Tara: A Mahratta Tale Read online

  CHAPTER VIII.

  I am afraid it would take more time than the limits of this historywill afford, were I to describe minutely all the festivities andobservances of Radha's marriage. I assure you, dear readers, that aproper, orthodox Hindu marriage, is a very tiresome affair; and, likemany other marriages, perhaps, everybody is glad when it is over.Very noisy, tediously minute in ceremonial, liable to interruptionfrom disputes--it is often an arena for rival factions of families tofight out all the ill feeling, discontent, and jealousy which haveaccumulated for years. Sometimes the feasts provided are not eaten,and have to be thrown away or given to beggars. Musicians won't play,processions can't be formed, or are interrupted in progress: offence istaken at trifles, and the whole proceeding rocks to and fro as thoughit would tumble to pieces altogether, till it suddenly comes right, andaffairs go on--to a happy conclusion, or otherwise, as it may be.

  When all prospers, it is a right merry affair; but I am afraid you,dear young lady, would be very weary if you had to be married as Radhawas. No such thing as going to church comfortably in a luxuriouscarriage, to be attended to the altar by six loving and lovelybridesmaids, to hear there a short, simple, affecting service andblessing, to sign your maiden name for the last time in the vestry,and to go home, having dried your eyes on the most delicate oflace-bordered cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, to a champagne breakfast,all the delicacies of the season, a carriage and four, and--unlimitedbliss in prospect.

  Ah, no! with Radha it was very different. Her marriage ceremonies--willyou believe it?--occupied ten days of really very hard work. So manydressings and undressings; so many bathings; so many anointings; somany changes of ornaments; such smotherings in flowers, and in largesheets, lest her husband should see her; such being carried from placeto place by the servants, lest her feet might touch the ground--oncetoo by her husband, whom she could feel, but not see; and a rarestrong arm and hand his was, taking her up, she felt, as if she were achild, and gently and respectfully too. Then worshippings at the greattemple, where she had never been before, and where the priests putflowers on her and led her into the shrine where "the little Mother"sat, with her weird red eyes blinking through the smoke, and Radha washalf frightened by them; greetings, too, from the people with whom themarriage was popular; and the flower-sellers and comfit-makers pouredbaskets of their stocks over her and her decorated litter, while shelooked curiously about her from under the veil of jessamine flowerswhich covered her face, and acknowledged with shy timid gestures theirhearty salutations. No doubt a great deal of this was excellent fun,and the girl's spirits rose with the genial joyousness; but at timesshe was very weary.

  Seldom had there been a merrier wedding. What jokes were playedoff by her brother, who was a capital hand, as we know, at actingplays, disguising himself, and personating characters, with whichhe mercilessly interrupted the orthodox ceremonies. Now a Mahomedanmendicant, whose intrusion was resisted by the servants, and whosepresence had polluted the food, proved to be he; or the pipers'instruments were filled with wax, and they blew discordant screeches,or could not blow at all; or a pertinacious begging Brahmun or Byrageepestered them when most engaged, insisted on seeing the bride, orthreatened, otherwise, to cut himself and bring trouble on her. Now onething, now another; teasing his sister, playing a sly joke with Anunda,tormenting the Shastree in all manner of ways, he was the life of themeeting, and always so disguised as to dress, figure, and even voice,that no one recognized him.

  Then were there not all the pipers of the country? the templemusicians, and drums of all kinds, tenor and bass? Such crashes ofnoise! Village bands, the temple musicians, and the hired performers,and dancing women, all playing different tunes at the same moment. Thehorn-players and drums of half the country came in hopes of largess;and there was one burly fellow from Andoora, near Nuldroog, whosehorn had wreaths of flowers tied to it, with gold and silver tinselribbon, the wild screams of whose instrument, and sometimes its mellowquivering notes, could be heard high above all the others.

  And, to be sure, what feasting! The household cooking-pans were nothalf big enough, and those from the temple had to be borrowed: and theneighbours' kitchens, on both sides, were filled with cooks. Pecks andbushels of rice, butter, vegetable stews, and curries; sweet things,hot things, savoury things; and Anunda's famous "poorees," reserved forthe choicest guests--some even made by herself and Tara.

