XIV

The Husband

One morning I was walking back and forth in the grounds with my head gardener, considering where improvements could be best introduced, when my father, on his old ass, rode into the courtyard.

I hastened forward, and, after helping him to dismount, was about to go into the garden with him, as I believed he had come to enjoy the beauty of our flowers. But he preferred to enter the first room that offered, and when I ordered my man to bring refreshments he declined⁠—he wished to speak to me without being disturbed.

Overcome by a feeling of uneasiness, and scenting danger ahead, I sat down on a low seat beside him.

“My son,” he began, in a tone of deepest earnestness, “thy wife has hitherto borne thee but two daughters, and there is no prospect that she will present thee with a son. Now, it is said, and with much truth, that the man dies miserably for whom there is no son to offer the sacrifices proper to the dead. I don’t blame thee, my son,” he added hastily, perhaps observing that I became somewhat restless; and, although I was not aware how in this matter I could have deserved blame, I thanked him with becoming humility for his clemency, and kissed his hand.

“No, I must blame myself, because in choosing thy wife, I allowed myself to be dazzled in too great a degree by worldly considerations, having reference to family and possessions, and did not observe the characteristic marks sufficiently. The girl whom I now have in mind for thee comes, it is true, of a family by no means distinguished, and far from rich; nor can one praise her for her possession of what the superficial observer calls beauty. But, by way of recompense, she has a navel which sits deep and is turned to the right; both hands and feet bear lotus, urn, and wheel moles; her hair is quite smooth, save only on her neck where she has two locks curling to the right. Of a maiden who possesses such marks, the wise say that she will bear five heroic sons.”

I declared myself perfectly satisfied with the prospect, thanked my father for the kindness with which he thought for me, and said I was ready to lead the maiden home at once. For I thought to myself, “Well⁠—if it has to be⁠ ⁠…”

“At once!” cried out my father, in accents of horror. “But, my son, moderate thy impatience! We are at present in the southern course of the sun. When this deity enters his northern course, and we have reached the half of the month in which the moon waxes, then will we choose a favourable day for joining hands⁠—but not before⁠—not before, my son! Else what would all the bride’s good qualities do for us?”

I begged my father to have no anxiety. I would have patience for the time mentioned, and would in all things be guided by his wisdom; on which he praised my dutifulness, gave me his blessing, and allowed me to order refreshments.

At last the day⁠—for which I did not ardently long, but on which all the propitious signs were found to be united⁠—approached. The ceremonies were this time much more tedious. Full fourteen days did I need beforehand, in order to master all the necessary sentences. The agony of fear I endured during the joining of hands in the house of my father-in-law, it is hardly possible to put into words. I trembled without intermission, filled with a horrible dread lest I should not recite some verse correctly, or in keeping with the action to which it belonged; for my father would assuredly never have forgiven me for it. And yet, in my anxiety, I had almost forgotten the chief thing, for instead of taking the bride’s thumb, I reached out to seize her four fingers, as though I wished her to bear me daughters⁠—but luckily she had presence of mind enough to push her thumb into my hand.

I was literally bathed in perspiration when finally able to yoke in the bulls for our departure, the while my bride inserted into each of the collar-holes, the branch of a fruit-bearing tree. And I spoke the required couplet, with a feeling that the worst was now past. The dangers, however, did not by any means lie behind us yet.

It is true we reached the house without encountering any of the numerous little mishaps which, on such occasions, seem to lie in wait for their unfortunate victims. And at the door the bride was lifted from the wagon by three Brahman women of blameless life who had all given birth to boys, and whose husbands yet lived. So far, all had gone well. But now, brother, imagine the shock I received when, on entering the house, my wife’s foot all but touched the threshold. To this day, I cannot conceive whence I drew the resolution to lift her high up in my arms, and thereby hinder any such contact from possibly taking place. Nevertheless, even this was an irregularity, and, when entering the house, was of itself bad enough; but, to add to it, I, for my own part, forgot to enter with the right foot first. Fortunately, the wedding guests, and especially my father, were so nearly beside themselves at the threatened contact with the threshold, that my false step was all but entirely disregarded.

