A
Short-story adapted from Gokul Chand
Nag’s “Bar-at-Law” in Bengali
Charu Dutt quickly
rose to prominence and was among the most prosperous of the new barristers.
This made him a target of envy and gossip behind his back. Someone said, “Isn’t
he lucky! The fellow has found a gold mine in his marriage. Who ever thought
old Mr. Ghosh, the father-in-law, had amassed such a
fortune?” His companion, with a pipe dangling between lips, replied: “Two lac cash in Bengal Bank is no trifle!” After striving for
it steadily these two years Charu had captured the secretaryship of ten clubs, membership of seven more and
bagged a lot of other social distinctions. But all this success left him
discontented. “To tell you the truth” he would sometimes admit to a
friend, “our desi clubs are altogether
dull and worthless!”
One
evening Mr. Dutt had a few of his England-returned
friends for tea. His pretty wife Meera was charming the guests by her vivacious
manner and lavish hospitality. As the evening wore on there was the desultory
gossip about the war, the German offensive...and chaos
in
The
thread of this arm-chair survey of world affairs was snapped by Mr. Dutt. “Well, Mr. Banerji,” he
began addressing a senior barrister, “You are a member of the Masonic Lodge,
aren‘t you?”
“Yes,”
was the reply. “My connection with the Masonic
Brotherhood has been a matter of some 5 years now.” Saying this he cast a patronising look around.
“But
you ’ven’t taken me there any time,” said Charu Dutt, with an air of
grievance. “My day is spent in law suits and the scavenging the muck of the
world!”
“Somebody
has to do that, my friend,” said Mr. Banerji. “Otherrwise goodbye to sanitation.
Let me confess that I can breathe with relief since you came on the scene. The
pressure on my time was getting intolerable. Give a lecture to students on physical
and moral development...Throw a tea-party for Social Workers….Send a protest to
the Englishman’s libellous remarks about
Bengalis….All these assignments were driving me mad. It is you who have saved
me from total breakdown, my friend. May your days be as many as the hair on my
head! You have my blessings.”
“Enough
of this complimentary talk, Sir,” laughed Mr. Dutt.
“Come to the point and get me into the Masonic Lodge. A pious blessing alone
won’t do!”
Mr.
Banerji took a deep pull at his cigarette, threw his
head back and blew the smoke in the air. “Do one thing Charu,”
he said at last. “Write an application and I’ll submit it in the right quarter.
The truth is, it is against our rules to canvass
members, as the Roman Catholic Missionaries do. Who-so-ever wishes must take
the first step. Do you follow me?”
Just
then Charu’s wife Meera came and sat by Mr. Banerji. She was lively and ambitious to become the leader
of the smart set. “Believe me, Mr. Banerji” she said,
“his health is ruined since he joined these wretched Bengali Clubs. Do
something, please, to save him and take him into your Lodge.”
“I’ve
just given him a useful hint, Mrs. Dutt,” replied Mr.
Banerji. “I think it will be all right.”
As
night was approaching, everyone was eager to depart. Acknowledging their deep
gratitude to Mrs. Dutt for her hospitality, and
expressing how happy they felt in her charming company, they bade her
good-night one by one and dispersed.
“Wouldn’t
it be lovely if you become a Mason!” exclaimed Meera to her husband when they
were alone. “I would just adore it. The Lodge will do you a lot of good–save
you from mouldering away in the midst of the common
herd. You’ll meet many big people there. Very stimulating society–don’t you
think?”
“Do
you know, Meera” called out Mr. Dutt from the stairs,
as he returned from the Court a fortnight later.
“Yes,
yes…..I know, but come up first” she replied, looking at his flushed and
perspiring face, as she leaned against the verandah railing.
“They
have admitted me, you see” continued Mr. Dutt,
evidently excited. “It’s already half-past five, which leaves me just an hour.
Look sharp, please, and take out my dress-suit. I must be at the Lodge for
my…..but why do you stand still? Can’t you hear me?”
“Don’t
you have to take off first what you’re wearing?” laughed Meera. “And what about your tea?”
