lyre)," c.1884
A man does not make his destiny: he accepts it or denies it. ~Ursula K. Le Guin
No destiny attacks us from outside. But, within him, man bears his fate and there comes a moment when he know and then, as in a vertigo, blunder upon blunder lures him. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
You are fate’s shadow or fate’s sun, depending on which way you turn. ~Terri Guillemets
I have a wife, I have sons: all of them hostages given to fate. ~Lucan
The place you are right now
God circled on a map for you.
I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere am those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love. ~W.B. Yeats
[O]ne of my favorite Sufi poems... says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen. ~Elizabeth Gilbert
O! I am fortune’s fool. ~William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear. ~Charlotte Bront?
Life calls the tune, we dance. ~ John Galsworthy
When an inner situation is not made conscious it appears outside as fate. ~Carl Jung
Sometimes fate brings two people together by causing one to misinterpret a smile. ~Robert Brault,
No man ever wetted clay and then left it, as if there would be bricks by chance and fortune. ~Plutarch
Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill. ~Arthur Conan Doyle
I am alone this evening... because of a cruel twist of fate, a phrase which here means that nothing has happened the way I thought it would. Once I was a content man, with a comfortable home, a successful career, a person I loved very much, and an extremely reliable typewriter, but all of those things have been taken away from me.... As I sit in this very tiny room, printing these words with a very large pencil, I feel as if my whole life has been nothing but a dismal play, presented just for someone else’s amusement, and that the playwright who invented my cruel twist of fate is somewhere far above me, laughing and laughing at his creation. ~Lemony Snicket
I shall seize fate by the throat. ~Ludwig van Beethoven
The fire of destiny won't warm you until you get there. ~Terri Guillemets
Fate, Chance, God’s Will & we all try to account for our lives somehow. What are the chances that two raindrops, flung from the heavens, will merge on a windowpane? Gotta be Fate. ~Robert Brault,
Coincidences are little hellos from heaven. ~Theresa Caputo, Long Island Medium [S7, E5, 2016]
Thank you to Garson O'Toole, , for his excellent research on the below four related quotations! //coincidence  «tεᖇᖇ¡·g»
[W]hat is called chance is the instrument of Providence... ~Horace Walpole, 1777 letter to Countess of Ossory
Chance is a nickname of Providence. ~Sébastien-Roch Nicolas (Chamfort) (c.), translated from French
Chance is perhaps the pseudonym of God when he does not want to sign. ~Théophile Gautier, c.1845, translated from French
Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous. ~Charlotte Clemensen Taylor, 1986   [Previous "remain anonymous" versions by other authors had been circulating since at least 1976. &tεᖇᖇ¡·g]
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根据问他()题库系统分析，
试题“My life suffered a lot in a su...”，相似的试题还有：
My life suffered a lot in a summer five years ago. My father died in a car accident, leaving my mother, my two younger brothers and I alone. At that time, I was a senior high school student. After my father’s funeral (葬礼), I had no choice but to drop out of school and work in a factory.I really wanted to return to school and wanted to go to college, but I couldn’t. I only hoped to bring up my two younger brothers. Life was not easy for me, for I can’t afford their tuition (学费) even if I worked from day to night without stopping. Without my father’s protection, I thought I was a slave (奴隶) to the fate.Later on, something changed my life. I still remember that it was a rainy day. I put myself in the rain and walked slowly in the street.Suddenly the rain stopped! I raised my head and found “the sky” was in fact a dark blue umbrella. Then I noticed a middle-aged man with one leg on crutch (拐杖) standing behind me. He said to me, “Why not run without an umbrella? If you didn’t run, you would get drenched.”The man told me that he was promoter (推销员). He once dreamed of being a policeman, but an accident ruined (毁灭) his dream. Though his present job was not suitable for his legs, it was wonderful start to him. He was very happy that he didn’t lose heart and still “ran” on the road of life…I was encouraged by the man’s words. I went to a big city and I became an assurance representative (保险代理人). After two years’ running, I did well and my family condition turned better little by little. Later I returned to school and succeeded in my entrance to university.Life is like this. When you are in rainy days in your life, if you couldn’t find a way to prevent you from being wet, you would be overwhelmed (被制服). But if you decide to get rid of it, you’ll discover that the rainy days last not so long as you imagine.
【小题1】What happened to the writer at the beginning of the story?&A．His father died in a car accident six years ago.B．He didn’t have money to hold the funeral for his father.C．He had to drop out of school to look after his sick mother.D．He couldn’t afford his two brothers’ tuition even if he worked from day to night.【小题2】About the middle-aged man with one leg on crutch, which of the following is NOT true?A．He lost one leg in an accident.B．He had dreamed of being a policeman.C．He became a promoter after an accident.D．He had a good job which was suitable for him very well.【小题3】What does the underlined word “drenched” mean in Chinese?A．干燥的B．湿透的C．紧张的D．舒服的【小题4】What’s the main idea of the sixth paragraph?A．The writer learned from the man and the situation soon got better.B．The writer didn’t want to listen to the man and left without any word.C．The writer had to give up his dream and became a promoter as the man.D．The writer made friends with the man and they got on well with each other.【小题5】Which is the best title for the passage?A．Try to Be Independent.B．Care for the Disabled Person.C．Run out of the Rainy Season of Your Life.D．Get to Know More About Middle-aged People
My life suffered a lot in a summer five years
ago. My father died in a car accident, leaving my mother, my two younger
brothers and I alone. At that time, I was a senior high school student. After
my father’s funeral (葬礼),
I had no choice but to drop out of school and work in a factory.I really wanted to return to school and
wanted to go to college, but I couldn’t. I only hoped to bring up my two
younger brothers. Life was not easy for me, for I can’t afford their tuition (学费) even if I worked from day to night
without stopping. Without my father’s protection, I thought I was a slave (奴隶) to the fate.Later on, something changed my life. I still
remember that it was a rainy day. I put myself in the rain and walked slowly in
the street.Suddenly the rain stopped! I raised my head
and found “the sky” was in fact a dark blue umbrella. Then I noticed a
middle-aged man with one leg on crutch (拐杖) standing behind me. He said to me, “Why not run without an
umbrella? If you didn’t run, you would getdrenched.”The man told me that he was promoter (推销员). He once dreamed of being a
policeman, but an accident ruined (毁灭) his dream.
