The Project Gutenberg eBook of Red oleanders
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: Red oleanders
A drama in one act
Author: Rabindranath Tagore
Release date: February 9, 2026 [eBook #77892]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Macmillan and Co., Limited, 1925
Credits: Tim Lindell, Dori Allard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED OLEANDERS ***
Transcriber’s Notes: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores:
_italics_. Bold text is surrounded by equal signs: =bold=.
RED OLEANDERS
[Illustration:(colophon)]
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
RED OLEANDERS
A DRAMA IN ONE ACT
BY
RABINDRANATH TAGORE
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON
1925
COPYRIGHT
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
RED OLEANDERS
A DRAMA IN ONE ACT
_The Curtain rises on a window covered by a network of intricate
pattern in front of the Palace._
(_Nandini and Kishôr, a digger boy,
come in._)
_Kishôr_
Have you enough flowers, Nandini? Here, I have brought some more.
_Nandini_
Run away, Kishôr, do,--back to your work, quick! You’ll be late again.
_Kishôr_
I must steal some time from my digging and digging of nuggets to
bring out flowers to you.
_Nandini_
But they’ll punish you, my boy, if they know.
_Kishôr_
You said you _must_ have red oleanders. I am glad they’re hard to
find in this place. Only one tree I discovered after days of search,
nearly hidden away behind a rubbish heap.
_Nandini_
Show it me. I’ll go and gather the flowers myself.
_Kishôr_
Don’t be cruel, Nandini. This tree is my one secret which none shall
know. I’ve always envied Bishu, he can sing to you songs that are
his own. From now I shall have flowers which you’ll have to take only
from my hands.
_Nandini_
But it breaks my heart to know that those brutes punish you.
_Kishôr_
It makes these flowers all the more preciously mine. They come from
my pain.
_Nandini_
It pains me to accept anything which brings you hurt.
_Kishôr_
I dream of dying one day for your sake, Nandini.
_Nandini_
Is there nothing I can give you in return?
_Kishôr_
Promise that you will accept flowers only from me every morning.
_Nandini_
I will. But do be careful.
_Kishôr_
No, no, I shall be rash and defy their blows. My homage shall be my
daily triumph.
[_Goes._
(_Professor comes in._)
_Professor_
Nandini!
_Nandini_
Yes, Professor!
_Professor_
Why do you come and startle one, now and again, and then pass by?
Since you awaken a cry in our hearts, what harm if you stop a moment
in answer to it? Let us talk a little.
_Nandini_
What need have you of me?
_Professor_
If you talk of need, look over there!--You’ll see our tunnel-diggers
creeping out of the holes like worms, with loads of things of need.
In this Yaksha Town all our treasure is of gold, the secret treasure
of the dust. But the gold which is you, beautiful one, is not of the
dust, but of the light which never owns any bond.
_Nandini_
Over and over again you say this to me. What makes you wonder at me
so, Professor?
_Professor_
The sunlight gleaming through the forest thickets surprises nobody,
but the light that breaks through a cracked wall is quite a different
thing. In Yaksha Town, you are this light that startles. Tell me,
what d’you think of this place?
_Nandini_
It puzzles me to see a whole city thrusting its head underground,
groping with both hands in the dark. You dig tunnels in the
underworld and come out with dead wealth that the earth has kept
buried for ages past.
_Professor_
The _Jinn_ of that dead wealth we invoke. If we can enslave him the
whole world lies at our feet.
_Nandini_
Then again, you hide your king behind a wall of netting. Is it for
fear of people finding out that he’s a man?
_Professor_
As the ghost of our dead wealth is fearfully potent so is our ghostly
royalty, made hazy by this net, with its inhuman power to frighten
people.
_Nandini_
All you say is a kind of made-up talk.
_Professor_
Of course made-up. The naked is without a credential, it’s the
made-up clothes that define us. It delights me immensely to discuss
philosophy with you.
_Nandini_
That’s strange! You who burrow day and night in a mass of yellow
pages, like your diggers in the bowels of the earth,--why waste your
time on me?
_Professor_
The privilege of wasting time proves one’s wealth of time. We poor
drudges are insects in a hole in this solid toil, you are the evening
star in the rich sky of leisure. When we see you, our wings grow
restless. Come to my room. For a moment allow me to be reckless in my
waste of time.
_Nandini_
No, not now. I have come to see your king, in _his_ room.
_Professor_
How can you enter through the screen?
_Nandini_
I shall find my way through the network.
_Professor_
Do you know, Nandini, I too live behind a network of scholarship. I
am an unmitigated scholar, just as our king is an unmitigated king.
_Nandini_
You are laughing at me, Professor. But tell me, when they brought me
here, why didn’t they bring my Rañjan also?
_Professor_
It’s their way to snatch things by fractions. But why should you want
to drag your life’s treasure down amongst this dead wealth of ours?
_Nandini_
Because I know he can put a beating heart behind these dead ribs.
_Professor_
Your own presence is puzzling enough for our governors here; if
Rañjan also comes they will be in despair.
_Nandini_
They do not know how comic they are,--Rañjan will bring God’s own
laughter in their midst and startle them into life.
_Professor_
Divine laughter is the sunlight that melts ice, but not stones. Only
the pressure of gross muscle can move our governors.
_Nandini_
My Rañjan’s strength is like that of your river, Sankhini,--it can
laugh and yet it can break. Let me tell you a little secret news of
mine. I shall meet Rañjan to-day.
_Professor_
Who told you that?
_Nandini_
Yes, yes, we shall meet. The news has come.
_Professor_
Through what way could news come and yet evade the Governor?
_Nandini_
Through the same way that brings news of the coming Spring.
_Professor_
You mean it’s in the air,--like the rumours which flush in the colour
of the sky, or flutter in the dance of the wind?
_Nandini_
I won’t say more now. When Rañjan comes you’ll see for yourself how
rumours in the air come down on earth.
_Professor_
Once she begins to talk of Rañjan there’s no stopping Nandini’s
mouth! Well, well, I have my books, let me take my shelter behind
them,--I dare not go on with this.
(_Coming back after going a little way._)
Nandini, let me ask you one thing. Aren’t you frightened of our
Yaksha Town?
_Nandini_
Why should I feel afraid?
_Professor_
All creatures fear an eclipse, not the full sun. Yaksha Town is a
city under eclipse. The Shadow Demon, who lives in the gold caves,
has eaten into it. It is not whole itself, neither does it allow any
one else to remain whole. Listen to me, don’t stay here. When you
go, these pits will yawn all the wider for us, I know,--yet I say
to you, fly; go and live happily with Rañjan where people in their
drunken fury don’t tear the earth’s veil to pieces.
(_Going a little way and then coming back._)
Nandini, will you give me a flower from your chain of red oleanders?
_Nandini_
Why, what will you do with it?
_Professor_
How often have I thought that there is some omen in these ornaments
of yours.
_Nandini_
_I_ don’t know of any.
_Professor_
Perhaps your fate knows. In that red there is not only beauty, but
also the fascination of fear.
_Nandini_
Fear! Even in me?
_Professor_
I don’t know what event you have come to write with that crimson
tint. There was the gardenia and the tuberose, there was white
jasmine,--why did you leave them all and choose this flower? Do you
know, we often choose our own fate thus, without knowing it!
_Nandini_
Rañjan sometimes calls me Red Oleander. I feel that the colour of his
love is red,--that red I wear on my neck, on my breast, on my arms.
_Professor_
Well, just give me one of those flowers,--a moment’s gift,--let me
try to understand the meaning of its colour.
_Nandini_
Here, take it. Rañjan is coming to-day,--out of my heart’s delight I
give it to you.
[_Professor goes._
(_Gôkul, a digger, comes in._)
_Gôkul_
Turn this way, woman! Who are you? I’ve never yet been able to
understand you.
_Nandini_
I’m nothing more than what you see. What need have you to understand
me?
_Gôkul_
I don’t trust what I can’t understand. For what purpose has the King
brought you here?
_Nandini_
Because I serve no purpose of his.
_Gôkul_
You know some spell, I’m sure. You’re snaring everybody here. You’re
a witch! Those who are bewitched by your beauty will come to their
death.
_Nandini_
That death will not be yours, Gôkul, never fear! You’ll die digging.
_Gôkul_
Let me see, let me see, what’s that dangling over your forehead?
_Nandini_
Only a tassel of red oleanders.
_Gôkul_
What does it mean?
_Nandini_
It has no meaning at all.
_Gôkul_
I don’t believe you, one bit! You’re up to some trickery. Some
evil will befall us before the day is out. That’s why you have got
yourself up like this. Oh you terrible, terrible witch!
_Nandini_
What makes you think me so terrible?
_Gôkul_
You’re looking like an ominous torch with a red flame. Let me go and
warn these fools.--Beware! Beware!
[_He goes._
_Nandini_ (_knocking at the network_)
Do you hear me?
_A voice_ (_from behind the scenes_)
I hear you. But don’t call me,--I have no time.
_Nandini_
Let me come inside. My heart is full to-day.
_Voice_
No, not into my room.
_Nandini_
I have brought you a garland of white _kunda_ flowers.
_Voice_
Wear it yourself.
_Nandini_
My own garland is of red oleanders.
_Voice_
I am like a mountain peak, my bareness is my adornment.
_Nandini_
Like waterfalls running down the peak, this white flower-chain will
sway on your breast. Open the netting, I want to come in.
_Voice_
I can’t allow it. There’s no time.
_Nandini_
Don’t you hear that song in the distance?
_Voice_
What are they singing?
_Nandini_
The autumn song:
_Hark, ’tis Autumn calling:
“Come, O, come away!”--
Her basket is heaped with corn._
Don’t you see the September sun is spreading the glow of the ripening
corn in the air?
_Drunken with the perfumed wine of wind,
the sky seems to sway among the shivering corn,
its sunlight trailing on the fields._
You too come out, King!--out into the fields.
_Voice_
Fields! What could I do there?
_Nandini_
The work there is much simpler than your work in Yaksha Town.
_Voice_
It’s the simple which is impossible for me. A lake cannot run out
dancing, like a frolicsome waterfall. Leave me now, I have no time.
_Nandini_
The day you let me into your storehouse the blocks of gold did not
surprise me,--what amazed me was the immense strength with which you
lifted and arranged them. But can blocks of gold ever answer to the
swinging rhythm of your arms in the same way as fields of corn? Are
you not afraid, King, of handling the dead wealth of the earth?
_Voice_
What is there to fear?
_Nandini_
The living heart of the earth gives itself up in love and life and
beauty, but when you rend its bosom and disturb the dead, you bring
up with your booty the curse of its dark demon, blind and hard,
cruel and envious. Don’t you see everybody here is either angry, or
suspicious, or afraid?
_Voice_
Curse?
_Nandini_
Yes, the curse of grabbing and killing.
_Voice_
But we bring up strength. Does not my strength please you, Nandini?
_Nandini_
Indeed it does. Therefore I ask you, come out into the light, step on
the ground, let the earth be glad.
_Voice_
Do you know, Nandini, you too are half-hidden behind an evasion,--you
mystery of beauty! I want to pluck you out of it, to grasp you within
my closed fist, to handle you, scrutinise you,--or else to break you
to pieces.
_Nandini_
Whatever do you mean?
_Voice_
Why can’t I strain out the tint of your oleanders and build a dream
out of it to keep before my eyes? Those few frail petals guard it and
hinder me. Within you there is the same hindrance, so strong because
so soft. Nandini, will you tell me what you think of me?
_Nandini_
Not now, you have no time. Let me go.
_Voice_
No, no, don’t go. Do tell me what you think of me.
_Nandini_
Have I not told you often enough? I think you are wonderful. Strength
swelling up in your arms, like rolling clouds before a storm,--it
makes my heart dance within me.
