How much joy, how much peace, how much strength there is in weeping. One who has never sat alone and, in remembrance of someone or in the pain of separation, sobbed and wept bitterly, is deprived of a happiness in life for which hundreds of laughs would be worth sacrificing. Ask those who have been blessed with it about the pleasure of that sweet pain. After laughter, the mind becomes empty, the soul grows agitated, as though we have become tired, defeated. After weeping, one experiences a new vigor, a new life, a new enthusiasm.
When the letter from the Praja-Mitra office reached Jalpa, she burst into tears upon reading it. Holding the letter in one hand and the doorframe with the other, she wept bitterly. Who could say what she was crying over? Perhaps the unexpected success of her plan had overwhelmed her soul, carrying her to such depths of joy where there is water, or to such heights where heat turns into ice. After six months, she had received this joyful news. For so long she had remained a plaything of deceptive hope and harsh despair. Ah! How many times had the thought arisen in her mind: Why not put an end to this life? If I had actually given up my life somewhere, I would never have seen him again! But how hard his heart is. He has been sitting there for six months and has not written even a single letter, nor even asked about me. In the end, must he not have thought that I would probably weep myself to death? When has he ever cared about me! A man may spend ten or twenty rupees even on his friends. That is not love. Love belongs to the heart, not to money. Until there was any news of Ramanath, Jalpa had placed all the blame upon herself; but the moment she learned where he was, her heart suddenly became hard. All kinds of complaints began to arise. What could he be thinking by sitting there? Simply that he is independent, free, and does not live on anyone else's charity.
If I too had gone away somewhere without telling him anything, how would he have treated me? Perhaps he would have come at my throat with a sword, or would never have looked at my face for the rest of his life. Standing right there, Jalpa mentally opened an entire office of grievances.
Suddenly Ramesh Babu called from the doorway, "Gopi, Gopi, come here for a moment."
Lying in his room, Munshiji groaned and said, "Who is it, brother? Come into the room. Oh! It is you, Ramesh Babu! Babuji, I have come back to life after dying. Just understand that I have been given a new life. There was no hope. No one ahead of me and no one behind me; both the boys are good-for-nothings. Whether I live or die makes no difference to them. Their mother is afraid even to look at my face. Only my daughter-in-law saved my life. If it were not for her, I would have been gone by now."
Ramesh Babu, displaying artificial sympathy, said, "You became so ill and I did not even hear about it. You suffered so much while I was away! Even your daughter-in-law did not write me a line. You must have had to take leave?"
Munshi—"I did send an application for leave, but, sir, I did not send a medical certificate. Where could I have brought sixteen rupees from? I went to the Civil Surgeon one day, but he refused to write the certificate. You know he does not speak without taking his fee. I came back and sent the application. I do not know whether it was approved or not. This is how doctors are. They can see that a man is dying, but they will not take a step without receiving a gift!"
Ramesh Babu said anxiously, "That is bad news indeed, but what will happen if your leave is refused?"
Munshiji slapped his forehead and said, "What will happen? I will stay at home. If the sahib asks, I will plainly tell him that I went to the surgeon and he refused to give me leave. After all, why has the government appointed these people as servants? Merely to add to the beauty of a chair? I would rather be dismissed than give a certificate. The boys are away. There is no one even to bring you paan. What can I do?"
Ramesh said with a smile, "Do not worry about me. I have not come today to eat paan; I have come to eat my fill of sweets. (Calling to Jalpa) Bahuji, I have brought good news for you. Have some sweets ordered."
Jalpa placed a tray of paan before him and said, "Tell me the news first. Perhaps the news you think is new may already have become old."
Ramesh—"What if it has! We have found Ramanath. He is in Calcutta."
Jalpa—"I already know."
Munshiji sprang up. His fever seemed to flee and hide itself behind his eagerness. Grasping Ramesh's hand, he said, "We know he is in Calcutta? Did a letter come?"
Ramesh—"It was not a letter; there was a police inquiry. I said that there was no accusation of any kind against him. How did you come to know, Bahuji?"
Jalpa explained her scheme. She also showed him the letter from the Praja-Mitra office. Along with the letter was a receipt for the money, bearing Rama's signature.
Ramesh—"The signature is certainly Ramesh Babu's—there can be no doubt of that. I concede defeat to you, Bahuji! Bravo, what an ingenious idea! You have outwitted all of us. None of us thought of it. Now that we think about it, it seems such an easy thing. Someone should go and catch the fellow and drag him back."
While they were talking, Ratan arrived. The moment Jalpa saw her, she came out and embraced her, saying, "Sister, the letter from Calcutta has arrived. He is there."
Ratan—"Swear on my head that it is true?"
Jalpa—"Yes, I am telling you the truth. Look at the letter."
Ratan—"Then leave today."
Jalpa—"That is exactly what I am thinking too. Will you come with me?"