Though his present job was not suitable for his legs, it was wonderful start to
him. He was very happy that he didn’t lose heart and still “ran” on the road of
life…I was encouraged by the man’s words. I went
to a big city and I became an assurance representative (保险代理人). After two years’ running, I did
well and my family condition turned better little by little. Later I returned
to school and succeeded in my entrance to university.Life is like this. When you are in rainy days
in your life, if you couldn’t find a way to prevent you from being wet, you
would be overwhelmed (被制服).
But if you decide to get rid of it, you’ll discover that the rainy days last
not so long as you imagine.1.What happened to the writer at the
beginning of the story?
A. His father died in a car
accident six years ago.
B. He didn’t have money to hold
the funeral for his father.
C. He had to drop out of school
to look after his sick mother.
D. He couldn’t afford his two
brothers’ tuition even if he worked from day to night.2.About the middle-aged man with one leg on crutch,
which of the following isNOTtrue?
A. He lost one leg in an
B. He had dreamed of being
a policeman.C. He became a promoter after an accident.
D. He had a good job which
was suitable for him very well.3.What does the underlined word “drenched”mean in Chinese?
D.舒服的4.What’s the main idea of the sixth
paragraph?
A. The writer learned from the
man and the situation soon got better.B. The writer didn’t want to listen to the
man and left without any word.
C. The writer had to give up his
dream and became a promoter as the man.
D. The writer made friends with
the man and they got on well with each other.5.Which is the best title for the passage?
A. Try to Be Independent.B. Care for the Disabled Person.
C. Run out of the Rainy Season
of Your Life.D. Get to Know More About Middle-aged People
My life ______a lot in the last five years.A have changed&&& B has changed&&&& C changed&&&& D will changeThe Home and the World, R. Tagore,
The Home and the World
Translated [from Bengali to English]
by Surendranath Tagore
London: Macmillan, 1919
[published in India, ]
Chapter One
Bimala's Story
MOTHER, today there comes back to mind the
vermilion mark
at the parting of your hair,
which you used to wear, with
its wide red border, and those wonderful eyes of
yours, full of depth and peace.
They came at the
start of my life's journey, like the first streak
of dawn, giving me golden provision to carry me on
The sky which gives light is blue, and my
mother's face was dark, but she had the radiance
of holiness, and her beauty would put to shame all
the vanity of the beautiful.
Everyone says that I resemble my mother.
childhood I used to resent this.
It made me angry
with my mirror.
I thought that it was God's
unfairness which was wrapped round my limbs--that
my dark features were not my due, but had come to
me by some misunderstanding.
All that remained
for me to ask of my God in reparation was, that I
might grow up to be a model of what woman should
be, as one reads it in some epic poem.
When the proposal came for my marriage, an
astrologer was sent, who consulted my palm and
said, &This girl has good signs.
become an ideal wife.&
And all the women who heard it said: &No
wonder, for she resembles her mother.&
I was married into a Rajah's house.
When I was
a child, I was quite familiar with the description
of the Prince of the fairy story.
husband's face was not of a kind that one's
imagination would place in fairyland.
dark, even as mine was.
The feeling of shrinking,
which I had about my own lack of physical beauty,
at the same time a touch of
regret was left lingering in my heart.
But when the physical appearance evades the
scrutiny of our senses and enters the sanctuary of
our hearts, then it can forget itself.
from my childhood's experience, how devotion is
beauty itself, in its inner aspect.
mother arranged the different fruits, carefully
peeled by her own loving hands, on the white stone
plate, and gently waved her fan to drive away the
flies while my father sat down to his meals, her
service would lose itself in a beauty which passed
beyond outward forms.
Even in my infancy I could
feel its power.
It transcended all debates, or
doubts, or calculations: it was pure music.
I distinctly remember after my marriage, when,
early in the morning, I would cautiously and
silently get up and take the dust
husband's feet without waking him, how at such
moments I could feel the vermilion mark upon my
forehead shining out like the morning star.
One day, he happened to awake, and smiled as he
asked me: &What is that, Bimala?
are you doing?&
I can never forget the shame of being detected
He might possibly have thought that I was
trying to earn merit secretly.
But no, no!
had nothing to do with merit.
It was my woman's
heart, which must worship in order to love.
My father-in-law's house was old in dignity
from the days of the Badshahs.
Some of its
manners were of the Moguls and Pathans, some of
its customs of Manu and Parashar.
But my husband
was absolutely modern.
He was the first of the
house to go through a college course and take his
M.A. degree.
His elder brother had died young, of
drink, and had left no children.
My husband did
not drink and was not given to dissipation.
foreign to the family was this abstinence, that to
many it hardly seemed decent!
Purity, they
imagined, was only becoming in those on whom
fortune had not smiled.
It is the moon which has
room for stains, not the stars.
My husband's parents had died long ago, and his
old grandmother was mistress of the house.
husband was the apple of her eye, the jewel on her
And so he never met with much difficulty
in overstepping any of the ancient usages.
he brought in Miss Gilby, to teach me and be my
companion, he stuck to his resolve in spite of the
poison secreted by all the wagging tongues at home
and outside.
My husband had then just got through his B.A.
examination and was reading for his M.A.
so he had to stay in Calcutta to attend college.
He used to write to me almost every day, a few
lines only, and simple words, but his bold, round
handwriting would look up into my face, oh, so
I kept his letters in a sandalwood box
and covered them every day with the flowers I
gathered in the garden.
At that time the Prince of the fairy tale had
faded, like the moon in the morning light.
the Prince of my real world enthroned in my heart.
I was his queen.
I had my seat by his side.
my real joy was, that my true place was at his
Since then, I have been educated, and
introduced to the modern age in its own language,
and therefore these words that I write seem to
blush with shame in their prose setting.
for my acquaintance with this modern standard of
life, I should know, quite naturally, that just as
my being born a woman was not in my own hands, so
the element of devotion in woman's love is not
like a hackneyed passage quoted from a romantic
poem to be piously written down in round hand in a
school-girl's copy-book.
But my husband would not give me any
opportunity for worship.
That was his greatness.
They are cowards who claim absolute devotion from
that is a humiliation
His love for me seemed to overflow my limits by
its flood of wealth and service.
But my necessity
was more for givin for love
is a vagabond, who can make his flowers bloom in
the wayside dust, better than in the crystal jars
kept in the drawing-room.