  There was no room in the house or in the courts for eating, so thestreet outside was swept and watered; and every day, early in theafternoon, you might see a posse of stout young Brahmuns laying downfresh green plantain-leaves in double rows on the ground, with broadalleys between them, and then long files of clean-shaven Brahmuns sitdown behind them; and after them a procession of men bearing on theirshoulders huge pans full of rice, hot from the kitchen, and slung onpoles--baskets of hot bread, poorees, curries, stews, and the like,would march down the middle, ladling out portions of all to each, andhelping liberally to melted butter, hot "chutnees," and other toothsomecondiments.

  And the men ate and ate till they could eat no more, and the crowds onthe house-terraces above them watched the eating, cheered the eaters,and bandied free jokes from side to side of the street at themselves,the eaters, the carriers of the viands, or the passengers. So they ateand ate by hundreds and hundreds at a time; and many a hungry Brahmun,hardly knowing how to get a meal of coarse jowaree cakes in his ownhome, took his water-vessel and blanket, travelled from twenty tothirty miles round to the wedding, received a hearty welcome, and ateas he had perhaps never eaten before, and remembered it all his lifeafterwards.

  Yes, it was a capital wedding; and the village and town gossips whocriticised it at the time, and spoke of it afterwards, could actuallyfind no fault. There was not a poor old hag in Tooljapoor or Sindphul,ay, and for the matter of that, in other villages further distant, whodid not get a hearty meal; or if she were too infirm to stay and eat,a liberal dole of flour, or rice and butter, with salt and pepper. Nota family of Mahrattas in the town, nor, indeed, respectable Mahomedanseither, who had not materials for a meal sent to them, accompanied bypipe and tabor, horn and drum, or band and trumpets, according to thescale of their rank. And from all friends, presents for the bride, inproportion to their means, from the richest silken and gold sarees,down to a humble cotton bodice, added to the stores with which Radhawas already provided.

  One by one the ceremonies were finished. The last--the solemn rite ofactual marriage--as the bride and bridegroom sat side by side, when theconsecrated thread was wound round them by the attendant Brahmuns, andthe mystic hymns and invocations chanted; when their garments were tiedtogether in the irrevocable knot, and they repeated the promises andvows, much like our own, to love and cherish each other--then Radha'sveil was raised; and though he had seen her form for many days insuccession, Vyas Shastree now saw his young wife's beautiful face forthe first time.

  It was a happy look, in one of her happy moods. Those glorious eyeswere not excited, but soft, timid, and shyly raised to him in trustand confidence. Anunda and Tara had watched for the effect upon himwith beating hearts and clasped hands. There could be no doubt of theexpression of his face--wonder first, then gratification, perhaps love."Thou wast right, wife," he said afterwards; "she hath a nymph's form,a deer's eyes, and a mouth like K[=a]mdeo."

  So it was all finished at last; the guests departed, the courts wereswept, and the house again cleaned out. The garlands of leaves andflowers still hung at the gate, and from pillar to pillar of theverandah; and certain post-nuptial ceremonies performed at the templewas all that remained of the outer show of the marriage. Within wasthe girl-bride, happy in being free from her brother, whom she fearedthough she loved him, and from her aunt, whom she disliked as well asfeared; happy in her new sister-wife, to whom she felt like a daughter;happier in Tara, a sister in truth, and she never had known one before;content, too, to see the Shastree unreservedly, and to feel that herbeauty grew on him--for as yet, beyond a few words, they had not spoken.


  As Moro Trimmul had determined, Sukya Bye was despatched to their homea few days after the ceremony. She had pleaded hard to be allowedto stay over the Now Ratree, and Anunda had asked the favour at herinstance; but her nephew was distinct in his refusal, yet not so asto display anger or vexation. It was simply impossible, he said; shehad been too long absent from home, and he himself must go on his ownaffairs. So she received parting gifts of rich silk cloths from Radha,Anunda, and the Shastree, and departed to Wye.

