Betrayal of The Brotherhood

A Short-story adapted from Gokul Chand Nag’s “Bar-at-Law” in Bengali

DR. N. R. DEOBHANKAR

Charu Dutt quickly rose to prominence and was among the most prosperous of the new barristers. This made him a target of envy and gossip behind his . Someone said, “Isn’t he lucky! The fellow has found a gold mine in his marriage. Who ever thought old Mr. Ghosh, the father-in-law, had amassed such a fortune?” His companion, with a pipe dangling between lips, replied: “Two lac cash in Bengal Bank is no trifle!” After striving for it steadily these two years Charu had captured the secretaryship of ten clubs, membership of seven more and bagged a lot of other social distinctions. But all this success left him discontented. “To tell youthe truth” he would sometimes admit to a friend, “our desiclubs are altogether dull and worthless!”

One evening Mr. Dutt had a few of his England-returned friends for tea. His pretty wife Meera was charming the guests by her vivacious manner and lavish hospitality. As the evening wore on there was the desultory gossip about the war, the German offensive...and chaos in Russia.

The thread of this arm-chair survey of world affairs was snapped by Mr. Dutt. “Well, Mr. Banerji,” he began addressing a senior barrister, “You are a member of the Masonic Lodge, aren‘t you?”

“Yes,” was the reply. “My connection with the Masonic Brotherhood has been a matter of some 5 years now.” Saying this he cast a patronising look around.

“But you ’ven’t taken me there any time,” said Charu Dutt, with an air of grievance. “My day is spent in law suits and the scavenging the muck of the world!”

“Somebody has to do that, my friend,” said Mr. Banerji. “Otherrwise goodbye to sanitation. Let me confess that I can breathe with relief since you came on the scene. The pressure on my time was getting intolerable. Give a lecture to students on physical and moral development...Throw a tea-party for Social Workers….Send a protest to the Englishman’s libellous remarks about Bengalis….All these assignments were driving me mad. It is you who have saved me from total breakdown, my friend. May your days be as many as the hair on my head! You have my blessings.”

“Enough of this complimentary talk, Sir,” laughed Mr. Dutt. “Come to the point and get me into the Masonic Lodge. A pious blessing alone won’t do!”

Mr. Banerji took a deep pull at his cigarette, threw his head and blew the smoke in the air. “Do one thing Charu,” he said at last. “Write an application and I’ll submit it in the right quarter. The truth is, it is against our rules to canvass members, as the Roman Catholic Missionaries do. Who-so-ever wishes must take the first step. Do you follow me?”

Just then Charu’s wife Meera came and sat by Mr. Banerji. She was lively and ambitious to become the leader of the smart set. “Believe me, Mr. Banerji” she said, “his health is ruined since he joined these wretched Bengali Clubs. Do something, please, to save him and take him into your Lodge.”

“I’ve just given him a useful hint, Mrs. Dutt,” replied Mr. Banerji. “I think it will be all right.”

As night was approaching, everyone was eager to depart. Acknowledging their deep gratitude to Mrs. Dutt for her hospitality, and expressing how happy they felt in her charming company, they bade her good-night one by one and dispersed.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if you become a Mason!” exclaimed Meera to her husband when they were alone. “I would just adore it. The Lodge will do you a lot of good–save you from mouldering away in the midst of the common herd. You’ll meet many big people there. Very stimulating society–don’t you think?”

“Do you know, Meera” called out Mr. Dutt from the stairs, as he returned from the Court a fortnight later.

“Yes, yes…..I know, but come up first” she replied, looking at his flushed and perspiring face, as she leaned against the verandah railing.

“They have admitted me, you see” continued Mr. Dutt, evidently excited. “It’s already half-past five, which leaves me just an hour. Look sharp, please, and take out my dress-suit. I must be at the Lodge for my…..but why do you stand still? Can’t you hear me?”

“Don’t you have to take off first what you’re wearing?” laughed Meera. “And what about your tea?”

“Why don’t you hurry up and do what I’m asking you?” said Mr. Dutt impatiently. “Boy!” he shouted for his bearer.

