His Last Journey

(A STORY)

(Translated by Srirangam Srinivasa Rao from the original in Telugu)

Pardhasaradhi Naidu finished making the necessary arrangements for his last journey. All weakness, vacillation and despair had ceased. Before his decision, perhaps, he had vague fears and oppressions, but now that he had made up his mind, all his doubts vanished.

It was about two o’clock at night. Outside, the moon was shining. Through the window, a cool, playful breeze was blowing. It seemed as though he was being gladly escorted to his destination by all sentient nature. And what more could he desire?

Only one thing troubled him every now and then. He had definitely come to know that the Government had recommended his name for Knighthood. Besides, after success in the next elections, his party would unanimously choose him as one of the Ministers. Or, there was surely the chance of his becoming the Mayor. It was a pity that he should be choosing to die at a time when his life-long aspirations were bearing fruit. But even such thoughts would cease to trouble him after a few minutes.

He carefully arranged all his papers and records in their proper places. He scrutinized all his accounts and brought them up to date. He had already written all the important letters. Only the last letter remained, only one, a letter to his son. He loved his son well, and had centred all hopes in him. How could he convey this disastrous news to his son? But convey he must. And so he began.

Inside and outside his house there reigned profound stillness and peace. Suddenly he thrust his head through the window and looked at the smiling moon.

And then he commenced writing the letter.

"Yes. It is rather hard to kill oneself. But what could one do when dying seemed far easier than living? Is this cowardice? They say that no escape is possible. Is it really so? Let me first place myself beyond the reach of human monsters. Afterwards I shall face the rest.

"All this, my property I earned myself. All this I spent. I blame nobody. I do not know how I came by my riches. Nor I do I know how the riches left me. But one thing is certain–which I never admitted before, but which has to be admitted now. Ill-gotten gains never last long. The savings of poor people, the last pies of destitute widows–I annexed for myself. There is no Court that can punish me. But the wails of these poor creatures will have a hearing. How many people among our rich merchants and tradesmen have to be convicted if justice really prevails? As it is, the poor people undergo punishment for the sins of others.

"I never once repented for any of the thousand sins that I committed. No. They were committed in all conscience, and repentance was never thought of. When I wanted to make money, I set all considerations of morality aside and reached straight to my goal. When it was a woman that I desired–why, I knew a few methods that would bring what I wanted. And never did I look or worry. Good or evil, I never believed that the reckoning had to be made.

"But two deeds, which I had done long ago, haunt me still. Perhaps all this suffering is the direct consequence of those deeds. I did them without a thought, without an effort. They instilled an awe within me–whose heart is dead to all moral sensibilities. What use is it to think of repentance now? Nothing would bring me solace.

"Till now I kept them a secret. Not a word had I breathed to anyone. I was afraid to speak of them even to myself. Unknown dangers breed fear in you. But when you know that the danger is approaching, that it is inevitable, then all fear is gone. I harden my heart and await the falling of the axe. If I make a clean breast of everything to you, then perhaps it will bring some consolation to me.

"Long ago our house was rifled by some burglars. They were never traced. How they entered the house was a mystery. They broke nothing, dug nothing, not a door was tampered with, not a lock smashed. And they escaped with jewels valued at more than ten thousand rupees. Even to this day nothing is known about them or the stolen jewels.

"You know the big banyan tree opposite our house. Underneath its shade a poor family used to live: father, mother and three little children. I never cared to know who they were, or how they got on in the world. It simply did not concern me. But now that a theft was committed in our house, my attention was drawn towards them. Anyone can ride roughshod over the poor. At first I questioned all the servants in the household. Then I saw the good-for-nothings opposite. At my instance, the police searched their belongings. Old crude utensils, tin pots, abandoned vessels–these were all their earthly possessions. But unfortunately for them and also for myself, there were in their possession two diamond-studded gold rings and a jewelled ear-clasp. At once the police grabbed the old man of the family and took him away to the police station. The fellow swore that he found the precious things that morning near the Spur Tank but none believed him. Surely it is not beside every tank and on every road-side that diamond-studded gold rings are found!