  * * * * *

  The last night that Moro Trimmul was to remain at Tooljapoor, he tookan opportunity of telling Radha that he should pretend to go out, butconceal himself in the school court, which was not lighted, and thatshe was to come to him when all were asleep or retired; he should waitfor her there, for he had much to say to her.

  So he had. How he had restrained himself hitherto he knew not. How,day by day, he had seen Tara, spoken to her, amused her, excited her,gloated over her beauty, which, if remarkable abroad where she wasguarded, was in a thousand degrees more captivating and enthrallingin the free household intercourse--and yet had done nothing towardspossessing himself of her--was what he could neither understand norendure any longer. Gunga could not help him; he saw clearly that Tarautterly refused communication with her: utterly refused to participatein the lower degrees of ceremonies and orgies at which Gunga assistedwith a lower order of priests who officiated for the inferior castesof the people; and she refused the mystic marriage to the sword ofthe goddess, which the "Moorlees" performed in order to cloak theirprofligacy.

  Gunga, therefore, baffled for a while, bided her time; but she and hersister priestesses had vowed revenge, and were all in Moro Trimmul'sinterest. Meanwhile his sister must help him; and this, with cruelperseverance, it was his object to effect through her at any risk.

  He waited long, for the girl could not get away unobserved. At last shecame, scared and terrified lest her absence should be detected; but allwere asleep--Tara beside her in the verandah, the Shastree among hisbooks in the book-room, Anunda in her own sleeping-room within. She didnot find her brother in better temper for his detention.

  "Take this," he said to her, returning a gold anklet of Tara's, whichRadha had borrowed from her to be copied; "for I go to-morrow early,and shall not see thee again till the Now Ratree; but thou hast kept melong, girl, and I had much to say to thee."

  "The Shastree was awake reading: even till now I could not pass hisdoor," she said; "be quick, brother."

  "Ah, thou art trembling. Is this the girl who would have fled to SivajiRajah; and art thou changed already into a Shastree's wife?" he said,with a sneer.

  The girl shivered. "Do not say such things, brother. I strive to putthem away, and they will go, perhaps; yes, they will go, when no onetells me of him."

  Her brother laughed. "No, they shall not go, Radha, if I can preventit; but thou must be patient, girl. So much for thyself; now for me."

  "What can I do, brother?"

  "Thou canst gain Tara for me. Nay, Radha," he continued, as shetrembled still more, and hung to the court door in terror, "none ofthis cowardice! I tell thee it must be, and thou must do it."

  "Brother! brother!" gasped the girl, piteously. "Not I--not I! What canI do? O, not I! O, not I!"

  "What canst thou do? Much," he returned, sharply; "listen, Radha. Suchthings are no sin. She is a Brahmun, as I am; she is a widow. She is aMoorlee, as free as Gunga, or any of them, and she can please herself.I know she is not indifferent to me: it is for thee to improve this.Speak to her of me, lead her to think of me, tell her what deeds I havedone with thy Rajah--I am with him in them--and sing her our countryballads. I tell thee, girl, if thou doest all this, it will gain her."

  "Never, brother, never; she has no heart for thee. She shudderedyesterday when I spoke of thee. I saw her--I could not be mistaken. Herheart is with the gods, in her books, cold and dead. O brother, thinknot of her! What can I do?"

  "Is it so, sister?" he said sneeringly. "Then she must be awakened, andthat dead heart gain new life; Radha, thou must do it, thou!--else"--hefelt the girl shivering as he grasped her arm, and shook hersavagely--"else, wilt thou be long here? Would this Shastree keep theeone hour in his house if he thought, much less if he knew, thou hadstbeen married before, girl? Yes, married before! Ah, that touches thee!And listen more, if my affair is not furthered he shall know it. Whatif he cast thee out? Thou canst go to the temple like Tara; thou canstgo to him--to Sivaji--but thou wilt be a reproach and an outcast.Choose!--to be happy as I have placed thee, or as I have said. One orother, girl! the last, and what I have risked for thee--what I havedone for thee--will be repaid. O sister! what Sivaji Rajah is to thee,a burning thought day and night, so Tara is to me, and more. Dost thouhear?"