After wiping the sweat from Charu’s face with a wet towel Meera stood toadmire the result. “Don’t forget though!” she whispered significantly.

“Forget what?” asked Mr. Dutt, entering the dressing room.

“You’ve to tell me everything about the Lodge, mind you. I’ve read all that the Encyclopedia has to say on Free Masonry. Such a lot of it is vague and mysterious…..can’t quite catch what it all means. You’ve to tell me all as soon as you return tonight.”

“But how is that possible, Meera?” protested Mr. Dutt. “Don’t you know that Masons cannot divulge their secrets to others?”

“To others…yes, but am I not your wife?” she questioned.

“So what?” he retorted. “As a member of the lodge I can make no distinction between my wife and the grocer. I can’t reveal to her what I can’t reveal to him.”

At this Meera bit her lip with her pretty teeth with vexation. “Oh that’s fine! The grocer-man from the bazaar and your own wife are the same toyou!” Twisting the sari border angrily around her finger she added “All right….Let it be so!” and flung the end of the sari over her shoulder in a temper. Its bunch of keys jingled brusquely and echoed her resentment, as she dashed out of the room.

Finishing his dressing somehow Mr. Dutt entered Meera’s room–to find her lying in bed, her face buried in pillows. “Meera darling, don’t be cross. Come on!” said he coaxing and caressing her. “Won’t you look up once and see how this dress-suit fits me?...Oh, very well! If you are going to be so unreasonable!”

At this Meera’s frame trembled, and two wet eyes and a smiling face emerged into view. Mr. Dutt raised his hat and bowed low like a Western gallant.–” A hotel waiter, to the life!” teased Meera, and sat up laughing merrily.

“A waiter! All right!” exclaimed Mr. Dutt piqued, straightening himself sharply like an unstrung bow, and made for the door without another word.

Meera leapt from the bed and barred his way. “I am sorry! It was just in fun. I wont say it again” she pleaded.

“Oh, drop all this!” said Charu peevishly, still in a huff–“and let me pass, please. It’s getting late.”

“You needn’t be angry, my lord! Here you are...I beg your pardon!” saying which she was about to kneel at his feet.

“You naughty girl!” said Mr. Dutt mollified, lifting her and giving a light tap on her cheek. “What’s the lady’s mood like now?” he asked.

“Fine!” she replied. Just then the clock struck six, startling Charu. “Look, how arguing with you has taken my time. I must hurry now….Till we meet again, darling!”

“But you’ll have to tell me all!” cried Meera from the head of the stairs, as Charu reached the last step.

It was past midnight when Meera heard Mr. Dutt’s footsteps. Slipping out of bed quickly she stood in front of him and said “Tell me what happened!”

Curiosity about Masonic mysteries had been tormenting her for days. She had read a good deal on the subject, but it was all so vague and intriguing, and only whetted her appetite for more. All that evening her fancy was active, visualising weird ceremonies. Now that Mr. Dutt had returned she could brook no further delay, and wanted the veil lifted at once.

But the husband displayed no such eagerness. Folding his dress-suit with military precision he placed it on a chair, changed into comfortable dhoti and announced “Come, let’s turn in, Meera. It’s pretty late in the night.”

How Meera endured this brief interval God alone knows. She expected that as soon as he changed into bed-clothes, Charu would plunge into an exciting account of the outlandish ritual that was disclosed to him just a while ago. Could he conceal from her such a thrilling experience? Apparently he could! Her mortification was so painful that she nearly cried. “Does it mean you don’t want to tell me?”, she managed to ask, controlling her tears.

“Oh bother!” blurted Charu vexed. “Had I ever promised that I would tell you? Besides, what’s there to tell? I’ve explained a thousand times that matters about the Lodge can be divulged to none, We are sworn to secrecy.”

“But it is wrong for husband and wife to have secrets from each other. Didn’t you say once that I had a right to possess your full confidence, and that I too was to keep nothing from you? Well, I’ve always told you everything, haven’t I? Now it is your turn to keep your word.”

