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Updated: May 10, 2025
When Bimala stood silently there, flushed and tearful in her broken pride, like a storm-cloud, laden with rain and charged with lightning, lowering over the horizon, she looked so absolutely sweet that I had to go right up to her and take her by the hand. It was trembling, but she did not snatch it away. "Bee," said I, "we two are colleagues, for our aims are one.
Did the love which I received from her, I asked myself, come from the deep spring of her heart, or was it merely like the daily provision of pipe water pumped up by the municipal steam-engine of society? I longed to find Bimala blossoming fully in all her truth and power.
The time has come when I must divest Bimala of all the ideal decorations with which I decked her. It was owing to my own weakness that I indulged in such idolatry. I was too greedy. I created an angel of Bimala, in order to exaggerate my own enjoyment. But Bimala is what she is. It is preposterous to expect that she should assume the role of an angel for my pleasure.
I know Bimala finds it difficult to respect me for this, taking my scruples for feebleness and she is quite angry with me because I am not running amuck crying Bande Mataram. For the matter of that, I have become unpopular with all my countrymen because I have not joined them in their carousals. They are certain that either I have a longing for some title, or else that I am afraid of the police.
When, like the river, we women keep to our banks, we give nourishment with all that we have: when we overflow them we destroy with all that we are. Bimala. the younger brother's wife, was the Chota or Junior Rani. Sandip's Story I can see that something has gone wrong. I got an inkling of it the other day.
How long should they keep you cool with the wet towel of moral precepts?" "The weak are in the majority," I said aloud. "They are continually poisoning the ears of men by repeating these shibboleths. Nature has denied them strength it is thus that they try to enfeeble others." "We women are weak," replied Bimala. "So I suppose we must join in the conspiracy of the weak." "Women weak!"
The gods are invisible only in their heaven on earth they show themselves to mortal men." Bimala looked at me in a strange kind of way as she gravely replied: "Indeed I understand you, Sandip." This was the first time she called me plain Sandip.
On the dressing-table were her perfumes, her comb, her hair-pins, and with them, still, her vermilion box! Underneath were her tiny gold-embroidered slippers. Once, in the old days, when Bimala had not yet overcome her objections to shoes, I had got these out from Lucknow, to tempt her. The first time she was ready to drop for very shame, to go in them even from the room to the verandah.
Her face fell at once. She threw just one enquiring glance at Sandip. "I have been thinking," said Sandip, "that this wandering up and down means a tremendous waste of energy. I feel that if I could work from a centre I could achieve more permanent results." With this he looked up at Bimala and asked: "Do you not think so too?"
With which I came away towards the outer apartments. No, no, it was not a generous impulse, nor indifference. I had simply come to understand that never would I be free until I could set free. To try to keep Bimala as a garland round my neck, would have meant keeping a weight hanging over my heart.
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