"Then the usual story followed. The policemen used all their methods to extract truth from him. But he persistently repeated the same story. He declared that he did not know even the value of those jewels. He said that he was absolutely innocent. The police beat him hard and he got two years’ hard labour for his ‘crime.’

"In prison his condition worsened. All the blows he got coupled with his old age, made a wreck of him. Who cares what happens to a poor wretch languishing in the prison? At last he had finished serving his time, and came out. By then his family had deserted the banyan shade and was living else-where.

"Two or three years elapsed. I had altogether forgotten all this. Then something happened. One evening, at about five o’clock, having made some shopping at Chellaram’s in the Rattan Bazaar, I stood by the side of my car. My servant was bringing the articles that I purchased.

"Presently some ne’er-do-wells came along. One of them was carrying a begging bowl. He asked me supplicatingly to contribute some money for cremating a hapless man who died just then. I thought this was one of those ruses adopted by cunning beggars to extract money from the credulous rich. So I cursed them and asked them to clear out. But they would not go. I bawled out that I would send for the police at once if they persisted in their monkey tricks. One of them said. "Sending for the police is all right. But we are not afraid of the police. We are no thieves. Look! There is the dead body of that miserable man. We appealed to your charity and in return we got only threats and intimidations. Quite a nice charitable man you are!" I was taken aat his boldness. To get rid of the trouble I put my hand in my pocket for some money. Just then an uncouth woman, with dishevelled hair, came along, beating her breast with both the hands and crying aloud. When she caught sight of me, her voice attained an unearthly pitch. ‘This is the man,’ she cried, ‘who murdered my husband. This is the one who was the utter ruin of my family. This is he who orphaned my children. He shall yet answer for his sins. His sons will one day go into the streets with begging bowls in their hands.’ Thus did she heap curses and maledictions on my head. I then recognized this woman as the wife of that innocent wretch whom I had sent to jail. It would appear that the fellow never recovered from his illness in the prison and succumbed at last to the painful tortures of his malady. But how could I have foreseen all this? Crowds were gathering around us. As their numbers increased, the menacing voice of this woman reached frenzied heights. Every one’s sympathy was with her. I was the villain of the piece. My first care was somehow to get out of this mess. So I took out a ten-rupee note and tossed it into a beggar’s pan. But before he could accept it, the woman, grabbing at the pan, took up the note and flung it in my face with the words, ‘Keep it to yourself, sir! You will presently need this for the funeral of your son.’ The crowd cheered her in exultation. I do not know what would have happened to me, had not a policeman appeared on the scene to disperse the crowd. I hurried into the car and drove home straightway. My body was trembling from head to foot. That woman seemed to me the very incarnation of Nemesis grinding at an axe to strike me down for my sins. I was certain that her curses would one day materialise.

"I forgot the whole affair after a lapse of some years but now it all comes to my mind most vividly. Strange that I should be thinking of her now! Perhaps her curses are beginning to make themselves felt. That is the bare truth of the matter.

"And now for the other incident…..Festivals and large human concourses have always the greatest fascination for me. The enthusiasm and the colourful beauty that I meet with on these occasions intoxicate me. Whenever there is a festival I spend some hours in the midst of people. So one day, on the occasion of Ekadasi, 1 went to Sri Pardhasaradhi Swami’s temple where large numbers of men and women gathered. Needless it is to say that devotion to God was not the reason which urged me to go there.

"That day I was ten times more exultant than was usual with me on such occasions. I could not say why. The dazzling lights, women-folk and their gleaming bodies, the many colours of the sarees that they wore, scents from different sources, captivating music, an occasional touch of a woman’s body, whether sought or unsought–each contributed to my overflowing joy; and the cumulative effect entered into the blood of my veins, intoxicating me like heady wine. My body grew light and I felt I was floating in the air. I thought I would go mad if I remained there longer. So I left the place and turned homeward.