In the middle of the house I took my station to the left of my wife, on a red bull’s hide that lay with the neck towards the cast, and with the hairy side uppermost. Now my father had, after a long search, and with endless trouble, come upon a male prodigy that had only brothers and no sisters⁠—not even dead ones⁠—and was the son of a father who had been in like case, having had brothers only. Moreover, this was actually true of his grandfather also; and, to the accuracy of the statements in each case, legal testimony was forthcoming. This little boy was to be placed on my bride’s knee. Already there stood at her side the copper dish containing lotus flowers from the swamps, which she was to lay in the folded hands of the child, and everything was prepared, when⁠—the hapless little urchin was nowhere to be found! Not till afterwards, when it was too late, did a manservant discover that the child had found the sacrificial bed, between the fires, all too enticing, and had rolled himself in the soft grass till he was practically buried in it. Now, of course, the sacrificial bed had to be made up anew, and to that end fresh kuça grass cut⁠—which was in itself reversing the due order of things, as the grass had to be cut at the rising of the sun.

We were finally obliged, as I have indicated, to do without this crown of the whole function, and to content ourselves with the hastily procured son of a mother who had borne only sons. But my father was in such a state of excitement at the failure of this precaution, on which he had built his highest hopes, that I feared a fit of apoplexy would suddenly put an end to his precious life. True, he would, under no circumstances, have committed the indiscretion of dying at that moment, in order not to interrupt the ceremonies in the worst of all possible ways. But this comforting reflection did not occur to me at the time. Martyred by the most horrible fears, I was obliged, in order that no interval might ensue, to pass the time of waiting for the substitute in reciting appropriate sentences, without a pause.

That hour I solemnly promised myself that, come what might, I would never marry again.

Finally, after everything was ended, I was obliged to spend twelve nights with my wife⁠—who, by the by, was anything but the monster of ugliness my father’s description had led me to expect⁠—in absolute chastity, fasting rigorously, and sleeping on the floor. This time it was twelve nights, because my father thought it was better to be on the safe side, and do too much rather than too little. But the doing was distinctly painful to me, particularly inasmuch as I had to deprive myself, during the whole time, of my favourite dishes⁠—high seasonings and all.

However, this period of probation also I managed to survive, and life ran on again on the old lines, though soon with a very material difference. I was ere long to see how thoroughly warranted was my aversion from my father’s new marriage proposal. True, I had instantly comforted myself with the idea that, if a man had one wife, he might just as well have two. But alas, how sadly had I deceived myself!

My first wife had always seemed to possess a gentle character, which, if anything, rather leaned to the side of dullness than to that of irritable passion; and my second wife had always been praised for her true womanly softness. In the same way, O brother, are water and the hearth-fire both of them very truly beneficial possessions; yet when they meet on the hearth, one must be prepared for hissing. And from that unhappy day onward there was the noise of hissing in my home. But imagine to thyself, if thou canst, what it became when my second wife did really bear me the first of those five heroic sons. Now, my first wife accused me of not having wanted sons by her, and of having refrained from offering the fitting sacrifices, in order that I might thus have an excuse for marrying another; while my second wife, when she was irritated by the first, performed a very devil’s dance of triumphant scorn. Then, between the two, there was a constant wrangle as to precedence; my first wife laying claim to the first position as having actually been the first, while the second made the same demand as the mother of my son. But worse was yet to come. One day my second wife dashed in to me, trembling from head to foot with excitement, and demanded that I should send the first away, as she wished to poison my son: the boy had, as it happened, had an attack of colic from eating sweets. I rebuked her severely, but had scarcely freed myself from her presence, when the first stood before me, clamouring that her two lambs were not sure of their lives so long as that vile woman remained in the house⁠—her rival wished to get both of my little daughters out of the way, in order that their dowries should not diminish the heritage of her son.

So, under my roof, peace was no longer to be found. If thou, O brother, didst chance to delay thy steps at the farmhouse of the rich Brahman who lives but a short way off, and didst hear how, within, his two wives upbraided one another⁠—disputing in high, shrill tones, and polluting the air with their coarse epithets⁠—then thou hast, so to speak, passed my house on the way.

And it also became, I am sorry to confess, a proverbial saying in Ujjeni now: “The two agree like Kamanita’s wives!”