The Story of Siraj

By Lakshidhar Sarma
Translation: Khanindra Pathak and Jugal Kalita

Kondorpa arrived home last night. He was going to college in Calcutta. After finishing his college examinations, he had taken a vacation in Puri. After a few days of fun, he returned home.

It was the first week of April. It was very windy the night Kondorpa arrived. It also had rained heavily. In the morning he noticed the badly damaged flower garden in front of their house. There were torn leaves and broken branches all around. There were a scattering of individual petals, remnants of flowers which were blooming brightly.

The sun was rising in the eastern sky. Nature had returned to its usual calmness after the heavy storm. There was not the slightest quiver in the leaves. The only noise was the chirping and singing of birds. A thin white layer of buds of the mango tree was strewn all over the garden. Kondorpa could smell their mild fragrance.

He went to the kitchen. He sat by his mother, had tea, and chatted with her a little. Then, he came out, stood in the outer verandah, sighed, and lazily sat down on the lounging chair. Finally, school was over! There was a long vacation ahead. His mind was permeated by an overwhelming state of relaxation. There was nothing to worry. The only things he had in mind were resting, and having fun.

He looked out to the front. There was a young girl under the mango tree by the pond at the centre of the fruit and vegetable garden that stoood before the house. She had plucked an orchid and was putting it in her hair, around her chignon. From his sitting position Kondorpa saw only a part of her face. The girl was very beautiful. She had a comely, long face. Her complexion was fair. Kondorpa sat erect. He noticed her clothes. It consisted of a very simple white set of riha and mekhela<\it> , and a cotton blouse. They were sparkingly spotless. As soon as the girl turned around, he saw her face in its entirety. Her long eyes exuded beauty. Her lips were light red. Her chin was petite. Her hands were still fiddling with her hair. Kondorpa's eye automatically drifted to the prominent mounds on her breast. A sudden rush of adrenaline blinded his mind. Meanwhile the girl raised her head and looked towards Kondorpa. Their eyes met for a moment. It caused both to look down in modesty. A disturbing wave momentarily swept both their hearts. The girl slowly walked towards the house. Kondorpa noticed a gracious charm in her gait.

The girl's name was Sabitri. Many years ago, a handsome young man from Goalpara had started working as an overseer in a big tea plantation near Jorhat. After just a few days at his job, he met a girl from the neighboring village of Mornoiguri, and married her. She was the daughter of a low cast widow. Sabitri was their only daughter. Last year when Sabitri was fifteen years old, her father started looking for a groom. But before he could successfully finish his search, he suddenly died of pneumonia. As soon as they heard about his illness, a number of his relatives arrived from Goalpara. After his death, they left quickly, but only after claiming anything of value they could find in the house. Sabitri's mother had expected that her own brothers would take care of her. They had treated her exceedingly well when fortune had smiled on her family. But in reality what happened was just the opposite. Everybody in the village, including her relatives, started ignoring her.

She had met Kondorpa's mother at a local cultural performance and on a number of other occasions. Based on their casual acquaintance, one day she came to Mrs. Baruah with her daughter. Listening to her sad story, the kind-hearted Mrs. Baruah offered them shelter in a small room at the back of the house, next to the room occupied by the dhenki, the traditional tool for pounding and cleaning rice. Initially Sabitri's mother used to do small jobs like husking the paddy, and sweeping the house. But as they gained Mrs. Baruah's trust, she as well Sabitri were permitted to help her in the kitchen. Mrs Baruah was very much impressed by Sabitri's beauty and modesty. She pestered her husband to search for a match for Sabitri. Although Mr. Baruah had decided to ask a young field assistant in his tea plantation to marry her, he had not really done anything about it. It was such a time that Kondorpa arrived back home from college.

Later in the morning, Kondorpa went out for a walk. He met some of his friends. They played cards and had many cups of tea. It was one o' clock in the afternoon when he came back home. He had to listen to a lecture from his mother for coming home late for lunch. After his meal he went to relax in bed with an English novel in his hand. He managed to extract some details on Sabitri from his mother as they talked while he ate. As usual, Kondorpa had reclaimed his small room facing the flower garden, next to the living room. That was where he was resting.