"It was past one o’clock in the night. Others were also on their way . Slowly I extricated myself from the jolting crowd and came as far as Sunkuvari Street. Turning a corner I was in Venkatarangam Pillai Street. Ten yards away in this street I sighted a small group of people. Mingled with their muffled voices, the plaintive cry of a woman reached my ears. I rushed to that place and saw a sobbing woman amidst a group of men. Angrily I demanded, ‘What is all this row about? Are you here molesting a stranger? Fine men you are! And she cannot understand one word of your language. Surely this is a case for the police.’ The hooligans felt embarrassed, and muttering apologies easily, made themselves scarce in a trice. The woman was alone, weeping, her eyes downcast. I took pity on her. ‘Have no fear, young lady,’ I said. ‘You are quite safe. No one shall come here again to molest you.’

"From her demeanour and the way in which she wore the saree, I guessed that she was an Andhra woman. When I spoke to her in Telugu she raised her head and stared at me through a flood of tears. Eyes suffused with sorrow, melted collyreum trickling down her cheeks, despair and dejection writ large on her features, she was the very image of pity. That she was very beautiful even in her sorrow was evident to me from one glance at her face which was like the full moon emerging out of dark clouds on a rainy night. Her age could not be more than nineteen or twenty years. And her body was of a rare type of sculptured perfection. I had known a thousand women of different nationalities, each one a paragon of beauty. But I could recall none among them who could stand comparison with this fairy girl who stood before me. I long held that all beauty and refinement had vanished from the Andhra race, but here was a living contradiction of what I thought.

"She stood there silent. Not a word escaped her lips. ‘Tell me, good girl, where do you want to go? You need have no fear,’ I expostulated. Again, tears welled up in her eyes. Sobbing, she said that she was a Brahmin girl, that she belonged to the district of Godavari, that she came here to her relative’s house and with them to the festival, but she lost her way, and one of the men who just escaped had said to her something that she abhorred. ‘If you had been late by a minute I do not know what my fate would have been,’ she finished, and began to cry again.

"‘Can you go home alone?’ I asked her. She said she did not know the way, nor even the name of the street in which her relatives were residing. All that she knew was that the house was in Mylapore and her relative was a pleader. I assured her that I would safely take her home. At first she hesitated, but seeing that there was nothing else to do, she accepted my offer.

"I took her with me to the end of the road where I had left my car. I asked her to get into it. She again hesitated. But I assured her that no harm would befall her and pointed out that there was danger if she remained there. So she got in and sat quietly in a corner.

"I took my seat at the steering wheel and drove the car through Ice House Road to the Marina. A cool breeze, the subdued roar of the sea, a clear sky above, and with me an angel of a woman! These had upset me. What little good intention I had borne towards this woman melted away, and all the passionate longings of the evening asserted themselves in me. I thought that here was a heaven-sent opportunity to appease my diabolic lust. I made up my mind nod to let this girl go before I had a full taste of her charms. Never for a moment did the idea cross my mind that she might refuse my overtures. She might at first show some reluctance, but what could a poor creature do who was entirely at my mercy? That was how I argued to myself.

All the pity that I had felt for this girl when I first saw her vanished. My one consuming desire was to hold this girl in a passionate embrace at the first opportune moment. I had many such temptations before with others, and I made full use of every opportunity. Maybe, this was one such affair more. Why should I fear that any thing else would happen? I fell to thinking who the husband of this angel was, and whether he was worthy of her beauty. In all creation it seemed there was none who could really deserve her hand. Thus musing, I reached the Elliot Beach and stopped the car. With the stopping of the car she was also disturbed in her thoughts and looked all around in surprise. I got down, went to her side, and opening the door asked her to come out. Aghast, she asked me why. ‘It is cool here. We shall sit down in the sands for a while and then we can go.’ I said.

" ‘No, please. Take me home quick,’ she said in a trembling tone.