“You wont let me sleep tonight. I can see that!” said Mr. Dutt, stifling another yawn... Then within five minutes he was fast asleep, drowning his wife’s sobs in his loud snores.

Next morning when Meera and her husband sat at the breakfast table, there was a sense of constraint in the domestic atmosphere, though it could not be located. Toast, eggs, cake, tea and all other things were before them as usual, and the repast was in progress. Yet something was different. Meera hardly raised her eyes from her cup, and even when she did so, looked all round except in Charu’s direction. After a long silence, and unable to endure the situation, Charu tried to make conversation. “You had better order your cake from Bosoto” he began, “and not from Peliti hereafter.” Meera nodded slightly and relapsed into complete indifference. “The tea is frightfully strong” was Charu’s next remark to break the deadlock. But Meera simply poured him more milk and continued to sip her cup.

Breakfast over, Meera started cleaning the tea-set herself. “Come on, let’s read the papers” said Mr. Dutt, reminding her of their daily practice. But Meera ignored this overture, and continued to polish the cups. Mr. Dutt waited a little more. “Do you hear me?” he asked annoyed. Still there was no response.

The morning dragged on in the same tense manner. While her husband was having his lunch before going to the Court, Meera came and sat at the table as usual. She took notice of the chops served on his plate, and scolded the boy for preparing only two. But as to taking part in conversation, there was still no yielding.

When he returned from the Court and changed his office dress Mr. Dutt saw Meera waiting for him with a plate of fruit, and was pleased. “Let’s have a little outing this evening, shall we, Meera?” he suggested by way of an olive branch, but Meera stuck to her deadly weapon of silence, and went her way. “No use! Still in a huff, I suppose” said the husband to himself. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, he brooded overthe situation, but found no remedy to restore domestic harmony. Having met with the same coldness even at bed-time, his deep snoring was much curtailed. Then followed four miserable days of sustained estrangement.

On the fifth day Mr. Dutt had reached a state of desperation. “For God’s sake, say something, Meera” he said squeezing her hand. “If I have erred forgive me!”

“Oh! It hurts!...Let go!” she cried and tried to escape. At last the silence was broken! The husband heaved a sigh. “Meeri! Meeran!” he addressed her tenderly, caressing her tresses.

Meera turned her face away. “Enough of this show!…No need to pretend all this fondness!” she replied.

“Meera, if you only knew how miserable this week has been for me!…If you understood…..”

The husband sighed, sorely disappointed. “Still the same old song!” he murmured. “It can’t be done, Meera!”

“Why can’t it be done?” she demanded. “You had sworn you will keep no secrets from me. Nor have I concealed anything from you. Take that engagement of Miss Bhaduri with Mr. Banerji’s younger brother, of which no one knew but me. Yet didn’t I tell you the news thatvery night? The couple had cautioned me repeatedly not to breathe a word to any one. But I thought there was nothing wrong in confiding in you.”

A struggle was evidently raging within Mr. Dutt’s breast. Ultimately he seemed to have come to a decision. Pulling up an easy chair he relaxed. “I understand your point of view, Meera,” he began. “But if any one were to get the slightest inkling that I told you about the Lodge...”

“Am I such a ninny?” she protested. “I can keep a secret as well as anybody.”

“Well then….Listen,” began Mr. Dutt, sitting up straight, “This is what happened. Crossing the front hall I came to a room where thirty-seven men, who addressed each other as Brother, stood facing me. Wearing snow-white satin trousers and bright red silk shirts, they were arrayed along the two walls, and offered me welcome. On the forehead of each of these 37 Brothers there was….Oh Meera! Forgive me….I can’t go further…..”

“You’ve got to go on!” insisted Meera without mercy. “Where was the need to hold out hopes–only to dash them to the ground?”

“Don’t be angry, Meera” he pleaded, holding both her hands. “Something within me is giving way at the thought of violating a solemn oath.”

“If you disclose a secret to me, your wife, no stigma can possibly touch you,” she assured him. “You and I…are we not one?”