He was tired from the previous day's long train journey. As a result, he fell asleep almost immediately. But he dreamed as if he was falling off the bunk bed on the train, and suddenly woke up in a hurry. He was unable to sleep any more. It was also quite hot. He could feel the faint but fresh smell of the trees injured by the previous night's storm. It made him restive. An unknown anxiety was starting to overpower him. He felt as if his blood was flowing faster. A few honey bees had entered the room through the open windows. It was as if their humming gave a voice to his inner restlessness.

Kondorpa tossed and turned on the bed but it was of no use. The peace of his mind had vanished. He opened the book, but could not concentrate. A cuckoo sat somewhere close, perhaps on the mango tree, and sang a melodious tune, breaking the midday silence. Kondorpa had never noticed that there was so much charm, so much pleasure, and so much beauty in the voice of the cuckoo. The pleasant songs of the cuckoo made the otherwise quiet midday a little more pleasant, a little more enjoyable. Kondorpa started to feel light-hearted. The restlessness in his heart gathered strength.

After a while Sabitri stopped by the door and said, "Please come to the kitchen. Mother is making tea for you." Kondorpa sat bolt up on the bed. Perhaps surprised by his reaction, Sabitri stared at his face for a few moments. Her clothes were very simple but freshly washed. She was wearing a sky blue sari. On her hair was the orchid that she wore in the morning also. It was as if her beauty pierced Kondorpa's heart. Her eyes were deep and gentle! What a lovely face! Her teeth were small but beautifully arranged. A few strands of curly hair came down to her forehead and formed small circles at the end. Kondorpa wanted to say something but was at a loss for words. Sabitri was still there. She was still looking at him. Her eyes eloquently spoke of her simple and open mnd. Her voice was sweet. After some moments Kondorpa regained his composure. He said, ``Please ask my mother to send me a jug of water to wash my face." "I have placed a bucket of water in the bathroom for you," Sabitri replied and left.

Perhaps April nights are intoxicating! Kondorpa did not sleep well that night. It was certain that Sabitri's beauty caused an incessant upheaval in his mind. Moreover, during spring something permeates the air, something that prompts young people to shamelessly indulge in thoughts of one's pleasure.

The next morning at about ten o clock Kondorpa asked for tea. Following his reequest, Sabitri fetched a cup of tea almost immediately. Sabitri was about to keep the cup on the table when Kondorpa stretched his hand requesting, "Please give it in my hand!" While exchanging the cup of tea their hands touched each other. Perhaps intentionally Kondorpa held her fingers for a while. Their faces turned red in shyness. Offering the cup, Sabitri did not linger even for a moment. She left almost running. Another storm overcame Kondorpa's tender heart. He started thinking: "Shame on me! What might she be thinking?" At the same time the fact that his fingers touched Sabitri filled him with joy. Her bashful face looked like a red rose: this discovery also delighted him.

That afternoon Sabitri brought a tray with tea and snacks. Because Mrs Baruah was not home, it was her duty to do so. Sabitri was wearing a rose on her hair. She was wearing a light pink sari. Seeing her so close, Kondorpa became very restless. He wanted to hug her and kiss her. As the idea gathered strength in his mnd, he was flooded by a sense of guilt. He controlled himself, and slowly finshed his snack. He ate very slowly because he wanted to keep Sabitri near him as long as possible. His time passed in great turmoil. He wanted to talk to her, and he desired to touch her. Every time Sabitri filled the cup of tea, he was dying to touch her once again. But he did not dare say anything. He did not dare stretch his hand towards her. After he was done, and when Sabitri was about to leave his room with the tea set he managed to utter a few words, "Sabitri, I like flowers very much. I like rose and orchids the most. Would you please keep a few on my table if you get some time."

Instantly, Sabitri's face became red. But, a hint of a smile gave away the pleasure she felt in her heart. Kondorpa, a new arrival in the domain of Cupid had not yet experienced the sensual joys of youth. However, with each passing day, he was becoming more cognizant with the sudden awakening of the hidden music and exultation in his life. So long, in his young life, a great wall of shame, shyness, and self-doubt had enjoined him from expressing his true feelings. The strong sensual desires that arose like a volcano in the depth of his mind had always withered away without outward expression. But he was starting to flourish and become more mature in the ways of of life. Every day his attraction towards Sabitri gathered more strength. An indomitable excitement was drawing both of them nearer. Their love and joy were pure and eternal. Perhaps it would not be wrong to say that such emotions are the biggest treasures of our mundane lives.

