Chapter 15
An air of uncertainty and insecurity, the kind of feeling which comes when you have to do things on your own, with no one to endorse or condemn what you are doing : prevailed in the hermitage for some time after Yajnyawalkya had left. The disciples, some of them intoxicated with their new-found freedom, and some afraid to use it, soon got accustomed to the situation.
Katyayani had increased the volume of her voice in the naive belief that by doing so she would be able to reinforce and augment her power and authority to fill up the vacuum created by Yajnyawalkya's absence. Where a stern look was enough to bring a situation under control, she resorted to a barrage of words. The result was that she soon grew tired of her own voice. But such intervals of ennui did not last long. She used to resume power with a greater gusto. She enjoyed giving sermons on the need for discipline and austerity to the harassed boys. She especially enjoyed catching them on the wrong foot in their attempts to prove their innocence to her. It filled her with a triumphant exhilaration when her sudden and clever attacks sent them dithering for an adequate defence.
The pupils felt bewildered under their new master. They could not confide their troubles and problems to her, and so they found that the most convenient way was to avoid her.
One day she admonished a pupil for neglecting the tasks given to him. The pupil murmured something under his breath, which was a feeble attempt to both hide and reveal his remonstrance. Katyayani flinched in a fury and demanded, “Would you have dared to give such an answer to Yajnyawalkya?”
The boy looked at her in bewilderment; in fact he would have liked to run away, because he was inept at arguing with furious women. But it was difficult to escape under her demanding glance. So he stated, what to him was plain truth. “No,” he said, “but you are not Yajnyawalkya!”
There was no bitterness in his voice. Katyayani's fury subsided. It was as if someone had held a mirror up to her, and she was astonished to see how ludicrous she looked in the garb that did not fit her. Finding her suddenly quiet, the boy stood there for a moment, and then realizing that she did not care about his presence, slipped away, looking back a couple of times at her, wondering what it was that caused her to relent.
That day Katyayani decided to shed all her burdens and be herself. It was not a false cheer, but an easy abandonment. So the next morning she was up early. She pulled Maitreyi out of her bed and they both sauntered to the riverside. Maitreyi was shivering in the cold of the winter morning. But Katyayani was exuding warmth, laughing and talking incessantly. Maitreyi gradually felt lighter as she caught her mood. She was reminded once again of what she felt about the simple magic of Katyayani.
'It is not what this woman means by the words she uses. It is what she is able to do with them! It is that which works the wonder!'
Katyayani was unaware of what Maitreyi was thinking. Katyayani had that enviable quality of self-sufficiency by which the rest of the world got shut off from her vision when she did not want it to intrude upon her joy. Maitreyi knew that if she remained aloof a little longer, Katyayani was sure to resent it. She moved closer to Katyayani and clasped her hand warmly. Katyayani shook it merrily as she made Maitreyi almost run in order to keep pace with her.
Maitreyi was panting when they reached the bank of the river and sat down on a rock on
2the bank. They were both laughing with a childish gaiety, and laughed still more with the discovery that they could still laugh like that. They stopped in between to look at each other and to feel the breeze swaying the trees and playing with their hair, and then new waves and ripples of laughter tickled them. Then Katyayani untied the knot of her hair and let it fall upon her shoulders. Maitreyi saw a wild streak of rebellion in that abrupt gesture. She caught her flowing tresses and ran her fingers through them. Katyayani closed her eyes and lay down in the soft sand. Slowly, the infinity of the sky overwhelmed her. She seemed to drink at the source of life, beyond pleasure and pain. Maitreyi leaned on her elbow and bent over to look at her.
Then Katyayani spoke, almost to herself, “Why does a woman need a man? To remind her that she cannot escape the body?”
Maitreyi did not answer. She felt Katyayani's words seep through her body and reach the innermost silence of the mind. Something whispered to her in those solitary recesses, but she could not trace the words back to meaning. The silence within her began to resound with the echoes of women who had been and who have yet to be.
Katyayani grasped Maitreyi's hand without looking at her, and placing it slightly below the navel pressed it softly. Then she whispered, “Can you feel it? Can you feel it coming to life? I know, I know as sure as I know myself, he's come! A child fair and naked! Maitreyi, I saw that child in my dream last night; I have seen it so often before in my dreams. I saw it again—in my arms, beautiful, fair, and naked as the sky. I took it to a garden and sang hymns to it. It was so beautiful; I did not want to cover it with clothes, so I covered it with my body to give it warmth.”
Maitreyi's heart began to swing with delight. She remembered how as a child , she used feel an upsurge of joy and fear when she swung high, as high as the sky, and then felt the wonder of being suspended at a height in the air, for a fraction of a moment really, but it felt as if like eternity.
She gathered Katyayani's palms in both of hers and looked into her eyes with a girlish adoration. Katyayani looked up at Maitreyi and said, “It ought to have come to you. That was what we had been expecting! But it chose to come to me after eluding me for so long!”