Ratan—"I am ready to go, but whom can I leave the house with? Sister, I have begun to suspect Manibhooshan. His intentions do not seem good. There were no less than twenty thousand rupees in the bank. He has squandered all of it God knows where. He says it was spent on the funeral rites. When I ask for the accounts, he gives me an angry look. He keeps the office keys with himself. When I ask for them, he puts me off. I am afraid he is plotting some legal trick against me. I fear that while I am away, he will take everything and disappear. People are coming to see the bungalow. I too think I should go to the village and live there peacefully. Once the bungalow is sold, I will have cash in hand. If I am not here, perhaps I will not even get to see that money. Take Gopi with you and leave today. I will arrange the money."
Jalpa—"Gopinath may not be able to go. Someone is needed here for Dada's medicines and care."
Ratan—"I will take care of that. I will come every morning, give him his medicine, and leave. I will come once in the evening too."
Jalpa said with a smile, "And who will sit with him for the rest of the day?"
Ratan—"I will sit for a while too, but you should leave today. Who knows what condition the poor man is in over there? So, it is settled, isn't it?"
When Ratan entered Munshiji's room, Ramesh Babu stood up and said, "Come, Deviji. We have found Ramesh Babu!"
Ratan—"Half the credit belongs to me."
Ramesh—"It must have happened on your advice. Now we have to worry about bringing him back here."
Ratan—"Jalpa should go and bring him back. Let her take Gopi with her. You have no objection to that, Dadaji?"
Munshiji did have an objection. Had it been up to him, he would have gathered another five or ten men on this occasion. Then, when the members of the household were going away, how could he not object? But such a situation had arisen that he could say nothing. Why would Gopi not be happy at getting such a good opportunity to see Calcutta? Vishambhar seethed inwardly. If fate had not made him small, he would not have suffered this humiliation today. Gopi was hardly very clever; wherever he went, he lost one thing or another. Yes, he was older than him. This decree of fate had forced him to remain silent.
At nine o'clock that night, Jalpa was ready to leave. She bowed her head at her in-laws' feet and received their blessings. Vishambhar was crying; she embraced him affectionately and then got into the motorcar. Ratan had come to see her off at the station. As the motorcar moved, Jalpa said, "Sister, Calcutta must be a very large city. How will we find him there?"
Ratan—"Go first to the office of Praja-Mitra. You will find out from there. Gopi Babu is with you, after all."
Jalpa—"Where will I stay?"
Ratan—"There are several dharamshalas. Otherwise, stay in a hotel. If you need money, telegraph me. I will make some arrangement and send it. It would be a great favor to me if Babuji came back. This Manibhooshan will ruin me."
Jalpa—"I hope the hotel people will not be rogues?"
Ratan—"If anyone behaves even a little mischievously, kick him. Do not ask anything—give him a kick first and talk afterward. (Taking a knife from her waist) Keep this with you. Hide it at your waist. Whenever I go out, I keep it with me. It makes the heart much stronger. Any man who harasses a woman is, understand, the greatest sort of coward, a low fellow, and a lecher. Just the gleam of your knife and the look in your eyes will make him realize what he is dealing with. He will tuck his tail between his legs and run away. But if such a moment ever comes when you are forced to use the knife, do not hesitate even a little. Go at him with the knife. Do not worry at all about what will happen or what will not happen. Whatever is meant to happen will happen."
Jalpa took the knife, but said nothing. Her heart felt heavy. There were so many things to think about and ask that merely contemplating them made her heart sink.
The station arrived. The porters unloaded the luggage, and Gopi brought the tickets. Jalpa stood on the platform like a stone statue, as though she had lost all awareness. Before a great ordeal, we become silent. All our strength is devoted to preparing for that battle.
Ratan said to Gopi, "Stay alert."
Gopi had been exercising for several months. When he walked, he would keep looking at his shoulders and chest. To those watching him, he looked just as he always had, but in his own eyes he had become something else. Perhaps he wondered why people did not move aside when they saw him coming, why they were not frightened by his build. He said arrogantly, "If anyone makes even the slightest fuss, I will break him."
Ratan smiled. "I know that. Just do not fall asleep."
Gopi—"I will not even blink. How could sleep dare come?"
The train arrived. Gopi entered a compartment and took possession of it. Jalpa's eyes were filled with tears. She said, "Sister, bless me that I may return safely after bringing him back."
At that moment, her weak heart was searching for some refuge, some support, some source of strength; and who could provide her with that strength except a blessing and a prayer? This is that inexhaustible storehouse of strength and peace which never disappoints anyone, which takes everyone by the arm and carries everyone safely across.
The engine whistled. The two friends embraced. Jalpa boarded the train.
Ratan said, "Send a letter as soon as you arrive." Jalpa nodded.
"If you feel that you need me, write immediately. I will leave everything and come."
Jalpa nodded again.
"Do not cry on the way."
Jalpa laughed. The train moved away.