Kondorpa was the only son of his parents. Although he was nineteen, he was still a young boy in his parents' eyes. They never realized that he was past the dawn of his youth. As a result, it never crossed their minds that long-term proximity with a beautiful girl like Sabitri may be distracting and disastrous for the development of his character. Mr. Baruah used to work long hours in the tea plantation. Mrs Baruah, like most mothers, was blinded by her love for her son; she thought her son could do no wrong.

With the advent of spring there was an excitement in Nature. Everywhere one could hear songs extolling the glory of life. Whether it was the trees or the birds, the animals or human beings, the sky or the wind--everything was excited with a feelings of rejuvination. It was as if the very nature of life had suddenly changed. Suddenly life had started dancing to a new and joyous rhythm.

Kondorpa's heart was also filled with the great songs of life. He was completely lost in this restless, indomitable excitement. He was terrified of the fast rhythm of life, and at the abundance of its pleasures. Indeed he was no longer in control of his own existence. He and Sabitri lost themselves in lust and love. It was as if the glory of their youthful infatuation was proclaimed everywhere.

Days passed quickly. Their limitless pleasure made them oblivious of everything around them, including their past and future, and their respective stations in life.

Over the course of time, it became common knowledge. Kondorpa's mother did not believe it at first. Ultimately all signs forced her to believe it. The father told her one day, "Association and friendship with people of low birth always lead to bad eventualities." However, guided by her own insticts, the mother was not overly concerned with the relationship. Perhaps she thought the boy was having fun for a few days. Let him enjoy life! Meanwhile the neighbors also came to know about it from the servants. It is really surprising that people are very adept at making fun of and heaping scorn on issues which are of life and death importance for others. Of course, it has been the hallmark of humanity from its very beginning.

Kondorpa's college reopened in time. The results of the examination had come earlier by mail. Kondorpa left home for Calcutta with a heavy heart. Sabitri felt as if her heart too left for the unknown environs of Calcutta. To the parents it was a great relief.

During the vacation for Durga Puja that year, instead of staying at home in the tea plantation, Mr. and Mrs Baruah came to Guwahati. Kondorpa had also come back to Assam from college. The Baruahs stayed in their home in Guwahati until Kondorpa left for Calcutta again at the end of the holidays. Kondorpa tried hard to convince his parents to allow him to travel to Jorhat, but failed.

During Kondorpa's summer vacation, once again they came to Guwahati. After staying there for few days, they took Kondorpa to the hill station of Shillong. They stayed with Kondorpa during the whole period of the vacation and returned home only after Kondorpa's departure to Calcutta.

In the month of October of that year Mrs. Baruah died. Kondorpa came home to Jorhat and was very sad for a few days. After he regained his calm, he enquired about Sabitri. He was told Sabitri had died of high fever a few days after he left for Calcutta two years ago. All these months, he was suffering from a deep pain at his inability to see Sabitri. He was now hopelessly heartbroken knowing that she was no more. To him, life became meaningless. After the customary and religious rituals for his mother, he returned to Calcutta.

Sabitri realised that she was pregnant a few days after Kondorpa had left for Calcutta. Her first reaction was that of immense fear. But the fear did not last long. The very thought that she was bearing Kondorpa's child pleased her at a time of separation from the love of her life. The novel pleasures of impending motherhood started sowing a sense of satisfaction in her. She started living a life of dreams. She lost touch with reality. She was absorbed in thoughts of the newborn playing with her with its delicate limbs. She could feel its touch, and she could hear its half-formed words. But she was not a fool; she knew that lurking behind the shadows of her dreams was a great disaster! Yet the present was so pleasant that Sabitri forgot the warnings of the grave sorrows that awaited her. To keep the inevitable downfall away as long as possible, she did not tell anyone about her condition.

Meanwhile the Baruahs were attempting to arrange for Sabitiri's marriage. A young man from Nagaon, who worked in Baruah's estaste, came to see her one day. But Sabitri announced that she was having a fever and went straight to bed. The young man and his family did not even get a chance to the probable bride- to-be. In spite of that, the wedding was schdeduled to take place after the Puja holidays.

A few days later Sabitri's mother discovered her daughter's condition. Mr. and Mrs. Baruah also came to know of it soon afterwards. Nobody had any doubt regarding who was the father of the child in her womb. Mrs. Baruah and Sabitri's mother advised her to take medication to abort the child. Sabitri was vehemently opposed to their solution. The two women tried to persuade her in every possible way. But Sabitri had only one reply, "I can never kill the baby!"