My husband could not break completely with the
old-time traditions which prevailed in our family.
It was difficult, therefore, for us to meet at any
hour of the day we pleased.
I knew exactly
the time that he could come to me, and therefore
our meeting had all the care of loving
preparation.
It was like t
it had to come through the path of the metre.
After finishing the day's work and taking my
afternoon bath, I would do up my hair and renew my
vermilion mark and put on my sari,
and then, bringing back my
body and mind from all distractions of household
duties, I would dedicate it at this special hour,
with special ceremonies, to one individual.
time, each day, but it was
My husband used to say, that man and wife are
equal in love because of their equal claim on each
I never argued the point with him, but my
heart said that devotion never stands in the way
it only raises the level of the
ground of meeting.
Therefore the joy of the
higher equali it never slides
down to the vulgar level of triviality.
My beloved, it was worthy of you that you never
expected worship from me.
But if you had accepted
it, you would have done me a real service.
showed your love by decorating me, by educating
me, by giving me what I asked for, and what I did
I have seen what depth of love there was in
your eyes when you gazed at me.
I have known the
secret sigh of pain you suppressed in your love
You loved my body as if it were a flower
of paradise.
You loved my whole nature as if it
had been given you by some rare providence.
Such lavish devotion made me proud to think
that the wealth was all my own which drove you to
But vanity such as this only checks the
flow of free surrender in a woman's love.
sit on the queen's throne and claim homage, then
the claim only goes
never satisfied.
Can there be any real happiness
for a woman in merely feeling that she has power
over a man?
To surrender one's pride in devotion
is woman's only salvation.
It comes back to me today how, in the days of
our happiness, the fires of envy sprung up all
around us.
That was only natural, for had I not
stepped into my good fortune by a mere chance, and
without deserving it?
But providence does not
allow a run of luck to last for ever, unless its
debt of honour be fully paid, day by day, through
many a long day, and thus made secure.
grant us gifts, but the merit of being able to
take and hold them must be our own.
Alas for the
boons that slip through unworthy hands!
My husband's grandmother and mother were both
renowned for their beauty.
And my widowed
sister-in-law was also of a beauty rarely to be
When, in turn, fate left them desolate, the
grandmother vowed she would not insist on having
beauty for her remaining grandson when he married.
Only the auspicious marks with which I was endowed
gained me an entry into this family--otherwise, I
had no claim to be here.
In this house of luxury, but few of its ladies
had received their meed of respect.
however, got used to the ways of the family, and
managed to keep their heads above water, buoyed up
by their dignity as Ranis of an ancient
house, in spite of their daily tears being drowned
in the foam of wine, and by the tinkle of the
dancing girls& anklets.
Was the credit due
to me that my husband did not touch liquor, nor
squander his manhood in the markets of woman's
What charm did I know to soothe the wild
and wandering mind of men?
It was my good luck,
nothing else.
For fate proved utterly callous to
my sister-in-law.
Her festivity died out, while
yet the evening was early, leaving the light of
her beauty shining in vain over empty
halls--burning and burning, with no accompanying
His sister-in-law affected a contempt for my
husband's modern notions.
How absurd to keep the
family ship, laden with all the weight of its
time-honoured glory, sailing under the colours of
his slip of a girl-wife alone!
Often have I felt
the lash of scorn.
&A thief who had stolen a
husband's love!& &A sham hidden in the
shamelessness of her new-fangled finery!& The
many-coloured garments of modern fashion with
which my husband loved to adorn me roused jealous
&Is not she ashamed to make a
show-window of herself--and with her looks,
My husband was aware of all this, but his
gentleness knew no bounds.
He used to implore me
to forgive her.
I remember I once told him: &Women's minds
are so petty.
so crooked!& &Like the
feet of Chinese women,& he replied.
&Has not the pressure of society cramped them
into pettiness and crookedness?
They are but
pawns of the fate which gambles with them.
responsibility have they of their own?&
My sister-in-law never failed to get from my
husband whatever she wanted.
He did not stop to
consider whether her requests were right or
reasonable.
But what exasperated me most was that
she was not grateful for this.
I had promised my
husband that I would not talk back at her, but
this set me raging all the more, inwardly.
to feel that goodness has a limit, which, if
passed, somehow seems to make men cowardly.
I tell the whole truth?
I have often wished that
my husband had the manliness to be a little less
My sister-in-law, the Bara Rani,
young and had no pretensions to saintliness.
Rather, her talk and jest and laugh inclined to be
The young maids with whom she surrounded
herself were also impudent to a degree.
was none to gainsay her--for was not this the
custom of the house?
It seemed to me that my good
fortune in having a stainless husband was a
special eyesore to her.
He, however, felt more
the sorrow of her lot than the defects of her
character.
The mark of Hindu wifehood and the symbol
of all the devotion that it implies.
The sari is the dress of the Hindu
Taking the dust of the feet is a formal
offering of reverence and is done by lightly
touching the feet of the revered one and then
one's own head with the same hand.
The wife does
not ordinarily do this to the husband.
It would not be reckoned good form for the
husband to be continually going into the zenana,
except at particular hours for meals or rest.
Bara = S Chota =
In joint families of rank, though the
widows remain entitled only to a life-interest in
their husbands' share, their rank remains to
them according to seniority, and the titles
&Senior& and &Junior& continue
to distinguish the elder and younger branches,
even though the junior branch be the one in power.
My husband was very eager to take me out of
One day I said to him: &What do I want
with the outside world?&
&The outside world may want you,& he
&If the outside world has got on so long
without me, it may go on for some time longer.
need not pine to death for want of me.&
&Let it perish, for all I care!
not troubling me.
I am thinking about
&Oh, indeed.
Tell me what about
yourself?&
My husband was silent, with a smile.
I knew his way, and protested at once:
&No, no, you are not going to run away from
me like that!
I want to have this out with
&Can one ever finish a subject with
&Do stop speaking in riddles.
&What I want is, that I should have you,
and you should have me, more fully in the outside
That is where we are still in debt to each
&Is anything wanting, then, in the love we
have here at home?&
&Here you are wrapped up in me.
neither what you have, nor what you want.&
&I cannot bear to hear you talk like
&I would have you come into the heart of
the outer world and meet reality.