“Why
don’t you hurry up and do what I’m asking you?” said Mr. Dutt
impatiently. “Boy!” he shouted for his bearer.
After
wiping the sweat from Charu’s face with a wet towel
Meera stood back to admire the result. “Don’t forget though!” she
whispered significantly.
“Forget
what?” asked Mr. Dutt, entering the dressing room.
“You’ve to tell me everything about the Lodge, mind you. I’ve read all that the Encyclopedia has to say on Free Masonry. Such a lot of it is vague and mysterious…..can’t quite catch what it all means. You’ve to tell me all as soon as you return tonight.”
“But
how is that possible, Meera?” protested Mr. Dutt.
“Don’t you know that Masons cannot divulge their secrets to others?”
“To
others…yes, but am I not your wife?” she questioned.
“So
what?” he retorted. “As a member of the lodge I can make no distinction between
my wife and the grocer. I can’t reveal to her what I can’t reveal to him.”
At
this Meera bit her lip with her pretty teeth with vexation. “Oh that’s fine!
The grocer-man from the bazaar and your own wife are the same to you!”
Twisting the sari border angrily around her finger she added “All right….Let it
be so!” and flung the end of the sari over her shoulder in a temper. Its bunch
of keys jingled brusquely and echoed her resentment, as she dashed out of the
room.
Finishing
his dressing somehow Mr. Dutt entered Meera’s room–to
find her lying in bed, her face buried in pillows. “Meera darling, don’t be
cross. Come on!” said he coaxing and caressing her.
“Won’t you look up once and see how this dress-suit fits me?...Oh,
very well! If you are going to be so unreasonable!”
At
this Meera’s frame trembled, and two wet eyes and a smiling face emerged into
view. Mr. Dutt raised his hat and bowed low like a
Western gallant.–” A hotel waiter, to the life!” teased Meera, and sat up
laughing merrily.
“A waiter! All right!” exclaimed
Mr. Dutt piqued, straightening himself sharply like
an unstrung bow, and made for the door without another word.
Meera
leapt from the bed and barred his way. “I am sorry! It was just in fun. I wont
say it again” she pleaded.
“Oh,
drop all this!” said Charu peevishly, still in a
huff–“and let me pass, please. It’s getting late.”
“You
needn’t be angry, my lord! Here you are...I beg your pardon!” saying which she
was about to kneel at his feet.
“You
naughty girl!” said Mr. Dutt mollified, lifting her
and giving a light tap on her cheek. “What’s the lady’s mood like now?”
he asked.
“Fine!”
she replied. Just then the clock struck six, startling Charu.
“Look, how arguing with you has taken my time. I must hurry now….Till we meet
again, darling!”
“But
you’ll have to tell me all!” cried Meera from the head of the stairs, as Charu reached the last step.
It
was past midnight when Meera heard Mr. Dutt’s
footsteps. Slipping out of bed quickly she stood in front of him and said “Tell
me what happened!”
Curiosity
about Masonic mysteries had been tormenting her for days. She had read a good
deal on the subject, but it was all so vague and intriguing, and only whetted
her appetite for more. All that evening her fancy was active,
visualising weird ceremonies. Now that Mr. Dutt had returned she could brook no further delay, and
wanted the veil lifted at once.
But
the husband displayed no such eagerness. Folding his dress-suit with military
precision he placed it on a chair, changed into comfortable dhoti and announced
“Come, let’s turn in, Meera. It’s pretty late in the night.”
How
Meera endured this brief interval God alone knows. She expected that as soon as
he changed into bed-clothes, Charu would plunge into
an exciting account of the outlandish ritual that was disclosed to him just a
while ago. Could he conceal from her such a thrilling experience? Apparently he
could! Her mortification was so painful that she nearly cried. “Does it mean
you don’t want to tell me?”, she managed to ask,
controlling her tears.
“Oh
bother!” blurted Charu vexed. “Had I ever promised
that I would tell you? Besides, what’s there to tell? I’ve explained a thousand
times that matters about the Lodge can be divulged to none, We
are sworn to secrecy.”