One afternoon, Sabitri overheard a conversation betweeen her mother and Mrs Baruah. "If I could find such a medicine, all our woes will end," Sabitri heard her mother say. She thought that a conspiracy against her was brewing. Mrs. Baruah's reply confirmed her suspicions. She said, "It has taken me a lot of hard work to collect this medication. Mix it with rice or vegetables, and give it to her with her meal. It may smell a little. I hope she won't notice." Sabitri became pale with fear. My God! A ruthless plan to kill the baby within her! She was determined to save Kondorpa's child. The natural instinct of a mother to protect her child inspired her. Sensing the impending danger, she became very nervous with fear. She was further tormented by the continuing dreams of the various activities of her future child. The fear of death of this child made her crazy. When she saw her mother, she told her that she was not feeling well and went to bed. She was pretending illness to avoid eating in the night. She was afraid to take her meals lest the killing medicine was in it. As time passed she lost control of her thoughts. Later at night her mother called her for dinner. Pretending she was still sick, she did not get up. After her meal, the mother went to bed. The silence of night banished reality from Sabitri's mind and everything took a new turn for the worse. Sabitri became restless and concluded that the only way she could save her child was to run away. Her mother was fast asleep. Sabitri left home and started walking towards the unknown. After walking for some distance she was tired and sat down under a tree. As soon as she sat down, she saw only open fields as far as her eyes could see. There was no human habitation nearby. She was very scared. She felt as if there was a ghost behind her. She started running. She did not know how long she ran. After some time her breaths became short, and her legs became cramped. But out of fear she kept on running. She felt as if her head and heart would burst open. Her body almost became numb. But she was scared to take rest. She felt as if something evil was following her. After some time she saw only darkness and fell down unconcious.

Kondorpa returned home for good after getting his bachelor's degree. He came to know that Sabitri had run away to marry a Muslim young man. And that she died at his house. People told him why she ran away. Kondorpa was brokenhearted after knowing the truth. He could not forgive himself. He was extremely unhappy. He left home again after only a few day's stay. Sabitri was pregnant when she ran away. Kondorpa did not think much about his child though. His heart was fully absorbed in the pain of losing Sabitri. A feeling of utter guilt made his life unbearable. With time his sorrow and sense of guilt were overcome to some extent but the fond memories of Sabitri were alive in his heart. His father tired of telling him to get married. A number of offers of matirmony came for him. But he did not marry.

It was almost exactly seven years after Kondorpa's first meeting with Sabitri that he completed his studies towards a degree in law and returned home as a lawyer. His father was very rich. He did not have to practise law to make a living. But Kondorpa liked to work in the court much more than working in his father's business---the vast tea plantation. One day a judge in the court had to go to a village called Baruahbari to make some inquiries about a case. It was about six miles away from the town. As a lawyer for one of the parties, Kondorpa was required to accompany the judge. Kondorpa had a very early lunch that day and rode his bicycle to the village. Before work, he stopped by at the home of the Moslem headman of the village by the name of Siraj. Siraj's father was a mouzadar---the hereditary tax collector for the area. Now his uncle was holding the position. His family was very well-to-do. Kondorpa had known Siraj for a long time. Siraj was about forty-five years old. He was reputed as a very honest official. He always gave to the poor, helped the needy, encouraged those who took part in social activities, and advised the common man about the law. He also owned a business and had a lot of land. Therefore, he did not have to worry about money. In addition, his simple and gentle behavior charmed everybody.

A small girl of about six or seven came out to offer betel nuts as Siraj and Kondorpa chatted. She addressed Siraj as "Abbajan," the Moslem word for father. In his life, Kondorpa had not come in close contact with many children. So he did not fully know the strength of the bond that exists between parents and a child. But today the sight of this young girl filled him a sense of pleasure. He called her to come near him and sat her on his lap. When he looked at her face closely, he almost went into a shock! It immediately reminded him of another face he knew very intimately. The same eyes, the same face, the same lips, and the same chin! He was shaken to his core. A deep sigh of sorrow made its way out from the bottom of his heart.

With a lot of self control he asked, "What is your name, dear?" She replied, "Everyone calls me Noor, but my real name is Sita." The fact that Noor is a Moslem name and Sita is a Hindu one struck Kondorpa. Moreover, in her voice too, Kondorpa found an echo of another voice whose owner he deeply loved and cared for! Kondorpa's mind wandered thinking of the implausible. He blamed himslef for the lack of discipline on the part of his mind. But, he dropped the girl from his lap and asked, "Hajorika, Is this your daughter?" With a smile Siraj replied, "No Sir, she is a gift of God, she is my grand daughter."

Kondorpa did not understand, "That means she is your---"

"She is my daughter's daughter. But that daughter is also a gift of God." Siraj commented.

Being unable to comprehend Siraj's comment Kondorpa inquired, "All children are gifts of God. But, what's so special about this little child and her mother?"

Siraj's face turned serious. Slowly he spoke, "Allah sent that daughter of God to me for shelter. Noor was her daughter. Noor's mother is not my natural daughter."

Kondorpa was shaken within himself with a genuine fear of the unknown. Maybe Sabitri was given shelter by Siraj although she was of a different religion! Maybe Noor was Sabitri's daughter, a Hindu girl growing up in a Moslem household. He became very eager to know all about the girl and her mother. Just at that time, two men dressed in suits rode in on their bicycles. One of them was the judge and the other was the lawyer for the other party. All of them went to the place of inquiry accompanied by Siraj. When the work was over, the judge asked if Kondorpa wanted to ride back with them. Kondorpa declined the invitation saying that he had some personal business to finish. The judge and the other lawyer smiled and left.

Kondorpa accompanied Siraj back to his house. Once back in the hosue, he asked him about Noor's mother. Siraj humbly told Kondorpa that it was a long story and that it he should not worry about it. Kondorpa realized that Siraj would never tell him the full story unless he also told him the real story about Sabitri. After a lot of disconnected discussions on many topics, Kondorpa was able to trick Siraj into disclosing Noor's mother's name. On passing, Siraj mentioned that Noor's mother was named Sabitri perhaps because of the fact that she was a genuinely pious Hindu woman, just like the Hindu goddess Sabitri, the wife of Lord Shiva. Hearing that name Kondorpa almost fell down unconscious!

With a lot of difficulty, he got ahold of himself, and started walking home. He pushed the bicycle along as he walked. He did not know how he trudged the long seven miles. He did not have an iota of doubt that Noor is Sabtri's child, his own blood and flesh. He visualized Sabitri pleading with him to accept her as his daughter and raise her. He was about to lose his mind. He was a stricken by deep sense of guilt and wanted to repent for it.

Returning home he ate and went to bed. He was restless with thoughts!. Repeatedly, he saw Sabitri with his mind's eye. He vividly remembered the many pleasurable things they did together.

He went back to Siraj's house the next day. He told Siraj the whole story of Sabitri as he knew it. After that Siraj opened up, and told him about Sabitri in detail. He narrated: "One morning, about seven years ago, I saw a young woman lying almost unconscious in front of my house. We took her in. After we treated her and brought her back to normal, she told us "I am in a very helpless situation, sir! I am homeless! I have nobody in this world!." We assured her she could trust us. Soon my wife realized her real problem. She was a Hindu girl. She was pregnant, but not married. To the society she has now become a whore, but in the eyes of God she has not committed any sin. We are Moslem. Because of that we were in a dilemma. How could we give her shelter? But that young woman taught us a very important lesson that day. She told us, "God did not create us Hindu or Moslem. He is the Father of all humanity. It is man who has created these divisions." But yet she preferred that we build her a separate kitchen, and, so we accepted her wishes."

"We were very impressed by the behavior and demeanor of this young woman. Allah imbued us with a sense of great love and affection for this girl from the very first sight. Our love for her gradually increased. We do not know anything about her past except her name. From her beauty and her temperament, we could guess she was from a good family. In due course she gave birth to Noor. Right after childbirth, she suffered from very high fever. On her last day, she called me in the evening and told me, "Father, my time has come. I am giving my daughter to you. When she grows up, you can convert her to Islam after getting permission from her father. If you ever happen to meet my husband, please tell him that I did not have any anger toward him. It is the very thought of him that has given me the courage to die." She died that night. According to her wish, we named the girl Sita. Sita is as pure as the real Sita, the wife of the Hindu god Ram. It is because she was born to a noble and pious woman like Sabitri!"