_Voice_
And when your heart dances to see Rañjan, is that also----
_Nandini_
Let that be,--you have no time.
_Voice_
There _is_ time,--for this; only tell me, then go.
_Nandini_
That dance rhythm is different, you won’t understand.
_Voice_
I will, I _must_ understand.
_Nandini_
I can’t explain it clearly. Let me go.
_Voice_
Tell me, at least, whether you like me.
_Nandini_
Yes, I like you.
_Voice_
The same as Rañjan?
_Nandini_
Again the same question! I tell you, you don’t understand these
things.
_Voice_
I _do_ understand, a little. I know what the difference is between
Rañjan and me. In me there is only strength, in Rañjan there is magic.
_Nandini_
What d’you mean by magic?
_Voice_
Shall I explain? Underground there are blocks of stone, iron,
gold,--there you have the image of strength. On the surface grows the
grass, the flower blossoms,--there you have the play of magic. I can
extract gold from the fearsome depths of secrecy, but to wrest that
magic from the near at hand I fail.
_Nandini_
You have no end of things, yet why always covet?
_Voice_
All I possess is so much dead weight. No increase of gold can create
a particle of a touchstone, no increase of power can ever come up to
youth. I can only guard by force. If I had Rañjan’s youth I could
leave you free and yet hold you fast. My time is spent in knotting
the binding rope, but, alas, everything else can be kept tied, except
joy.
_Nandini_
It is you who entangle yourself in your own net, then why keep on
fretting?
_Voice_
You will never understand. I, who am a desert, stretch out my hand to
you, a tiny blade of grass, and cry: I am parched, I am bare, I am
weary. The flaming thirst of this desert licks up one fertile field
after another, only to enlarge itself,--it can never annex the life
of the frailest of grasses.
_Nandini_
One would never think you were so tired.
_Voice_
One day, Nandini, in a far off land, I saw a mountain as weary as
myself. I could not guess that all its stones were aching inwardly.
One night I heard a noise, as if some giant’s evil dream had moaned
and moaned and suddenly snapped asunder. Next morning I found the
mountain had disappeared in the chasm of a yawning earthquake. That
made me understand how overgrown power crushes itself inwardly by its
own weight. I see in you something quite opposite.
_Nandini_
What is it you see in me?
_Voice_
The dance rhythm of the All.
_Nandini_
I don’t understand.
_Voice_
The rhythm that lightens the enormous weight of matter. To that
rhythm the bands of stars and planets go about dancing from sky to
sky, like so many minstrel boys. It is that rhythm, Nandini, that
makes you so simple, so perfect. How small you are compared to me,
yet I envy you.
_Nandini_
You have cut yourself off from everybody and so deprived yourself.
_Voice_
I keep myself apart, that it may become easy for me to plunder the
world’s big treasure-houses. Nevertheless there are gifts that your
little flower-like fingers can easily reach, but not all the strength
of my body,--gifts hidden in God’s closed hand. That hand I must
force open some day.
_Nandini_
When you talk like that, I don’t follow you. Let me go.
_Voice_
Go then; but here, I stretch out this hand of mine from my window,
place your hand on it for a moment.
_Nandini_
Only a hand, and the rest of you hidden? It frightens me!
_Voice_
Everybody flies from me because they only see my hand.
But if I wished to hold you with all of me, would you come to me,
Nandini?
_Nandini_
Why talk like this when you wouldn’t even let me come into your room?
_Voice_
My busy time, overloaded with work, dragged along against
obstruction, is not for you. On the day when you can arrive, full
sail before the wind, into the bosom of my full leisure, the hour of
welcome will strike. Even if that wind be a storm, all will be well.
That hour is not yet come.
_Nandini_
Rañjan will bring that delightful wind here, I tell you. He carries
his holiday-time with him, even in his work.
_Voice_
He has the red wine of oleanders to fill up his cup. But to me you
want to pass on an empty leisure. Where is the wine?
_Nandini_
Let me go now.
_Voice_
Answer me first.
_Nandini_
How to fulfil leisure you will learn from Rañjan. He is so beautiful.
_Voice_
Beauty only responds to beauty. Its lute strings break when force
tries to snatch an answer. But no more of this. Go, go away, or else
there will be trouble.
_Nandini_
I go. But I tell you, my Rañjan is coming to-day. You cannot prevent
him.
[_She goes._
(_Phágulal, the digger, and his wife
Chandrá, come in._)
_Phágulal_
My bottle, Chandrá? Out with it!
_Chandrá_
What! Drink from early morning?
_Phágulal_
Isn’t it our holiday? Yesterday was the fast day of the War Goddess.
To-day they worship the Flag.
_Chandrá_
Must you drink just because it’s a holiday? In our village home, on
feast days, you never----
_Phágulal_
Freedom itself was enough for the holidays in our village. The caged
bird spends its holiday knocking against the bars. In Yaksha Town
holidays are more of a nuisance than work.
_Chandrá_
Let’s go back home, then.
_Phágulal_
The road to our home is closed for ever.
_Chandrá_
How’s that?
_Phágulal_
Our homes don’t yield them any profit.
_Chandrá_
But are we closely fitted to their profits only,--like husks to
grains of corn,--with nothing of us left over?
_Phágulal_
Our mad Bishu says: to remain whole is useful only for the lamb
itself; those who eat it prefer to leave out its horns and hooves,
and even object to its bleating when butchered.
There’s the madcap, singing as he goes.
_Chandrá_
It’s only the last few days that his songs have burst forth.
_Phágulal_
That’s true.
_Chandrá_
He’s been possessed by Nandini. She draws his heart and his songs too.
_Phágulal_
No wonder.
_Chandrá_
Indeed! You’d better be careful. She’ll next be bringing out songs
from _your_ throat,--which would be rough on our neighbours. The
witch is up to all kinds of tricks, and is sure to bring misfortune.
_Phágulal_
Bishu’s misfortune is nothing recent, he knew Nandini long before
coming here.
_Chandrá_
(_Calling out_) I say, Bishu, come this way. Maybe you’ll find
somebody here also to listen to your singing,--it won’t be altogether
thrown away.
(_Bishu comes in, singing._)
_Bishu_ (_sings_)
_Boatman of my dreams,
The sail is filled with a boisterous breeze and my mad heart sings
to the lilt of the rocking of thy boat,
at the call of the far away landing._
_Chandrá_
I know who the boatman of your dreams is.
_Bishu_
How should you know from outside? You haven’t seen from inside my
boat.
_Chandrá_
Your boat is going to get wrecked one of these days, let me tell
you,--by that pet Nandini of yours.
(_Gôkul, the digger, comes in._)
_Gôkul_
I say, Bishu, I don’t quite trust your Nandini.
_Bishu_
Why, what has she done?
_Gôkul_
She does nothing, that’s the rub. I don’t understand the way she goes
on.
_Chandrá_
To see her flaunting her prettiness all over the place makes me sick.
_Gôkul_
We can trust features that are plain enough to understand.
_Bishu_
I know the atmosphere of this place breeds contempt for beauty. There
must be beauty even in hell; but nobody there can understand it,
that’s their cruellest punishment.
_Chandrá_
Maybe we are fools, but even our Governor here can’t stand her--d’you
know that?
_Bishu_
Take care, Chandrá, lest you catch the infection of our Governor’s
eyes--then perhaps yours too will redden at the sight of us. What say
you, Phágulal?
_Phágulal_
To tell you the truth, brother, when I see Nandini, I feel ashamed to
think of myself. I can’t utter a word when she’s there.
_Gôkul_
The day will come when you’ll know her to your cost,--perhaps too
late.
[_Goes._
_Phágulal_
Bishu, your friend Chandrá wants to know why we drink.
_Bishu_
God in his mercy has everywhere provided a liberal allowance of
drink. We men with our arms supply the output of our muscles, you
women with yours supply the wine of embraces. In this world there is
hunger to force us to work; but there’s also the green of the woods,
the gold of the sunshine, to make us drunk with their holiday-call.
_Chandrá_
You call these things _drink_?
_Bishu_
Yes, drinks of life, an endless stream of intoxication. Take my case.
I come to this place; I am set to work burgling the underworld; for
me nature’s own ration of spirits is stopped; so my inner man craves
the artificial wine of the market place.
(_Sings_)
_My life, your sap has run dry,
Fill then the cup with the wine of death,
That flushes all emptiness with its laughter._
_Chandrá_
Come, brother, let us fly from here.
_Bishu_
To that boundless tavern, underneath the blue canopy? Alas, the road
is closed, and we seek consolation in the stolen wine of the prison
house. No open sky, no leisure for us; so we have distilled the
essence of all the song and laughter, all the sunlight of the twelve
hours’ day into one draught of liquid fire.
(_Sings_)
_Thy sun is hidden amid a mass of murky cloud.
Thy day has smudged itself black in dusty toil.
Then let the dark night descend
the last comrade of drunken oblivion.
Let it cover thy tired eyes with the mist
that will help thee desperately to lose thyself._
_Chandrá_
Well, well, Bishu, you men have gone to the dogs in Yaksha Town, if
you like, but we women haven’t changed at all.
_Bishu_
Haven’t you? Your flowers have faded, and you are all slavering for
gold.
_Chandrá_
No, never!
_Bishu_
I say, yes. That Phágulal toils for hours over and above the
twelve,--why? For a reason unknown to him, unknown even to you. But
_I_ know. It’s your dream of gold that lashes him on to work, more
severely than the foreman’s whip.
_Chandrá_
Very well. Then why don’t we fly from here, and go back home?
_Bishu_
Your Governor has closed the way as well as the will to return. If
you go there to-day you will fly back here to-morrow, like a caged
bird to its cage, hankering for its drugged food.
_Phágulal_
I say, Bishu, once upon a time you came very near spoiling your
eyesight poring over books; how is it they made you ply the spade
along with the rest of us stupid boors?
_Chandrá_
All this time we’ve been here, we haven’t got from Bishu the answer
to this particular question.
_Phágulal_
Yet we all know it.
_Bishu_
Well, out with it then!
_Phágulal_
They employed you to spy on us.
_Bishu_
If you knew that, how is it you let me off alive?
_Phágulal_
But, we knew also, that game was not in your line.
_Chandrá_
How is it you couldn’t stick to such a comfortable job, brother?
_Bishu_
Comfortable job? To stick to a living being like a carbuncle on his
back?
I said: “I must go home, my health is failing.”
“Poor thing,” said the Governor, “how can you go home in such a
state? However, there’s no harm in your trying.”
Well, I did try. And then I found that, as soon as one enters the maw
of Yaksha Town, its jaws shut fast, and the one road that remains
open leads withinwards. Now I am swamped in that interior without
hope and without light, and the only difference between you and
me is, that the Governor looks down upon me even worse than upon
you. Man despises the broken pot of his own creation more than the
withered leaf fallen from the tree.
_Phágulal_
What does that matter, Bishu? You have risen high in our esteem.
_Bishu_
Discovery only means death. Where your favour falls there falls
the Governor’s glance. The more noisily the yellow frogs welcome
the black toad, the sooner their croaking points him out to the
boa-constrictor.
_Chandrá_
But when will your work be finished?
_Bishu_
The calendar never records the last day. After the first day comes
the second, after the second the third. There’s no such thing as
getting finished here. We’re always digging--one yard, two yards,
three yards. We go on raising gold nuggets,--after one nugget
another, then more and more and more. In Yaksha Town figures follow
one another in rows and never arrive at any conclusion. That’s why we
are not men to them, but only numbers.--Phágu, what’s yours?
_Phágulal_
I’m No. 47 V.
_Bishu_
I’m 69 Ng.
_Chandrá_
Brother, they’ve hoarded such heaps of gold, can’t they stop digging
now?
