Subha: Page 4

Subha was getting older. Gradually, she began to experience her own independent self. It was as if a full-moon tidal wave from some sea had come suddenly and filled her soul with indescribable consciousness. She was conscious of her own self and thought about it. Questions crowded her mind, but she did not know the answers.

Sometimes, on a full-moon night, she slowly opened the bedroom door and peeped outside fearfully. The moon-lit Nature, lonely like Subha, sat watching over the sleeping world with all its youthful mysteries, joys, and sorrows. It could see everything up to the limit of the infinite solitude and even beyond, but not a word could it speak. Standing at the edge of the silent and troubled Nature was this silent and troubled girl.

The parents were worried about Subha's marriage. The people had also started talking ill of the family; they even spoke of ostracizing the household. Banikantha was quite wealthy; the family enjoyed fish and curry during meals. So, he had many enemies.

The husband and wife discussed the matter at length. Bani went away from home for a few days. When he returned, he said, "We have to go to Kolkata."

Preparations began to be made for the journey. Subha's whole heart was filled with tears, just like a mist-laden morning. Because of some vague fear, she followed her parents everywhere they went, like a mute animal. She would look up at them with her large eyes and try to learn something, but they never said anything.

Meanwhile, Pratap cast his line into the water one afternoon and said laughingly to Subha, "What is this I hear about you, Su? Is it true your parents have found a bridegroom for you, and you are to be married? Don't forget us after your marriage." After making this statement, Pratap immediately turned his attention to his fishing.

Subha looked at Pratap in the manner of a wounded doe, which stares at the hunter as though asking him silently, "What harm did I cause you?" She did not sit under the tree that day. Banikantha had woken up and was smoking a pipe; Subha sat at his feet and, gazing up at his face, began to weep. Banikantha tried to comfort her, but his own dry cheeks became wet with tears.

The family will go to Kolkata tomorrow. Subha went to the cowshed to bid goodbye to her childhood friends. She fed them with her own hands, embraced their necks, and, looking up at them, spoke her heart out while speaking through her eyes. Tears streamed down the two eyes.

It was the twelfth day of the waxing moon phase of the lunar cycle. At night, Subha stole out of the house and flung herself on the grassy banks of the ever-familiar river. It was as if she wanted to embrace Mother Earth — the mute but infinite repository of compassion — and implore her, "Do not let me go away, mother. Hold me tight as I have held you."

One day, at the Kolkata residence, Subha's mother decked her up in such a manner that the girl's natural appearance changed altogether. She brushed and combed Subha's hair, braided the hair into a bun and laced it with a ribbon, and covered Subha with jewelry. But tears were flowing from Subha's eyes. The mother was worried that the eyes would become red and puffy from crying. She scolded Subha and told her to stop crying, but the tears refused to obey.

The bridegroom himself came with a friend to examine the bride. The bride's parents were overwhelmed with worry and anxiety. They became tense and edgy as though God had himself come to choose the lamb that was to be sacrificed on the altar. In an inner room, the mother repeated her instructions. She scolded and rebuked the girl for crying, but it only made the child weep more bitterly. The child was then asked to walk out of the room and present herself before the examiner.

The examiner inspected the girl for a long time and, eventually, announced his verdict: "not bad".

He was particularly impressed by the girl's tears; it showed she had a heart! The bridegroom surmised that a heart, which was so filled with sorrow at the thought of being separated from her parents, would beat for him tomorrow and would be to his advantage. Like the pearl in the oyster, her tears enhanced the child's worth but did not speak for her.

The almanac was consulted, and the wedding was held on an auspicious day.

The parents went away to their native village after delivering their mute girl to strangers; they had done their duty and assured themselves of a good afterlife.

The husband worked in the western parts of the country; almost immediately after the wedding, he took his wife there.

Within a week, everyone came to know that the new wife was mute. But they failed to understand that it was no fault of the wife. She had not deceived anyone; from the very start, her two eyes had revealed everything, but no one had understood. She looked around in all directions but could not find a language to communicate her thoughts. She could not see those familiar faces, which understood the language of the mute. The child's silent heart wailed in distress, but only God could hear it.

This time, the husband used both his eyes and ears to conduct his examination and married a girl who could speak.

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