Composing himself once more with an effort, Mr. Dutt took up the narrative again. “Each of these 37 Brothers wore a dazzling silver star on his left brow, and ….”

Before he could proceed, Meera cut in. “Do you mean to say that even Mr. Banerji drapes his ebony-coloured uncouth shape in white and red satin and flaunts a bright star on his forehead and….” Overcome by a fit of laughter at this picture she was deprived of speech at the moment!

At this Mr. Dutt became very grave again. “Meera, I can’t make you understand how unhappy I feel seeing you ridicule a matter so solemn. It does not become you to make fun of the symbolism that our Lodge holds so sacred.”

“No….no! I won’t laugh again. I’m sorry. Please go on...But Mr. Banerji in red satin!…Could any sight be funnier?.…” She had to gag herself with her sari’s end to check another torrent of laughter! “Do go on, please!” she managed to say at last.

“Then everyone placed his right forefinger on the upper lip in unison with others,”….continued Mr. Dutt.

“Oh, that, I believe, is your Masonic sign,” put in Meera. “Once when I went with father to Mr. Grimswar’s tea-party I saw a couple of Sahebsdoing that to each other. I thought at the time that, may be, they had cut themselves while shaving, and were nursing the spot.

“Not at all, my dear. It meant one Mason greeted another in secret. Do you see? Then I was conducted to a special chamber….Meera! Can’t you let me off now?”

“Come on, there’s a dear. Do proceed, I beg of you. Finish what you were going to say, like a darling!”

“Must I?...well….On the wall of that chamber is painted a mystic diagram of the Solar System. All round it is an illuminated orbit, along which the planets sweep the heavens aeonafter aeon. They taught me a practical method to recognise that shining path. Once I manage to detect that in a dark room I shall be able to trace it in the night sky with a naked eye, at the end of 37 months. Instructions on other occult matters will be imparted next week. That was all I learnt this time. But, Meera, I had taken an oath not to…..”

“Let that pass…no need to harp on the oath,” declared Meera, closing his lips with her hand. “It was so dear of you to tell me all. But it’s late enough now, isn’t it?….Let’s go to bed.”

“But Meera, how my conscience pricks me for breaking a word of honour!” murmured the husband. Meera, on the other hand, was saying to herself: ‘Only I, among the Club ladies, know about this mysterious ceremony–neither Mrs. Banerji, Mrs. Chatterji nor Mrs. Mujumdar! How thrilled I feel inside! How shall I hold myself in till dawn?’

Mrs. Mujumdar received a note from Meera early next morning. “Dear Protima, (it said) You must come to my place this noon without fail. There is a very important and confidential matter. I count upon you.”

Mrs. Mujumdar’s carriage entered the Dutt’s gate exactly at 12-30. Meera almost ran and clung to her friend. “You know, Protima dear” she began…and within ten minutes she poured into Protima’s eager ears all the secrets she had wrung out of her husband in the night. Both the damsels came promptly to the unanimous conclusion that it was all nonsense, really, and that the Lodge secrets had no value whatsoever…..“But Mr. Banerji in a red satin robe!….How interesting!...And a sparkling star on the forehead! What a sight denied to us!”….Then followed peals of laughter. Abruptly Protima pleaded urgent work and took a hurried leave. “But look here, my dear” Meera cautioned her at parting. “Keep all this strictly to yourself. If the secret leaks out he will be so humiliated.”

Protima bit her tongue to express horror at the very idea of such an indiscretion. “Have I to be told that, my dear? Do not worry!” saying which she got into her carriage “Chatterji Sab-Ka Kothi!”she ordered the coachman….And within less than three hours several prominent ladies of Calcutta were in possession without effort, of a colourful description of what they considered to be the ritual of Free Masonry.

Returning home from the court one evening a few days later, Mr. Dutt cast one look at his wife and wailed “Meera!” There was something tragic in the manner he uttered the name. It sounded like the knell of his joys, his hopes and expectations. “What has happened?” cried Meera in alarm, “Why are you like this?” she asked in panic.

