Page:Eyesore - Rabindranath Tagore.pdf/17

304 of Binodini, and would lose no opportunity of waxing eloquent in her praise. Asha could see that Binodini was well trained in household work; that the role of mistress came naturally to her; that she was not in the least shy in ordering about or scolding the servants, and was an adept in exacting from them their appointed tasks. All this made Asha feel so insignificant in comparison!

Consequently when Binodini, the paragon, came forward to solicit her friendship, the poor girl's joy, checked for a moment by her diffidence, overflowed in a redoubled shower. As with the juggler's magic tree, the seed of their love sprouted, branched and flowered all in a day.

"Let's have a pet-naming ceremony," said Asha.

"What name shall it be?" asked Binodini with a smile.

Asha suggested Ganga, Vakula and many such names of nice things.

"All these are so hackneyed!" complained Binodini. "Pretty names have lost their pretty meanings."

"What would you like, then?" asked Asha.

"Eyesore," laughed Binodini.

Though Asha had a leaning towards sweet-sounding names she accepted the pet term of raillery suggested by Binodini. "O my Eyesore!" she cried, as she clasped Binodini round the neck, and then she went off into a fit of laughter.

The thirsty-hearted Binodini, on her part, would drink in, with the avidity of a drunkard, the daily love-story of the newly-wedded wife. It would mount to her head, and the blood would course madly through her body.

When, in the quiet of midday, the mother would be taking her siesta, and the servants enjoying their off-time, Mahendra, at Vihari's urging, would be temporarily away at his college; and the faint shrill cry of the kite be now and then heard from the furthest edge of the burning sky; Asha would be rolling on the bed on the floor of her room, with her flowing hair spread all over the pillow, while Binodini lying prone beside her, a bolster under her breast, would he absorbed in the hum of her prattle, flushed to the ears, her breath coming short and quick.

Binodini, with repeated questions, would elicit from Asha even the smallest details, would have the same thing over and over again, and, when facts were exhausted, would ask for fancies. "What would you do, my dear, if such and such a thing happened?" she would insist. And Asha also loved to pursue the long-drawn-out vistas, leading to impossible love-scenes, which such questions would open up.

Sometimes Binodini would venture further: "Look here, my Eyesore, how would it have been if you were married to Vihari?"

Asha—"For shame, my dear, don't say that sort of thing. It makes me feel so queer. But wouldn't it have been nice if you had been. There was a talk of it, I know."

Binodini—"There were so many talks about my marriage. It's just as well that none of the others came to anything. I'm very well off as I am."

Asha could not let that pass uncontradicted. How could she admit that Binodini's condition was tolerable compared with her own! "Just think, my Eyesore, what might have happened if you had married my husband. It had almost been settled, d'you remember?"

That was true enough! But why had it not been? This bed of Asha's had one day been waiting for her. Could Binodini ever forget that as she looked round Asha's well-furnished room! She was but a guest here now—she was welcome to-day—she might have to go to-morrow.

In the afternoon Binodini would insist on doing up Asha's hair herself with consummate art, and on supervising her toilet for her husband's home-coming. And Binodini's imagination would veil itself to accompany the gaily-bedecked young bride to the love-tryst with her husband.

Some days Binodini would not let Asha go at all. "Do stay with me a little longer," she would plead; "your husband is not going to run away. He's not the elusive stag of the forest, but the pet deer tied to your skirt." Thus would she chatter to detain Asha!