_Bishu_
There’s always an end to things of need, no doubt; so we stop when
we’ve had enough to eat. But we don’t need drunkenness, therefore
there’s no end to it. These nuggets are the drink--the solid
drink--of our Gold King. Don’t you see?
_Chandrá_
No, I don’t.
_Bishu_
Cups in hand, we forget that we are chained to our limits. Gold
blocks in hand, our master fancies he’s freed from the gravitation of
the commonplace, and is soaring in the rarest of upper heights.
_Chandrá_
In this season the villages are preparing for their harvest festival.
Let’s go home.
_Phágulal_
Don’t worry me, Chandrá. A thousand times over have I told you that
in these parts there are high roads to the market, to the burning
ground, to the scaffold,--everywhere except to the homeland.
_Chandrá_
If we were to go to the Governor, and just tell him----
_Bishu_
Hasn’t your woman’s wit seen through the Governor yet?
_Chandrá_
Why, he seems to be so nice and----
_Bishu_
Yes, nice and polished, like the crocodile’s teeth, which fit into
one another with so thorough a bite that the King himself can’t
unlock the jaw, even if he wants to.
_Chandrá_
There comes the Governor.
_Bishu_
Then it’s all up with us. He’s sure to have overheard----
_Chandrá_
Why, we haven’t said anything so very----
_Bishu_
Sister, we can only say the words,--they put in the meaning.
(_The Governor comes in._)
_Chandrá_
Sir Governor!
_Governor_
Well, my child?
_Chandrá_
Grant us leave to go home for a little.
_Governor_
Why, aren’t the rooms we have given you excellent, much better than
the ones at home? We have even kept a state watchman for your safety.
Hallo, 69 Ng, to see you amongst these people reminds one of a heron
come to teach paddy birds how to cut capers.
_Bishu_
Sir, your jesting does not reassure me. Had my feet the strength to
make others dance, would I not have run away from here, first thing?
Especially after the striking examples I’ve seen of the fate that
overtakes dancing masters in this country. As things are, one’s legs
tremble even to walk straight.
_Chandrá_
Give us leave, Sir Governor, do give us leave. Let us go just for
once, and see our waving fields of barleycorn in the ear, and the
ample shade of our banyan tree with its hanging roots. I cannot tell
you how our hearts ache. Don’t you see that your men here work all
day in the dark, and in the evening steep themselves in the denser
dark of drunkenness? Have you no pity for them?
_Governor_
My dear child, surely you know of our constant anxiety for their
welfare. That is exactly why I have sent for our High Preacher,
Kenarám Gosain himself, to give moral talks to the men. Their votive
fees will pay for his upkeep. Every evening the Gosain will come
and----
_Phágulal_
That won’t do, sir! Now, at worst, we get drunk of an evening, but if
we are preached to every night, there’ll be manslaughter!
_Bishu_
Hush, hush, Phágulal.
(_Preacher Gosain comes in._)
_Governor_
Talk of the Preacher and he appears. Your Holiness, I do you
reverence. These workmen of ours sometimes feel disturbed in their
weak minds. Deign to whisper in their ears some texts of peace. The
need is urgent.
_Gosain_
These people? Are they not the very incarnation of the sacred
Tortoise of our scripture, that held up the sinking earth on its
back? Because they meekly suppress themselves underneath their
burden, the upper world can keep its head aloft. The very thought
sends a thrill through my body!
Just think of it, friend 47 V, yours is the duty of supplying food to
this mouth which chants the holy name. With the sweat of your brow
have you woven this wrap printed with the holy name, which exalts
this devoted body. Surely that is no mean privilege. May you remain
for ever undisturbed, is my benediction, for then the grace of God
will abide with you likewise.
My friends, repeat aloud the holy name of Hari, and all your burdens
will be lightened. The name of Hari shall be taken in the beginning,
in the middle, and at the end,--so say the scriptures.
_Chandrá_
How sweet! It’s long since I have heard such words! Give, oh give me
a little dust off your feet!
_Phágulal_
Stop this waste of money, Governor. If it’s our offerings you want,
we can stand it, but we’re fairly sick of this cant.
_Bishu_
Once Phágulal runs amok it’s all over with the lot of you. Hush,
hush, Phágulal!
_Chandrá_
Are you bent on spoiling your chances both in this world and the
next, you wretched man? You were never like this before. Nandini’s
ill wind has blown upon you,--and no mistake.
_Gosain_
What charming naïveté, Sir Governor! What’s in their heart is always
on their lips. What can we teach them?--it’s they who’ll teach us a
lesson. You know what I mean.
_Governor_
I know where the root of the trouble is. I’ll have to take them in
hand myself, I see. Meanwhile, pray go to the next parish and chant
them the holy name,--the sawyers there have taken to grumbling,
somewhat.
_Gosain_
Which parish did you say?
_Governor_
Parish T-D. No. 71 T is headman there. It ends to the left of where
No. 65 of Row M lives.
_Gosain_
My son, though Parish T-D may not yet be quieted, the whole Row of
M’s have lately become steeped in a beautiful spirit of meekness.
Still it is better to keep an extra police force posted in the parish
some time longer. Because, as you know our scripture says,--pride
is our greatest foe. After the strength of the police has helped to
conquer pride, then comes our turn. I take my leave.
_Chandrá_
Forgive these men, Your Holiness, and give them your blessing, that
they may follow the right path.
_Gosain_
Fear not, good woman, they’ll all end thoroughly pacified.
[_The Gosain goes._
_Governor_
I say, 69 Ng, the temper of your parish seems to be somewhat strained.
_Bishu_
That’s nothing strange. The Gosain called them the incarnation of the
Tortoise. But, according to scripture, incarnations change; and, when
the Tortoise gave place to the Boar, in place of hard shell came out
aggressive teeth, so that all-suffering patience was transformed into
defiant obstinacy.
_Chandrá_
But, Sir Governor, don’t forget my request.
_Governor_
I have heard it and will bear it in mind.
[_He goes._
_Chandrá_
Ah now, didn’t you see how nice the Governor is? How he smiles every
time he talks!
_Bishu_
Crocodile’s teeth begin by smiling and end by biting.
_Chandrá_
Where does his bite come in?
_Bishu_
Don’t you know he’s going to make it a rule not to let the workmen’s
wives accompany them here.
_Chandrá_
Why?
_Bishu_
We have a place in their account book as numbers, but women’s figures
do not mate with figures of arithmetic.
_Chandrá_
O dear! but have they no womenfolk of their own?
_Bishu_
Their ladies are besotted with the wine of gold, even worse than
their husbands.
_Chandrá_
Bishu, you had a wife at home,--what’s become of her?
_Bishu_
So long as I filled the honoured post of spy, they used to invite her
to those big mansions to play cards with their ladies. Ever since I
joined Phágulal’s set, all that was stopped, and she left me in a
huff at the humiliation.
_Chandrá_
For shame! But look, brother Bishu, what a grand procession! One
palanquin after another! Don’t you see the sparkle of the jewelled
fringes of the elephant-seats? How beautiful the out-riders on
horseback look, as if they had bits of sunlight pinned on the points
of their spears!
_Bishu_
Those are the Governor’s and Deputy Governor’s ladies, going to the
Flag-worship.
_Chandrá_
Bless my soul, what a gorgeous array and how fine they look!
I say, Bishu, if you hadn’t given up that job, would you have gone
along with that set in this grand style?--and that wife of yours,
surely----
_Bishu_
Yes, we too should have come to just such a pass.
_Chandrá_
Is there no way going back,--none whatever?
_Bishu_
There is,--through the gutter.
_A distant voice_
Bishu, my mad one!
_Bishu_
Yes, my mad girl!
_Phágulal_
There’s Nandini. There’ll be no more of Bishu for us, for the rest of
the day.
_Chandrá_
Tell me, Bishu, what does she charm you with?
_Bishu_
The charm of sorrow.
_Chandrá_
Why do you talk so topsy-turvy?
_Bishu_
She reminds me that there are sorrows, to forget which is the
greatest of sorrow.
_Phágulal_
Please to speak plainly, Bishu, otherwise it becomes positively
annoying!
_Bishu_
The pain of desire for the near belongs to the animal, the sorrow of
aspiration for the far belongs to man. That far away flame of my
eternal sorrow is revealed through Nandini.
_Chandrá_
Brother, we don’t understand these things. But one thing I do
understand and that is,--the less you men can make out a girl, the
more she attracts you! We simple women,--our price is not so high,
but we at least keep you on the straight path. I warn you, once for
all, that girl with her noose of red oleanders will drag you to
perdition.
[_Chandrá and Phágulal go._
(_Nandini comes in._)
_Nandini_
My mad one, did you hear their autumn songs this morning?
_Bishu_
Is my morning like yours that I should hear singing? Mine is only a
swept-away remnant of the weary night.
_Nandini_
In my gladness of heart I thought I’d stand on the rampart and join
in their song. But the guards would not let me, so I’ve come to you.
_Bishu_
I am not a rampart.
_Nandini_
You are _my_ rampart. When I come to you I seem to climb high, I find
the open light.
_Bishu_
Ever since coming to Yaksha Town the sky has dropped out of my life.
I felt as if they had pounded me in the same mortar with all the
fractions of men here, and rolled us into a solid lump.
Then you came and looked into my face in a way that made me sure some
light could still be seen through me.
_Nandini_
In this closed fort a bit of sky survives only between you and me, my
mad one.
_Bishu_
Through that sky my songs can fly towards you.
(_Sings_)
_You keep me awake that I may sing to you,
O Breaker of my sleep!
And so my heart you startle with your call,
O Waker of my grief!
The shades of evening fall, the birds come to their nest.
The boat arrives ashore, yet my heart knows no rest,
O Waker of my grief!_
_Nandini_
The waker of your grief, Bishu?
_Bishu_
Yes, you are my messenger from the unreachable shore. The day you
came to Yaksha Town a gust of salt air knocked at my heart.
_Nandini_
But I never had any message of this sorrow of which you sing.
_Bishu_
Not even from Rañjan?
_Nandini_
No, he holds an oar in each hand and ferries me across the stormy
waters; he catches wild horses by the mane and rides with me through
the woods; he shoots an arrow between the eyebrows of the tiger on
the spring, and scatters my fear with loud laughter. As he jumps into
our Nagai river and disturbs its current with his joyous splashing,
so he disturbs me with his tumultuous life. Desperately he stakes his
all on the game and thus has he won me.
You also were there with us, but you held aloof, and at last
something urged you one day to leave our gambling set. At the time of
your parting you looked at my face in a way I could not quite make
out. After that I’ve had no news of you for long. Tell me where you
went off to then.
_Bishu_
My boat was tied to the bank; the rope snapped; the wild wind drove
it into the trackless unknown.
_Nandini_
But who dragged you back from there to dig for nuggets here in Yaksha
Town?
_Bishu_
A woman. Just as a bird on the wing is brought to the ground by a
chance arrow, so did she bring me down to the dust. I forgot myself.
_Nandini_
How could she touch you?
_Bishu_
When the thirsty heart despairs of finding water it’s easy enough for
it to be deluded by a mirage, and driven in barren quest from desert
to desert.
One day, while I was gazing at the sunset clouds, she had her eye
upon the golden spire of the Governor’s palace. Her glance challenged
me to take her over there. In my foolish pride I vowed to do so. When
I did bring her here, under the golden spire, the spell was broken.
_Nandini_
I’ve come to take you away from here.
_Bishu_
Since you have moved even the king of this place, what power on earth
can prevent you? Tell me, don’t you feel afraid of him?
_Nandini_
I did fear him from outside that screen. But now I’ve seen him inside.
_Bishu_
What was he like?
_Nandini_
Like a man from the epics,--his forehead like the gateway of a tower,
his arms the iron bolts of some inaccessible fortress.
_Bishu_
What did you see when you went inside?