“But
it is wrong for husband and wife to have secrets from each other. Didn’t you
say once that I had a right to possess your full confidence, and that I too was
to keep nothing back from you? Well, I’ve always told you everything, haven’t
I? Now it is your turn to keep your word.”
“You
wont let me sleep tonight. I can see that!” said Mr. Dutt, stifling another yawn... Then within five minutes he
was fast asleep, drowning his wife’s sobs in his loud snores.
Next
morning when Meera and her husband sat at the breakfast table, there was a
sense of constraint in the domestic atmosphere, though it could not be located.
Toast, eggs, cake, tea and all other things were before them as usual, and the
repast was in progress. Yet something was different. Meera hardly raised her
eyes from her cup, and even when she did so, looked all round except in Charu’s direction. After a long silence, and unable to
endure the situation, Charu tried to make
conversation. “You had better order your cake from Bosoto” he began, “and not
from Peliti hereafter.” Meera nodded slightly and
relapsed into complete indifference. “The tea is frightfully strong” was Charu’s next remark to break the deadlock. But Meera simply
poured him more milk and continued to sip her cup.
Breakfast over, Meera started cleaning the tea-set herself.
“Come on, let’s read the papers” said Mr. Dutt,
reminding her of their daily practice. But Meera ignored this overture, and
continued to polish the cups. Mr. Dutt waited a
little more. “Do you hear me?” he asked annoyed. Still there was no response.
The
morning dragged on in the same tense manner. While her husband was having his
lunch before going to the Court, Meera came and sat at the table as usual. She
took notice of the chops served on his plate, and scolded the boy for preparing
only two. But as to taking part in conversation, there was still no yielding.
When
he returned from the Court and changed his office dress Mr. Dutt
saw Meera waiting for him with a plate of fruit, and was pleased. “Let’s have a
little outing this evening, shall we, Meera?” he suggested by way of an olive
branch, but Meera stuck to her deadly weapon of silence, and went her way. “No
use! Still in a huff, I suppose” said the husband to himself. Smoking cigarette
after cigarette, he brooded over the situation, but found no remedy to
restore domestic harmony. Having met with the same coldness even at bed-time,
his deep snoring was much curtailed. Then followed four
miserable days of sustained estrangement.
On
the fifth day Mr. Dutt had reached a state of
desperation. “For God’s sake, say something, Meera” he said squeezing her hand.
“If I have erred forgive me!”
“Oh!
It hurts!...Let go!” she cried and tried to escape. At
last the silence was broken! The husband heaved a sigh. “Meeri! Meeran!” he
addressed her tenderly, caressing her tresses.
Meera
turned her face away. “Enough of this show!…No need to
pretend all this fondness!” she replied.
“Meera, if you only
knew how miserable this week has been for me!…If you
understood…..”
The
husband sighed, sorely disappointed. “Still the same old song!” he murmured.
“It can’t be done, Meera!”
“Why
can’t it be done?” she demanded. “You had sworn you will keep no secrets from
me. Nor have I concealed anything from you. Take that engagement of Miss Bhaduri with Mr. Banerji’s
younger brother, of which no one knew but me. Yet didn’t I tell you the news
that very night? The couple had cautioned me repeatedly not to breathe a
word to any one. But I thought there was nothing wrong in confiding in you.”
A
struggle was evidently raging within Mr. Dutt’s
breast. Ultimately he seemed to have come to a decision. Pulling up an easy
chair he relaxed. “I understand your point of view, Meera,” he began. “But if
any one were to get the slightest inkling that I told you about the Lodge...”
“Am
I such a ninny?” she protested. “I can keep a secret as well as anybody.”
“Well
then….Listen,” began Mr. Dutt, sitting up straight,
“This is what happened. Crossing the front hall I came to a room where
thirty-seven men, who addressed each other as Brother, stood facing me. Wearing
snow-white satin trousers and bright red silk shirts, they were arrayed along
the two walls, and offered me welcome. On the forehead of each of these
37 Brothers there was….Oh Meera! Forgive me….I can’t go
further…..”
“You’ve
got to go on!” insisted Meera without mercy. “Where was the need to hold out
hopes–only to dash them to the ground?”
“Don’t
be angry, Meera” he pleaded, holding both her hands. “Something within me is
giving way at the thought of violating a solemn oath.”
“If
you disclose a secret to me, your wife, no stigma can
possibly touch you,” she assured him. “You and I…are we not one?”
Composing
himself once more with an effort, Mr. Dutt took up
the narrative again. “Each of these 37 Brothers wore a dazzling silver star on
his left brow, and ….”
Before
he could proceed, Meera cut in. “Do you mean to say that even Mr. Banerji drapes his ebony-coloured
uncouth shape in white and red satin and flaunts a bright star on his forehead
and….” Overcome by a fit of laughter at this picture she was deprived of speech
at the moment!
At
this Mr. Dutt became very grave again. “Meera, I
can’t make you understand how unhappy I feel seeing you ridicule a matter so
solemn. It does not become you to make fun of the symbolism that our Lodge
holds so sacred.”
“No….no! I won’t laugh again.
I’m sorry. Please go on...But Mr. Banerji in red
satin!…Could any sight be funnier?.…” She had to gag
herself with her sari’s end to check another torrent of laughter! “Do go on,
please!” she managed to say at last.
“Then
everyone placed his right forefinger on the upper lip in unison with
others,”….continued Mr. Dutt.
“Oh,
that, I believe, is your Masonic sign,” put in Meera. “Once when I went with
father to Mr. Grimswar’s tea-party I saw a couple of Sahebs doing that to each other. I thought at
the time that, may be, they had cut themselves while
shaving, and were nursing the spot.
“Not at all, my dear. It meant one
Mason greeted another in secret. Do you see? Then I was conducted to a special
chamber….Meera! Can’t you let me off now?”
“Come
on, there’s a dear. Do proceed, I beg of you. Finish what you were going to
say, like a darling!”
“Must
I?...well….On the wall of that chamber is painted a
mystic diagram of the Solar System. All round it is an illuminated orbit, along
which the planets sweep the heavens aeon after
aeon. They taught me a practical method
to recognise that shining path. Once I manage to
detect that in a dark room I shall be able to trace it in the night sky with a
naked eye, at the end of 37 months. Instructions on other occult matters will
be imparted next week. That was all I learnt this time. But, Meera, I had taken
an oath not to…..”
“Let
that pass…no need to harp on the oath,” declared Meera, closing his lips with
her hand. “It was so dear of you to tell me all. But it’s late enough now,
isn’t it?….Let’s go to bed.”
“But Meera,
how my conscience pricks me for breaking a word of honour!”
murmured the husband. Meera, on the other hand, was saying to herself: ‘Only I,
among the Club ladies, know about this mysterious ceremony–neither Mrs. Banerji, Mrs. Chatterji nor Mrs. Mujumdar! How thrilled I feel inside! How shall I hold
myself in till dawn?’
Mrs.
Mujumdar received a note from Meera early next
morning. “Dear Protima, (it said) You
must come to my place this noon without fail. There is a very important and
confidential matter. I count upon you.”
Mrs.
Mujumdar’s carriage entered the Dutt’s
gate exactly at 12-30. Meera almost ran and clung to her friend. “You know, Protima dear” she began…and within ten minutes she poured
into Protima’s eager ears all the secrets she had
wrung out of her husband in the night. Both the damsels came promptly to the
unanimous conclusion that it was all nonsense, really, and that the Lodge
secrets had no value whatsoever…..“But Mr. Banerji in
a red satin robe!….How interesting!...And a sparkling
star on the forehead! What a sight denied to us!”….Then followed peals of
laughter. Abruptly Protima pleaded urgent work and
took a hurried leave. “But look here, my dear” Meera cautioned her at parting.
“Keep all this strictly to yourself. If the secret leaks out he will be so
humiliated.”
Protima bit her tongue
to express horror at the very idea of such an indiscretion. “Have I to be told
that, my dear? Do not worry!” saying which she got into her carriage “Chatterji Sab-Ka Kothi!” she ordered the coachman….And within
less than three hours several prominent ladies of Calcutta were in possession
without effort, of a colourful description of what
they considered to be the ritual of Free Masonry.
Returning
home from the court one evening a few days later, Mr. Dutt
cast one look at his wife and wailed “Meera!” There was something tragic in the
manner he uttered the name. It sounded like the knell of his joys, his hopes
and expectations. “What has happened?” cried Meera in alarm, “Why are you like
this?” she asked in panic.
“Meera!...You...my
wife?” he muttered in the same sepulchral tone, and slumping into an easychair, as if deprived of life, clutched his head with
his hands.
“What
is the matter? Wont you tell me?” cried Meera in distress.
“There
is nothing to tell, Meera!” sighed Charu, breathing
heavily.
“For
God’s sake, stop speaking in riddles, I conjure you!” What is the trouble?
Speak out freely” she begged.
“I
just….want….to be left alone, Meera” replied Mr. Dutt
faintly. “Ah…if only this night...were endless! If the day were….not to dawn
again...I could hide….But that is not to be! The sun will rise again at
six...and the day-light will expose my black countenance to the world! Then
millions of people will point their fingers at me in scorn and exclaim; Then
goes the the traitor!….Oh
Meera!”
Pressing
her face against his, Meera whispered “I fall at your feet…I beg of you….your
words are riddles to me….”
Mr.
Dutt pushed her away with both hands. Riddles to
you?....Mean nothing to you?…Secrets which man has guarded with his life for
centuries...those holy secrets have been betrayed and broadcast…..by an upstart
Bengali barrister of the 20th century….And….his wife….!”
“But
I spoke only to Protima!”
“How
do you expect that the secret which you could not keep will be guarded for you
by another?”
Meera
clung to his feet, “Take me to your Lodge!” she cried. “I’ll confess my guilt
in front of all!”
“……and
add one more coating of tar to your husband’s face? Meera, you said one day
that you had a right to your husband’s secrets, which must be in your keeping.
Did it not occur to you that his honour and prestige
too have to be in your keeping? If you betray one you betray the rest!”
Meera
was crushed with grief and burst into sobs, “It is no use weeping, Meera” said
Mr. Dutt trying to soothe her.
“Take
me to task!” wept Meera. “My heart is breaking...kill
me!......”
At
last exhausted with weeping, Meera fell asleep. Mr. Dutt
entered the dressing room softly, and turning on the light, looked at his face
in the mirror. Contemplating the reflection he nearly doubled-up with silent
laughter. “Well played, old boy!” he said to himself, checking his merriment
with effort. “Perhaps instead of becoming a barrister I should have chosen to
be an actor!” Then, after a gap of many days he gave himself up to sound sleep,
and shook the bed-room with his snores once more!
“Meera,
if you wait here for a while” said Charu next morning
after breakfast, “I’ll ring up the Grand Master of the Lodge and confess my
guilt.” On entering his office-room he picked up the receiver “9009 please” he
called. Then after mutual greetings of “Hallo, Dutt!”
and “Hallo, Mujumdar!” there followed a little
chitchat, after which they came to the point. “What’s all this ado about, Dutt?” asked Mujumdar, with a
hearty laugh. “What rubbish you’ve been palming off on your wife as Masonic
ritual? She goes and repeats the yarn to mine, who on her part, has been
roaming all over
“To
preserve conjugal harmony without betraying group loyalty is a task of no mean
diplomacy, my friend” said Mr. Dutt. “There
was no other way out, I was paralysed
when her ladyship unleashed that relentless missile of silence! My
god! I could hardly breathe in that freezing atmosphere! When honest protest
and earnest pleading failed, my morale cracked up, and I was driven to adopt
this subterfuge and invention. I told her last night that every one had come to
know how I betrayed the Lodge secrets. The poor girl is half dead of
humiliation and panic.”
Wearing
a meek expression Mr. Dutt joined Meera. “They agreed
to condone my guilt,” he said humbly. “Of course, there will be some
penalty…but don’t you worry about that, Meera.”
Meera
took one good look at her husband with grateful eyes and heaved a sigh, which
spoke, more eloquently than words, of her love for him and faith in his
prestige!