Between Tradition and Modernity: A Sociological Reading of Bimal Mitra’s Saheb Bibi Golam

The Field

As Yogendra Singh has pointed out, ‘modernization in India started mainly with the Western contact, especially through establishment of the British rule’; the encounter between the pre-modern Hindu tradition with the modernising cultural system of the West was radical in significance (Singh, 1973, p. 85). ¹³ It brought about far-reaching changes in the social institutions and culture in India. The basic direction of these changes was towards modernisation, though in the process many a traditional institution was reinvigorated (ibid., p. 202). The locus of this modernisation, especially since the mid-18th century was the Presidency towns, namely, Bombay (now Mumbai), Calcutta (now Kolkata) and Madras (now Chennai), which were initially established as trading outposts (‘factories’) by the British East India Company and were taken over by the Crown, the British Raj, after the first war of independence, in 1858.

Significantly, the novel is located in Calcutta of the late 19th and early 20th century. Calcutta did not have the glamour of either the ancient cities like Varanasi and Madurai or the medieval cities like Delhi and Agra; it was, in the words of Rudyard Kipling, ‘Chance-directed, chance-erected’, as recalled by Churamani Chowdhury, the lawyer at the Alipore Court, in the novel (p. 5). Bimal Mitra makes ingenious use of the history of this city credited to have been founded by Job Charnock, an administrator with the British East India Company, in 1690. It is to this city that people from near and far migrated:

To attain success in life one had to come here; to convalesce one had to come here; to immerse oneself in a life of debauchery one had to come here; to become a king one had to come here; to become a pauper one had to come here. (p. 6)

Having come to and settling down in Calcutta, they came into contact with Western institutions and way of life. This contact led to the growth of a modernising subculture, or ‘Little tradition of Westernization’, as Yogendra Singh calls it (Singh, 1973, p. 202).

The rapid growth of Calcutta during the first two centuries of its existence was mainly due to the migration from surrounding villages as also from the rural hinterland. It attracted different classes of people: the landed gentry, the literate and those who had obtained some education, and the subsistence farmer and the landless poor. The landlords were attracted to the new centres of power and pleasure; they constituted the leisure class (the landlords living in the city). They had a symbiotic relationship with the ruling class and the bureaucracy and they patronaged leisure institutions like clubs, nautch houses, etc. The subsistence farmer and the landless poor migrated to the city looking for livelihood; especially after periodical famines had caused undue agrarian distress. They found a variety of jobs in the city; they became retainers of the havelis, too. The literate and educated came to the city expecting to find employment in the fast-growing new economy and bureaucracy.

The novel tells the story of Calcutta and of the various categories of people who lived there. From a conglomeration of three nondescript villages—Gobindapur, Sutanuti and Kalikata—the city had emerged as a large trade centre, a cosmopolitan living space. ¹⁴ It became the nerve centre of the new cultural awakening, popularly known as ‘the Bengal Renaissance’. Bimal Mitra’s characters represent various professions of modern urban life as also the old occupations associated with traditional feudal society. Among these characters, all faithful to life, are

the Sahebs, the aristocrats, and their unfortunate wives (the Bibis) and their employees, the Golams. The metaphor of the playing cards appears to be most appropriate indicating as they do the fluctuating fortune of individuals, as much as the stable power-relation in human society symbolising the relationship between man and man. ¹⁵ (Das 2004, p. xv)

What is noteworthy is that Bimal Mitra has brought out the nuances of the history of Calcutta and its heterogenous people with ‘a studied casual tone, never allowing the “big” events of social and political life to take priority over the usual and the common’ (ibid.).

Calcutta, the harbinger of modernisation in Bengal, was a beacon for urban aspirations. ‘The very name of Calcutta had thrilled Bhutnath right from his childhood’ (p. 26); it was his ‘city of eternal dreams’ (p. 27), a dream ‘etched indelibly’ in his heart (p. 28). He had been told by a visitor to Calcutta that the buildings there ‘rise much higher, thousand times the height of the chalita [Dillenia indica or Elephant apple] tree’ and ‘from atop those tall buildings’, ladies would be gazing down on the road below (p. 25). He had heard about the trams pulled by horses travelling at great speed. He was envious of Nani (Nanilal), his childhood friend and school fellow at Kestoganj going to Calcutta with his parents. He had been jealous and angry when he learnt that Radha (daughter of Nanda-jetha, Nanda Chakravarti), another of his childhood friend, was going to be married to someone in Calcutta.

Bhutnath, the orphan, who loses his Pishi-ma (father’s sister) decides to use the open invitation he had from Brajarakhal, widower of the now deceased Radha, and go to Calcutta after his ‘entrance examinations’. He is both amazed and bewildered by the busy city on landing in the Sealdah railway station. Brajarakhal (also known as Master Babu and called Mastermoshai) takes this innocent fictive brother-in-law (Barakutum) from his dead wife’s village under his umbrella and provides him accommodation in the two-room staff-quarters that he is occupying at the Barabari on the Banamali Sarkar Lane. He helps Bhutnath to get a writer’s job at a home-based cosmetics factory owned by Subinoy-babu, a Brahman-convert to Brahmoism. Much of Bhutnath’s observer-participation, which forms the narrative of the novel, unfolds between his life in the haveli and his work in the cosmetics factory; they constitute two contrasting lived-experience for him, as for the reader.

The Context

The story of Saheb Bibi Golam is set in a historical perspective during the decline of feudalism and the rise of capitalism in Bengal during the closing decades of the 19th century and early decades of the 20th century. It is in the city of Calcutta that a leisure community/class had grown and consolidated under the patronage of the British colonial masters. It was a community/class that had ‘earned enormously and squandered extravagantly’ ¹⁶ (Das, 2004, p. xv), a community that over time declined inevitably. Along with feudalism, the traditional Bengali society too waned, and the rigid caste barriers were broken.

Against the backdrop of a changing Calcutta, the novel focuses on an old feudal joint family, the Chowdhurys, living in a huge mansion, the Barabari haveli. The household was established in the city by Bhumipati Chowdhury, a zamindar from Sukchar subdivision of Burdwan. Currently, this collateral joint family has three units:

Baidurjyamani Chowdhury (Bara-babu), since diseased; his widow Bara-ma (Bara-bou), who suffers from an obsessive compulsion for cleanliness, untouchability and concern for morality; and their only son, Churamani Chowdhury (Chhutuk-babu), who is fond of music and dance, is a lawyer.

There are personal valets—Beni (Mejo-babu), Shahsi (Churamani) and Banshi (Chhoto-babu)—and maids—Giri (Mejo-ma), Sindhu (Bara-ma), Chinta younger sister of Banshi (Chhoto-ma). Then, there is Brij Singh, the gatekeeper, Ranga-thakuma, the storekeeper and a host of others who have been serving the family for generations. All these have migrated from a few villages or the same district in search of jobs and have put up with the Chowdhurys. Over the decades, their numbers have increased. They all belong to the sprawling Chowdhury household: ‘No one is relationless there—all were kindred—everyone’s rights were undeniable’ (p. 44).

The magnificent haveli is bubbling with life; it is as if a microcosm of the larger society. The novel tells the story of the sumptuous lifestyle of a feudal family: of the pearl ornaments ordered from France for Mejo-ma’s ‘doll’s wedding’; of a court case about the ownership of pigeons; of professional singer-dancer Kajjan Bai’s performance on the occasion of Holi, of palanquins that carried the bibis; of Chhoto-babu’s landaulet drawn by a pair of milk-white horses ‘tinkling its bells merrily’ as it came on the road (pp. 8, 11). It recounts the ‘painful moments of human vanity, recklessness and insolence, and a life of suffering and agony’ (Das, 2004, p. xvi) witnessed at the haveli. It narrates the fall of the Chowdhury family and of the decay of the feudal order, more generally. It describes, though not fully, the rise of a new society, the bourgeois society.

The gradual change taking place in the haveli and in the city is well described by the old man Lochan Das, who is in charge of preparing the hookah and tobacco for use by the haveli babus and their friends and sycophants. He tells Bhutnath that it is possible that he might lose his job overnight:

… now I hear that the Babus are planning to buy motor cars, and when that happens will Ibrahim [the coachman] still retain his job? In my youth there used to be five palanquins here; the palanquin-bearers used to live where now Dasu, the sweeper lives—no trace remains of them—if the Babus start on cheroot and cigarette who will smoke the hookah then? (pp. 81–82)

Similarly, in the city ‘there were trams drawn by horses then; now there are mechanised trams, then there will be cars’; of course, ‘what’s the use of worrying now’ (p. 82). He prophecies, ‘there’ll come a time when no one will want to have the hookah; then … but I hope I’ll die before that …’ (p. 82).

Bimal Mitra ingeniously portrays the decline of the feudal order and the rise of a modern society symbolically. The novel opens and ends with the description of the demolition of the Barabari in 1914. ‘The process of dilapidation had set in long ago. The remainder had to be effaced now’. ¹⁷ And, with this, ‘the history of the Chowdhurys would become extinct just as the memory of Banamali Sarkar Lane would be. So be it. It was rightly so’ (pp. 10, 22). In its opening pages, Charitro Mandal and his team of coolies are all set to begin their work. For their overseer Bhutnath, appointed by the City Improvement Trust, this is a cruel turn of fate. There was a time when he ‘had considered himself honoured to find shelter in this house’; he could never have imagined that ‘one day he would have to issue order for the demolition of the very same place which had once been his sanctuary …’ (p. 10).

In the concluding pages, Charitro Mandal and his team of coolies stop work and refuse to continue on finding ‘the complete skeleton of a human being’, ‘from the skull down to the toes on the feet’, lying on its face there. ‘An ornament worn by a lady—exactly like a gold girdle’ was glittering. There was no doubt in Bhutnath: it was the skeleton of his dear Chhoto Bouthan. She had been reported missing after an attack on her carriage on her way to Baranagar to perform a puja at Jasadadulal (Krishna, son of Yashoda) temple seeking divine intervention to help Chhoto-babu recover from paralysis. Bhutnath was with her but had become unconscious after the attack and been admitted to the hospital at Chandni. After seeing the skeleton, he thought ‘that now probably the change of scene of history was at last complete’ (all quotations p. 610).

The Period

Bimal Mitra, to be sure, was a history-conscious writer. Badrika-babu (also known as Ghari-babu), the idiosyncratic and whimsical character in the novel, who is in charge of the Barabari’s large collection of clocks, symbolises the march of times. He is presented as the last of the descendants of the surveyor of the 18th-century ruler, Nawab Murshid Quli Khan (also known as Zamin Ali Quli and born as Surya Narayan Mishra), the first Nawab of Bengal (1717–1727). He invokes history in his conversations, recounting places—Halsibagan, Kasimbazar—and persons—Murshid Quli Khan, Robert Clive, Philip Francis, Warren Hastings, Maharaja Nandakumar—and often highlighting the ascendancy of the British during the period depicted in the story. Bimal Mitra’s narrative shows how the decline of Bengali society and the ascendancy of the British Raj were coterminous.

As the translators point out, Bimal Mitra recognises the positive change taking place in the Bengali society of the period:

the rise of Swami Vivekananda connoting an all-embracing humanistic religion loosening the rigidities of Hindu conservatism and the growth of the swadeshi movement (a movement for the reassertion of the identity of the homeland which was a political and economic movement directed against the British rule in Bengal). (Sarker and Sarker, 2004, p. ix)

Brajarakhal tells Bhutnath about how ‘Naren [Narendranath Datta, who became Swami Vivekananda] has opened our eyes’ and he will ‘one day become the saviour of the country’ (p. 94). Brajarakhal is on his way to Baranagar to make necessary arrangements for receiving Swami Vivekananda who was returning from his long foreign tour. Bhutnath learns that Brajarakhal had donated his entire salary for the month to feed his ‘brother disciples’ who were going through a bad phase since the death of ‘Thakur’ (Paramahamsa) (p. 95). To Bhutnath

human poverty had not appeared to be so stark when he had been at Fatehpur. A few months’ stay in Calcutta had sharpened [his] sensibilities. There was scarcity all around; want everywhere. A beggar would follow one all the way right from Barabazar to Madhav-babu’s Bazar seeking just half a pice[sic] …’ (p. 95)

The victims of the Midnapore famine and Paridpore flood had all converged in Calcutta. Ironically, ‘there were so many people in Barabari indulging in so much of waste, and no one to question’ (p. 96). So goes the contradiction of urbanisation and urban life.