"Because of Noor we have given up raising chicken at home. We have even stopped eating chicken because it is forbidden by Hindu tradition. I cannot express in words how much we loved Sabitri. Noor is now our most beloved possession. Like a bright lamp in a pauper's house, she makes our life worth living."

Siraj kept quiet for a while after finishing the story. The story pained Kondorpa very much. Drops of tears were rolling down from his eyes. Then he pleaded with a soulful voice, "Mr Hazorika, please let me take Noor with me. I want her to study in Calcutta. I want her to do well in life. That is the only way I can repay Sabitri." Siraj's face lost color at the request. After a while he raised both his hands up to his head and prayed, "May your wish be fulfilled, O Allah!" He told him, "We will not deprive her from the education her father wants to give her. She is in our heart all the time. May Allah let us see her from time to time even after she leaves our home." Kondorpa understood that only because Siraj loved Noor very deeply, he could tolerate the pain of parting with her. Siraj's eyes were also full of tears.

Kondorpa took Noor to Calcutta, the capital of British India. He called her Sita. He rented a house in Calcutta and engaged a private tutor for about a year before she was admitted to an excellent boardin school for girls.

He recorded himself as Sita's guardian. He introduced Sita as an orphan and a daughter of one of his distant relatives. Subimol Roy, one of his dear friends lived in Calcutta, and had started practising law at the High Court of British India. He introduced Sita to him the same way and arranged for her stay in his house during the school holidays. He also knew Subimol's wife very well. They agreed to be her local guardians. Then he returned home.

During his vacation days from work, he used to take Sita and travel to cities such as Puri, and Waltair. Several times he paid all expenses for Siraj to visit Sita in Calcutta.

Subimol had a nephew named Anil. The year Sita graduated from high school, Anil graduated from college with a B.A. degree.

Sita had grown very beautiful with age. As she was very close to Subimol's family, she came to know many respectable families in the city. Everybody was impressed by her beauty and her pleasant disposition.

Anil was a handsome boy. He was a good singer. He belonged to a very well-to-do family. There developed a friendship between Anil and Sita. Soon it turned to love. Neither Subimol nor Kondorpa had any objection to it and it was almost granted that they were going to get married.

Only after placing Sita in the boarding school in Calcutta, Kondorpa got married. It was a simple wedding. Xoroju married him with a lot of ambition in mind. She was an educated woman from an established family. She was refined and loved to write and recite poems. After marrying Kondorpa she came into all the material wealth she wanted, but she did not get something she dearly wished. Her educated mind soon realized that Kondorpa was unable to love her with all his heart. As a result their relationship soured. Their relationship grew more strained because they were unable to conceive any children.

A few years after his marriage, Kondorpa's father's died. The death in the family brought Kondorpa and Xoroju closer together, but it was not deep enough to bring any coherence and peace to their disturbed lives.

Kondorpa thought long and hard before deciding not to tell Xoroju about Sita. He was afraid that Xoroju's wrath would destroy the sweet memories of his past. He visited Calcutta once with Xoroju. But he did not visit Subimol's house with her. He also continued traveling to Calcutta twice a year without Xoroju telling her that he had business to conduct there.

Kondorpa regularly received letters from Sita, but he kept them secret from his wife. He always sent money for Sita through Subimol.

Imediately after finishing her high school matriculation examinations, Sita wrote a letter to Kondorpa in a great hurry. She addressed him as khuradeu or uncle. She wrote that she was excited because she did well in her examinations and that she would write him in detail the next day. Somehow the letter made way to Xoroju's hands. A letter from Calcutta, written by a girl called Sita, made Xoroju think that there were chapters in Kondorpa's past that were kept hidden from her. She started imagining the worst possible scenarios. But she did not want to confront Kondorpa with her doubts. However, her dislike for him received a boost.

As soon as Sita was admitted to college, Kondorpa wrote to Anil's parents offering her in marriage with Anil. Initially Anil's parents objected to the proposal because they thought Sita was from a different caste and that she was an orphan. Subimol and his wife tried to persuade them, and they ultimately agreed after a year, especially when they learnt that Kondorpa was also of the same caste. Actually, they were happy with their son's choice, primarily because Sita was beautiful. They had said that prevailing social customs were the only reasons for their objection. Howerver, once Kondorpa promised to send Anil to England for higher studies, their objections gradually waned!