_Nandini_
A falcon was sitting on his left wrist. He put it on the perch and
gazed at my face. Then, just as he had been stroking the falcon’s
wings, he began gently to stroke my hand. After a while he suddenly
asked: “Don’t you fear me, Nandini?”
“Not in the least,” said I.
Then he buried his fingers in my unbound hair and sat long with
closed eyes.
_Bishu_
How did you like it?
_Nandini_
I liked it. Shall I tell you how? It was as if he were a
thousand-year-old banyan tree, and I a tiny little bird; when I lit
on a branch of his and had my little swing, he needs must have felt a
thrill of delight to his very marrow. I loved to give that bit of joy
to that lonely soul.
_Bishu_
Then what did he say?
_Nandini_
Starting up and fixing his spearpoint gaze on my face, he suddenly
said: “I want to know you.”
I felt a shiver run down my body and asked: “What is there to
know?--I am not a manuscript!”
“I know all there is in manuscripts,” said he, “but I don’t know
you.” Then he became excited and cried: “Tell me all about Rañjan.
Tell me how you love him.”
I talked on: “I love Rañjan as the rudder in the water might love the
sail in the sky, answering its rhythm of wind in the rhythm of waves.”
He listened quietly, staring like a big greedy boy. All of a sudden
he startled me by exclaiming: “Could you die for him?”
“This very moment,” I replied.
“Never,” he almost roared, as if in anger.
“Yes, I could,” I repeated.
“What good would that do you?”
“I don’t know,” said I.
Then he writhed and shouted: “Go away from my room, go, go at once,
don’t disturb me in my work.”
I could not understand what that meant.
_Bishu_
He gets angry when he can’t understand.
_Nandini_
Bishu, don’t you feel pity for him?
_Bishu_
The day when God will be moved to pity for him, he will die.
_Nandini_
No, no, you don’t know how desperately he wants to live.
_Bishu_
You will see this very day what his living means. I don’t know
whether you’ll be able to bear the sight.
_Nandini_
There, look, there’s a shadow. I am sure the Governor has secretly
heard what we’ve been saying.
_Bishu_
This place is dark with the Governor’s shadow, it is everywhere. How
do you like him?
_Nandini_
I have never seen anything so lifeless,--like a cane stick cut from
the cane bush,--no leaves, no roots, no sap in the veins.
_Bishu_
Cut off from life, he spends himself in repressing life.
_Nandini_
Hush, he will hear you.
_Bishu_
He hears even when you are silent, which is all the more dangerous.
When I am with the diggers I am careful in my speech, so much so that
the Governor thinks I’m the sorriest of the lot, and spares me out of
sheer contempt. But, my mad girl, when I am with you my mind scorns
to be cautious.
_Nandini_
No, no, you must not court danger. There comes the Governor.
(_The Governor comes in._)
_Governor_
Hallo, 69 Ng! you seem to be making friends with everybody, without
distinction.
_Bishu_
You may remember that I began by making friends even with you, only
it was the distinction that stood in the way.
_Governor_
Well, what are we discussing now?
_Bishu_
We are discussing how to escape from this fortress of yours.
_Governor_
Really? So recklessly, that you don’t even mind confessing it?
_Bishu_
Sir Governor, it doesn’t need much cleverness to know that when a
captive bird pecks at the bars it’s not in the spirit of caress. What
does it matter whether that’s openly confessed or not?
_Governor_
The captives’ want of love we were aware of, but their not fearing
to admit it has become evident only recently.
_Nandini_
Won’t you let Rañjan come?
_Governor_
You will see him this very day.
_Nandini_
I knew that; still, for your message of hope I wish you victory.
Governor, take this garland of _kunda_ flowers.
_Governor_
Why throw away the garland thus, and not keep it for Rañjan?
_Nandini_
There _is_ a garland for him.
_Governor_
Aha, I thought so! I suppose it’s the one hanging round your neck.
The garland of victory may be of _kunda_ flowers, the gift of the
hand; but the garland of welcome is of red oleanders, the gift of the
heart. Well, let’s be quick in accepting what comes from the hand,
for that will fade; as for the heart’s offering, the longer it waits
the more precious it grows.
[_The Governor goes._
_Nandini_ (_knocking at the window_)
Do you hear? Let me come into your room.
_Voice_ (_from behind the scenes_)
Why always the same futile request? Who is that with you? A pair to
Rañjan?
_Bishu_
No, King, I am the obverse side of Rañjan, on which falls the shadow.
_Voice_
What use has Nandini for you?
_Bishu_
The use which music has for the hollow of the flute.
_Voice_
Nandini, what is this man to you?
_Nandini_
He’s my partner in music. My heart soars in his voice, my pain cries
in his tunes,--that’s what he tells me.
(_Sings_)
_“I love, I love,”--’Tis the cry that breaks out
from the bosom of earth and water._
_Voice_
So that’s your partner! What if I dissolved your partnership this
very minute?
_Nandini_
Why are you so cross? Haven’t you any companion yourself?
_Voice_
Has the mid-day sun any companion?
_Nandini_
Well, let’s change the subject. What’s that? what’s that in your hand?
_Voice_
A dead frog.
_Nandini_
What for?
_Voice_
Once upon a time this frog got into a hole in a stone, and in that
shelter it existed for three thousand years. I have learnt from it
the secret of continuing to exist, but to live it does not know.
To-day I felt bored and smashed its shelter. I’ve thus saved it from
existing for ever. Isn’t that good news?
_Nandini_
Your stone walls will also fall away from around me to-day,--I shall
meet Rañjan.
_Voice_
I want to see you both together.
_Nandini_
You won’t be able to see from behind your net.
_Voice_
I shall let you sit inside my room.
_Nandini_
What will you do with us?
_Voice_
Nothing, I only want to know you.
_Nandini_
When you talk of knowing, it frightens me.
_Voice_
Why?
_Nandini_
I feel that you have no patience with things that cannot be known,
but can only be felt.
_Voice_
I dare not trust such things lest they should play me false. Now
go away, don’t waste my time.--No, no, wait a little. Give me that
tassel of red oleanders which hangs from your hair.
_Nandini_
What will you do with it?
_Voice_
When I look at those flowers it seems to me as if the red light of my
evil star has appeared in their shape. At times I want to snatch them
from you and tear them to pieces. Again I think that if Nandini were
ever to place that spray of flowers on my head, with her own hands,
then----
_Nandini_
Then what?
_Voice_
Then perhaps I might die in peace.
_Nandini_
Some one loves red oleanders and calls me by that name. It is in
remembrance of him that I wear these flowers.
_Voice_
Then, I tell you, they’re going to be _his_ evil star as well as
_mine_.
_Nandini_
Don’t say such things, for shame! I am going.
_Voice_
Where?
_Nandini_
I shall go and sit near the gate of your fort.
_Voice_
Why?
_Nandini_
When Rañjan comes he’ll see I am waiting for him.
_Voice_
I should like to tread hard on Rañjan and grind him in the dust.
_Nandini_
Why pretend to frighten me?
_Voice_
Pretend, you say? Don’t you know I am really fearsome?
_Nandini_
You seem to take pleasure in seeing people frightened at you. In our
village plays Srikantha takes the part of a demon; when he comes on
the stage, he is delighted if the children are terrified. You are
like him. Do you know what I think?
_Voice_
What is it?
_Nandini_
The people here trade on frightening others. That’s why they have put
you behind a network and dressed you fantastically. Don’t you feel
ashamed to be got up like a bogeyman?
_Voice_
How dare you!
_Nandini_
Those whom you have scared all along will one day feel ashamed to be
afraid. If my Rañjan were here, he would have snapped his fingers in
your face, and not been afraid even if he died for it.
_Voice_
Your impudence is something great. I should like to stand you up on
the top of a heap of everything I’ve smashed throughout my life. And
then----
_Nandini_
Then what?
_Voice_
Then, like a squeezed bunch of grapes with its juice running out from
between the gripping fingers, if I could but hold you tight with
these two hands of mine,--and then--go, go, run away, at once, at
once!
_Nandini_
If you shout at me so rudely, I’ll stay on, do what you will!
_Voice_
I long savagely to prove to you how cruel I am. Have you never heard
moans from inside my room?
_Nandini_
I have. Whose moaning was it?
_Voice_
The hidden mystery of life, wrenched away by me, bewails its torn
ties. To get fire from a tree you have to burn it. Nandini, there is
fire within you too, red fire. One day I shall burn you and extract
that also.
_Nandini_
Oh, you are cruel!
_Voice_
I must either gather or scatter. I can feel no pity for what I do not
get. Breaking is a fierce kind of getting.
_Nandini_
But why thrust out your clenched fist like that?
_Voice_
Here, I take away my fist. Now fly, as the dove flies from the shadow
of a hawk.
_Nandini_
Very well, I will go, and not vex you any more.
_Voice_
Here, listen, come back, Nandini!
_Nandini_
What is it?
_Voice_
On your face, there is the play of life in your eyes and lips; at
the back of you flows your black hair, the silent fall of death.
The other day when my hands sank into it they felt the soft calm of
dying. I long to sleep with my face hidden inside those thick black
clusters. You don’t know how tired I am!
_Nandini_
Don’t you ever sleep?
_Voice_
I feel afraid to sleep.
_Nandini_
Let me sing you the latest song that I’ve learnt.
(_Sings_)
_“I love, I love” is the cry that breaks out
from the bosom of earth and water.
The sky broods like an aching heart,
the horizon is tender like eyes misted with tears._
_Voice_
Enough! Enough! stop your singing!
_Nandini_
(_Sings on_)
_A lament heaves and bursts
on the shore of the sea,
The whispers of forgotten days
are born in new leaves to die again._
See, Bishu, he has left the dead frog there and disappeared. He is
afraid of songs.
_Bishu_
The old frog in his heart yearns to die when it hears singing, that’s
why he feels afraid. My mad girl, why is there a strange light on
your face to-day, like the glow of a distant torch in the sky?
_Nandini_
News has reached me, Rañjan is coming to-day.
_Bishu_
How?
_Nandini_
Let me tell you. Every day a pair of blue-throats[1] come and sit
on the pomegranate tree in front of my window. Every night, before
I sleep, I salute the pole star and say: Sacred star of constancy,
if a feather from the wings of the blue-throats finds its way into
my room, then I will know my Rañjan is coming. This morning, as soon
as I woke, I found a feather on my bed. See, here it is under my
breast-cloth. When I meet him I shall put this feather on his crest.
_Bishu_
They say blue-throats’ wings are an omen of victory.
_Nandini_
Rañjan’s way to victory lies through my heart.
_Bishu_
No more of this; let me go to my work.
_Nandini_
I shan’t let you work to-day.
_Bishu_
What must I do then?
_Nandini_
Sing that song of waiting.
_Bishu_
(_Sings_)
_He who ever wants me through the ages,--
is it not he who sits to-day by my wayside?
I seem to remember a glimpse I had of his face,
in the twilight dusk of some ancient year.
Is it not he who sits to-day by the wayside?_
_Nandini_
Bishu, when you sing I cannot help feeling that I owe you much, but
have never given anything to you.
_Bishu_
I shall decorate my forehead with the mark of your never-giving, and
go my way. No little-giving for me, in return for my song! Where will
you go now?
_Nandini_
To the wayside by which Rañjan is coming.
[_They go._
(_The Governor and a Headman
come in._)
_Governor_
No, we can’t possibly allow Rañjan to enter this parish.
_Headman_
I put him to work in the tunnels of Vajragarh.
_Governor_
Well, what happened?
_Headman_
He said he was not used to being made to work. The Headman of
Vajragarh came with the police, but the fellow doesn’t know what fear
is. Threaten him, he bursts out laughing. Asked why he laughs, he
says solemnity is the mask of stupidity and he has come to take it
off.
