<h2><SPAN name="Page_49" title="49"> </SPAN>THE AUSPICIOUS VISION</h2>
<p class="no-indent"> <span class="small-caps">Kantichandra</span> was young; yet after his wife's
death he sought no second partner, and gave his
mind to the hunting of beasts and birds. His
body was long and slender, hard and agile; his
sight keen; his aim unerring. He dressed like a
countryman, and took with him Hira Singh the
wrestler, Chakkanlal, Khan Saheb the musician,
Mian Saheb, and many others. He had no lack
of idle followers.</p>
<p>In the month of <i>Agrahayan</i> Kanti had gone
out shooting near the swamp of Nydighi with a
few sporting companions. They were in boats,
and an army of servants, in boats also, filled the
bathing-<i>ghats</i>. The village women found it well-nigh
impossible to bathe or to draw water. All
day long, land and water trembled to the firing of
the guns; and every evening musicians killed the
chance of sleep.</p>
<p>One morning as Kanti was seated in his boat
<SPAN name="Page_50" title="50"> </SPAN>
cleaning a favourite gun, he suddenly started at
what he thought was the cry of wild duck. Looking
up, he saw a village maiden, coming to the
water's edge, with two white ducklings clasped to
her breast. The little stream was almost stagnant.
Many weeds choked the current. The girl put
the birds into the water, and watched them
anxiously. Evidently the presence of the sportsmen
was the cause of her care and not the wildness
of the ducks.</p>
<p>The girl's beauty had a rare freshness—as if
she had just come from Vishwakarma's<SPAN name="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</SPAN> workshop.
It was difficult to guess her age. Her figure was
almost a woman's, but her face was so childish
that clearly the world had left no impression there.
She seemed not to know herself that she had
reached the threshold of youth.</p>
<p>Kanti's gun-cleaning stopped for a while. He
was fascinated. He had not expected to see such
a face in such a spot. And yet its beauty suited
its surroundings better than it would have suited
a palace. A bud is lovelier on the bough than in
a golden vase. That day the blossoming reeds
glittered in the autumn dew and morning sun, and
the fresh, simple face set in the midst was like a
<SPAN name="Page_51" title="51"> </SPAN>
picture of festival to Kanti's enchanted mind.
Kalidos has forgotten to sing how Siva's Mountain-Queen
herself sometimes has come to the young
Ganges, with just such ducklings in her breast.
As he gazed, the maiden started in terror, and
hurriedly took back the ducks into her bosom
with a half-articulate cry of pain. In another
moment, she had left the river-bank and disappeared
into the bamboo thicket hard by.
Looking round, Kanti saw one of his men pointing
an unloaded gun at the ducks. He at once went
up to him, wrenched away his gun, and bestowed
on his cheek a prodigious slap. The astonished
humourist finished his joke on the floor. Kanti
went on cleaning his gun.</p>
<p>But curiosity drove Kanti to the thicket
wherein he had seen the girl disappear. Pushing
his way through, he found himself in the yard of
a well-to-do householder. On one side was a row
of conical thatched barns, on the other a clean
cow-shed, at the end of which grew a <i>zizyph</i> bush.
Under the bush was seated the girl he had seen
that morning, sobbing over a wounded dove, into
whose yellow beak she was trying to wring a little
water from the moist corner of her garment.
A grey cat, its fore-paws on her knee, was looking
<SPAN name="Page_52" title="52"> </SPAN>
eagerly at the bird, and every now and then, when
it got too forward, she kept it in its place by a
warning tap on the nose.</p>
<p>This little picture, set in the peaceful mid-day
surroundings of the householder's yard, instantly
impressed itself on Kanti's sensitive heart. The
checkered light and shade, flickering beneath the
delicate foliage of the <i>zizyph</i>, played on the girl's
lap. Not far off a cow was chewing the cud, and
lazily keeping off the flies with slow movements
of its head and tail. The north wind whispered
softly in the rustling bamboo thickets. And she
who at dawn on the river-bank had looked like
the Forest Queen, now in the silence of noon
showed the eager pity of the Divine Housewife.
Kanti, coming in upon her with his gun, had a sense
of intrusion. He felt like a thief caught red-handed.
He longed to explain that it was not he
who had hurt the dove. As he wondered how he
should begin, there came a call of ‘Sudha!’ from
the house. The girl jumped up. ‘Sudha!’ came
the voice again. She took up her dove, and ran
within. ‘Sudha,’<SPAN name="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</SPAN> thought Kanti, ‘what an appropriate
name!’</p>
<p>Kanti returned to the boat, handed his gun to
<SPAN name="Page_53" title="53"> </SPAN>
his men, and went over to the front door of the
house. He found a middle-aged Brahmin, with
a peaceful, clean-shaven face, seated on a bench
outside, and reading a devotional book. Kanti
saw in his kindly, thoughtful face something
of the tenderness which shone in the face of the
maiden.</p>
<p>Kanti saluted him, and said: ‘May I ask for
some water, sir? I am very thirsty.’ The elder
man welcomed him with eager hospitality, and,
offering him a seat on the bench, went inside
and fetched with his own hands a little brass
plate of sugar wafers and a bell-metal vessel
full of water.</p>
<p>After Kanti had eaten and drunk, the Brahmin
begged him to introduce himself. Kanti gave his
own name, his father's name, and the address of
his home, and then said in the usual way: ‘If I
can be of any service, sir, I shall deem myself
fortunate.’</p>
<p>‘I require no service, my son,’ said Nabin
Banerji; ‘I have only one care at present.’</p>
<p>‘What is that, sir?’ said Kanti.</p>
<p>‘It is my daughter, Sudha, who is growing up’
(Kanti smiled as he thought of her babyish face),
‘and for whom I have not yet been able to find a
<SPAN name="Page_54" title="54"> </SPAN>
worthy bridegroom. If I could only see her well
married, all my debt to this world would be paid.
