# Eyesore/Chapter 34

EYESORE
By Rabindranath Tagore.
XXXIV
VIHARI had so long been steadily going through his course at the Medical College. He suddenly left just before the examination came on. To those who expressed surprise he said: "Other peoples' ailments can wait, I’ve got to look after my own health first."
Vihari had neither thirst for fame, nor greed for riches, nor even the necessity to earn a living. But his energy was boundless, and he had to be doing something or other. After graduating in the Arts course he joined the Sibpur College of Engineering. After he had satisfied his curiosity as to that science and acquired sufficient skill with his hands, he changed into the Medical College. Mahendra had joined the Medical College the year previous immediately after getting his Arts degree.
The friendship of these two was a bye word in the college. They were called the Siamese twins. Since Mahendra's failure last year the friends had been in the same class, and it was a mystery to their fellow-students why at this stage there should have been a rupture. Vihari could not bring himself to meet Mahendra every day, and yet not be able to meet him in the old way. So while everybody was expecting Vihari to pass with flying colours, it happened that his examination did not come off at all.
In a little room, next door to Vihari, there was a poor Brahmin, Rajendra, who made a living as a compositor on twelve rupees a month. "Let your boy stay with me," said Vihari to him, "I'll educate him." The Brahmin was only too happy and made over his eight-year old son, Basanta, to Vihari.
Vihari began to train Basanta in a way of his own. "I won't let him touch a book till he is ten" he said. He would spend his days playing with him, taking him to the Maidan, to the Museum, to the Zoological and Botanical gardens; and what with telling him stories from History, teaching him English conversationally, and trying to find out his special gifts and aptitudes, Vihari left himself no time for anything else.
That evening it was too wet to go out. The rain had stopped for a time during the day and had come on again since the afternoon. Vihari was in his sitting room engaged in devising instructive games for Basanta's benefit, when his up-country servant burst in upon them with: "Sir, there's a sort of woman—" Before he could finish Binodini had entered the room.
"What's this, Sister Binod!" exclaimed Vihari taken entirely by surprise.
"Haven't you any women relatives staying with you here."
Vihari.—"Neither relatives nor otherwise. I have an aunt but she's at my home in the country."
​Binodini.—"Then take me to your home in the country."
Vihari.—"As what?"
Binodini.—"As a servant. I'll look after the household there."
Vihari.—"Won't my aunt be rather astonished? She hasn't told me that she's in need of a servant. But let me hear first why this idea has occurred to you."—"Basanta, my boy, go to bed."
Basanta went out of the room. "You'll understand nothing of the inward situation if I tell you of what has happened outwardly," said Binodini.
Vihari.—"What if I don't, what if I even misunderstand, what does it matter?"
Binodini.—"Very well, misunderstand if you will. Mahendra loves me."
Vihari.—"That's not news to me, nor is it news which I care to have repeated."
Binodini.—"I've no desire to harp on it either. But that's why I've come to you. I want your protection."
Vihari.—"You have no desire! Who brought on all this trouble, pray? Who led Mahendra astray from his path?"
Binodini—"I did. I'll not hide anything from you. It's all my doing. But be I good or evil, try for once to look at things from my point of view. If I have set fire to Mahendra's household it's with the flames which were set raging in my bosom. At one time I thought I too loved Mahendra, but there I was wrong."
Vihari.—"Of course you can't burn up, if you really love."
Binodini—"That's a maxim out of your books, friend. I am not yet sage enough to go by book maxims. Put aside your book learning for a moment and look into my heart as my judge. I would tell you all my good and all my evil to-day."
Vihari.—"It is not for nothing that I go by book lore, sister. The searching of hearts I leave to the great Searcher. If I don't guide myself by what the books tell us I may go hopelessly wrong."
Binodini.—"Look here, friend Vihari, let me shamelessly confess to you, you might have turned me back. Mahendra might be in love with me, but he is blindly dense, he never understood me. At one time I thought that you perhaps did understand—that you found it in your heart to respect me; tell me truly, hiding nothing because of what you may think of me today—was it not so?"
Vihari.—"It is true, I did respect you once."
