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"Do you know, Nikhil," he said, "I believe Sandip is not irreligious his religion is of the obverse side of truth, like the dark moon, which is still a moon, for all that its light has gone over to the wrong side." "That is why," I assented, "I have always had an affection for him, though we have never been able to agree.
But this time he was up against a tough problem. Bee was not the woman to take things lying down. She would have to get even with her sister-in-law by punishing this fellow. And as Nikhil remained silent, her eyes flashed fire. She knew not how to pour her scorn upon her husband's feebleness of spirit. Nikhil left the room after a while without another word. The next day Nanku was not to be seen.
A sorry exchange, I suppose you would call it?" When once Nikhil gets on to metaphor, there is no hope of making him see that he is merely dealing with words, not with realities. Well, well, let him be happy with his metaphors. We are the flesh-eaters of the world; we have teeth and nails; we pursue and grab and tear.
This had given rise to trouble. We offered to buy him Indian woollen stuffs in their place. But where were cheap Indian woollens to be had? We could not very well indulge him in Cashmere shawls! He came and complained to Nikhil, who advised him to go to law. Of course Nikhil's men saw to it that the trial should come to nothing, even his law-agent being on our side!
I feared they would burst and scatter in a ringing shower, exposing to all the servants of the house the thief who had made herself destitute by robbing her own wealth. "Your band of robbers," she went on, "have sent an anonymous message threatening to loot the treasury." I remained as silent as a thief. "I was advising Brother Nikhil to seek your protection," she continued banteringly.
At the sound of footsteps outside the door, however, he rapidly retreated and fell back into his chair. I checked my steps near the bookshelf, where I stood staring at the names of the books. As my husband entered the room, Sandip exclaimed: "I say, Nikhil, don't you keep Browning among your books here? I was just telling Queen Bee of our college club.
"I only seek the result," said I, "which belongs to today." "The result I seek," answered Nikhil, "belongs to all time." Nikhil may have had his share of Bengal's greatest gift imagination, but he has allowed it to be overshadowed and nearly killed by an exotic conscientiousness. Just look at the worship of Durga which Bengal has carried to such heights. That is one of her greatest achievements.
So, in playing with him, the simplest course was to lay my cards on the table. Nikhil read the title on the cover, but said nothing. "These writers," I continued, "are busy with their brooms, sweeping away the dust of epithets with which men have covered up this world of ours. So, as I was saying, I wish you would read it." "I have read it," said Nikhil. "Well, what do you say?"
Alas, Nikhil, have you for ever parted company with that self of yours who used to be set free under the starlight, to plunge into the infinite depths of the night's darkness after the day's work was done? How terribly alone is he, who misses companionship in the midst of the multitudinousness of life.
"Whatever is already there is to be left undisturbed; yet there must be a supernatural result:" "Look here, Nikhil," I said at length, thoroughly exasperated. "The things you have been saying are good enough as moral lessons. These ideas have served their purpose, as milk for babes, at one stage of man's evolution, but will no longer do, now that man has cut his teeth.
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