" ‘Oh yes. We shall go at once. Only a few minutes,’ I said, and caught her hand. She tried to cry. I pressed a hand to her mouth and encircling her waist with my other arm dragged her out by force and carried her to the sands. I sat there, made her sit by my side and then took my hand from her mouth. Then, crushing her in a warm embrace, I said. ‘It’s nothing. You need not be afraid. I shall take you safe to your home.’

"She was now sobbing. Through her tears she said, ‘I believed in you as in my father. I never thought that you were like all the rest of them.’

"Even then I could not realise this woman’s real nature. I thought these were the usual words. She said no more. She sobbed no more. She never even attempted to release herself from my embrace. What could I think of it?

"I held her more tightly in my arm’s and gave her a violent kiss. She stared at me in terror. That ghastly stare was enough to torture me for a hundred lives. Fear, agitation, surprise and a multitude of other conflicting emotions found terrible expression in that one stare. I could never believe that so many feelings could be conveyed in a mere look. Any other person would have given up his evil intentions after such a chiding look, and even I would have come to my senses on other occasions. But at that moment I forgot myself. Every drop of my blood was boiling within me. I lost control over all my senses. I lost the power of distinguishing good from evil. I was not able to realise my own danger. And then, I had never really believed in womanly virtue. Any woman would yield, provided there was enough compensation, I firmly held. My belief and experience were that ‘every woman had her price,’ as somebody said. So how could I think that this village girl was in any way superior to the others?

"Profound silence wrapped the whole world. At that moment I could not hear even the roar of the ocean. It seemed as though animate and inanimate creation held its breath and anxiously awaited the outcome of my ghoulish behaviour. But the sky seemed to be laughing with all its millions of shining stars. I was doomed. I could not suppress the urge of my stormy passions. I dragged the girl into my lap, uncovered her bosom and showered innumerable kisses. With every kiss the flame of my lust was fanned. The girl was looking at me in a blank stare. I thought that she resigned herself to her fate.

"Presently I felt that her body was stiffening in my arms Slowly it became loose and slipped. I released her in the sands, and heaved a deep sigh. She was still staring and her eyelids did not drop. Why was she staring so? I could not guess. I took her again into my embrace. I felt a dull heaviness as she was in my arms. Her head fell . ‘Has she swooned?’ I thought. I motioned to her and asked if she was feeling all right. There was no reply. I massaged her palms and feet. I went to where the waves were breaking, brought some water, and sprinkled it on her face. Nothing that I did was of any avail. Perhaps this was a strange disease. If I waited sufficiently long she might regain consciousness. By then my ardour waned. A vague fear was creeping on me. Why did I not go home as I wanted to? Why did I ask for this trouble? For Half an hour or three quarters of an hour I sat there still. No. She did not come to her senses. Instead her body was gradually becoming cold. I realised that she was dead! An indescribable terror overwhelmed me. My body shuddered. Ah! She must have died with the very first kiss with which I had tainted her lovely face. That was the meaning of her stare. Poor creature! It was her fate to die in the hands of a stranger, in a strange land, far away from her nearest and dearest, in all the glory of her flower-like youth. Yes. I was a murderer. I could not move a limb as I sat there like a stone-image. Sweat trickled from my body. In my mind was not pity for her, but the one besetting thought was: what was I to do next? Every minute I spent here enhanced danger. The sea-shore, which was lonely all the while, appeared suddenly to be peopled by millions of living beings all watching my monstrous crime. The sea that seemed silent now began to emanate heart- rending groans. The muffled wind assumed a sudden velocity and began to drum weird sounds into my ears. A motor-car that passed in the distance seemed to dash against me, roaring like a lion. Far away the lights at the Triplicane festival seemed like flames of Hell. The million stars in the sky were shedding tears. All the world around seemed to sympathise with a hapless girl who died a miserable death.

An unutterable fear, mysterious and unexpected, caught me in its grip. I had to hide this body somewhere, somehow, and get away quickly to a place of safety. A strange new energy came to my limbs that were hitherto languid from fear. I carried the ice-cold body in my arms into the car and drove as far as the Fort St. George. There I took out my very strange burden, carried it as far deep into the ocean as possible and flung it away with all the force at my command. For one last time the young girl censured me with that shocked innocent look of hers. That last look haunts me even now. I must pass many cycles of miserable lives bearing the burden of this sin, and yet it may not be completely absolved.