Merely going on
with your household duties, living all your life
in the world of household conventions and the
drudgery of household tasks--you were not made for
If we meet, and recognize each other, in
the real world, then only will our love be
&If there be any drawback here to our full
recognition of each other, then I have nothing to
But as for myself, I feel no want.&
&Well, even if the drawback is only on my
side, why shouldn't you help to remove it?&
Such discussions repeatedly occurred.
he said: &The greedy man who is fond of his
fish stew has no compunction in cutting up the
fish according to his need.
But the man who loves
the fish wants to e and if
that is impossible
if he comes back home without a sight of it he has
the consolation of knowing that the fish is all
Perfect gai but if
that is impossible, then the next best gain is
perfect losing.
I never liked the way my husband had of talking
on this subject, but that is not the reason why I
refused to leave the zenana.
His grandmother was
still alive.
My husband had filled more than a
hundred and twenty per cent of the house with the
twentieth century, but she had
borne it uncomplaining.
She would have borne it,
likewise, if the daughter-in-law
Rajah's house had left its seclusion.
even prepared for this happening.
But I did not
consider it important enough to give her the pain
I have read in books that we are called
&caged birds&.
I cannot speak for
others, but I had so much in this cage of mine
that there was not room for it in the universe--at
least that is what I then felt.
The grandmother, in her old age, was very fond
At the bottom of her fondness was the
thought that, with the conspiracy of favourable
stars which attended me, I had been able to
attract my husband's love.
Were not men naturally
inclined to plunge downwards?
None of the others,
for all their beauty, had been able to prevent
their husbands going headlong into the burning
depths which consumed and destroyed them.
believed that I had been the means of
extinguishing this fire, so deadly to the men of
the family.
So she kept me in the shelter of her
bosom, and trembled if I was in the least bit
His grandmother did not like the dresses and
ornaments my husband brought from European shops
to deck me with.
But she reflected: &Men
will have some absurd hobby or other, which is
sure to be expensive.
It is no use trying to
chec one is glad enough if
they stop short of ruin.
If my Nikhil had not
been busy dressing up his wife there is no knowing
whom else he might have spent his money on!&
So whenever any new dress of mine arrived she used
to send for my husband and make merry over it.
Thus it came about that it was her taste which
The influence of the modern age fell so
strongly upon her, that her evenings refused to
pass if I did not tell her stories out of English
After his grandmother's death, my husband
wanted me to go and live with him in Calcutta.
But I could not bring myself to do that.
this our House, which she had kept under her
sheltering care through all her trials and
Would not a curse come upon me if I
deserted it and went off to town?
This was the
thought that kept me back, as her empty seat
reproachfully looked up at me.
That noble lady
had come into this house at the age of eight, and
had died in her seventy-ninth year.
She had not
spent a happy life.
Fate had hurled shaft after
shaft at her breast, only to draw out more and
more the imperishable spirit within.
This great
house was hallowed with her tears.
What should I
do in the dust of Calcutta, away from it?
My husband's idea was that this would be a good
opportunity for leaving to my sister-in-law the
consolation of ruling over the household, giving
our life, at the same time, more room to branch
out in Calcutta.
That is just where my difficulty
She had worried my life out, she ill
brooked my husband's happiness, and for this she
was to be rewarded!
And what of the day when we
should have to come back here?
Should I then get
back my seat at the head?
&What do you want with that seat?& my
husband would say.
&Are there not more
precious things in life?&
Men never understand these things.
their nests
they little know
the whole of what the household stands for.
these matters they ought to follow womanly
Such were my thoughts at that time.
I felt the real point was, that one ought to
stand up for one's rights.
To go away, and leave
everything in the hands of the enemy, would be
nothing short of owning defeat.
But why did not my husband compel me to go with
him to Calcutta?
I know the reason.
He did not
use his power, just because he had it.
The seclusion of the zenana, and all the
customs peculiar to it, are designated by the
general term &Purdah&, which means
The prestige of the daughter-in-law is of
the first importance in a Hindu household of rank
IF one had to fill in, little by little, the
gap between day and night, it would take an
eternity to do it.
But the sun rises and the
darkness is dispelled--a moment is sufficient to
overcome an infinite distance.
One day there came the new era of
in B but as to how it
happened, we had no distinct vision.
There was no
gradual slope connecting the past with the
For that reason, I imagine, the new
epoch came in like a flood, breaking down the
dykes and sweeping all our prudence and fear
before it.
We had no time even to think about, or
understand, what had happened, or what was about
to happen.
My sight and my mind, my hopes and my desires,
became red with the passion of this new age.
Though, up to this time, the walls of the
home--which was the ultimate world to my
mind--remained unbroken, yet I stood looking over
into the distance, and I heard a voice from the
far horizon, whose meaning was not perfectly clear
to me, but whose call went straight to my heart.
From the time my husband had been a college
student he had been trying to get the things
required by our people produced in our own
There are plenty of date trees in our
He tried to invent an apparatus for
extracting the juice and boiling it into sugar and
I heard that it was a great success,
only it extracted more money than juice.
while he came to the conclusion that our attempts
at reviving our industries were not succeeding for
want of a bank of our own.
He was, at the time,
trying to teach me political economy.
This alone
would not have done much harm, but he also took it
into his head to teach his countrymen ideas of
thrift, so as to pav and then
he actually started a small bank.
Its high rate
of interest, which made the villagers flock so
enthusiastically to put in their money, ended by
swamping the bank altogether.
The old officers of the estate felt troubled
and frightened.
There was jubilation in the
enemy's camp.
Of all the family, only my
husband's grandmother remained unmoved.
scold me, saying: &Why are you all plaguing
Is it the fate of the estate that is
worrying you?
How many times have I seen this
estate in the hands of the court receiver!
men like women?
Men are born spendthrifts and
only know how to waste.
Look here, child, count
yourself fortunate that your husband is not
wasting himself as well!&
My husband's list of charities was a long one.
He would assist to the bitter end of utter failure
anyone who wanted to invent a new loom or
rice-husking machine.
But what annoyed me most
was the way that Sandip Babu
used to fleece him on
the pretext of Swadeshi work.
Whenever he
wanted to start a newspaper, or travel about
preaching the Cause, or take a change of air by
the advice of his doctor, my husband would
unquestioningly supply him with the money.
was over and above the regular living allowance
which Sandip Babu also received from him.
strangest part of it was that my husband and
Sandip Babu did not agree in their opinions.
As soon as the Swadeshi storm reached my
blood, I said to my husband: &I must burn all
my foreign clothes.&
&Why burn them?& said he.
need not wear them as long as you please.&
&As long as I please!
Not in this life .
&Very well, do not wear them for the rest
of your life, then.
But why this bonfire
business?&
&Would you thwart me in my resolve?&
&What I want to say is this: Why not try
to build up something?
You should not waste even
a tenth part of your energies in this destructive
excitement.&
&Such excitement will give us the energy
to build.&
&That is as much as to say, that you
cannot light the house unless you set fire to
Then there came another trouble.
Gilby first came to our house there was a great
flutter, which afterwards calmed down when they
got used to her.
Now the whole thing was stirred
up afresh.
I had never bothered myself before as
to whether Miss Gilby was European or Indian, but
I began to do so now.
I said to my husband:
&We must get rid of Miss Gilby.&
He kept silent.
I talked to him wildly, and he went away sad at
After a fit of weeping, I felt in a more
reasonable mood when we met at night.
cannot,& my husband said, &look upon
Miss Gilby through a mist of abstraction, just
because she is English.
Cannot you get over the
barrier of her name after such a long
acquaintance?
Cannot you realize that she loves
I felt a little ashamed and replied with some
sharpness: &Let her remain.
I am not over
anxious to send her away.& And Miss Gilby
But one day I was told that she had been
insulted by a young fellow on her way to church.
This was a boy whom we were supporting.
husband turned him out of the house.
not a single soul, that day, who could forgive my
husband for that act--not even I. This time Miss
Gilby left of her own accord.
She shed tears when
she came to say good-bye, but my mood would not
To slander the poor boy so--and such a
fine boy, too, who would forget his daily bath and
food in his enthusiasm for Swadeshi.
My husband escorted Miss Gilby to the railway
station in his own carriage.
I was sure he was
going too far.
When exaggerated accounts of the
incident gave rise to a public scandal, which
found its way to the newspapers, I felt he had
been rightly served.
I had often become anxious at my husband's
doings, but had never yet now
I had to blush for him!
I did not know exactly,
nor did I care, what wrong poor Noren might, or
might not, have done to Miss Gilby, but the idea
of sitting in judgement on such a matter at such a
I should have refused to damp the spirit
which prompted young Noren to defy the
Englishwoman.
I could not but look upon it as a
sign of cowardice in my husband, that he should
fail to understand this simple thing.
blushed for him.
And yet it was not that my husband refused to
support Swadeshi, or was in any way against
the Cause.
Only he had not been able
whole-heartedly to accept the spirit of Bande
&I am willing,& he said, &to
but my worship I reserve for
Right which is far greater than my country.
worship my country as a god is to bring a curse
The Nationalist movement, which began more
as an economic than a political one, having as its
main object the encouragement of indigenous
industries [Trans.].
&Babu& is a term of respect, like
&Father& or &Mister,& but has
also meant in colonial days a person who understands
some English. [on-line ed.]
Lit.: &Hail Mother&; the opening
words of a song by Bankim Chatterjee, the famous
Bengali novelist.
The song has now become the
national anthem, and Bande Mataram the
national cry, since the days of the
Swadeshi movement [Trans.].
Chapter Two
Bimala's Story
THIS was the time when Sandip Babu with his
followers came to our neighbourhood to preach
There is to be a big meeting in our temple
We women are sitting there, on one
side, behind a screen.
Triumphant shouts of
Bande Mataram come nearer: and to them I am
thrilling through and through.
Suddenly a stream
of barefooted youths in turbans, clad in ascetic
ochre, rushes into the quadrangle, like a
silt-reddened freshet into a dry river-bed at the
first burst of the rains.
The whole place is
filled with an immense crowd, through which Sandip
Babu is borne, seated in a big chair hoisted on
the shoulders of ten or twelve of the youths.
Bande Mataram!
Bande Mataram!
Bande Mataram!
It seems as though the
skies would be rent and scattered into a thousand
fragments.
I had seen Sandip Babu's photograph before.
There was something in his features which I did
not quite like.
Not that he was bad-looking--far
from it: he had a splendidly handsome face.
I know not why, it seemed to me, in spite of all
its brilliance, that too much of base alloy had
gone into its making.
The light in his eyes
somehow did not shine true.
That was why I did
not like it when my husband unquestioningly gave
in to all his demands.
I could bear the waste of
but it vexed me to think that he was
imposing on my husband, taking advantage of
friendship.
His bearing was not that of an
ascetic, nor even of a person of moderate means,
but foppish all over.
Love of comfort seemed to .
any number of such reflections come back to
me today, but let them be.
When, however, Sandip Babu began to speak that
afternoon, and the hearts of the crowd swayed and
surged to his words, as though they would break
all bounds, I saw him wonderfully transformed.
Especially when his features were suddenly lit up
by a shaft of light from the slowly setting sun,
as it sunk below the roof-line of the pavilion, he
seemed to me to be marked out by the gods as their
messenger to mortal men and women.
From beginning to end of his speech, each one
of his utterances was a stormy outburst.
was no limit to the confidence of his assurance.
I do not know how it happened, but I found I had
impatiently pushed away the screen from before me
and had fixed my gaze upon him.
Yet there was
none in that crowd who paid any heed to my doings.
Only once, I noticed, his eyes, like stars in
fateful Orion, flashed full on my face.
I was utterly unconscious of myself.
longer the lady of the Rajah's house, but the sole
representative of Bengal's womanhood.
And he was
the champion of Bengal.
As the sky had shed its
light over him, so he must receive the
consecration of a woman's benediction .
It seemed clear to me that, since he had caught
sight of me, the fire in his words had flamed up
more fiercely.
steed refused to be
reined in, and there came the roar of thunder and
the flash of lightning.
I said within myself that
his language had caug for we
women are not only the deities of the household
fire, but the flame of the soul itself.
I returned home that evening radiant with a new
pride and joy.
The storm within me had shifted my
whole being from one centre to another.
Greek maidens of old, I fain would cut off my
long, resplendent tresses to make a bowstring for
Had my outward ornaments been connected
with my inner feelings, then my necklet, my
armlets, my bracelets, would all have burst their
bonds and flung themselves over that assembly like
a shower of meteors.
Only some personal
sacrifice, I felt, could help me to bear the
tumult of my exaltation.
When my husband came home later, I was
trembling lest he should utter a sound out of tune
with the triumphant paean which was still ringing
in my ears, lest his fanaticism for truth should
lead him to express disapproval of anything that
had been said that afternoon.
For then I should
have openly defied and humiliated him.
But he did
not say a word .
which I did not like
He should have said: &Sandip has brought
me to my senses.
I now realize how mistaken I
have been all this time.&
I somehow felt that he was spitefully silent,
that he obstinately refused to be enthusiastic.
asked how long Sandip Babu was going to be with
&He is off to Rangpur early tomorrow
morning,& said my husband.
&Must it be tomorrow?&
&Yes, he is already engaged to speak
I was silent for a while and then asked again:
&Could he not possibly stay a day
&That may hardly be possible, but
&I want to invite him to dinner and attend
on him myself.&
My husband was surprised.
He had often
entreated me to be present when he had particular
friends to dinner, but I had never let myself be
persuaded.
He gazed at me curiously, in silence,
with a look I did not quite understand.
I was suddenly overcome with a sense of shame.
&No, no,& I exclaimed, &that would
never do!&
&Why not!& said he.
&I will ask
him myself, and if it is at all possible he will
surely stay on for tomorrow.&
It turned out to be quite possible.
I will tell the exact truth.
That day I
reproached my Creator because he had not made me
surpassingly beautiful--not to steal any heart
away, but because beauty is glory.
In this great
day the men of the country should realize its
goddess in its womanhood.
But, alas, the eyes of
men fail to discern the goddess, if outward beauty
be lacking.
Would Sandip Babu find the
Shakti of the Motherland manifest in me?
Or would he simply take me to be an ordinary,
domestic woman?
That morning I scented my flowing hair and tied
it in a loose knot, bound by a cunningly
intertwined red silk ribbon.
Dinner, you see, was
to be served at midday, and there was no time to
dry my hair after my bath and do it up plaited in
the ordinary way.
I put on a gold-bordered white
sari, and my short-sleeve muslin jacket was
also gold-bordered.
I felt that there was a certain restraint about
my costume and that nothing could well have been
But my sister-in-law, who happened to be
passing by, stopped dead before me, surveyed me
from head to foot and with compressed lips smiled
a meaning smile.
When I asked her the reason,
&I am admiring your get-up!& she said.
&What is there so entertaining about
it?& I enquired, considerably annoyed.
&It's superb,& she said.
only thinking that one of those low-necked English
bodices would have made it perfect.& Not only
her mouth and eyes, but her whole body seemed to
ripple with suppressed laughter as she left the
I was very, very angry, and wanted to change
everything and put on my everyday clothes.
cannot tell exactly why I could not carry out my
Women are the ornaments of society--thus
I reasoned with myself--and my husband would never
like it, if I appeared before Sandip Babu
unworthily clad.
My idea had been to make my appearance after
they had sat down to dinner.
In the bustle of
looking after the serving the first awkwardness
would have passed off.
But dinner was not ready
in time, and it was getting late.
Meanwhile my
husband had sent for me to introduce the guest.
I was feeling horribly shy about looking Sandip
Babu in the face.
However, I managed to recover
myself enough to say: &I am so sorry dinner
is getting late.&
He boldly came and sat right beside me as he
replied: &I get a dinner of some kind every
day, but the Goddess of Plenty keeps behind the
Now that the goddess herself has
appeared, it matters little if the dinner lags
He was just as emphatic in his manners as he
was in his public speaking.
He had no hesitation
and seemed to be accustomed to occupy,
unchallenged, his chosen seat.
He claimed the
right to intimacy so confidently, that the blame
would seem to belong to those who should dispute
I was in terror lest Sandip Babu should take me
for a shrinking, old-fashioned bundle of inanity.
But, for the life of me, I could not sparkle in
repartees such as might charm or dazzle him.
could have possessed me, I angrily wondered, to
appear before him in such an absurd way?
I was about to retire when dinner was over, but
Sandip Babu, as bold as ever, placed himself in my
&You must not,& he said, &think
me greedy.
It was not the dinner that kept me
staying on, it was your invitation.
If you were
to run away now, that would not be playing fair
with your guest.&
If he had not said these words with a careless
ease, they would have been out of tune.
after all, he was such a great friend of my
husband that I was like his sister.
While I was struggling to climb up this high
wave of intimacy, my husband came to the rescue,
saying: &Why not come back to us after you
have taken your dinner?&
&But you must give your word,& said
Sandip Babu, &before we let you off.&
&I will come,& said I, with a slight
&Let me tell you,& continued Sandip
Babu, &why I cannot trust you.
Nikhil has
been married these nine years, and all this while
you have eluded me.
If you do this again for
another nine years, we shall never meet
I took up the spirit of his remark as I dropped
my voice to reply: &Why even then should we
not meet?&
&My horoscope tells me I am to die early.
None of my forefathers have survived their
thirtieth year.
I am now twenty-seven.&
He knew this would go home.
This time there
must have been a shade of concern in my low voice
as I said: &The blessings of the whole
country are sure to avert the evil influence of
the stars.&
&Then the blessings of the country must be
voiced by its goddess.
This is the reason for my
anxiety that you should return, so that my
talisman may begin to work from today.&
Sandip Babu had such a way of taking things by
storm that I got no opportunity of resenting what
I never should have permitted in another.
&So,& he concluded with a laugh,
&I am going to hold this husband of yours as
a hostage till you come back.&
As I was coming away, he exclaimed: &May I
trouble you for a trifle?&
I started and turned round.
&Don't be alarmed,& he said.
&It's merely a glass of water.
have noticed that I did not drink any water with
my dinner.
I take it a little later.&
Upon this I had to make a show of interest and
ask him the reason.
He began to give the history
of his dyspepsia.
I was told how he had been a
martyr to it for seven months, and how, after the
usual course of nuisances, which included
different allopathic and homoeopathic
misadventures, he had obtained the most wonderful
results by indigenous methods.
&Do you know,& he added, with a
smile, &God has built even my infirmities in
such a manner that they yield only under the
bombardment of Swadeshi pills.&
My husband, at this, broke his silence.
&You must confess,& said he, &that
you have as immense an attraction for foreign
medicine as the earth has for meteors.
three shelves in your sitting-room full
Sandip Babu broke in: &Do you know what
They are the punitive police.
come, not because they are wanted, but because
they are imposed on us by the rule of this modern
age, exacting fines and-inflicting injuries.&
My husband could not bear exaggerations, and I
could see he disliked this.
But all ornaments are
exaggerations.
They are not made by God, but by
Once I remember in defence of some untruth
of mine I said to my husband: &Only the trees
and beasts and birds tell unmitigated truths,
because these poor things have not the power to
In this men show their superiority to the
lower creatures, and women beat even men.
is a profusion of ornament unbecoming for a woman,
nor a profusion of untruth.&
As I came out into the passage leading to the
zenana I found my sister-in-law, standing near a
window overlooking the reception rooms, peeping
through the venetian shutter.
&You here?& I asked in surprise.
&Eavesdropping!& she replied.
The Jupiter Pluvius of Hindu mythology.
When I returned, Sandip Babu was tenderly
apologetic.
&I am afraid we have spoilt your
appetite,& he said.
I felt greatly ashamed.
Indeed, I had been too
indecently quick over my dinner.
With a little
calculation, it would become quite evident that my
non-eating had surpassed the eating.
But I had no
idea that anyone could have been deliberately
calculating.
I suppose Sandip Babu detected my feeling of
shame, which only augmented it.
sure,& he said, &that you had the
impulse of the wild deer to run away, but it is a
great boon that you took the trouble to keep your
promise with me.&
I could not think of any suitable reply and so
I sat down, blushing and uncomfortable, at one end
of the sofa.
The vision that I had of myself, as
the Shakti of Womanhood, incarnate,
crowning Sandip Babu simply with my presence,
majestic and unashamed, failed me altogether.
Sandip Babu deliberately started a discussion
with my husband.
He knew that his keen wit
flashed to the best effect in an argument.
often since observed, that he never lost an
opportunity for a passage at arms whenever I
happened to be present.
He was familiar with my husband's views on the
cult of Bande Mataram, and began in a
provoking way: &So you do not allow that
there is room for an appeal to the imagination in
patriotic work?&
&It has its place, Sandip, I admit, but I
do not believe in giving it the whole place.
would know my country in its frank reality, and
for this I am both afraid and ashamed to make use
of hypnotic texts of patriotism.&
&What you call hypnotic texts I call
I truly believe my country to be my God.
I worship Humanity.
God manifests Himself both in
man and in his country.&
&If that is what you really believe, there
should be no difference for you between man and
man, and so between country and country.&
&Quite true.
But my powers are limited,
so my worship of Humanity is continued in the
worship of my country.&
&I have nothing against your worship as
such, but how is it you propose to conduct your
worship of God by hating other countries in which
He is equally manifest?&
&Hate is also an adjunct of worship.
Arjuna won Mahadeva's favour by wrestling with
God will be with us in the end, if we are
prepared to give Him battle.&
&If that be so, then those who are serving
and those who are harming the country are both His
Why, then, trouble to preach
patriotism?&
&In the case of one's own country, it is
different.
There the heart clearly demands
&If you push the same argument further you
can say that since God is manifested in us, our
self has to be worshipped before all
because our natural instinct claims
&Look here, Nikhil, this is all merely dry
Can't you recognize that there is such a
thing as feeling?&
&I tell you the truth, Sandip,& my
husband replied.
&It is my feelings that are
outraged, whenever you try to pass off injustice
as a duty, and unrighteousness as a moral ideal.
The fact, that I am incapable of stealing, is not
due to my possessing logical faculties, but to my
having some feeling of respect for myself and love
for ideals.&
I was raging inwardly.
At last I could keep
silent no longer.
&Is not the history of
every country,& I cried, &whether
England, France, Germany, or Russia, the history
of stealing for the sake of one's own
&They have to ans
they a their history is not
yet ended.&
&At any rate,& interposed Sandip
Babu, &why should we not follow suit?
first fill our country's coffers with stolen goods
and then take centuries, like these other
countries, to answer for them, if we must.
ask you, where do you find this 'answering' in
&When Rome was answering for her sin no
one knew it.
All that time, there was apparently
no limit to her prosperity.
But do you not see
one thing: how these political bags of theirs are
bursting with lies and treacheries, breaking their
backs under their weight?&
Never before had I had any opportunity of being
present at a discussion between my husband and his
men friends.
Whenever he argued with me I could
feel his reluctance to push me into a corner.
This arose out of the very love he bore me.
for the first time I saw his fencer's skill in
Nevertheless, my heart refused to accept my
husband's position.
I was struggling to find some
answer, but it would not come.
When the word
&righteousness& comes into an argument,
it sounds ugly to say that a thing can be too good
to be useful.
All of a sudden Sandip Babu turned to me with
the question: &What do you say to
&I do not care about fine
distinctions,& I broke out.
tell you broadly what I feel.
I am only human.
am covetous.
I would have good things for my
If I am obliged, I would snatch them and
filch them.
I have anger.
I would be angry for
my country's sake.
If necessary, I would smite
and slay to avenge her insults.
I have my desire
to be fascinated, and fascination must be supplied
to me in bodily shape by my country.
have some visible symbol casting its spell upon my
I would make my country a Person, and call
her Mother, Goddess, Durga--for whom I would
redden the earth with sacrificial offerings.
human, not divine.&
Sandip Babu leapt to his feet with uplifted
arms and shouted &Hurrah!&--The next
moment he corrected himself and cried:
&Bande Mataram.&
A shadow of pain passed over the face of my
He said to me in a very gentle voice:
&Neither am I divine: I am human.
therefore I dare not permit the evil which is in
me to be exaggerated into an image of my
country--never, never!&
Sandip Babu cried out: &See, Nikhil, how
in the heart of a woman Truth takes flesh and
Woman knows how to be cruel: her virulence
is like a blind storm.
It is beautifully fearful.
In man it is ugly, because it harbours in its
centre the gnawing worms of reason and thought.
tell you, Nikhil, it is our women who will save
the country.
This is not the time for nice
We must be unswervingly, unreasoningly
We must sin.
We must give our women red
sandal paste with which to anoint and enthrone our
Don't you remember what the poet says:
Come, Sin, O beautiful
Sin, Let thy stinging red kisses pour down
fiery red wine into our blood. Sound the
trumpet of imperious evil And cross our
forehead with the wreath of exulting
lawlessness, O Deity of Desecration,
Smear our breasts with the blackest mud of
disrepute, unashamed.
