# Indira and Other Stories/Radharani/Chapter 5

V.
Our new friend was attired much in the fashion of an ordinary Bengali gentleman. If he was well and carefully dressed, there was nothing conspicuous about his costume, save that he wore a flashing diamond in a ring. So large and handsome was the stone that it even attracted the attention of the doorkeepers, who had never seen so magnificent a jewel before. Nevertheless he was alone and unattended, and they began asking themselves who the stranger might be. They waited for him to announce himself, but he seemed calmly oblivious of the necessity of doing so. He asked to be taken to Radharani's head bailiff and handed a letter to that dignitary, saying, "Be good enough to give this letter to your mistress, and bring me her answer."
The bailiff respectfully replied, "Sir, my mistress is an unmarried lady and still young. She has therefore made a rule that if any letter comes addressed to her by an unknown person, we are to read it before transmitting it to her."
​The stranger calmly replied, "Very well, read it then."
The bailiff read as follows:—
Dear Sister,
Though the bearer of this letter is a male, admit him to a private interview. Have no fear. And mind you write and tell me what passes between you!
Your old friend, Srimati Vasanta Kumari.
On seeing the well known signature of Kamakhya Babu's daughter, no one raised any further objection. The letter was taken into the inner apartments.
Presently a maid-servant came to escort the stranger to the ladies' quarters. No male was to accompany him. Such were her mistress's orders.
The maid ushered the visitor into a handsomely furnished apartment. This was the first time a man had ever penetrated into the fair Radharani's private apartments. At sight of ​him, one maid departed to inform her mistress. Another stayed, and after the manner of her kind, made a careful inventory of the visitor's appearance. His complexion, she noted, was fair, fair as the mallika flower in full bloom. His stature was tall, his form muscular and sturdy. His forehead was lofty, surmounted by curling locks of the deepest black. His eyes were large and frank. The eyebrows were clearly pencilled, bushy, and as black as the hair on his head. His nose was straight and of an aristocratic fineness of outline. His lips were red and not excessively full; his neck was long, but strong and muscular. His limbs were hidden by his cloak, but the maid could see that his hands were finely shaped, and that on one of the tapering fingers was a splendid diamond.
Radharani dismissed her attendant as she entered the room. The sight of the lovely girl who approached him thrilled him as if a new sun had arisen in his life. His whole person seemed irradiated with her fresh loveliness. It was his place to speak first, seeing that he was a male and ​the elder of the two, but he was so entranced by the girl's beauty that he was speechless. Radharani showed some annoyance at his silence and said,
"Will you kindly explain why you have asked for a private interview with me? I am, as you know, an unmarried woman, and if I have acceded to your request, it was only at Vasanta's entreaty."
The visitor said, "Yet I cannot say that I was exactly eager for the great privilege of being admitted to your presence!"
Radharani was still more offended.
"Is that so?" she replied. "You will note that my friend has offered no explanation of the reasons for asking me to see you. Perhaps you can inform me."
The visitor produced a very old and tattered newspaper and handed it to Radharani, who saw that it contained Kamakhya Babu's advertisement for the long sought Rukmini Kumar. As she looked at it, the girl trembled like a palm tree in a storm. As she examined the stranger's ​comely form, she asked herself, could this be the benefactor of her childhood? Curiosity overcame her maidenly modesty, and it was in an eager voice that she asked,
"Are you, sir, by any chance Rukmini Kumar Babu?"
The stranger replied, "Madam, no!"
On hearing this unexpected reply, the girl moved slowly to a seat. She felt unable to continue standing—she was the prey of surprising, of conflicting emotions.
"No," the visitor repeated, "if I had been Rukmini Kumar, your guardian would not have issued this advertisement, for I was well known to him. But when I saw it in the newspaper, I carefully put it aside for future use."
"If, Sir," said the heiress, "this advertisement has no reference to you, why did you preserve it, may I ask?"
"Why? For a joke, I think. Some eight or ten years ago, it was my whim to wander about on foot in search of foolish adventures. I was afraid of becoming the laughing stock of my ​friends in a country where such random travels are scarcely considered respectable, and so I assumed the fictitious name of Rukmini Kumar. Why do you look so astonished?"
Radharani, with an effort, resumed some show of composure.
The stranger continued, "I do not, as it happens, know anyone who is legally entitled to the name. It seemed to me in the highest degree improbable that anyone was making search for me. However, one never knows. On second thoughts I laid the paper aside in a safe place, but I never had the audacity to question Kamakhya Babu on the subject."
"And then?"
"And then, when your guardian died, his sons invited me to the funeral, but business engagements prevented me from accepting the invitation. When I returned home, my natural desire was to see them and beg them to excuse my absence on such an occasion. Half in fun, I brought the advertisement with me. In the course of conversation I contrived to ask ​Kamakhya Babu's eldest son how this advertisement came to be issued. He replied that it was by the orders of Radharani. Now I too had met a girl called Radharani, and though I only saw her once, I had been unable to dismiss her from my thoughts. The child, though she was half starving herself, had woven garlands of jungle flowers to buy necessities for her sick mother. She was struggling home in her disappointment through pouring rain and blinding darkness. Poor little soul! The thought of her distress still affects me."
The speaker's voice betrayed emotion. Radharani swallowed the tears that would rise. Bravely, however, she said,
"Why all this talk about a wretched little girl? Will you kindly explain your own business with me?"
"Ah madam," he answered, "do not speak thus harshly of the child. If ever there was a sweet little maid in this world, it was my little wayside acquaintance. If ever in my wanderings I met a maiden who had in her the makings ​of a gracious and noble lady, it was my little friend Radharani. If ever there was, in our Hindu phrase, ambrosia on a woman's lips, I found it in the artless prattle of my girlish acquaintance. Ah, madam, you may laugh, but you have read in our poets of the instruments on which the heavenly apsaras play for the beguiling of poor mortals. I know not how it was, but the child's words, simple yet crystal clear in their utterance, reminded me of what the poets say of the fascination of the heavenly singers. For all her simplicity, no woman's voice has so affected me or sunk so deeply into my memory."
And Rukmini Kumar (for so we must now call him) said to himself, "Such too is the ravishing voice I hear to-day." It was years since he had heard the girl's broken speech and yet he recognised it in the polished tones of the beautiful woman before him. It was as if it were only yesterday. And yet, he thought, is it the same Radharani? What a fool I am! That was a poor little frightened beggar maid ​dwelling in a thatched cottage, and this is the lovely heiress of great possessions. I barely saw the little maid whose voice lingers in my memory. I do not even know whether she was ugly or pretty, and yet . . . . . yet if this beautiful being has only a tithe of that little maid's charm, what a woman for a man to love and waste his life on!
Radharani, on the other hand, drank in the stranger's courteous words. A strange and happy emotion filled her maidenly breast. "Ah!" she thought, "all these pretty things you say about your little friend of yore, it is to you, sir, they should be addressed. And from whence have you come after these eight long years of absence? Have you descended, god-like, from some heavenly paradise? Have you at last been touched by the heart's devotion of your loving servant? Can you be a heavenly being, able to wander unseen into maidens' bowers? Else how is it that you know how secretly, how very secretly and silently my poor heart has worshipped you all these years?"
​This was the first time that the pair had looked upon one another in the plain light of day. Each, looking at the other, thought, "Who else is there like you? In all this wide world, with its oceans and rivers and all its pleasant places of habitation for the sons and daughters of men, is there anyone else so strong, so sweet, so delightful, so vividly alive and yet so restful, with laughter so easy and yet so becomingly reserved? Here is an old, old friend," they thought, "and yet how ravishingly new and strange! Newer and more wonderful at each moment, dear and familiar, yet unaccountably distant and formidable, treasured in the memory and yet never seen before,—a being such as I have never seen before, such as I shall never see again. Ah, happy day, ah, love's sweet miracle!"
It was the girl who spoke first—not without difficulty and embarrassment at first, for tears struggled with laughter in her charming voice.
"Must I remind you, sir", she said, "that so far you have only told me about your little ​beggar maid, and have not condescended to inform me of your business with me?"
Ah, Radharani! Was that the way to address the man, the sight of whom brought happy tears to your eyes, him, whom the devotion of years moved you to address in the timehonoured Hindu phrases of love and admiration, "my soul's lord," "sole possession of thy poor slave," "the sole object of longing in absence?" And yet how natural that you should rejoice in your maidenly superiority, should wish to provoke him by asking what the little beggar maid Radharani was to you! And again there rose the thought that, after all these long years, the god of your idolatry had condescended to become incarnate for your joy!
It is not for me to describe the thoughts that perplexed the maiden's bosom. Let my lady readers, learned doubtless in love's lore, imagine the situation, and think what an inexperienced maiden ought to have said under such novel and exciting circumstances. Meanwhile, let me admit that Radharani was a little ​astonished at her own audacity. As the words came from her lips, they had a strange sound of authority—as if she were scolding an authorised lover!
In truth Rukmini Kumar seemed a little abashed as he gently replied, "I was coming to that. At sight of you, the little maiden of long ago came into my mind. It seemed to me—vaguely—it was like the glimmer of a firefly in a dark night—a faint hope arose that this fair Radharani before me might be—my Radharani!"
