Rabindranath Tagore - Gora

Concept and Typeset Copyright Rupa & Co. 2002

First Published 2002
Ninth Impression 2011

Published by
Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd.
7/16, Ansari Road, Daryaganj,
New Delhi 110 002

Sales Centres:

Allahabad Bengaluru Chennai
Hyderabad Jaipur Kathmandu
Kolkata Mumbai

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Typeset in 11 pts. ClassicalGaramond by
Mindways Design
1410 Chiranjiv Tower
43 Nehru Place
New Delhi 110 019

Printed in India by
Anubha Printers
B-48, Sector-7
Noida 201 301

My thanks are due to Mr. Surendanath Tagore, who very kindly made the final corrections and revisions for this translation. Any merits it possesses are due to his painstaking efforts to rectify my mistakes. TRANSLATOR.

t was the rainy season in Calcutta; the morning clouds had scattered, and the sky overflowed with clear sunlight.

Binoy-bhusan was standing alone on the upper verandah of his house, watching in leisurely idleness the constant ebb and flow of the passers-by. He had finished his college course some time before, but had not yet started any regular work. He had written a little for the papers, it is true, and had organised meetings,but this had not satisfied his mind. And now, this morning, for want of anything in particular to do, he was beginning to feel restless.

In front of the shop opposite, a Bul mendicant was standing, dressed in the motley robe of those wandering minstrels, and singing:

Into the cage flies the unknown bird,
It comes I know not whence.
Powerless my mind to chain its feet,
It goes I know not where.

Binoy felt that he would like to call the Bul upstairs and take down this song about the unknown bird. But, just as in the middle of the night, when it turns suddenly cold, it is too much exertion to reach for an extra blanket, so the Bul remained uncalled, the song of the unknown bird remained unwritten, and only its strains kept echoing through Binoy's mind.

Just then an accident occurred in front of his house. A hackney-cab was run into by a grand carriage and pair, which went off at full speed taking no notice of the half-overturned gharry which it had left in its trail.

Running out into the street, Binoy saw a young girl getting out from the cab, and an oldish gentleman trying to descend. He rushed to their assistance, and seeing how pale the old man looked, he asked him: "You are not hurt, sir, I hope?"

"No, it's nothing," he answered with an attempt to laugh it off, but his smile died away and it was easy to see that he was on the point of fainting.

Binoy seized hold of his arm, and turning to the anxious girl, said: "This is my house, just here, do come in."

When they had placed the old gentleman on a bed, the girl looked round for some water, and taking a pitcher sprinkled some on his face and began to fan him, saying meanwhile to Binoy: "Can you send for a doctor?"

As a doctor lived nearby, Binoy sent off his servant at once to call him.

There was a mirror in the room, and standing behind the girl Binoy gazed at her reflection. From childhood he had been busy with his studies in his Calcutta home, and what little knowledge he had of the world he had gained from books. He had never known any womenfolk outside his own family circle, and the picture he now saw in the mirror fascinated him. He was not skilled in scrutinising the details of feminine features, but in that youthful face, bowed in affectionate anxiety, it seemed to Binoy as if a new world of tender brightness had been unfolded before him.

When, after a while, the old man opened his eyes and sighed, the girl bent down towards him and asked in a tremulous whisper: "Father, are you hurt?"

"Where am I?" asked the man, attempting to sit up. But Binoy hastened to his side saying: "Don't move, please, till the doctor comes."

As he was speaking the doctor's footsteps were heard, and presently he entered. But as, on examining the patient, he found nothing seriously wrong, he left after prescribing some brandy to be given with warm milk.

On his departure the girl's father showed signs of agitation and concern, but his daughter, guessing the cause, quieted him with the assurance that she would send on the doctor's fee and the cost of the medicine when they got home. She then turned to Binoy.

What wonderful eyes! It never occurred to him to ask whether they were large or small, black or brown. At the very first glance they gave an impression of sincerity. They had no trace of either shyness or hesitation, but were full of a serene strength.

Binoy ventured haltingly: "Oh! the doctor's fee is nothingyou need not troubleII will"

But the girl's eyes, which were on him, not only prevented him from finishing his sentence, but made it certain that he would have to accept the cost of the doctor's visit.

When the old man protested against sending for the brandy, his daughter insisted, saying: "But, father, the doctor ordered it?"

To this he replied: "Doctors have a bad habit of ordering brandy on the slightest pretext. A glass of milk will be quite enough for my little weakness." And after drinking some milk he turned to Binoy and said: "Now we must be going. We have put you to a lot of trouble, I'm afraid."

The girl now asked for a cab, but her father exclaimed diffidently: "Why put him to more inconvenience? Our house is so close that I can easily walk."

But she refused to allow this, and as her father did not persist, Binoy himself went to call a cab.

Before leaving, the old gentleman asked the name of his host, and on being told "Binoy-bhusan Chatterji," he gave his own in return as "Paresh-chandra Bhattacharya," saying that he lived close by, at No. 78 in the same street. He added: "Whenever you have time to spare, we shall be delighted if you will call." And the eyes of the girl gave a silent consent to this invitation.

Binoy felt that he wanted to accompany them home then and there, but as he was not quite sure whether that would be good manners, he stood hesitating, and just as their carriage was about to start, the girl gave a slight bow, which took Binoy so unawares that in his confusion he omitted to return the salutation.

Back in his room, Binoy reproached himself again and again for this trifling omission. He mentally reviewed every detail of his behaviour from the time he had met them to the moment of parting, and he felt that from start to finish his manners had been atrocious. What he ought to have done and what he ought not to have done, what he ought to have said and what he ought not to have said, in the different situations, he was trying in vain to settle in his mind, when his eyes suddenly fell on a handkerchief which the girl had been using and had left lying on the bed. As he hurriedly snatched it up the refrain of that Bul's song haunted him:

Into the cage flies the unknown bird,
It comes I know not whence.

The hours passed and the sun's heat became intense. The stream of gharries began to flow swiftly officewards, but Binoy could not give his mind to any work that day. His tiny home and the ugly city that surrounded it suddenly seemed to him an abode of illusion. The flaming radiance of the July sun burnt into his brain and coursed through his veins,screening from his inner mind all the pettiness of his everyday life with a curtain of blazing light.