Chapter 38
Maitreyi drove the cattle back to the stable-yard. The cows joined their young ones. The hermitage and its surroundings were vibrant with the animated response of the calves to the cows. Dust flew up in columns as hundreds of cows walked briskly homeward.
Maitreyi had just finished her survey of the stable-yard when she was joined by Katyayani with the child trailing behind. The child was breathless trying to keep in step with her. On seeing Maitreyi, she picked the boy brusquely and thrust him into Maitreyi's hands.
“ Here, mind this brat. The cursed child has never known the face of his father and yet he has taken after him in every way. God alone knows what calamity has befallen that man that he has to abandon his kith and kin like a derelict ship”.
The areas around .her eyes had darkened and there were lines of cynical indifference permanently marked around her mouth.
“And these are the thousand cows that he had proudly brought here from Videha. Why? To feed us, the perpetually hungry ones, who clung to him for food, shelter and survival? He thought he had done his duty to us by leaving us this bounty, so he could walk out on us wearing his crown of ascetic glory!”
Maitreyi clasped the child and gazed blankly in the direction of Videha. She remembered clearly the day Yajnyawalkya's triumphant return was heralded by the herd of a thousand cows who walked ahead of their proud owner. She remembered too, the resplendent aura of victory around her husband.
On the night of his return, as she listened to his conversation with his disciples, she realized that the trophy he had brought home was a mark of the disdain he felt for the ruler of the land. He had brought home, not a largesse, but a trophy. He was no more interested in looking after the wealth than a king is in consummating his marriage to the numerous consorts in his harem.
A deep shadow of alienation spread over her countenance. Katyayani's despairing, agonizing utterance and Maitreyi's withdrawal into herself created a sombre presentiment in the child's heart and he wailed. The pathos in it startled Maitreyi and she hastened to pacify him. Seeing her thus engrossed in the effort, Katyayani flew into a rage and drew the child back to herself. With a devilish anger, she roughened his cheeks and shouted into his ears, “Yes, go on. Let your cry reach your deaf father. At least you might shake him out of his stupor if nothing else can!”
This new surge of remonstrance frightened the child and to escape its blast, he flew into the arms of Maitreyi. His helplessness lacerated her heart. She held him close and turned her back upon the furious woman. The child buried his face into her bosom and rested there peacefully.
She stole a rueful glance at Katyayani. Of late, Katyayani had retreated into a sullen silence. Occasionally she emerged out of it with a vehement remonstrance that left everyone reeling under the impact. Maitreyi knew that the disciples in the hermitage had begun to view her with an incomprehension that was changing into suppressed laughter.
She put the child down, bent over him, and whispered something. The child ran away, looking back a couple of times at his mother who was gesticulating in anger.. Maitreyi paused for a moment. At such times Katyayani was implacable. But after her unspent fury had mounted to a certain height, the facade of invulnerability would crumble, leaving her exposed to a tide of emotions. Maitreyi feared that moment more than this outburst of anger.
She stood there facing Katyayani for a while. Then quietly and decisively took her hand and said, “Come, let us walk to the river.”
When they reached the river-bank, the shadows were lengthening across their path. Birds had flocked on the branches of trees and those who had still not found their place in the nest were sending frantic signals to their companions. The withdrawal of the sun sent waves of fear in the animal-kingdom. Each evening brought with it the stirring of perennial fears, and every evening the animal world sank into the night with no knowledge of the morrow as it were.
Maitreyi saw that Katyayani was unknowingly absorbing the deepening tones of the evening. Her eyelashes lowered over her eyes and concealed the sadness. Maitreyi regretted for a moment their coming to this nostalgic spot this time of the day. Katyayani sensed her reluctance to linger on,and understood her eagerness to retrace their steps and hasten home. She pressed Maitreyi's hand and its grip conveyed to Maitreyi an urge to stay awhile.
They found a resting place and sat down, both of them afraid to face each other. It was Katyayani who articulated the unacknowledged, menacing fear.
“I knew, I knew it always, though he never made it known......”
Maitreyi waited in breathless silence and allowed a breathing space for Katyayani to formulate her words out of the deep void within.
“His sleepless nights told me more than what I saw of him in the day. He deluded himself, thinking that I was not capable of understanding it all. Ever since he came back from Videha, he did not belong to us.”
Maitreyi did not want her to name it. Katyayani continued heavily, each word being forced into utterance with great effort.
“You know, I pleaded with him. I said: I know, I am death to you. But I must know...
‘Tis not you who are my death', he had said once...
…...But your silence and withdrawal from me is death. It does not kill me; it's killing you; I used to say, and he thereupon used to stare in the dark. I used to kiss him on the eye-lids to force them shut. But I knew, that would not banish the image he had so carefully locked in his heart.....
Once, I could not bear the inarticulate strangeness. I insisted:'I want to know,' I had said, 'what it means to be myself and not being able to be someone else, to be so utterly unable to be another!'
'You don't need to be. Be what you are, and you will be able to be everything', he would say.
'But I want you to take me along as I am.'
On that, he lifted his head a little and stroked my forehead gently.
'That I will. But perhaps not here and now; perhaps at some other time'.
Katyayani paused suddenly, as though arrested by the burden she could carry no further. She sobbed uncontrollably. But Maitreyi felt in it the eternal loneliness woman held apart from the man she had continued to regard her own. She picked up pebbles and listlessly threw them into the water, watching the ripples come and go. Then she stopped doing that, gleaned a few sharp pebbles, and held them in her palm, as though she had picked up lumps of pain from Katyayani's speech and was waiting to see them transformed, by some miracle, into glistening pearls. When she came back to herself, Katyayani had leaned against the trunk of the tree and was gazing ahead with unseeing eyes.