But there is no suitable bridegroom here, and I
cannot leave my charge of Gopinath here, to
search for a husband elsewhere.’</p>
<p>‘If you would see me in my boat, sir, we
would have a talk about the marriage of your
daughter.’ So saying, Kanti repeated his salute
and went back. He then sent some of his men
into the village to inquire, and in answer heard
nothing but praise of the beauty and virtues of
the Brahmin's daughter.</p>
<p>When next day the old man came to the boat
on his promised visit, Kanti bent low in salutation,
and begged the hand of his daughter for himself.
The Brahmin was so much overcome by this
undreamed-of piece of good fortune—for Kanti
not only belonged to a well-known Brahmin family,
but was also a landed proprietor of wealth and
position—that at first he could hardly utter a
word in reply. He thought there must have been
some mistake, and at length mechanically repeated:
‘You desire to marry my daughter?’</p>
<p>‘If you will deign to give her to me,’ said
Kanti.</p>
<p>‘You mean Sudha?’ he asked again.</p>
<p><SPAN name="Page_55" title="55"> </SPAN>‘Yes,’ was the reply.</p>
<p>‘But will you not first see and speak to
her<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?’</p>
<p>Kanti, pretending he had not seen her already,
said: ‘Oh, that we shall do at the moment of the
Auspicious Vision.’<SPAN name="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</SPAN></p>
<p>In a voice husky with emotion the old man
said: ‘My Sudha is indeed a good girl, well skilled
in all the household arts. As you are so generously
taking her on trust, may she never cause
you a moment's regret. This is my blessing!’</p>
<p>The brick-built mansion of the Mazumdars
had been borrowed for the wedding ceremony,
which was fixed for next <i>Magh</i>, as Kanti did
not wish to delay. In due time the bridegroom
arrived on his elephant, with drums and music
and with a torchlight procession, and the ceremony
began.</p>
<p>When the bridal couple were covered with the
scarlet screen for the rite of the Auspicious Vision,
Kanti looked up at his bride. In that bashful,
downcast face, crowned with the wedding coronet
and bedecked with sandal paste, he could scarcely
recognise the village maiden of his fancy, and in
<SPAN name="Page_56" title="56"> </SPAN>
the fulness of his emotion a mist seemed to becloud
his eyes.</p>
<p>At the gathering of women in the bridal
chamber, after the wedding ceremony was over,
an old village dame insisted that Kanti himself
should take off his wife's bridal veil. As he did
so he started back. It was not the same girl.</p>
<p>Something rose from within his breast and
pierced into his brain. The light of the lamps
seemed to grow dim, and darkness to tarnish the
face of the bride herself.</p>
<p>At first he felt angry with his father-in-law.
The old scoundrel had shown him one girl, and
married him to another. But on calmer reflection
he remembered that the old man had not shown
him any daughter at all—that it was all his own
fault. He thought it best not to show his arrant
folly to the world, and took his place again with
apparent calmness.</p>
<p>He could swallow the powder; he could not
get rid of its taste. He could not bear the merry-makings
of the festive throng. He was in a
blaze of anger with himself as well as with everybody
else.</p>
<p>Suddenly he felt the bride, seated by his side,
give a little start and a suppressed scream; a
<SPAN name="Page_57" title="57"> </SPAN>
leveret, scampering into the room, had brushed
across her feet. Close upon it followed the girl
he had seen before. She caught up the leveret
into her arms, and began to caress it with an
affectionate murmuring. ‘Oh, the mad girl!’
cried the women as they made signs to her
to leave the room. She heeded them not, however,
but came and unconcernedly sat in front of
the wedded pair, looking into their faces with a
childish curiosity. When a maidservant came and
took her by the arm to lead her away, Kanti
hurriedly interposed, saying, ‘Let her be.’</p>
<p>‘What is your name?’ he then went on to ask
her.</p>
<p>The girl swayed backwards and forwards but
gave no reply. All the women in the room began
to titter.</p>
<p>Kanti put another question: ‘Have those
ducklings of yours grown up?’</p>
<p>The girl stared at him as unconcernedly as
before.</p>
<p>The bewildered Kanti screwed up courage for
another effort, and asked tenderly after the
wounded dove, but with no avail. The increasing
laughter in the room betokened an amusing joke.</p>
<p>At last Kanti learned that the girl was deaf
<SPAN name="Page_58" title="58"> </SPAN>
and dumb, the companion of all the animals and
birds of the locality. It was but by chance that
she rose the other day when the name of Sudha
was called.</p>
<p>Kanti now received a second shock. A black
screen lifted from before his eyes. With a sigh
of intense relief, as of escape from calamity, he
looked once more into the face of his bride.
Then came the true Auspicious Vision. The light
from his heart and from the smokeless lamps fell
on her gracious face; and he saw it in its true
radiance, knowing that Nabin's blessing would find
fulfilment.</p>
<div class="story-title"><SPAN name="Page_59" title="59–60"> </SPAN>THE SUPREME NIGHT</div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />