Anandamath

Chapter II

After Jivananda had left her. Santi went and sat on the raised platform outside Nimai’s hut. Nimai with the child in her arms came and sat near Santi. Santi was no longer weeping. She had wiped her tears, put on a cheerful countenance and was smiling slightly. She was a little serious, a little thoughtful, a little absent minded. Nimai understanding her thoughts said, “At least you have seen him.”

Santi did not reply. She remained silent. Nimai saw that Santi would not tell her thoughts. She did not like to confide her thoughts to anyone. Nimai turned the conversation to other topics. She said — “My sister-in-law, see what a nice child.”

Santi asked — “Where did you find the child? When did you get a child?”

Nimai replied — “You will be the death of me. Go to Yama’s (Death’s) abode. This is Dada’s child.”

Nimai did not say these words to tease Santi. When she said ‘dada’s child,” she meant the child whom she got from dada. Santi did not understand this. She thought Nimai was trying to tease her. So she said, “I did not ask about the father of the child but about the mother.” Nimai having received a due retort, felt somewhat small and replied, “I do not know whose child it is, sister. Dada picked it up from somewhere. I did not find time to enquire. These are days of famine. Many people are leaving their children on the way side. How many people have come to us even to sell their children. But who will take the responsibility of another’s child?” Once more tears came to Nimai’s eyes. Nimai wiped her tears and said, “Seeing the child was so beautiful, so plump, fair as the moon, I begged the child as a gift from Dada.”

After that for a long time Santi talked to Nimai about various things. At last when Nimai’s husband returned home Santi got up and went to her own hut. Entering her hut she shut the doors and took out some ashes from the fire place and laid it aside. The cooked rice which she had cooked for herself she threw on the remaining embers. After that she stood immersed in deep thought for a long time. She then said to herself, “What I have so long determined, I shall do today. The hope for which I did not do so all these days is now fulfilled. Fulfilled or unfulfilled I do not know. My existence seems pointless. That which I determined to do, I shall do. The penance which is demanded for breaking the vow once is the same as that which is demanded for breaking the vow a hundred times.”

Thus thinking to herself Santi, threw the cooked rice into the fire and brought some fruit from the forest. Instead of rice she ate the fruit. Then she took out the sari of Dacca muslin which Nimaimoni had tried to force her to wear and tore its border. What remained of the cloth she coloured in saffron. By the time she had dyed and dried the cloth it was evening. When it was evening Santi with the doors shut occupied herself in a surprising manner. She cut off a portion of her long uncombed hair and kept it aside. What remained she twisted into matted locks. Her unkempt hair was transformed into wonderfully thick mass of matted locks. Then she tore half of the saffron cloth and wrapped it about her beautiful body. It formed the nether garment. With the other half she covered her bosom. In the room there was a tiny mirror. After a long time Santi now took it out. Having taken it out she gazed at her own reflection in the mirror. Then she said, “Ah! How shall I manage it?” Then casting aside the mirror, she took the cut hair and made it into a beard and mustaches but could not wear them. She thought to herself — “Fie! How can that be? In the old days I could do this unashamed but now it is no longer possible. But in order to get round the old man I had better keep them.” Thinking thus Santi tied the hair in her cloth. Then bringing out a large deer-skin from within, she tied it in a knot about her neck and thus covered herself from her neck to her knee. So dressed, that young Sannyasin slowly surveyed the whole room. At the 2nd watch of night, Santi dressed as a Sannyasin, opened the door and alone entered the depths of the forest. The nymphs of that forest in the dead of night heard this marvellous song echoing through the forest —

Clatter! Clatter! Where ridest thou
With flying feet?
To the wars I go, hinder not
Oh my sweet!
Hari! Hari! Hari! Hari!
’Tis my battle cry,
In the waves of War shall I plunge
Death defy,

Whose art thou? None be thine?
Why follow me?
So away to the wars, no woman can
Enchantment be.

Lord of heart! Leave me not,
I entreat;
War music sounds; hark my dear!
War drums do beat!

My impatient horse desireth war,
Hear him neigh;
Swift flies my heart, no more at home
Can I stay.
So away to the wars! No woman can
Enchantment be!