_Governor_
Did you set him to work with the diggers?
_Headman_
I did, I thought that pressure would make him yield. But on the
contrary it seemed to lift the pressure from the diggers’ minds also.
He cheered them up, and asked them to have a digger’s dance!
_Governor_
Digger’s dance! What on earth is that?
_Headman_
Rañjan started singing. Where were they to get drums?--they objected.
Rañjan said, if there weren’t any drums, there were spades enough.
So they began keeping time with the spades, making a joke of their
digging up of nuggets.
The Headman himself came over to reprimand them. “What style of work
is this?” he thundered.
“I have unbound the work,” said Rañjan. “It won’t have to be dragged
out by main force any more, it will run along of itself, dancing.”
_Governor_
The fellow is mad, I see.
_Headman_
Hopelessly mad. “Use your spade properly,” shouted I. “Much better
give me a guitar,” said he, smiling.
_Governor_
But how did he manage to escape from Vajragarh and come up here?
_Headman_
That I do not know. Nothing seems to fasten on to him. His
boisterousness is infectious. The diggers are getting frisky.
_Governor_
Hallo, isn’t that Rañjan himself,--going along the road, thrumming on
an old guitar? Impudent rascal! He doesn’t even care to hide.
_Headman_
Well, I never! Goodness alone knows how he broke through the wall!
_Governor_
Go and seize him instantly! He must not meet Nandini in this parish,
for anything.
(_Enter Assistant Governor._)
Where are you going?
_Assistant Governor_
To arrest Rañjan.
_Governor_
Where is the Deputy Governor?
_Assistant Governor_
He is so much amused by this fellow that he doesn’t want to lay hands
on him. He says the man’s laugh shows us what queer creatures we
governors have grown into.
_Governor_
I have an idea. Don’t arrest Rañjan. Send him on to the King’s
sanctum.
_Assistant Governor_
He refuses to obey our call, even in the King’s name.
_Governor_
Tell him the King has made a slave-girl of his Nandini.
_Assistant Governor_
But if the King----
_Governor_
Don’t you worry. Come on, I’ll go with you myself.
[_They go._
(_Enter Professor and Antiquarian._)
_Antiquarian_
I say, what is this infernal noise going on inside?
_Professor_
The King, probably in a temper with himself, is engaged in breaking
some of his own handiwork.
_Antiquarian_
It sounds like big pillars crashing down one after another.
_Professor_
There was a lake, at the foot of our hill over there, in which the
waters of this Sankhini river used to gather. One day, suddenly,
the rock to its left gave way, and the stored-up water rushed out
laughing like mad. To see the King nowadays, it strikes me that his
treasure lake has grown weary of its rock wall.
_Antiquarian_
What did you bring me here for, Professor?
_Professor_
Latterly he has begun to get angry with my science. He says it
only burgles through one wall to reveal another behind it, and
never reaches the inner chamber of the Life spirit. I thought that,
perhaps in the study of antiquity, he might explore the secret of
Life’s play. My knapsack has been rifled empty, now he can go on
pocket-picking history.
Do you see who that is passing by?
_Antiquarian_
A girl wearing a grass-green robe.
_Professor_
She has for her mantle the green joy of the earth. That is our
Nandini. In this Yaksha Town there are governors, foremen,
headmen, tunnel-diggers, scholars like myself; there are policemen,
executioners, and undertakers,--altogether a beautiful assortment!
Only _she_ is out of element. Midst the clamour of the market place
she is a tuned-up lyre. There are days when the mesh of my studies is
torn by the sudden breeze of her passing by, and through that rent my
attention flies away _swish_, like a bird.
_Antiquarian_
Good heavens, man! Are even your well-seasoned bones subject to these
poetic fits?
_Professor_
Life’s attraction, like the tidal wave, tears away mind from its
anchorage of books.
_Antiquarian_
Tell me, where am I to meet the King?
_Professor_
There’s no means of meeting him. You’ll have to talk to him from
outside this network.
_Antiquarian_
We’re to converse with this net between us?
_Professor_
Not the kind of whispered talk that may take place through a woman’s
veil, but solidly concentrated conversation. Even the cows in his
stall don’t dare to give milk, they yield their butter straight off!
_Antiquarian_
Admirable! To extract the essential from the diluted, is what
scholars aim at.
_Professor_
But not what God in His creation aims at. He respects the fruit
stones that are hard, but rejoices in the pulp that is sweet.
_Antiquarian_
Professor, I see that your grey science is galloping fast towards
grass-green. But I wonder how you can stand this King of yours.
_Professor_
Shall I tell you the truth? I love him.
_Antiquarian_
You don’t mean to say so?
_Professor_
He is so great that even what is wrong with him will not be able to
spoil him.
(_The Governor comes in._)
_Governor_
I say, man of science, so this is the person you volunteered to bring
here. Our King flew into a passion at the very mention of his special
subject.
_Antiquarian_
May I ask why?
_Governor_
The King says there is no age of history which may be called old. It
is always an eternal extension of the present.
_Antiquarian_
Can the front exist without the back?
_Governor_
What he said was: “Time proceeds by revealing the new on his front;
but the men of learning, suppressing that fact, will have it that
Time ever carries the burden of the old on his back.”
(_Nandini comes in hurriedly._)
_Nandini_
What is happening? Who are they?
_Governor_
Hallo, Nandini, is that you? I shall wear your _kunda_ chain late in
the evening. When three-quarters of me can hardly be seen for the
dark, then perchance a flower garland might become even me.
_Nandini_
Look over there--what a piteous sight! Who are those people, going
along with the guards, filing out from the back door of the King’s
apartments?
_Governor_
We call them the King’s leavings.
_Nandini_
What does that mean?
_Governor_
Some day you too will know its meaning; let it be for to-day.
_Nandini_
But are these men? Have they flesh and marrow, life and soul?
_Governor_
Maybe they haven’t.
_Nandini_
Had they never any?
_Governor_
Maybe they had.
_Nandini_
Where then is it all gone now?
_Governor_
Man of science, explain it if you can, I’m off.
[_He goes._
_Nandini_
Alas, alas! I see amongst these shadows faces that I know. Surely
that is our Anup and Upamanyu?
Professor, they belong to our neighbouring village. Two brothers as
tall as they were strong. They used to come and race their boats in
our river on the fourteenth day of the moon in rainy June. Oh, who
has brought them to this miserable plight?
See, there goes Shaklu,--in sword play he used to win the prize
garland before all the others. Anu-up! Shaklu-u! look this way; it’s
I, your Nandini, Nandin of Isháni, your very next village. They
won’t even raise their heads--heads lowered for ever!
Who is that? Surely, it is Kanku! Ah misery me! Even a boy like him
has been chewed dry and thrown away a piece of sugar cane. He was a
very shy lad. He would sit by the sloping side of the river landing
where I used to go and fetch water, pretending he had come to gather
reeds for making arrows. How often have I mischievously teased him.
Kanku, look back at me! Alas, he whose blood would dance in his veins
at a mere sign from me, now leaves my call unanswered.
Gone, gone, all the lights of our village are gone out! Professor,
the steel is all eaten away, only the dark rust remains,--however did
this happen?
_Professor_
Nandini, your notice happens to be attracted towards the ashes, but
turn your eyes towards the flame, and you will behold the brilliance
of its writhing tongues.
_Nandini_
I don’t follow you at all.
_Professor_
Well, you have seen the King, haven’t you? I hear you were charmed by
his appearance.
_Nandini_
Of course I was! Isn’t he marvellous in his strength?
_Professor_
That marvellousness is the credit side of the account, and this
ghastliness is the debit. These small ones are consumed to ash,
that the great ones may leap up in flame. This is the principle
underlying all rise to greatness.
_Nandini_
It’s a fiendish principle!
_Professor_
It’s no use getting annoyed with a principle. Principles are neither
good nor bad. That which happens _does_ happen. To go against it, is
to knock your head against the law of being.
_Nandini_
If this is the way of man’s being, I refuse to _be_, I want to depart
with those shadows,--show me the way.
_Professor_
When the time comes for showing us out, the great ones themselves
will point the way. Before that, there’s no such nuisance as a way at
all! You see how our Antiquarian has quietly slipped off, thinking
he’ll fly and save himself. After going a few steps, he’ll soon
discover that there’s a wire network stretched from post to post,
from country to country.
Nandini, I see, your temper is rising. The red oleanders against
your flaming cheek are beginning to look like evening storm clouds
gathering for a night of terror.
_Nandini_
(_Knocking at the net window_) Listen, listen!
_Professor_
Whom are you calling?
_Nandini_
That King of yours, shrouded in his mist of netting.
_Professor_
The door of the inner room has been closed. He won’t hear you.
_Nandini_
(_Calling out_) Bishu, mad brother mine!
_Professor_
What d’you want with _him_?
_Nandini_
Why hasn’t he come back yet? I feel afraid.
_Professor_
He was with you only a little while ago.
_Nandini_
The Governor said he was wanted to identify Rañjan. I tried to go
with him, but they wouldn’t let me. Whose groaning is that?
_Professor_
It must be that wrestler of ours.
_Nandini_
What wrestler?
_Professor_
The world-famous Gajju, whose brother, Bhajan, had the bravado to
challenge the King to a wrestling match, since when not even a
thread of his loin cloth is anywhere to be seen. That put Gajju on
his mettle, and he came on with great sound and fury. I told him at
the outset that, if he wanted to dig in the tunnels underneath this
kingdom, he was welcome,--he could at least drag on a dead and alive
existence for some time. But if he wanted to make a show of heroics,
that would not be tolerated for a moment.
_Nandini_
Does it at all make for their well-being thus to keep watch and ward
over these man-traps night and day?
_Professor_
Well-being! There’s no question of “well” in it at all,--only
“being.” That _being_ of theirs has expanded so terribly that, unless
millions of men are pressed into service, who’s going to support its
weight? So the net is spreading farther and farther. They must exist,
you see.
_Nandini_
Must they? If it is necessary to die in order to live like men, what
harm in dying?
_Professor_
Again that anger, the wild cry of red oleander? It is sweet, no
doubt, yet what is true is true. If it gives you pleasure to say
that one must die to live, well, say so by all means; but those who
say that others must die that they themselves may live,--it’s only
they who are actually alive. You may cry out that this shows a lack
of humanity, but you forget, in your indignation, that this is what
humanity itself happens to be. The tiger does not feed on the tiger,
it’s only man who fattens on his fellow-man.
(_The Wrestler totters in._)
_Nandini_
Oh poor thing, see how he comes, staggering. Wrestler, lie down here.
Professor, do see where he’s hurt.
_Professor_
You won’t see any outward sign of a wound.
_Wrestler_
All-merciful God, grant me strength once more in my life, if only for
one little day!
_Professor_
Why, my dear fellow?
_Wrestler_
Just to wring that Governor’s neck!
_Professor_
What has the Governor done to you?
_Wrestler_
It’s he who brought about the whole thing. I never wanted to fight.
Now, after egging me on, he goes about saying it’s my fault.
_Professor_
Why, what interest had he in your fighting?
_Wrestler_
They only feel safe when they rob the whole world of strength. Lord
of Mercy, grant that I may be able to gouge his eyes out some day,
to tear asunder his lying tongue!
_Nandini_
How do you feel now, Wrestler?
_Wrestler_
Altogether hollowed out! These demons know the magic art of sucking
away not only strength but hope.
If only once I could somehow,--O good God, but once,--everything is
possible to Thy mercy,--if only I could fasten my teeth for once in
the Governor’s throat!
_Nandini_
Professor, help me to raise him.
_Professor_
That would be a crime, Nandini, according to the custom of this land.
_Nandini_
Wouldn’t it be a crime to let the man perish?
_Professor_
That which there is none to punish may be a sin, but never a crime.
Nandini, come away, come right away out of this. The tree spreads its
root-fingers and does its grabbing underground, but there it does not
bring forth its flowers. Flowers bloom on the branches which reach
towards the light. My sweet Red Oleander, don’t try to probe our
secrets in the depths of their dust. Be for us swaying in the air
above, that we may gaze upwards to see you.
There comes the Governor. He hates to see me talk to you. So I must
go.
_Nandini_
Why is he so dead against me?
_Professor_
I can guess. You have touched his heart-strings. The longer it takes
to tune them up, the more awful the discord meanwhile.
(_The Professor goes, the Governor comes in._)
_Nandini_
Sir Governor!
_Governor_
Nandini, when our Gosain saw that _kunda_ garland of yours in my
room, both his eyes,--but here he comes----
(_The Gosain comes in._)
Your Holiness, accept my reverence. That garland was given to me by
our Nandini here.
_Gosain_
Ah indeed! the gift of a pure heart! God’s own white _kunda_ flowers!
Their beauty remains unsullied even in the hands of a man of the
world. This is what gives one faith in the power of virtue, and hope
for the sinners’ redemption.
_Nandini_
Please do something for this man, Your Reverence. There’s very little
life left in him.
_Gosain_
The Governor is sure to keep him as much alive as it is necessary for
him to be. But, my child, these discussions ill become your lips.
_Nandini_
So in this kingdom you follow some calculation in apportioning life?
_Gosain_
Of course,--for mortal life has its limits. Our class of people have
their great burden to bear, therefore we have to claim a larger
portion of life’s sustenance for our share. That’s according to
Almighty God’s own decree.
_Nandini_
Reverend Sir, may I know what good God has so heavily charged you to
do to these people?
_Gosain_
The life that is unlimited gives no provocation to fight for its
distribution. We Preachers have the charge of turning these people
towards this unlimited life. So long as they remain content with
that, we are their friends.
_Nandini_
Then will this man with his very limited life have to remain lying
here half dead?
_Gosain_
Why should he remain lying down anyway? What say you, Governor?
_Governor_
Quite right. Why should we let him lie? From now he won’t need to
walk by his own strength alone, we shall carry him along with ours.
Here, Gajju!
_Wrestler_
Yes, Sir Governor!
_Gosain_
Good Lord, his voice has already become ever so much reedier. It
strikes me we shall be able to make him join our choir of the Holy
Name.
_Governor_
Gajju!
_Wrestler_
At your service, Sir!
_Governor_
Report yourself at the Headman’s quarters, parish Y-Z.
_Nandini_
How can the poor man possibly walk?
_Governor_
Look here, Nandini, it is our business to drive men. With the right
kind of push a man can be made to go a good distance, even when he is
at the point of collapse.
Get along with you, Gajju!
_Wrestler_
As you command, Sir!
_Nandini_
Let me come over to the Headman’s quarters to help you.
_Wrestler_
No. Don’t add to my troubles, I beg of you.
[_The Wrestler goes._
_Nandini_
Governor, stay, tell me, whither have you taken my Bishu?
_Governor_
Who am I that I should take him? The wind carries off the clouds,--if
you think that to be a crime, make enquiries as to who is behind the
wind.
_Nandini_
Dear me, what an awful place! You are not men, and those you drive
are not men, either,--you are winds and they are clouds!
Reverend Gosain, I am sure, _you_ know where my Bishu is.
_Gosain_
I know, for sure, that wherever he is, it’s for the best.
_Nandini_
For whose best?
_Gosain_
That you won’t understand--
Oh, I say, leave off, let go of that, it’s my rosary.--Hallo,
Governor, what wild girl is this you have----
_Governor_
The girl has somehow managed to ensconce herself in a niche, safe
from the laws of this land, and we can’t lay hands on her. Our King
himself----
_Gosain_
Good heavens, now she’ll tear off my wrap of the Holy Name too. What
unspeakable outrage!
[_The Gosain flies._
_Nandini_
Governor, you _must_ tell me where you have taken Bishu.
_Governor_
They have summoned him to the court of judgement. That’s all that
there is to tell you. Let me go.
_Nandini_
Because I am a woman, you are not afraid of me? God sends His
thunderbolt through His messenger, the lightning spark--that bolt I
have borne here with me; it will shatter the golden spire of your
mastery.
_Governor_
Then let me tell you the truth before I go. It’s you who have dragged
Bishu into danger.
_Nandini_
I?
_Governor_
Yes, you! He was so long content to be quietly burrowing away
underground like a worm. It’s you who taught him to spread the wings
of death. O fire of the gods, you’ll yet draw forth many more to
their fate.--Then at length will you and I come to our understanding,
and that won’t be long.
_Nandini_
So may it be. But tell me one thing before you go. Will you not let
Rañjan come and see me?
_Governor_
No, never.
_Nandini_
Never, you say! I defy you to do your worst. This very day I am sure,
absolutely sure, that he and I will meet!
[_Governor goes._
(_Knocking and tugging at the network_) Listen, listen, King! Where’s
your court of judgement? Open its door to me.
(_Kishôr comes in._)
Who is that? My boy, Kishôr! Do you know where Bishu is?
_Kishôr_
Yes, Nandini, be ready to see him. I don’t know how it was, the
Chief of the Guard took a fancy to my youthfulness and yielded to my
entreaties. He has consented to take him along by this path.
_Nandini_
Guard! Take him along? Is he then----
_Kishôr_
Yes, here they come.
_Nandini_
What! Handcuffs on your wrists? Friend of my heart, where are they
taking you like that?
(_Bishu comes in under arrest._)
_Bishu_
It’s nothing to be anxious about!--Guards, please wait a little, let
me say a few words to her.--My wild girl, my heart’s joy, at last I
am free.
_Nandini_
What do you mean, Singer of my heart? I don’t understand your words.
_Bishu_
When I used to be afraid, and try to avoid danger at every step,
I seemed to be at liberty; but that liberty was the worst form of
bondage.
_Nandini_
What offence have you committed that they should take you away thus?
_Bishu_
I spoke out the truth to-day, at last.
_Nandini_
What if you did?
_Bishu_
No harm at all!
_Nandini_
Then why did they bind you like this?
_Bishu_
What harm in that either? These chains will bear witness to the truth
of my freedom.
_Nandini_
Don’t they feel ashamed of themselves to lead you along the road
chained like a beast? Aren’t they men too?
_Bishu_
They have a big beast inside them, that’s why their heads are not
lowered by the indignity of man, rather the inner brute’s tail swells
and wags with pride at man’s downfall.
_Nandini_
O dear heart! Have they been hurting you? What are these marks on
your body?
_Bishu_
They have whipped me, with the whips they use for their dogs. The
string of that whip is made with the same thread which goes to the
stringing of their Gosain’s rosary. When they tell their beads they
don’t remember that; but probably their God is aware of it.
_Nandini_
Let them bind me like that too, and take me away with you, my heart’s
Joy! Unless I share some of your punishment I shan’t be able to touch
food from to-day.
_Kishôr_
I’m sure I can persuade them to take me in exchange for you. Let me
take your place, Bishu.
_Bishu_
Don’t be silly!
_Kishôr_
Punishment won’t hurt me. I am young. I shall bear it with joy.
_Nandini_
No, no, do not talk like that.
_Kishôr_
Nandini, my absence has been noticed, their bloodhounds are after me.
Allow me to escape the indignity awaiting me by taking shelter in a
punishment I joyfully accept.
_Bishu_
No, it won’t do for you to be caught--not for a while yet. There’s
work for you, dear boy, and dangerous work too. Rañjan has come. You
must find him out.
_Kishôr_
Then I bid you farewell, Nandini. What is your message when I meet
Rañjan?
_Nandini_
This tassel of red oleanders (_hands it to him_).
[_Kishôr goes._
_Bishu_
May you both be united once again.
_Nandini_
That union will give me no pleasure now. I shall never be able to
forget that I sent you away empty-handed. And what has that poor boy,
Kishôr, got from me?
_Bishu_
All the treasure hidden in his heart has been revealed to him by the
fire you have lighted in his life. Nandini, I remind you, it’s for
you to put that blue-throat’s feather on Rañjan’s crest.--There, do
you hear them singing the harvest song?
_Nandini_
I do, and it wrings my heart, to tears.
_Bishu_
The play of the fields is ended now, and the field-master is taking
the ripe corn home. Come on, Guards, let’s not linger any more.
(_Sings_)
_Mow the corn of the last harvest, bind it in sheaves.
The remainder, let it return as dust unto the dust._
[_They go._
(_The Governor and a Doctor come in._)
_Doctor_
I’ve seen him. I find the King dissatisfied with himself. That’s a
disease, not of the body, but of the mind.
_Governor_
What’s the remedy?
_Doctor_
A big shock. Try and get up a big row, either with some other king,
or amongst the people themselves!
_Governor_
In other words, unless he is allowed to harm some one else, he will
harm himself?
_Doctor_
These big men are big babies. They must have plenty of play. When
they get tired of one game, if you don’t supply them with another,
they’ll break their toys. But be prepared, Governor, there isn’t much
time to lose.
_Governor_
I’ve read the signs long ago, and completed all arrangements. But
what a pity! Just when our golden city has amassed wealth such as it
never had before, to have to--never mind, you may go--I’ll think it
over.
[_Doctor goes._
(_A Headman comes in._)
_Headman_
Did Your Lordship send for me? I am the Headman of Parish J.
_Governor_
You are No. 321, aren’t you?
_Headman_
Marvellous! Your Lordship remembers even my unworthy self!
_Governor_
My wife will be driving out to-day. The post will be changed near
your village, and you must see that she’s not detained.
_Headman_
There’s a plague on the cattle of our parish, and not a single ox can
be had to draw the car. Never mind, we can press the diggers into
service.
_Governor_
You know where you have to take her? To the garden-house, where the
feast of the Flag-worship is to be held.
_Headman_
I’ll see to it at once, but let me tell you one thing before I go.
That 69 Ng, whom they call mad Bishu,--it’s high time to cure his
madness.
_Governor_
Why, how does he annoy you?
_Headman_
Not so much by what he says or does, as by what he implies.
_Governor_
There’s no need to worry about him any further. You understand!
_Headman_
Really! That’s good news, indeed! Another thing. That 47 V, he’s
rather too friendly with 69 Ng.
_Governor_
I have observed that.
_Headman_
Your Lordship’s observation is ever keen. Only, as you have to keep
an eye on so many things, one or two may perchance escape your
notice. For instance, there’s our No. 95, a distant connection of
mine by marriage, ever ready to make sandals for the feet of Your
Lordship’s sweeper out of his own ribs,--so irrepressibly loyal is
he that even his wife hangs her head for very shame,--and yet up to
now----
_Governor_
His name has been entered in the High Register.
_Headman_
Ah, then his lifelong service will at last receive its reward! The
news must be broken to him gently, because he gets epileptic fits,
and supposing suddenly----
_Governor_
All right, we’ll see to that. Now be off, there’s no time.
_Headman_
Just a word about another person,--though he’s my own brother-in-law.
When his mother died, my wife brought him up with her own hands; yet
for my master’s sake----
_Governor_
You can tell me about him another time. Run away now.
_Headman_
There comes His Honour the Deputy Governor. Please speak a word to
him on my behalf. He doesn’t look upon me with favour. I suspect that
when 69 Ng used to enjoy the favour of free entry into the palace, he
must have been saying things against me.
_Governor_
I assure you, he never even mentioned your name.
_Headman_
That’s just his cleverness! What can be more damaging than to
suppress the name of a man, whose name is his best asset? These
schemers have their different ways. No. 33 of our parish has an
incurable habit of haunting Your Lordship’s private chamber. One is
always afraid of his inventing goodness knows what calumnies about
other people. And yet if one knew the truth about his own----
_Governor_
There’s positively no time to-day. Get away with you, quick!
