Chapter 34
The growing dusk had enveloped Videha all over. Lights began to flicker at random in different parts of the town. Cottages, mansions. Courtyards, and hermitages, all decided to accept the night at different moments.
The night was everywhere but Janaka became aware of it rather abruptly when he realized that he had loitered too far away from the hermitage with Yajnyawalkya. The human habitats seemed far-flung and inconsequential from this far end of the meadows which were adjacent to the abode of Yajnyawalkya. Janaka realized that Yajnyawalkya had remained silent most of the time. He seemed to be listening. But it was difficult to know what he was listening to. “He is certainly not listening to me,” thought Janaka.
The brief pause in the conversation did not stir Yajnyawalkya to any response. He walked by Janaka's side, taking his presence for granted. Yajnyawalkya was using the conversation as a convenient screen behind which he could hide his preoccupation. But in a few moments the curious gaze with which Janaka was observing him stirred him to uneasiness. He assumed his usual decorum and made a few courteous gestures to indicate that he was not indifferent. The falsity of it did not go unnoticed by Janaka. However, he did not feel offended.
“I think, we must go back now,” he said, using his prerogative to determine the length and intimacy of the conversation.
“As you wish,” replied Yajnyawalkya in a tone that was neither acquiescent nor compliant.
“Or we might just sit for a while and relax,” Janaka said, partly out of an impulse to contradict Yajnyawalkya in order to rouse him to some display of feeling and partly out of a genuine desire to share a few more moments with him. Janaka was pleased to see some sign of a little more involvement on the part of Yajnyawalkya as they sat down on the grass.
There prevailed uneasiness between them as they both realized that their conversation so far had been an unsuccessful attempt to hide their real self.
“Who was this woman who had stayed behind to talk to you? Wasn't she the one who had challenged you in the debate?” Janaka asked abruptly breaking the silence between them.
Yajnyawalkya started. He had not expected such unabashed aggression. He stared back at Janaka, encountering his curiosity with a silent avowal of an unspoken passion.
For a moment they both gazed at each other silently. Yajnyawalkya, in that surprisingly intimate moment, realized that there was a wide dissimilarity between Janaka's left eye and the right eye. Janaka's left eye seemed to delve deep into Yajnyawalkya with an uncompromising, almost ruthless penetration, while his right eye regarded him with infinite compassion and solicitude. The diversity in the expressions of the two eyes disconcerted Yajnyawalkya for a moment. In his perplexity he did not know if he should rebel against the scrutiny of the left eye or whether he
should respond to the compassion in the right eye.
When he spoke, he uttered every word with great deliberation:
“Yes, she was Gargi.”
It was the first time he had uttered her name in the presence of someone. To make it sound less personal, he added, “Gargi Vachaknavi.”
The name of the woman forced a recollection in Janaka's mind, of several images and faces. He remembered the mystifying confrontation that had erupted between Yajnyawalkya and a sage called Shakalya. He had not forgotten it ever since. He had not quite understood the nature of the subterranean passions which had caused that violent eruption on that day.
Somehow Janaka respected the discreet silence which restrained him from further scrutiny. He sighed heavily as though he laboured to imbibe the whole essence of Yajnyawalkya's utterance of that day of the conference in its incomplete manifestation.
He looked at the sky. There was a prematurely early sign of rains with dark clouds overhead. He placed his hand on Yajnyawalkya's shoulder and said, “Come on, we must hurry. It's going to rain. It seems the monsoon has arrived.”
A few drops spluttered out of the sky. Yajnyawalkya smiled.
“A few drops of rain do not make the monsoon,” he said.
“But they do presage the monsoon,” said Janaka.
And Janaka was more than right, for the thin sheet of stray clouds soon massed into elephantine shapes and the wind propelled them forward. A storm broke out with a thunder and the two men beat a hasty retreat to the cottage.