"The ocean was not willing to hide my secret. With a furious rage a big wave splashed at me and brought the dead body to the shore. I was not able to stand there any longer.

"As though a thousand demons were haunting me I rushed in mortal terror to my car and drove home swift and straight.

Even there I could not find rest. I cast off my wet clothes and slipped into warmer clothing. Again I sat in the car and drove off-I knew not where. I did not know which road I was taking or what was on the road. Not I but someone else, it seemed to me, was driving the car. I flew at top speed. Nearly at seven o’clock in the morning I reached Bangalore. Straight I went to our bungalow. This unexpected arrival and the weird expression on my face astonished the servants. I spoke to none, got down the car, reached for the bed and without doffing even my coat, fell asleep. A servant asked me something but I did not reply. I forgot the world. The next thing I knew was that after a month, during which time I was raving with fever, my hair turning grey, doctors diagnosed my disease as hay fever and said that I was out of danger and should be my original self in twenty days. They characterised my trouble as a nervous breakdown due to strenuous work and incessant thinking. They advised me to take rest and travel. You remember our travels then! And such were the strenuous work and the incessant thinking that brought on the nervous breakdown!

"That is all. I have nothing more to tell you. And there is nothing left, as you know, to bequeath to you. You must go your own way in this wide world….In life I had only two great ambitions. Firstly, to earn a good deal of money and attain an eminent position. Secondly, to make you a great man. I am not sorry that neither ambition was realised. For some time it hurt my pride but now I am calm. After all it is not given to us to shape everything in our own way. Desires and aspirations arise in us according to our temperament, and the accumulated ‘karma’ of our past lives. Their fruition is altogether a different matter. Ever since I decided on this final step, the whole perspective of my vision had changed. All things that I held in life as precious paled into insignificance and all things that seemed trivial and insignificant now assumed a deeper meaning.

"As when, embarking on a voyage on the high seas, we find slowly receding from our sight all those seeming daily necessities of life, houses, vehicles, roads, towns, rivers and mountains, so also, there appear now before me at this hour of farewell all things in their true setting, their veils shed, their values upset. Standing at the threshold of death, I realise at last that the words of those thinkers and philosophers, whom I held to be useless people and mad men, are after all right, and things that seemed to be real and permanent have become false and transient, and things that I thought vague and valueless have now assumed profound significance.

"Far be it from me that I should sermonize to you. Nor is it my belief that you will listen to what I say. Have I, in my time, paid any heed to the teachings of all those people that had gone before me?

"Hitherto I was afraid to divulge these secrets to anyone. Especially before you I was deeply ashamed. There is not a father who is willing to demean himself before his son. But these sins weigh heavily on my heart and I cannot die in peace if I did not rid myself of this burden. I am not too bothered about what people will say hereafter. I am going now to a place which is beyond the reach of all the praise and blame of this vulgar world. While I lived I had crushed a poor dejected being, instead of pitying his poverty, and was the cause of his ruin and death. When I met with a beauty and an innocence that appear rarely on this earth, I had, instead of respecting and worshipping them, smothered them and thrown them into perilous waters. Are these not iniquities enough to fill a single life?

"Dear son! Whatever be your judgment on my deeds, let the deeds be a warning to you. Forget not the sorrow that they brought to me. Steer clear of those dangers which have now engulfed me. This is my last wish…..And perhaps I shall be at your side in spirit while you are reading this. Shall I go then? Isn’t it a pity that you are not by my side in this last hour?…..But that is all for our good."

Pardhasaradhi Naidu sealed the envelope and placed it on the table. He got up, and for the last time paced up and down the room. Then he went out into the garden and remained there just for a while. He came to his room, took out from his pocket a small pill, swallowed it, drank some water, and stretched himself on the bed.