_Headman_
I make my salute.
(_Coming back_) Just one word more lest I forget. No. 88 of our
neighbouring parish started work on a miserable pittance, and before
two years are out his income has run into thousands, not to speak of
extras! Your Lordship’s mind is like that of the gods--a few words of
hypocritical praise are enough to draw down the best of your boons.
_Governor_
All right, all right,--that can keep for to-morrow.
_Headman_
I’m not so mean as to suggest taking away the bread from his mouth.
But Your Lordship should seriously consider whether it’s wise to keep
him on at the Treasury. Our Vishnu Dutt knows him inside out. If you
send----
_Governor_
I shall send for him this very day. But begone,--not another word!
_Headman_
Your Lordship, my third son is getting to be quite a big boy. He
came the other day to prostrate himself at your feet. After two days
of dancing attendance outside, he had to go away without gaining
admission to you. He feels it very bitterly. My daughter-in-law
has made with her own hands an offering of sweet pumpkin for Your
Lordship----
_Governor_
Oh confound you! Tell him to come day after to-morrow, he will be
admitted. _Now, will you_----
(_Headman goes. The Deputy Governor comes in._)
_Deputy Governor_
I’ve just sent on the dancing girls and musicians to the garden.
_Governor_
And that little matter about Rañjan,--how far----?
_Deputy Governor_
That kind of work is not in my line. The Assistant Governor has taken
it upon himself to do the job. By this time his----
_Governor_
Does the King----?
_Deputy Governor_
The King can’t possibly have understood. Some lie told by our men has
goaded Rañjan to frenzy, and he’s rushing to the usual fate of----I
detest the whole business. Moreover, I don’t think it right to
deceive the King like this.
_Governor_
That responsibility is mine. Now then, that girl must be----
_Deputy Governor_
Don’t talk of all that to me. The Headman who has been put on duty is
the right man,--he doesn’t stick at any dirtiness whatever.
_Governor_
Does that man Gosain know about this affair?
_Deputy Governor_
I’m sure he can guess, but he’s careful not to know for certain.
_Governor_
What’s his object?
_Deputy Governor_
For fear of there being no way left open for saying: “I don’t believe
it.”
_Governor_
But what makes him take all this trouble?
_Deputy Governor_
Don’t you see? The poor man is really two in one, clumsily
joined,--Priest on the skin, Governor at the marrow. He has to take
precious care to prevent the Governor part of him coming up to the
surface, lest it should clash too much with his telling of beads.
_Governor_
He might have dropped the beads altogether.
_Deputy Governor_
No, for whatever his blood may be, his mind, in a sense, is really
pious. If only he can tell his beads in his temple, and revel in
slave-driving in his dreams, he feels happy. But for him, the true
complexion of our God would appear too black. In fact, Gosain is
placed here only to help our God to feel comfortable.
_Governor_
My friend, I see the instinct of the Ruler doesn’t seem to match with
the colour of your own blood, either!
_Deputy Governor_
There’s hope still. Human blood is fast drying up. But I can’t
stomach your No. 321 yet. When I’m obliged to embrace him in public,
no holy water seems able to wash out the impurity of his touch.
Here comes Nandini.
_Governor_
Come away, I don’t trust you. I know the spell of Nandini has fallen
on your eyes.
_Deputy Governor_
I know that as well as you do. But you don’t seem to know that a
tinge of her oleanders has got mixed with the colour of duty in
_your_ eyes too--that’s what makes them so frightfully red.
_Governor_
That may be. Fortunately for us, our mind knows not its own secret.
Come away.
[_They go._
(_Nandini comes in._)
_Nandini_
(_Knocking and pushing at the network_) Listen, listen, listen!
(_The Gosain comes in._)
_Gosain_
Whom are you prodding like that?
_Nandini_
That boa-constrictor of yours, who remains in hiding and swallows men.
_Gosain_
Lord, lord! When Providence wishes to destroy the small, it does so
by putting big words into their little mouths.
See here, Nandini, believe me when I tell you that I aim at your
welfare.
_Nandini_
Try some more real method of doing me good.
_Gosain_
Come to my sanctuary, let me chant you the Holy Name for a while.
_Nandini_
What have I to do with the name?
_Gosain_
You will gain peace of mind.
_Nandini_
Shame, shame on me if I do! I shall sit and wait here at the door.
_Gosain_
You have more faith in men than in God?
_Nandini_
Your God of the Flagstaff,--he will never unbend. But the man who is
lost to sight behind the netting, will he also remain bound in his
network for ever? Go, go. It’s your trade to delude men with words,
after filching away their lives.
[_The Gosain goes._
(_Enter Phágulal and Chandrá._)
_Phágulal_
Our Bishu came away with you, where is he now? Tell us the truth.
_Nandini_
He has been made prisoner and taken away.
_Chandrá_
You witch, you must have given information against him. You are their
spy.
_Nandini_
You don’t really believe that!
_Chandrá_
What else are you doing here?
_Phágulal_
Every person suspects every other person in this cursed place. Yet I
have always trusted you, Nandini. In my heart I used to---- However,
let that pass. But to-day it looks very very strange, I must say.
_Nandini_
Perhaps it does. It may really be even as you say. Bishu has got into
trouble for coming with me. He used to be quite safe in your company,
he said so himself.
_Chandrá_
They why did you decoy him away, you evil-omened creature?
_Nandini_
Because he said he wanted to be free.
_Chandrá_
A precious kind of freedom you have given him!
_Nandini_
I could not understand all that he said, Chandrá. Why did he tell me
that freedom could only be found by plunging down to the bottom of
danger?--Phágulal, how could I save him who wanted to be free from
the tyranny of safety?
_Chandrá_
We don’t understand all this. If you can’t bring him back, you’ll
have to pay for it. I’m not to be taken in by that coquettish
prettiness of yours.
_Phágulal_
What’s the use of idle bickering? Let’s gather a big crowd from the
workmen’s lines, and then go and smash the prison gate.
_Nandini_
I’ll come with you.
_Phágulal_
What for?
_Nandini_
To join in the breaking.
_Chandrá_
As if you haven’t done quite enough breaking already, you sorceress!
(_Gôkul comes in._)
_Gôkul_
That witch must be burnt alive, before everything else.
_Chandrá_
That won’t be punishment enough. First knock off that beauty of hers,
with which she goes about ruining people. Weed it out of her face as
the grass is weeded with a hoe.
_Gôkul_
That I can do. Let this hammer just have a dance on her nose tip----
_Phágulal_
Beware! If you dare touch her----
_Nandini_
Stop, Phágulal. He’s a coward; he wants to strike me because he’s
afraid of me. I don’t fear his blows one bit.
_Gôkul_
Phágulal, you haven’t come to your senses yet. You think the Governor
alone is your enemy. Well, I admire a straightforward enemy. But that
sweet-mouthed beauty of yours----
_Nandini_
Ah, so you too admire the Governor, as the mud beneath his feet
admires the soles of his shoes!
_Phágulal_
Gôkul, the time has at length come to show your prowess, but not by
fighting a girl. Come along with me. I’ll show you what to fight.
[_Phágulal, Chandrá, and Gôkul go._
(_A band of men come in._)
_Nandini_
Where are you going, my good men?
_First man_
We carry the offering for the Flag-worship.
_Nandini_
Have you seen Rañjan?
_Second man_
I saw him once, five days ago, but not since. Ask those others who
follow us.
_Nandini_
Who are they?
_Third man_
They are bearing wine for the Governors’ feast.
(_The first batch goes, another comes in._)
_Nandini_
Look here, red-caps, have you seen Rañjan?
_First man_
I saw him the other day at the house of Headman Sambhu.
_Nandini_
Where is he now?
_Second man_
D’you see those men taking the ladies’ dresses for the feast? Ask
them. They hear a lot of things that don’t reach our ears.
(_Second batch go, a third come in._)
_Nandini_
Do _you_ know, my men, where they have kept Rañjan?
_First man_
Hush, hush!
_Nandini_
I am sure you know. You _must_ tell me.
_Second man_
What enters by our ears doesn’t come out by our mouths, that’s why we
are still alive. Ask one of the men who are carrying the weapons.
(_They go, others come in._)
_Nandini_
Oh do stop a moment and listen to me. Tell me, where is Rañjan?
_First man_
The auspicious hour draws near. It’s time for the King himself to
come for the Flag-worship. Ask him about it when he steps out. We
only know the beginning, not the end.
[_They go._
_Nandini_ (_shaking the network violently_)
Open the door. The time has come.
_Voice_ (_behind the scenes_)
But not for you. Go away from here.
_Nandini_
You must hear _now_ what I have to say. It cannot wait for another
time.
_Voice_
You want Rañjan, I know. I have asked the Governor to fetch him at
once. But don’t remain standing at the door when I come out for the
worship, for then you’ll run great risk.
_Nandini_
I have cast away all fear. You can’t drive me away. Happen what may,
I’m not going to move till your door is opened.
_Voice_
To-day’s for the Flag-worship. Don’t distract my mind. Get away from
my door.
_Nandini_
The gods have all eternity for their worship, they’re not pressed for
time. But the sorrows of men cannot wait to reach other men, they
have so very little time.
_Voice_
I am tired, very tired. I go to the Flag-worship to revive my
drooping spirit. Don’t unnerve me.
_Nandini_
Pass over my body if you will, I shan’t move.
_Voice_
Nandini, too much have I indulged you, so that you no longer fear me.
But to-day you _shall_ be afraid!
_Nandini_
I dare you to frighten me, as you do the rest. I scorn your
indulgence!
_Voice_
Do you indeed! Then I shall shatter your pride to-day. The time has
come for me to reveal myself to you.
_Nandini_
I await that revelation. Open your door.
(_The door opens, the King appears._)
Oh who is that,--lying on the floor,--is it not Rañjan himself?
_King_
What did you say? Rañjan! How can that possibly be?
_Nandini_
Yes, this is indeed my Rañjan.
_King_
Then why did he not give his name? Why did he fling me his challenge?
_Nandini_
Wake, Rañjan, it is I, your Red Oleander! King, why does he not wake?
_King_
Deceived! These traitors have deceived me,--perdition take them!
My own machine refuses my sway! Call the Governor--bring him to me
handcuffed----
_Nandini_
King, they all say you know magic. Make him wake up for my sake.
_King_
My magic can only put an end to waking.--Alas! I know not how to
awaken.
_Nandini_
Then lull me to sleep,--the same sleep! Oh, why did you work this
havoc? I cannot bear it any more.
_King_
I have killed youth. Yes, I have indeed killed youth,--all these
years, with all my strength. The curse of youth, dead, is upon me.
_Nandini_
Did he not take my name?
_King_
He did,--in such a way that every vein in my body was set on fire.
_Nandini_ (_to Rañjan_)
My love, my brave one, here do I place this blue-throat’s feather in
your crest. Your victory has begun from to-day, and I am its bearer.
Ah, here is that tassel of my flowers in his hand. Then Kishôr must
have met him----
But where is he? King, where is that boy?
_King_
Which boy?
_Nandini_
The boy who brought these flowers to Rañjan.
_King_
That absurd little child! He came to defy me with his girlish face.
_Nandini_
And then? Tell me! Quick!
_King_
He burst himself against me, like a bubble.
_Nandini_
King, the Time is indeed now come!
_King_
Time for what?
_Nandini_
For the last fight between you and me.
_King_
But I can kill you in no time,--this instant.
_Nandini_
From that very instant that death of mine will go on killing you
every single moment.
_King_
Be brave, Nandini, trust me. Make me your comrade to-day.
_Nandini_
What would you have me do?