"Your Radharani, sir!" cried the girl, in pretended indignation, smiling as she spoke, however, at her own disingenuousness, for indeed a smile would come to her lips, though she had to simulate maidenly scorn of rash pretensions.
But Rukmini Kumar caught the significant inflexion of her happy voice, noted joyously that she used the familiar personal pronoun instead of the formal Hindu mode of address.
"Yes," he said, "it is my Radharani. I ​only saw her once—if indeed I can rightly say I saw her at all, so dark and stormy was the night. Eight years have elapsed, and yet I know I am not mistaken. It is my Radharani!"
The girl said, in a graver tone, "Well, sir, suppose it be your Radharani, what then?"
Rukmini continued, "It was with the fainted hope that it might be my little friend of so long ago that I asked Kamakhya Babu's eldest son, 'who is this Radharani?' For some reason or other, my friend seemed unwilling to enter into particulars. He merely said evasively, 'She is the daughter of an old friend of the family.' Seeing his reticence, I thought it improper to press him. I ventured to ask, however, why Radharani had made search for Rukmini Kumar. I told him that I thought I might be able to give some information on the subject if necessary. He replied that he himself knew nothing about the matter. His late father had regarded it as a confidential business. But his sister was in the secret, and since I knew something of the mysterious stranger he would ​consult his sister. With these words he departed. When he came back, he had the letter in his hand which I ventured to submit as my credentials to-day. He informed me that his sister was unable to give him any definite information, but wished me to take her letter and present it to you in person. I have carried out her instructions. Tell me, madam, if I have offended in doing so."
Radharani replied, "Sir, you have offended. Perhaps I may tell you the nature of your offence afterwards. For the present, let me say this much. Your visit to me has been prompted by a serious mistake. Who the Radharani of whom you are pleased to speak may be, I do not know. If you will tell me the story of your meeting with her, I may possibly be in a position to give you further information."
Rukmini Kumar told the whole story of the interrupted Car Festival, of the little girl's disappointment and terror, of how he had helped her home to her little wayside cottage. He ​omitted to give any account of his own kindness and generosity.
"I asked the question," said Radharani, "because I wanted to see if I could summon up courage to tell a stranger wherein he had offended. Forgive me, sir, if I find that I dare not tell you. If I may judge by your story, you are wanting in kindness and generosity. Consider, sir, if you were of a kindly and merciful temper, would you not have done something to relieve the necessities of a mother and daughter reduced to such cruel privations? You seem from your own account to have forgotten to come to their assistance."
"It is true," answered Rukmini Kumar, "that I was able to do little to help them. I had come by boat to witness the Car Festival. As usual I was travelling in disguise, and under my assumed name. In the afternoon a violent storm of wind and rain came on. I was afraid to remain in the doubtful shelter of a leaky boat, and preferred to face the storm on shore. What little money I had on my person—it was little ​enough—I gave to the girl. I intended to have returned next morning to make more particular enquiries concerning my new friends. But that very night tidings reached me that my father was grievously ill at Benares. It was a year and more before I returned from the Sacred City. When I reached home I sought out the little cottage, but mother and daughter were gone."
"May I now beg you," continued the girl, "to tell me why you seem to have so strong an affection for this little Radharani? You will excuse a woman's natural curiosity in such a matter. I gather that in the storm and tempest of which you speak, soaked with rain and buffeted with the wind, you took shelter in your young friend's cottage. May I ask how long you stayed there?"
"A few moments only," he replied. "The girl bade me wait while she kindled a light. I took the opportunity to slip away to the adjacent bazaar to buy her a change of raiment."
"Did you make her any other gift?"
"What else could I give her? Yes, I ​remember, I happened to have a currency note of small value about me. I left it in their cottage."
"Will you excuse me for just one moment? I shall be back presently."
Radharani had kept the note carefully all this while. She took it out of the receptacle where it was stored, and returned.
"It was foolish," she said, "to leave a currency note like that with two poor women. They would think you had lost it."
"Not so," said Rukmini Kumar, "I scribbled the words 'for Radharani' on it in pencil. I also signed my assumed name, Rukmini Kumar Ray. Otherwise my new friends might deem it a duty to make search for me, and I wished to save them the trouble."
"Ah, sir," cried Radharani, "there was the offence you have so cruelly committed. Did you not think how unkind it was not to give a grateful girl the chance of thanking her benefactor all these years? See now, whether your Radharani had cause to seek for the friend who aided her in her adversity!"
​With these words she put the note in his hand, and falling in obeisance at his feet, cried, "Lord and master, that day your kindness saved my dear mother's life. In this cruel hard world, sir, it is to you that I address my devotions, and to you alone!"