The Fugitive Part 11

Her eyes looked like a morning whose dew is still in the air.

I stood silent for some time till I said, "Have you lost all the great burden of your tears?"

She smiled and said nothing. I felt that her tears had had time to learn the language of smiles.

"Once you said," she whispered, "that you would cherish your grief for ever."

I blushed and said, "Yes, but years have pa.s.sed and I forget."

Then I took her hand in mine and said, "But you have changed."

"What was sorrow once has now become peace," she said.

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Our life sails on the uncrossed sea whose waves chase each other in an eternal hide-and-seek.

It is the restless sea of change, feeding its foaming flocks to lose them over and over again, beating its hands against the calm of the sky.

Love, in the centre of this circling war-dance of light and dark, yours is that green island, where the sun kisses the shy forest shade and silence is wooed by birds' singing.

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AMA AND VINAYAKA

AMA AND VINAYAKA

_Night on the battlefield:_ AMA _meets her father_ VINAYAKA.

AMA

Father!

VINAYAKA

Shameless wanton, you call me "Father"! you who did not shrink from a Mussulman husband!

AMA

Though you have treacherously killed my husband, yet you are my father; and I hold back a widow's tears, lest they bring G.o.d's curse on you. Since we have met on this battlefield after years of separation, let me bow to your feet and take my last leave!

VINAYAKA

Where will you go, Ama? The tree on which you built your impious nest is hewn down. Where will _you_ take shelter?

AMA

I have my son.

VINAYAKA

Leave him! Cast never a fond look back on the result of a sin expiated with blood! Think where to go.

AMA

Death's open gates are wider than a father's love!

VINAYAKA

Death indeed swallows sins as the sea swallows the mud of rivers. But you are to die neither to-night nor here. Seek some solitary shrine of holy Shiva far from shamed kindred and all neighbours; bathe three times a day in sacred Ganges, and, while reciting G.o.d's name, listen to the last bell of evening worship, that Death may look tenderly upon you, as a father on his sleeping child whose eyes are still wet with tears. Let him gently carry you into his own great silence, as the Ganges carries a fallen flower on its stream, washing every stain away to render it, a fit offering, to the sea.

AMA

But my son----

VINAYAKA

Again I bid you not to speak of him. Lay yourself once more in a father's arms, my child, like a babe fresh from the womb of Oblivion, your second mother.

AMA

To me the world has become a shadow. Your words I hear, but cannot take to heart. Leave me, father, leave me alone! Do not try to bind me with your love, for its bands are red with my husband's blood.

VINAYAKA

Alas! no flower ever returns to the parent branch it dropped from. How can you call him _husband_ who forcibly s.n.a.t.c.hed you from Jivaji to whom you had been sacredly affianced? I shall never forget that night! In the wedding hall we sat anxiously expecting the bridegroom, for the auspicious hour was dwindling away. Then in the distance appeared the glare of torches, and bridal strains came floating up the air. We shouted for joy: women blew their conch-sh.e.l.ls. A procession of palanquins entered the courtyard: but while we were asking, "Where is Jivaji?" armed men burst out of the litters like a storm, and bore you off before we knew what had happened. Shortly after, Jivaji came to tell us he had been waylaid and captured by a Mussulman n.o.ble of the Vij.a.pur court. That night Jivaji and I touched the nuptial fire and swore b.l.o.o.d.y death to this villain. After waiting long, we have been freed from our solemn pledge to-night; and the spirit of Jivaji, who lost his life in this battle, lawfully claims you for wife.

AMA