Esha's recollections of some episodes of her life, as narrated to Nirodbaran in Bengali, who translated it in English. This is presented here in form of a book.
Sri Aurobindo : Contact
Nirodbaran on Esha's story : Esha, the late Dilip Kumar Roy's niece, was a little girl visiting the Ashram when I came to know her through my niece Jyotirmoyee with whom she had become very friendly. She wanted to settle in the Ashram, but her mother did not want it as she was still a minor. When after many years she came to the Ashram again and stayed with Sahana Devi, I became more closely acquainted with her. By that time she had already married and obtained her divorce and had decided to settle here. I came to her help and made all possible arrangements for the purpose. Since then I have come to know her well and listened to her narration of the incidents of her life. As I found them interesting I began to note them down and was thinking of publishing them in Mother India when somehow she got wind of it and strongly objected to it. As I felt I had Sri Aurobindo's sanction for it, I did not listen to her. In spite of my disregarding her objection, luckily she did not stop recounting her saga. Of course she narrated it in Bengali and later I put it down in English as faithfully as I could. When the story began to appear in Mother India, she insisted more than once that I should stop it. My answer was that I believed it could be helpful to many readers and that Sri Aurobindo seemed to support me.
THEME/S
We have a house in Calcutta with four floors which we give out on rent. The ground-floor tenant had not paid his rent for many years. We filed a suit against him and won the legal battle, but lost the actual fight. This is not an unusual case in Calcutta. One cannot drive away the tenant. The law does not permit it. I and my son went to him and told him firmly that he would have to leave as he had lost the case in court. The man, sitting upright on his cot, replied with calm insolence: "If you have the power, drive me out. Here am I sitting as firm as a rock." I felt almost like asking my son to drive him out by force and face the consequences, but good sense prevailed. Beaten, we returned home.
The next day, however, the tenant of the third floor came running to me and said that our immovable tenant had decamped at night in a hurry. The flat was empty and we should go at once and take possession of it. But, he requested, we should give him the flat later on. We could hardly believe our luck or, should I say, our God-sent opportunity. But we kept wondering why the man who was so adamant during the day should run away at night. However, I along with my son appeared on the scene. My son, indeed very happy, said, "Ma, we shall get a fair amount of money from the sale of the costly furniture he has left behind. He has cheated us for so many years, and now we shall realise at least some of the dues." I kept quiet for a moment, then I told my son, "No, Khokan (Child), we won't touch a single article." "Why not?" he demanded hotly. "Not yet. For the moment, we will leave the things as they are under lock and key." After that we came away. Then the tenant of the second floor came and wanted to have the flat. I refused, as I had already committed myself to the third floor tenant. He offered to pay a substantial rent. "Even for that kind of rent, I can't break my word," I replied.
That night our telephone rang. My son picked it up. A man's voice said, "I want to speak to Mrs. Mukherjee," meaning me. His pitch was high and the tone excited.
"I'm her son. Tell me."
"No. I want to speak to her only. It's a serious matter." I came and asked, "What do you want?"
"Are you Mrs. Mukherjee, the owner of that flat?" "Yes."
"Please listen. All the furniture of that flat should belong to us. Don't, for heaven's sake, touch a single article."
My son was furious and said, "Oh, he wants to show his muscle to us?"
The man continued, "We are mastans. 4 We had lent the fellow a big sum of money, but he has cheated us. When we threatened to take recourse to our dharma, he ran away. We are now practically beggars. Many a night we have gone without any meal. We shall now be able to get some money out of the sale of his furniture. You are rich people and have let go the rent for years. If you spare a few thousand chips for poor people like us, it won't be a big sacrifice for you. But," he paused significantly, "if you don't, well, may God help you."
In spite of his veiled threat, which would normally have brought out the fighter in me, without the slightest hesitation I left the articles to them. You see, when my son and I had gone to the flat, I had heard a voice asking me not to touch the furniture.
Later on I came to know that our former tenant was involved in many forgeries and all kinds of shady dealings. And that night he had to run for his life from his revenge-seeking creditors. We benefited in the bargain. The Grace has many ways of showing itself.
The story, however, had a sequel to it. There was a basti (a slum quarter) in the neighbourhood of our residence. I was on good terms with a woman of the area and through her I met a man whom I abhorred at once. He had only one arm, which increased my animus against him. To my enquiry about his arm he replied evasively that the doctor had to amputate it. One day he said, "You haven't done the right thing occupying that flat!"
I was astonished and said, "How did you know about it? And why, for that matter, haven't I done well?"
"For this reason, that you go to many places all alone and return alone at night. I've marked it. Any day — "
"What! Are you trying to insinuate that I am too bold? Do you know where my courage comes from? None, nobody has the power to touch even a single hair of my head. Let me not hear such words again."
Someone I addressed as জ্যাঠামশাই (elder uncle) — about whom I shall speak later — and my son disapproved of what they thought was my utterly show-off attitude. They argued, "The man is not to blame. He warned you for your own good. You needn't have been so piqued."
"Why not? Out of fear? You should know very well by now that I'm not an ordinary woman, particularly when I'm challenged. There is something evil in that man. I get into such moods only when needed."
A few days later, I ran into that man again. He gave me a broad smile and said facetiously, "The day will pass well with me. I have seen your face."
"Is that so? My days don't pass well even though I see my own face every day. So how can yours?" I retorted sharply. After that the man avoided me.
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