It was decided that the wedding would take place after Anil's M.A. examinations. After her second year college examinations, Sita moved into Anil's house. Everyone knew they were engaged, and so nobody objected.

Thus these were two young people powerfully attracted to each other. Their tender hearts were singing the same tunes and their days passed in sweet dreams in anticipation of their wedding. Each offered oneself to the other completely. The fountain of love flowed around their body, soul and mind. Each had accepted the other in entirety.

Kondorpa thought it was better to disclose everything to Xoroju before Anil and Sita got married. No one other than Siraj knew that secret chapter of his life. Kondorpa knew Siraj himself would never disclose it to anyone else.

After the M.A. examinations Kondorpa went to Calcutta and brought Anil and Sita to Assam. Seeing how the young couple loved each other, his joy knew no bounds. He was deeply sorroy for the injustice he did to young Sabitri. He wanted to get some consolation from Sita and Anil's wedding.

Anil was very happy to see the beauty of Assam. Sita was very happy to return to her own place after such a long period in Calcutta.

Returning to Jorhat, Kondorpa introduced them to Xoroju as his adopted daughter and her would-be husband. "I will tell you the details later," he assured her. Sita and Anil started addressing her as khurideu or aunt. Xoroju maintained her civilized etiquette on the outside, but she did not like the whole thing a bit. Who was this Sita whom her husband knew so well for such a long time? She was perhaps not happy that Sita was so beautiful. Naturally, she envied her beauty.

After Sita arrived at Jorhat, Kondorpa sent a car to bring Siraj from the village. Siraj was an old man now with white hair and a white beard. A quiet smile enlightened his face. Seeing him, Sita ran and embraced him calling him abbajan.. Siraj blessed her raising both his hands. There waere tear in his eyes. Xoroju and Anil stood spellbound looking at the scene.

Afterwards, when all of them were seated in the living room Kondorpa said, "Xoroju, I have kept one secret from you all these years. I do not know whether I am right or wrong. But I hope you will forgive me!" Looking straight at Anil he continued, "Anil, if I tell you Sita is not related to me, she is not of my caste, but that she is heir to all my love and wealth, would you still marry her?" Anil turned pale at the pointed question. After a moment he replied, "Our love for each other will give us power to accept each other no matter what." Then Kondorpa said, "Whatever I will say today, this old man can vouch for it. I respect him for the nobleness of his heart. You would also understand him after you hear me out today."

Then he told them everything about Sabitri from the beginning. He was deeply sentimental in narrating his past. Tears roll down from his eyes. His voice became weaker.

Xoroju was shocked to hear all this. At the same time she became very angry with Sabitri and Sita. Anil's face became gradually gloomy. Siraj was virtually weeping. Sita was the only one who deeply was touched by this history.

Kondorpa finished his story. Then, there was silence for a long time. Finally Anil gave his verdict, "What was the necessity of disclosing all this, sir? I cannot marry Sita after hearing such a shameful story!" These words came as a great shock to Sita and Kondorpa. When Kondorpa looked at Anil with a questioning look, he explained, "Even if I want to marry Sita, my parents will never accept a girl born to a servant and brought up in a Moslem family as their daughter-in-law! I will not disobey their wishes."

Sita turned paler. She tried not to lose her senses by holding tightly on to the arm of her chair. There was a great fear on her face. She could only utter, "But I am pregnant!" The piercing sound of these words penetrated Kondorpa the deepest. He was utterly heartbroken. He stood up to hug Sita but Xoroju came in between and started yelling at Sita, "You bitch! You whore! Get out of my house this very moment." When Xoroju learnt that Sita is pregnant whatever little love she had for the poor girl evaporated quickly. It was replaced by deep envy. She wanted to hurt both Kondorpa and Sita. She knew Kondorpa will be hurt if she attacked Sita.

Kondorpa was deeply struck by the blow Xoroju aimed at Sita and him. He almost stopped breathing and almost died in shame and anger.

Sita looked as helpless as a deer caught in a net. She could only look at Siraj and utter, "Abbajan!" With his eyes full of tear, Siraj came forward, held her hand, and told her, "Come on, my dear! Let us go home!"

At first Kondorpa wanted to cry as loud as he could. All the lights of the world vanished from his eyes. After that there was nothing but perpetual darkness.

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