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.
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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
After all that I have said and shall say hereafter about my husband, I would like to recount one early story showing his nobility of spirit, despite the many defects of his lower nature and even some asuric propensities that surfaced later on.
Though I was supposed to be very pretty, I never knew any romance in my life, never having fallen in love, unlike many other young women. Even the joy of true friendship escaped me, though I loved and was loved by my relatives and many girls of my age. But there was one incident where I felt an unusual degree of happiness, though not of a high enough order to be considered spiritual. It happened in the following manner.
My husband had a friend, R, whom he had known since childhood. This young man fell in love with a girl of whom his family did not approve. The couple frequently visited us in my mother's house. R's father knew about his son's love-affair, and had warned him that if he proceeded with such an unsuitable match, he would be disinherited. R paid no heed, though even my husband attempted to bring him to his senses. "Would you be able to face the consequences of your father's displeasure?" he asked. "How would you support your wife and family after you have been disowned?" All to no avail.
R's resolve, however, soon turned to water. A few months afterwards, his girl-friend came to our house, fell at my husband's feet, and begged him to save her. "He is deserting me and going to Delhi!" she cried.
"What?" my husband exclaimed. "Deserting you? But why?"
"Don't you understand?" she sobbed.
My husband's face was suffused with a mixture of anger and pity. He gently told her that she should go home, and that he would see what he could do.
A few days later when R himself came to our house, my husband caught him by the collar and shouted, "It seems you are going to Delhi leaving your girl-friend behind!"
R replied that he had no other means of making a living. "But what about marrying her?" my husband demanded. "How can I?" R whimpered, "I can't even manage for myself. How am I going to support her?"
"Why didn't you think of that sooner?" my husband exploded. "I had asked you that very question myself and warned you of the consequences of defying your father. And now you're going to throw the girl on the street and go away when you know very well that her parents won't take her back? That simply will not do!"
R was in despair. "What choice do I have? There's no other way."
It was my husband's finest hour as he rose to the occasion. "I'll feed you myself," he declared. "You, your wife, and your future children. But you must marry her."
R looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious?" he gasped. "Do you give us your word of honour?"
"Of course," my husband replied without hesitation.
When my mother heard of what he had done, she was both dumbfounded and dismayed. How would my husband fulfil such an enormous responsibility? But once his mind had been made up, he would not listen to her or to anyone else.
We secretly arranged the marriage in our own house. My mother, not wishing to be either implicated or included, left for Lucknow. Meanwhile, I and my husband arranged for the priest, invited a few friends, and married off the couple in fine style. It was the most social and worldly thing I had done in all my twenty-five years and, to add to it, we decided to travel to Delhi with the newly-weds to start them off on their honeymoon and married life.
It was after the four of us had boarded the train that our happiness reached its zenith. I think we made quite an impression on the other passengers, because none of them could make out which of us was married to whom, so mingled had our identities become, I might say one-souled. I had not experienced anything like this before.
Unfortunately, as always happens in this world, the situation changed, and the happiness of our companionship with it. Many years later my husband, in much altered circumstances, met R's wife. My husband's health had broken down and now he himself was destitute both of money and of friends, but the one he had given away long before as a bride passed him by as though he were a stranger.
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