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knew too that Shanti was never fond of speaking out
her inner thoughts. So she changed the topic of
conversation by asking: 'Look here, sister, how do you
like my child?'
105
 'Where did you get the child, sister?' Shanti asked.
'When did you give birth to a baby?'
'Good gracious! You should be ashamed of your
ignorance. The child is not mine. She is my brother's
child.'
Nothing was further from Nimi's thoughts than to
hurt the feelings of her brother's wife. She merely
meant that she had obtained the child from her
brother.
Shanti, however, did not take it so generously. She
thought that perhaps Nimi meant to hurt her feelings
by taunting.
'I did not ask you about the father of the child, but of
her mother, sister!'
Nimi was rightly served. She felt embarrassed.
'Dear sister,' Nimi said gravely, 'how can I tell you
whose daughter she is? I forgot to ask brother about
her in the hurry. Perhaps brother picked her up
somewhere. In these days of famine even mothers are
deserting their children. You know how so many
parents come to us to sell their children. But who cares
to adopt other people's children?'
Again her eyes became moistened with tears. She
wiped them away and said: 'Oh, such a beautiful girl!
She is as beautiful as the moon; and so plump  I
begged brother to give me the child, and he did.'
For a long time they talked on various subjects. In the
meantime Nimi s husband returned and Shanti walked
back to her own cottage and locked herself in. Then she
picked up a handful of ashes from the oven. As she
106
stood on the floor, she thought for a long time. At last
she spoke thus to herself: Tonight I am actually going
to do what I have been thinking of doing for a long
time. What kept me from doing it has now been
fulfilled. Well, is it a success or a failure? This life of
mine itself is a failure! I must carry out my resolution.
The punishment is the same for one or a hundred
breaches of a solemn vow.'
Then she threw away the rice and curry she had
cooked for her meal. Plucking a few fruits from the
garden, she ate those instead. Next she picked up her
beautiful Dhaka sari; and tearing away the borders, she
dyed the cloth yellow. It was almost dusk when she
had finished dyeing and drying the borderless piece of
cloth. Closing the door of her cottage, she engaged
herself in another task. She scissored off a part of her
long and shaggy hair and saved it carefully; then
braided whatever was left on her head. Her head thus
became covered with the jatas of a sanyasi. She cut the
yellow cloth in two, put one part on, and tied the other
around her breast.
There was a little mirror in the cottage. For a long
time Shanti looked at her dress in this mirror.
'I really do not know,' Shanti said to herself, 'how to
finish this task.'
She threw away the mirror. With the hair she had cut
off, she made a beard and moustache. She did not put
on this artificial beard and moustache then, but saved
them to fool someone at the proper time. Then she
picked up a large deerskin, and covered herself with it
107
from her neck to her knees. Thus dressed, the young
sanyasi looked around the cottage to be sure that she
was alone there. Exactly at midnight she opened the
door and entered the deep forests alone in the guise of
a holy man. That night the wood nymphs heard this
wonderful song sung divinely:
'Maiden, where dost thou go, Thus trotting on
horseback?'
To battle I go, please stand not in my way,
Please stand not in my way. So I sing Bande
Mataram, Bande Mataram, Bande Mataram.
And today I plunge right into the waves of warfare;
Who art thou and who is thine and why dost thou
follow me?
'Oh woman, who cares to be a woman today? Our
fight is on  our fight is on!
So sing victory to Mother India, Victory, victory to
Mother India,
I beg of you, my beloved, please Do not leave me
behind.
Leave me not, leave me not.
Hark, hark, there beat the drums of victory!
And look! my war-horse neighs and paws To go to
war, yes, to go to war to free India
From England's yoke. I cannot  I cannot stay at
home any longer.
Oh, woman! Who cares to be a woman today? Our
fight is on  our fight is on!
So sing victory, victory to Mother India, Victory,
victory to Mother India 
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Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram!'
3
ext day the three distraught leaders of the
N
Children were seated in one of the
secluded rooms of the ashram. They were engaged in
conversation.
'Master Satya, why is God so unfavourable to us?'
Jiban asked. Tor what sin of ours were we thus
defeated by the British?'
'God is not unfavourable to us,' Mahatma Satya
replied. 'Warfare is composed of both victory and
defeat. The other day we were victorious. Yesterday
we met with defeat. He who wins last really wins. I am
fully confident that God will again smile on our efforts.
He has ever been kind to us. In His name we must
reach the goal of our mission. We shall indeed suffer
the tortures of hell if we meet with defeat in the end;
but I am sure of our success. However, we must [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]