Binodini.—"Well, you were not wrong, friend. But if you did understand, did respect me, why did you stop there? What prevented you from giving me your love? I have shamelessly come to you to-day and shamelessly I ask you—why did you not love me? It was my malignant fate that you too should fall head over ears in love with Asha. No, you shan't get angry. Sit down and listen to me. I'm not going to mince words to-day. I knew you loved Asha before you did so yourself. But what you people found in Asha has always been a mystery to me. Good or bad what has she in her? Has God denied to men the gift of seeing into things? What on earth is it, and how little of it, takes your fancy! Oh you blind, you silly men!"
Vihari stood up stiff as he replied, "I'm quite prepared to hear whatever you want to tell me to-day. I only earnestly request you not to say things which should not be uttered."
Binodini.—"My friend, I know where and how it hurts you. But you'll have patience when you consider how it must have hurt her, who once had your respect, and who might have been saved had she your love, to cast away all propriety and modesty, and come running to you to-night. I tell you truly, had you not loved Asha she would not have suffered this fatal blow at my hands."
"What has happened to Asha?" exclaimed Vihari going pale. "What have you done to her?"
"Mahendra has just renounced his all, to take me away with him tomorrow."
"It cannot be," said Vihari with a sudden shout; "It must not be."
Binodini.—"Must not be? Who can prevent Mahendra?"
Vihari.—"You can!"
Binodini was silent for a time, and then with a steady gaze fixed on Vihari she said: "For whose sake should I? For your Asha? Have I no feelings of my own to be considered? Must I renounce all claims to happiness in this world that your Asha may prosper, that Mahendra's household may prosper?—no, I'm not so good as all that, I've not read the sacred books quite so well! For the sacrifice I make what do I get in return?"
Vihari's face set harder and harder. He said: "you have tried a bit of plain speaking. Now let me put in a plain word ​or two. The thing that you have done and the words you are uttering are all stolen from the sort of literature you read—the most part smacks of the cheap novel and the melodrama."
Binodini.—"Stolen!"
Vihari.—"Yes, stolen, and not from the best sources either. You may think the sentiments your own, but they are only echoes of printed trash. Had you been a simple ignorant girl, the blessing of love would not have been denied to you—but the heroine of a melodrama is best on the stage, the home has no place for her.
Binodini's proud hearing subsided like a charmed snake. After a long pause and without looking up at Vihari she meekly asked, "What would you have me do?"
"I ask nothing extraordinary of you," replied Vihari. "Do what ordinary womanly good-sense prompt should prompt you. Go back home."
Binodini.—"How?"
Vihari—"I'll escort you to the railway station and put you into a Ladies' Compartment."
Binodini.—"Then let me stay here for the night."
Vihari.—"No, I don't trust myself so far."
At his last words Binodini bounded from her chair and dropping on the floor in front of him strained his feet to her breast as she said: "So you own some little weakness, friend Vihari! Don't be perfect like an immaculate stone god. Let love for an imperfect creature stain your heart just a little!" With which Binodini repeatedly fell to kissing his feet.
Vihari was almost overcome by this sudden onslaught. The rigour of his body and mind perceptibly relaxed as he dropped back into his chair. Binodini feeling the limpness, the tremor in him, let go his feet and raised herself on her knees before him. Putting her arms round his neck she said: "O Lord of my life, I know you can't be mine for ever, but let me know that you love me even for a moment. After that I'll go back to my wilderness, content. I'll ask for nothing more from any one in the world, only give me something to remember till death." Binodini closed her eyes and put her lips close to his.
There was a tense silence in the room while for an instant both of them remained motionless. Then with a long drawn sigh Vihari gently undid Binodini's arms from about his neck and moving away took another chair. After clearing his choking throat he said, "There's a passenger train after midnight."
Binodini after remaining motionless for a while said in a scarcely audible voice, "I'll take that train."
All of a sudden Basanta appeared on the scene in his night clothes, with bare feet and chubby bare body, and going up to Vihari's chair stood there gravely gazing at Binodini.
"Hullo, you're not gone to bed?" exclaimed Vihari. But Basanta remained silent in unperturbed gravity.
Binodini put out her arms, and after a a little hesitation the boy went up to her. Then clasping him to her bosom Binodini wept.