Down with that righteousness, which
cannot smilingly bring rack and ruin.&
When Sandip Babu, standing with his head high,
insulted at a moment's impulse all that men have
cherished as their highest, in all countries and
in all times, a shiver went right through my body.
But, with a stamp of his foot, he continued his
declamation: &I can see that you are that
beautiful spirit of fire, which burns the home to
ashes and lights up the larger world with its
Give to us the indomitable courage to go
to the bottom of Ruin itself.
Impart grace to all
that is baneful.&
It was not clear to whom Sandip Babu addressed
his last appeal.
It might have been She whom he
worshipped with his Bande Mataram.
might have been the Womanhood of his country.
it might have been its representative, the woman
before him.
He would have gone further in the
same strain, but my husband suddenly rose from his
seat and touched him lightly on the shoulder
saying: &Sandip, Chandranath Babu is
I started and turned round, to find an aged
gentleman at the door, calm and dignified, in
doubt as to whether he should come in or retire.
His face was touched with a gentle light like that
of the setting sun.
My husband came up to me and whispered:
&This is my master, of whom I have so often
Make your obeisance to him.&
I bent reverently and took the dust of his
He gave me his blessing saying: &May
God protect you always, my little mother.& I
was sorely in need of such a blessing at that
Nikhil's Story
One day I had the faith to believe that I
should be able to bear whatever came from my God.
I never had the trial.
Now I think it has come.
I used to test my strength of mind by imagining
all kinds of evil which might happen to
me--poverty, imprisonment, dishonour, death--even
And when I said to myself that I should
be able to receive these with firmness, I am sure
I did not exaggerate.
Only I could never even
imagine one thing, and today it is that of which I
am thinking, and wondering whether I can really
There is a thorn somewhere pricking in
my heart, constantly giving me pain while I am
about my daily work.
It seems to persist even
when I am asleep.
The very moment I wake up in
the morning, I find that the bloom has gone from
the face of the sky.
What is it?
My mind has become so sensitive, that even my
past life, which came to me in the disguise of
happiness, seems to wring my very heart with its
and the shame and sorrow which are
coming close to me are losing their cover of
privacy, all the more because they try to veil
their faces.
My heart has become all eyes.
things that should not be seen, the things I do
not want to see--these I must see.
The day has come at last when my ill-starred
life has to reveal its destitution in a long-drawn
series of exposures.
This penury, all unexpected,
has taken its seat in the heart where plenitude
seemed to reign.
The fees which I paid to
delusion for just nine years of my youth have now
to be returned with interest to Truth till the end
of my days.
What is the use of straining to keep up my
What harm if I confess that I have
something lacking in me?
Possibly it is that
unreasoning forcefulness which women love to find
But is strength mere display of
muscularity?
Must strength have no scruples in
treading the weak underfoot?
But why all these arguments?
Worthiness cannot
be earned merely by disputing about it.
unworthy, unworthy, unworthy.
What if I am unworthy?
The true value of love
is this, that it can ever bless the unworthy with
its own prodigality.
For the worthy there are
many rewards on God's earth, but God has specially
reserved love for the unworthy.
Up till now Bimala was my home-made Bimala, the
product of the confined space and the daily
routine of small duties.
Did the love which I
received from her, I asked myself, come from the
deep spring of her heart, or was it merely like
the daily provision of pipe water pumped up by the
municipal steam-engine of society?
I longed to find Bimala blossoming fully in all
her truth and power.
But the thing I forgot to
calculate was, that one must give up all claims
based on conventional rights, if one would find a
person freely revealed in truth.
Why did I fail to think of this?
because of the husband's pride of possession over
It was because I placed the
fullest trust upon love.
I was vain enough to
think that I had the power in me to bear the sight
of truth in its awful nakedness.
It was tempting
Providence, but still I clung to my proud
determination to come out victorious in the trial.
Bimala had failed to understand me in one
She could not fully realize that I held as
weakness all imposition of force.
Only the weak
dare not be just.
They shirk their responsibility
of fairness and try quickly to get at results
through the short-cuts of injustice.
Bimala has
no patience with patience.
She loves to find in
men the turbulent, the angry, the unjust.
respect must have its element of fear.
I had hoped that when Bimala found herself free
in the outer world she would be rescued from her
infatuation for tyranny.
But now I feel sure that
this infatuation is deep down in her nature.
love is for the boisterous.
From the tip of her
tongue to the pit of her stomach she must tingle
with red pepper in order to enjoy the simple fare
But my determination was, never to do my
duty with frantic impetuosity, helped on by the
fiery liquor of excitement.
I know Bimala finds
it difficult to respect me for this, taking my
scruples for feebleness--and she is quite angry
with me because I am not running amuck crying
Bande Mataram.
For the matter of that, I have become unpopular
with all my countrymen because I have not joined
them in their carousals.
They are certain that
either I have a longing for some title, or else
that I am afraid of the police.
The police on
their side suspect me of harbouring some hidden
design and protesting too much in my mildness.
What I really feel is this, that those who
cannot find food for their enthusiasm in a
knowledge of their country as it actually is, or
those who cannot love men just because they are
men--who needs must shout and deify their country
in order to keep up their excitement--these love
excitement more than their country.
To try to give our infatuation a higher place
than Truth is a sign of inherent slavishness.
Where our minds are free we find ourselves lost.
Our moribund vitality must have for its rider
either some fantasy, or someone in authority, or a
sanction from the pundits, in order to make it
So long as we are impervious to truth and
have to be moved by some hypnotic stimulus, we
must know that we lack the capacity for
self-government.
Whatever may be our condition,
we shall either need some imaginary ghost or some
actual medicine-man to terrorize over us.
The other day when Sandip accused me of lack of
imagination, saying that this prevented me from
realizing my country in a visible image, Bimala
agreed with him.
I did not say anything in my
defence, because to win in argument does not lead
to happiness.
Her difference of opinion is not
due to any inequality of intelligence, but rather
to dissimilarity of nature.
They accuse me of being unimaginative--that is,
according to them, I may have oil in my lamp, but
Now this is exactly the accusation
which I bring against them.
I would say to them:
&You are dark, even as the flints are.
must come to violent conflicts and make a noise in
order to produce your sparks.
disconnected flashes merely assist your pride, and
not your clear vision.&
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