And then she gave way to tears
An air of uncertainty and insecurity, the kind of feeling which comes when you have to do things on your own, with no one to endorse or condemn what you are doing : prevailed in the hermitage for some time after Yajnyawalkya had left. The disciples, some of them intoxicated with their new-found freedom, and some afraid to use it, soon got accustomed to the situation.
Katyayani had increased the volume of her voice in the naive belief that by doing so she would be able to reinforce and augment her power and authority to fill up the vacuum created by Yajnyawalkya's absence. Where a stern look was enough to bring a situation under control, she resorted to a barrage of words. The result was that she soon grew tired of her own voice. But such intervals of ennui did not last long. She used to resume power with a greater gusto. She enjoyed giving sermons on the need for discipline and austerity to the harassed boys. She especially enjoyed catching them on the wrong foot in their attempts to prove their innocence to her. It filled her with a triumphant exhilaration when her sudden and clever attacks sent them dithering for an adequate defence.
The pupils felt bewildered under their new master. They could not confide their troubles and problems to her, and so they found that the most convenient way was to avoid her.
One day she admonished a pupil for neglecting the tasks given to him. The pupil murmured something under his breath, which was a feeble attempt to both hide and reveal his remonstrance. Katyayani flinched in a fury and demanded, “Would you have dared to give such an answer to Yajnyawalkya?”
The boy looked at her in bewilderment; in fact he would have liked to run away, because he was inept at arguing with furious women. But it was difficult to escape under her demanding glance. So he stated, what to him was plain truth. “No,” he said, “but you are not Yajnyawalkya!”
There was no bitterness in his voice. Katyayani's fury subsided. It was as if someone had held a mirror up to her, and she was astonished to see how ludicrous she looked in the garb that did not fit her. Finding her suddenly quiet, the boy stood there for a moment, and then realizing that she did not care about his presence, slipped away, looking back a couple of times at her, wondering what it was that caused her to relent.
That day Katyayani decided to shed all her burdens and be herself. It was not a false cheer, but an easy abandonment. So the next morning she was up early. She pulled Maitreyi out of her bed and they both sauntered to the riverside. Maitreyi was shivering in the cold of the winter morning. But Katyayani was exuding warmth, laughing and talking incessantly. Maitreyi gradually felt lighter as she caught her mood. She was reminded once again of what she felt about the simple magic of Katyayani.
'It is not what this woman means by the words she uses. It is what she is able to do with them! It is that which works the wonder!'
Katyayani was unaware of what Maitreyi was thinking. Katyayani had that enviable quality of self-sufficiency by which the rest of the world got shut off from her vision when she did not want it to intrude upon her joy. Maitreyi knew that if she remained aloof a little longer, Katyayani was sure to resent it. She moved closer to Katyayani and clasped her hand warmly. Katyayani shook it merrily as she made Maitreyi almost run in order to keep pace with her.
Maitreyi was panting when they reached the bank of the river and sat down on a rock on
2the bank. They were both laughing with a childish gaiety, and laughed still more with the discovery that they could still laugh like that. They stopped in between to look at each other and to feel the breeze swaying the trees and playing with their hair, and then new waves and ripples of laughter tickled them. Then Katyayani untied the knot of her hair and let it fall upon her shoulders. Maitreyi saw a wild streak of rebellion in that abrupt gesture. She caught her flowing tresses and ran her fingers through them. Katyayani closed her eyes and lay down in the soft sand. Slowly, the infinity of the sky overwhelmed her. She seemed to drink at the source of life, beyond pleasure and pain. Maitreyi leaned on her elbow and bent over to look at her.
Then Katyayani spoke, almost to herself, “Why does a woman need a man? To remind her that she cannot escape the body?”
Maitreyi did not answer. She felt Katyayani's words seep through her body and reach the innermost silence of the mind. Something whispered to her in those solitary recesses, but she could not trace the words back to meaning. The silence within her began to resound with the echoes of women who had been and who have yet to be.
Katyayani grasped Maitreyi's hand without looking at her, and placing it slightly below the navel pressed it softly. Then she whispered, “Can you feel it? Can you feel it coming to life? I know, I know as sure as I know myself, he's come! A child fair and naked! Maitreyi, I saw that child in my dream last night; I have seen it so often before in my dreams. I saw it again—in my arms, beautiful, fair, and naked as the sky. I took it to a garden and sang hymns to it. It was so beautiful; I did not want to cover it with clothes, so I covered it with my body to give it warmth.”
Maitreyi's heart began to swing with delight. She remembered how as a child , she used feel an upsurge of joy and fear when she swung high, as high as the sky, and then felt the wonder of being suspended at a height in the air, for a fraction of a moment really, but it felt as if like eternity.
She gathered Katyayani's palms in both of hers and looked into her eyes with a girlish adoration. Katyayani looked up at Maitreyi and said, “It ought to have come to you. That was what we had been expecting! But it chose to come to me after eluding me for so long!”
And then she gave way to tears
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