Page:Krishnakanta's Will (Chatterjee, Roy).pdf/58

Rh bed of sickness which she never left again. When she died he felt that he had murdered her with his own hands just as he had murdered Rohini, and great was the agony of the remorse he experienced. Away from his wife he had never for a moment been able to forget her. She had filled his heart as completely when he had been touring, as when he had been leading a voluptuous life at Prosadpur. She was within ever and always, and Rohini—without.

The sun was high in the sky, getting gradually brighter and stronger. Gobindalal went downstairs and strolled out more mechanically than otherwise to where was once a beautiful little garden overlooked by one of his chamber windows. It had been enclosed by a hedge; but the fence was nearly all gone, and not a trace could be seen of the once lovely garden his own hands had reared.

Out of there he went straight to his favourite garden on the embankment of the Baruni tank. Almost ever since he left home it had been quite forgotten, so that it was everywhere overgrown with weeds, nettles, thorn-bushes and other useless plants. Most of the marble figures stood without heads or limbs, and one or two actually lay prostrate upon the ground. But Gobindalal was quite indifferent about all this. The one thought that completely occupied his mind was the thought of his dead wife whom, his conscience told him, he had killed by his cruel and reckless behaviour.

There were now many bathers in the tank; and a few young lads were noisily gay as they made an attempt at swimming, dashing and spattering water. Gobindalal, however, took no notice of anything. He went and sat down at the foot of a broken marble figure near by and was soon lost in his own thoughts.

There he remained till it was noon. He felt not the scorching sun overhead, so swallowed up was he in the thought of his wife whom he had lost. Suddenly arose the thought of Rohini in his mind, and he shuddered at the recollection of the horrid deed he had done. Then his thoughts were divided between Bhramar and Rohini. At one time he thought of Rohini, at another he thought of Bhramar. This continued for a long while till he fancied he saw his wife's vision before him. It faded away, and in its place there rose up the beautiful apparition of Rohini. He mused and mused away till in every tree near about he imagined he saw a likeness of Bhramar—of Rohini. If there was a rustling of the leaves he thought it was Rohini speaking in a whisper. If the birds warbled among the trees he fancied she was singing. The loud talk of the bathers in the tank sometimes sounded in his ear like the voice of Bhramar, at others like the voice of Rohini. If anything stirred among the bushes near it seemed as if Rohini flitted past him. The noise of the wind murmuring among the leaves appeared to him like the sobs and sighs of Bhramar. In fact he was so deeply under the spell of his own imagination that he fancied he heard them in every sound and saw them in everything around.

The hours passed on to afternoon, but Gobindalal was there still at the foot of the statue, and as motionless as the statue itself. Then the afternoon lengthened towards evening, and the evening towards night, but he knew nothing of the hour. Since morning he had not tasted a morsel of food. His relations, having sought him in vain, concluded he had left for Calcutta.

Darkness now fell upon the quiet village and enveloped the garden and the tank. The stars shone out one by one in the black azure of the sky; everything was still. But Gobindalal saw nothing. He was in the midst of a waking nightmare in which only Bhramar and Rohini prevailed.

Suddenly in the midst of his deep meditation Gobindalal's heated and fevered brain conjured up before him a vivid figure of Rohini. He thought he heard her say aloud:

Gobindalal did not remember that Rohini was no more. He unconsciously asked the fancied vision—"Here, what, Rohini?"

And he heard Rohini's voice say again:

Gobindalal asked again, "Here, in this tank, what?"

Again Rohini's voice sounded:

An inward voice, born of his own unsteady head, seemed to say, "Shall I drown myself?"

The answer from within came, "Yes; atone—die. Bhramar is looking for us.