“Meera!...You...my wife?” he muttered in the same sepulchral tone, and slumping into an easychair, as if deprived of life, clutched his head with his hands.

“What is the matter? Wont you tell me?” cried Meera in distress.

“There is nothing to tell, Meera!” sighed Charu, breathing heavily.

“For God’s sake, stop speaking in riddles, I conjure you!” What is the trouble? Speak out freely” she begged.

“I just….want….to be left alone, Meera” replied Mr. Dutt faintly. “Ah…if only this night...were endless! If the day were….not to dawn again...I could hide….But that is not to be! The sun will rise again at six...and the day-light will expose my black countenance to the world! Then millions of people will point their fingers at me in scorn and exclaim; Then goes the the traitor!….Oh Meera!”

Pressing her face against his, Meera whispered “I fall at your feet…I beg of you….your words are riddles to me….”

Mr. Dutt pushed her away with both hands. Riddles to you?....Mean nothing to you?…Secrets which man has guarded with his life for centuries...those holy secrets have been betrayed and broadcast…..by an upstart Bengali barrister of the 20th century….And….his wife….!”

“But I spoke only to Protima!”

“How do you expect that the secret which you could not keep will be guarded for you by another?”

Meera clung to his feet, “Take me to your Lodge!” she cried. “I’ll confess my guilt in front of all!”

“……and add one more coating of tar to your husband’s face? Meera, you said one day that you had a right to your husband’s secrets, which must be in your keeping. Did it not occur to you that his honour and prestige too have to be in your keeping? If you betray one you betray the rest!”

Meera was crushed with grief and burst into sobs, “It is no use weeping, Meera” said Mr. Dutt trying to soothe her.

“Take me to task!” wept Meera. “My heart is breaking...kill me!......”

At last exhausted with weeping, Meera fell asleep. Mr. Dutt entered the dressing room softly, and turning on the light, looked at his face in the mirror. Contemplating the reflection he nearly doubled-up with silent laughter. “Well played, old boy!” he said to himself, checking his merriment with effort. “Perhaps instead of becoming a barrister I should have chosen to be an actor!” Then, after a gap of many days he gave himself up to sound sleep, and shook the bed-room with his snores once more!

“Meera, if you wait here for a while” said Charu next morning after breakfast, “I’ll ring up the Grand Master of the Lodge and confess my guilt.” On entering his office-room he picked up the receiver “9009 please” he called. Then after mutual greetings of “Hallo, Dutt!” and “Hallo, Mujumdar!” there followed a little chitchat, after which they came to the point. “What’s all this ado about, Dutt?” asked Mujumdar, with a hearty laugh. “What rubbish you’ve been palming off on your wife as Masonic ritual? She goes and repeats the yarn to mine, who on her part, has been roaming all over Calcutta, visiting friend after friend, elaborating the same piffle, and skipping her meals in the excitement! Because I could not spare the car yesterday, she hired a rattling horse contraption, and went about in the blazing sun on the same noble mission! I mentioned your bluff to a few European Masons, and they could not praise you enough. ‘We envy Mr. Dutt’ they said ‘Only a genius could invent such a fabrication. He is lucky in getting off so lightly. We, on the contrary, are being grilled at home to this day.’ Accept a bouquet from me also!”

“To preserve conjugal harmony without betraying group loyalty is a task of no mean diplomacy, my friend” said Mr. Dutt. “There was no other way out, I was paralysed when her ladyship unleashed that relentless missile of silence! My god! I could hardly breathe in that freezing atmosphere! When honest protest and earnest pleading failed, my morale cracked up, and I was driven to adopt this subterfuge and invention. I told her last night that every one had come to know how I betrayed the Lodge secrets. The poor girl is half dead of humiliation and panic.”

Wearing a meek expression Mr. Dutt joined Meera. “They agreed to condone my guilt,” he said humbly. “Of course, there will be some penalty…but don’t you worry about that, Meera.”

Meera took one good look at her husband with grateful eyes and heaved a sigh, which spoke, more eloquently than words, of her love for him and faith in his prestige!