Maitreyi drove the cattle back to the stable-yard. The cows joined their young ones. The hermitage and its surroundings were vibrant with the animated response of the calves to the cows. Dust flew up in columns as hundreds of cows walked briskly homeward.
Maitreyi had just finished her survey of the stable-yard when she was joined by Katyayani with the child trailing behind. The child was breathless trying to keep in step with her. On seeing Maitreyi, she picked the boy brusquely and thrust him into Maitreyi's hands.
“ Here, mind this brat. The cursed child has never known the face of his father and yet he has taken after him in every way. God alone knows what calamity has befallen that man that he has to abandon his kith and kin like a derelict ship”.
The areas around .her eyes had darkened and there were lines of cynical indifference permanently marked around her mouth.
“And these are the thousand cows that he had proudly brought here from Videha. Why? To feed us, the perpetually hungry ones, who clung to him for food, shelter and survival? He thought he had done his duty to us by leaving us this bounty, so he could walk out on us wearing his crown of ascetic glory!”
Maitreyi clasped the child and gazed blankly in the direction of Videha. She remembered clearly the day Yajnyawalkya's triumphant return was heralded by the herd of a thousand cows who walked ahead of their proud owner. She remembered too, the resplendent aura of victory around her husband.
On the night of his return, as she listened to his conversation with his disciples, she realized that the trophy he had brought home was a mark of the disdain he felt for the ruler of the land. He had brought home, not a largesse, but a trophy. He was no more interested in looking after the wealth than a king is in consummating his marriage to the numerous consorts in his harem.
A deep shadow of alienation spread over her countenance. Katyayani's despairing, agonizing utterance and Maitreyi's withdrawal into herself created a sombre presentiment in the child's heart and he wailed. The pathos in it startled Maitreyi and she hastened to pacify him. Seeing her thus engrossed in the effort, Katyayani flew into a rage and drew the child back to herself. With a devilish anger, she roughened his cheeks and shouted into his ears, “Yes, go on. Let your cry reach your deaf father. At least you might shake him out of his stupor if nothing else can!”
This new surge of remonstrance frightened the child and to escape its blast, he flew into the arms of Maitreyi. His helplessness lacerated her heart. She held him close and turned her back upon the furious woman. The child buried his face into her bosom and rested there peacefully.
She stole a rueful glance at Katyayani. Of late, Katyayani had retreated into a sullen silence. Occasionally she emerged out of it with a vehement remonstrance that left everyone reeling under the impact. Maitreyi knew that the disciples in the hermitage had begun to view her with an incomprehension that was changing into suppressed laughter.
She put the child down, bent over him, and whispered something. The child ran away, looking back a couple of times at his mother who was gesticulating in anger.. Maitreyi paused for a moment. At such times Katyayani was implacable. But after her unspent fury had mounted to a certain height, the facade of invulnerability would crumble, leaving her exposed to a tide of emotions. Maitreyi feared that moment more than this outburst of anger.
She stood there facing Katyayani for a while. Then quietly and decisively took her hand and said, “Come, let us walk to the river.”
When they reached the river-bank, the shadows were lengthening across their path. Birds had flocked on the branches of trees and those who had still not found their place in the nest were sending frantic signals to their companions. The withdrawal of the sun sent waves of fear in the animal-kingdom. Each evening brought with it the stirring of perennial fears, and every evening the animal world sank into the night with no knowledge of the morrow as it were.
Maitreyi saw that Katyayani was unknowingly absorbing the deepening tones of the evening. Her eyelashes lowered over her eyes and concealed the sadness. Maitreyi regretted for a moment their coming to this nostalgic spot this time of the day. Katyayani sensed her reluctance to linger on,and understood her eagerness to retrace their steps and hasten home. She pressed Maitreyi's hand and its grip conveyed to Maitreyi an urge to stay awhile.
They found a resting place and sat down, both of them afraid to face each other. It was Katyayani who articulated the unacknowledged, menacing fear.
“I knew, I knew it always, though he never made it known......”
Maitreyi waited in breathless silence and allowed a breathing space for Katyayani to formulate her words out of the deep void within.
“His sleepless nights told me more than what I saw of him in the day. He deluded himself, thinking that I was not capable of understanding it all. Ever since he came back from Videha, he did not belong to us.”
Maitreyi did not want her to name it. Katyayani continued heavily, each word being forced into utterance with great effort.
“You know, I pleaded with him. I said: I know, I am death to you. But I must know...
‘Tis not you who are my death', he had said once...
…...But your silence and withdrawal from me is death. It does not kill me; it's killing you; I used to say, and he thereupon used to stare in the dark. I used to kiss him on the eye-lids to force them shut. But I knew, that would not banish the image he had so carefully locked in his heart.....
Once, I could not bear the inarticulate strangeness. I insisted:'I want to know,' I had said, 'what it means to be myself and not being able to be someone else, to be so utterly unable to be another!'
'You don't need to be. Be what you are, and you will be able to be everything', he would say.
'But I want you to take me along as I am.'
On that, he lifted his head a little and stroked my forehead gently.
'That I will. But perhaps not here and now; perhaps at some other time'.
Katyayani paused suddenly, as though arrested by the burden she could carry no further. She sobbed uncontrollably. But Maitreyi felt in it the eternal loneliness woman held apart from the man she had continued to regard her own. She picked up pebbles and listlessly threw them into the water, watching the ripples come and go. Then she stopped doing that, gleaned a few sharp pebbles, and held them in her palm, as though she had picked up lumps of pain from Katyayani's speech and was waiting to see them transformed, by some miracle, into glistening pearls. When she came back to herself, Katyayani had leaned against the trunk of the tree and was gazing ahead with unseeing eyes.
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