_King_
To fight against me, but with your hand in mine. That fight has
already begun. There is my flag. First I break the Flagstaff,--thus!
Next it’s for you to tear its banner. Let your hand unite with mine
to kill me, utterly kill me. That will be my emancipation.
_Guards_ (_rushing up_)
What are you doing, King? You dare break the Flagstaff, the holiest
symbol of our divinity? The Flagstaff which has its one point
piercing the heart of the earth and the other that of heaven! What a
terrible sin,--on the very day of the Flag-worship! Comrades, let us
go and inform our Governors.
[_They run off._
_King_
A great deal of breaking remains to be done. You will come with me,
Nandini?
_Nandini_
I will.
(_Phágulal comes in._)
_Phágulal_
They won’t hear of letting Bishu off. I am afraid, they’ll----Who is
this? The King!
Oh you wicked witch,--conspiring with the King himself! O vile
deceiver!
_King_
What is the matter with you? What is that crowd out for?
_Phágulal_
To break the prison gate. We may lose our lives, but we shan’t fall
back.
_King_
Why should you fall back? I too am out for breaking. Behold the first
sign--my broken Flagstaff!
_Phágulal_
What! This is altogether beyond us simple folk.
Be merciful, Nandini, don’t deceive me. Am I to believe my eyes?
_Nandini_
Brother, you have set out to win death. You have left no chance for
deception to touch you.
_Phágulal_
You too come along with us, our own Nandini!
_Nandini_
That is what I’m still alive for, Phágulal. I wanted to bring my
Rañjan amongst you. Look there, he has come, my hero, braving death!
_Phágulal_
Oh, horror! Is that Rañjan lying there, silent?
_Nandini_
Not silent. He leaves behind him in death his conquering call. He
will live again, he cannot die.
_Phágulal_
Ah, my Nandini, my beautiful one, was it for this you were waiting
all these eager days?
_Nandini_
I _did_ await his coming, and he _did_ come. I still wait to prepare
for his coming again, and he _shall_ come again. Where is Chandrá?
_Phágulal_
She has gone with her tears and prayers to the Governor, accompanied
by Gôkul. I’m afraid Gôkul is seeking to take up service with the
Governor. He will betray us.
King, are you sure you don’t mistake us? We are out to break your own
prison, I tell you!
_King_
Yes, it is my _own_ prison. You and I must work together, for you
cannot break it alone.
_Phágulal_
As soon as the Governor hears of it, he will march with all his
forces to prevent us.
_King_
Yes, my fight is against them.
_Phágulal_
But the soldiers will not obey you.
_King_
_You_ will be on my side!
_Phágulal_
Shall we be able to win through?
_King_
We shall at least be able to die! At last I have found the meaning of
death. I am saved!
_Phágulal_
King, do you hear the tumult?
_King_
There comes the Governor with his troops. How could he be so quick
about it? He must have been prepared beforehand. They have used my
own power against me.
_Phágulal_
My men have not yet turned up.
_King_
They will never come. The Governor is sure to get round them.
_Nandini_
I had my last hope that they would bring my Bishu to me. Will that
never be?
_King_
No hope of that, I’m afraid.
_Phágulal_
Then come along, Nandini, let us take you to a safe place first. The
Governor will see red, if he but catches sight of you.
_Nandini_
You want to banish me into the solitary exile of safety?
(_Calling out_) Governor! Governor!--He has swung up my garland of
_kunda_ flowers on his spear-head. I will dye that garland the colour
of my oleanders with my heart’s blood.--Governor! He has seen me!
Victory to Rañjan!
[_Runs off._
_King_ (_calling after her_)
Nandini!
[_Follows her._
(_The Professor comes in._)
_Phágulal_
Where are _you_ hurrying to, Professor?
_Professor_
Some one said that the King has at last had tidings of the secret of
Life, and has gone off in quest of it. I have thrown away my books to
follow him.
_Phágulal_
The King has just gone off to his death. He has heard Nandini’s call.
_Professor_
The network is torn to shreds! Where is Nandini?
_Phágulal_
She has gone before them all. We can’t reach her any more.
_Professor_
It is only now that we shall reach her. She won’t evade us any longer.
(_Professor rushes out, Bishu comes in._)
_Bishu_
Phágulal, where is Nandini?
_Phágulal_
How did you get here?
_Bishu_
Our workmen have broken into the prison. There they are,--running off
to fight. I came to look for Nandini. Where is she?
_Phágulal_
She has gone in advance of us all.
_Bishu_
Where?
_Phágulal_
To the last freedom.
Bishu, do you see who is lying there?
_Bishu_
Rañjan!
_Phágulal_
You see the red streak?
_Bishu_
I understand,--their red marriage tie!
_Phágulal_
They are united.
_Bishu_
Now it is for me to take my last lonely journey.--Perhaps we may
meet.--Perhaps she may want me to sing.--My mad girl, O my mad girl!--
Come, brother, on to the fight!
_Phágulal_
To the fight! Victory to Nandini!
_Bishu_
Victory to Nandini!
_Phágulal_
Here is her wristlet of red oleanders. She has bared her arm
to-day,--and left us.
_Bishu_
Once I told her I would not take anything from her hand. I break my
word and take this. Come along!
[_They go._
(_Song in the distance._)
_Hark ’tis Autumn calling,--
Come, O come away!
The earth’s mantle of dust is filled with ripe corn!
O the joy! the joy!_
CURTAIN
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Nîlkantha_, a bird of good omen.
_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE
=GITANJALI. (Song Offerings.)= Translated by the Author. With an
Introduction by W. B. YEATS, and a Portrait by W. ROTHENSTEIN.
Crown 8vo. 5s. net.
_ATHENÆUM._--“Mr. Tagore’s translations are of trance-like beauty....
The expanding sentiment of some of the poems wins, even through the
alien medium of our English prose, a rhythm which in its strength
and melody might recall familiar passages in the Psalms or Solomon’s
Song.”
=FRUIT-GATHERING. A Sequel to “Gitanjali.”= Crown 8vo 5s. net.
_ATHENÆUM._--“The eighty-six pieces that fill this volume are pure
jets of lyric feeling, aphorisms expressed in moving symbols, or
fully developed parables and allegories ... several are as perfect in
form as they are beautiful and poignant in content.”
=GITANJALI AND FRUIT-GATHERING.= With Illustrations in colour and
half-tone by NANDALAL BOSE, SURENDRANATH KAR, ABANINDRANATH
TAGORE, and NOBINDRANATH TAGORE. Crown 8vo. 10s. net.
=THE GARDENER. Lyrics of Love and Life.= Translated by the Author.
With Portrait Crown 8vo. 5s. net.
_DAILY MAIL._--“Flowers as fresh as sunrise.... One cannot tell what
they have lost in the translation, but as they stand they are of
extreme beauty.... They are simple, exalted, fragrant--episodes and
incidents of every day transposed to faery.”
=THE CRESCENT MOON. Child-Poems.= Translated by the Author. With 8
Illustrations in Colour. Pott 4to. 5s. net.
_NATION._--“A vision of childhood which is only paralleled in our
literature by the work of William Blake.”
=STRAY BIRDS. Poems.= With a Frontispiece by WILLY POGÁNY. Crown
8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
_SCOTSMAN._--“The richness of this volume in thought and in imagery,
in tracing analogies and in discovering apologues, is such as to
yield pleasure and profit to the most fertile and cultured minds.”
=LOVER’S GIFT AND CROSSING. Poems.= Crown 8vo. 5s. net.
_ATHENÆUM._--“The poems often touch extreme heights of passion and
sublimity, and the diction has a beauty and a music that few have
attained in this particular medium.”
=THE FUGITIVE. Poems.= Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
_SUNDAY TIMES._--“In ‘The Fugitive’ the lovers of Tagore will not be
disappointed. He has all his powers still undimmed. Indeed, the poet
never, in our judgment, has surpassed this work.”
=CHITRA. A Play.= Translated by the Author. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.
_OBSERVER._--“An allegory of love’s meaning, clear as a pool in the
sunshine.... This little work of beauty.”
=THE KING OF THE DARK CHAMBER. A Play.= Translated by KSHITISH
CHANDRA SEN. Crown 8vo. 6s. net.
_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--“Altogether, the play is a beautiful piece of
fanciful writing with a veiled purpose at the back of it.”
=THE POST OFFICE. A Play.= Translated by DEVABRATA MUKERJEA. Crown
8vo. 3s. 6d. net.
_MANCHESTER GUARDIAN._--“‘The Post Office’ is a delicate, wistful
thing, coloured with beautiful imagery; for a moment it lifts a
corner of the veil of worldly existence.”
=THE CYCLE OF SPRING. A Play.= Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.
_MANCHESTER GUARDIAN._--“The whole little drama is a spring-gift such
as England has seldom received.”
=SACRIFICE and other Plays.= Crown 8vo. 6s. net.
_SCOTSMAN._--“All the pieces have a rare beauty of their own.”
=THE HOME AND THE WORLD. A Novel.= Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
_SATURDAY REVIEW._--“In these days of indiscriminating praise, it is
hard for a reviewer to find words with which to welcome properly a
book so good as this.”
=THE WRECK. A Novel.= Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
_MORNING POST._--“The story cannot fail to interest and delight.”
=GORA. A Novel.= Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
_JOHN O’ LONDON’S WEEKLY._--“The author has created characters who
seem too real to live between the covers of a book.”
=MASHI and other Stories.= Crown 8vo. 6s. net.
_OXFORD MAGAZINE._--“Full of pregnant pictures of Indian life and
character, subdued but vivid in tone.”
=HUNGRY STONES and other Stories.= Crown 8vo. 6s. net.
_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--“Contains descriptive passages of rare vigour and
beauty, and is embellished with imagery of a delicate and distinctive
character.”
=SĀDHANĀ: The Realisation of Life. Lectures.= Extra Crown 8vo. 6s.
net.
=NATIONALISM.= Extra Crown 8vo. 6s. net.
=PERSONALITY. Lectures delivered in America.= Illustrated. Crown
8vo. 6s. net.
=CREATIVE UNITY.= Extra Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
=MY REMINISCENCES.= Illustrated. Extra Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net
=GLIMPSES OF BENGAL. Selected from the Letters of Rabindranath
Tagore, 1885 to 1895.= Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
* * * * *
=ONE HUNDRED POEMS OF KABIR.= Translated by RABINDRANATH TAGORE,
assisted by EVELYN UNDERHILL. Crown 8vo. 5s. net.
=RABINDRANATH TAGORE.= A Biographical Study. By ERNEST RHYS.
Illustrated. Extra Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.
=SIX PORTRAITS OF RABINDRANATH TAGORE.= By W. ROTHENSTEIN.
Reproduced in Collotype. With Prefatory Note by MAX BEERBOHM.
Imperial 4to. 10s. net.
=THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MAHARSHI DEVENDRANATH TAGORE= (Father of
RABINDRANATH TAGORE). Translated by SATYENDRANATH TAGORE
and INDIRA DEVI. With Introduction by EVELYN UNDERHILL, and
Portrait. Extra Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.
=THE PHILOSOPHY OF RABINDRANATH TAGORE.= By Prof. S. RADHAKRISHNAN.
8vo. 8s. 6d. net.
=SHANTINIKETAN: The Bolpur School of Rabindranath Tagore.= By W. W.
PEARSON. With Introduction by RABINDRANATH TAGORE. Illustrated.
Extra Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.
LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
silently corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences
within the text and consultation of external sources. Some hyphens
in words have been silently removed and some silently added when
a predominant preference was found in the original book. Except
for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text and
inconsistent or archaic usage have been retained.
Page 51: “Hullo, 69 Ng” replaced by “Hallo, 69 Ng”.
Page 52: “banian tree” replaced by “banyan tree”.
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Bold text is
surrounded by equal signs: =bold=.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED OLEANDERS ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