  "I--I," gasped the terrified girl, "I hear--I hear. O brother,be not cruel, do not destroy me; or, if thou wilt, one blow ofthy knife--now--now--here," and she bared her breast. "It will bemercy--strike!"

  "Poor fool," said Moro Trimmul, "I would not harm thee. Go, rememberwhat I have said, and do as I tell thee. If she be in the same moodwhen I return, why then----Go," he continued, interrupting himself, "Ican wait no longer. Fear not, my blessing is on thee," and he put hishands on her head. "For his sake, my lord, my prince and thine, thoushalt come to no harm. Go!" And saying this he put her gently away fromhim into the court, closed the door, and easily climbing the low wall,dropped into the street beyond.

  "One thing more ere the night passes," he said, as he walked rapidlythrough the deserted streets to the house they had lived in, near theShastree's: "if she is there, well; if not, I must seek her. What shewanted must have been brought ere this."

  "She is within, master," said a man sitting at the gate, with a blackblanket round him, who spoke ere Moro Trimmul could ask; "she has beenhere an hour or more; and here are some things the sonar brought thisevening when you were absent."

  "Good," said the Pundit, passing in; "see that no one enters."

  The man laughed. "It is too late, master, now. No one will come. Are weto leave early?"

  "Tell them to bring the horses at daylight," he replied; "we will geton to Darasew before noon. We must be at Thair before night. Is allprepared?"

  "Yes, the saddle-bags are packed, and Bheema and myself remain; all therest went with the lady Sukya."

  "Then go and sleep, for we have a long journey to-morrow. I do not needthee. Give me the key of the court door. I can lock myself in, and Ishall be awake long before you in the morning."

  He entered the court and locked the gate behind him. A lamp was burningin a recess of the verandah, and its light fell upon the figure of thegirl Gunga, who had covered herself with a sheet, and, most likelyweary with waiting for him, had fallen asleep. She did not hear him;and as he had left his shoes by the side of the outer door, there wasno noise whatever from his bare feet.

  Moro Trimmul stood over her, and, as he did so, she moved uneasily inher sleep, turned and said something; he could not catch the words.Then some cruel thoughts passed suddenly through his mind. Gunga knewtoo much; a blow of his knife would silence for ever all chance ofdisclosure of what had been done for Radha; the gold he had to give herwould be saved. There was a large well or cistern behind the house;the wall of the back-yard hung over it; it was a place where the womenof the town washed their clothes, and was so held to be unclean. Thatwould hide her. A Moorlee? What Moorlee had not jealousies and strifes?Who would care for her? And he drew the dagger and stood over her in anattitude to strike.

  Why he hesitated he could never tell; certainly it was not from fear.Perhaps some lingering feeling of compassion for one so young--perhapsthe memory of some caress--stayed the blow for an instant, for he didnot strike. The light fell full on her eyes and face as she turned, andshe smiled and awoke suddenly.

  "I dreamed of thee, beloved," she said, stretching out her arms tohim, "and thou art here----But why the knife?" she continued, quicklysitting up, as the light gleamed on the blade. "Moro!-
-I--I--I--fearthee; why dost thou look at me so? Ah!" and she covered her eyes withher hand, expecting death.

  "Only to cut these strings," he said, with a hard laugh, recoveringhimself and dividing the cord which was tied round the paper containingthe gold anklets. "Look, Gunga!" and he held them up to the light, andshook them till the little bells on them clashed gently.

  "Thou art good," she said, looking up as he held them above her, stillshaking them; "they are very, very beautiful, but thou wilt not givethem to me, for thou hast not got Tara. Ah! thou hast just come fromher, and wilt not give them. Go! go back to her."

  "But my sister is her father's wife, and these are heavier than Tara's.I have not broken faith with thee, Gunga," he replied, "nor my oath atthe Pap-nas temple. Take them--they are thine henceforth. And now wiltthou go with me, Gunga? I have prepared a horse for thee, and Bheemacan walk."

  "To the end of life," cried the girl, who had risen to her knees to puton the anklets, and who now clasped his feet,--"to the end of life!Kill me if thou wilt, Moro Trimmul, who would care? It would be no painto Gunga."