After the last leg of his lecture meeting engagements, Swami Vivekananda arrived from Madras at Sealdah railway station on 19 February 1897. Bhutnath could see ‘only human heads in the entire expanse’ of the station. As the ‘whistle of the engine was heard’, cries of ‘Glory to Ramakrishna, Glory to Vivekananda’ from the crowd rented the air (p. 125). ‘The entire city beyond Sealdah station echoed the cries of elation’ (p. 126). He heard of Swami Vivekananda’s visit to the house of Gopal Seal of Kashipur.

Bimal Mitra builds into his narrative through Bhutnath as an observer–participant such markers of transition as the cyclone at Diamond Harbour and the epidemic of cholera in Calcutta in 1833, the anti-colonialist activities of the Jubak Sangha (Youth Club) near Goldighi and of the Society for Self-Development, the visit of people from ‘Chapekar Club’ (Jatin Banerjee, Barin Ghosh and his elder brother Aurobindo Ghosh), the visit of the Governor-General to the Senate Hall of the Calcutta University for the convocation on 21 February 1905; Sister Nivedita (born Margaret Elizabeth Noble, an Irish woman initiated to Ramakrishna Mission by Swami Vivekananda) blazing a trail showing the way, the publication of Lord Curzon’s Problems of the Far East, the first Partition of Bengal in 1905 and its reunification in 1911, Douglas H. Kingsford (Chief Presidency Magistrate of Calcutta) hearing ‘Bande Mataram’ shouted by some persons from behind him, and so on. Although Bimal Mitra covers the epochal events and famous personalities of the period, his focus is on how they affected the common people in their everyday lives.

Socio-Religious Reform

The process of modernisation set in motion by British colonialism had two distinct consequences in the socio-religious sphere in Bengal. On the one hand, there emerged sects which emphasised assimilation of Western cultural norms and modes of learning, and ran a crusade against the obscurantist traditions in Hinduism. The notable among these sects was the Brahmo Samaj; ¹⁸ the leading figures in this socio-religious movement were Raja Rammohun Roy (1772–1833) and Debendranath Tagore (1817–1905; father of Rabindranath Tagore). The Visva Bharati University, founded by Rabindranath Tagore, in 1921, is an expression of Brahmo universalism. On the other hand, it also led to the revivalism of Hinduism as a reformed faith led by Ramakrishna Paramahamsa (born Gadadhar Chattopadhyay; 1836–1886), a Hindu mystic, who proclaimed the essential unity of all religions. His chosen successor Swami Vivekananda (1863–1902) founded the Hindu religious society, Ramakrishna Mission, in 1897, to carry out educational and philanthropic work and expound a modern version of the Advaita Vedanta school of Indian philosophy.

In the novel, Brajarakhal, Bhutnath’s benefactor, regards ‘Paramahamsa Deva’ as his ‘gurudev’ and ‘Thakur’ and bows in reverence to his garlanded photograph, and asks Bhutnath to do so, too. To explain gurudev’s philosophy to Bhutnath, Brajarakhal recounts what gurudev had told him when he sought solace at Dakshineshwar (Paramahamsa’s abode) after Radha’s death:

‘… in this world there are as many paths as there are faiths, none is perfect. … You continue with what you have been doing—you will find Shiva in ‘Jiba’ or life around you. And even if you don’t find so what? …. For example, everybody feels that his watch is correct but no two watches show the correct time—no one is sure what the actual time is—but does that in any way hamper anything?’ (p. 52)

Brajarakhal, the orthodox Hindu devotee of Paramahamsa, helps Bhutnath to get a job at ‘the office of Mohini Sindhur’, a home-based cosmetic factory run by his friend Subinoy-babu, on a starting monthly salary of seven rupees and a free lunch in the afternoon. Subinoy-babu is described by Brajarakhal as ‘a very dedicated person with high moral sense’, a Brahmo of the Nababidhan-Sabha. When Bhutnath is told that his would-be employer is a Brahmo, and what Brahmos are, he asks Brajarakhal: ‘If they ask me to give up Hinduism?’ Brajarakhal replies, ‘You must not’, and goes on to clarify: ‘Religion has to do with your inner belief—if you feel that those seven rupees are more important, then you must become a Brahmo, go to the Brahmo Samaj and get yourself initiated’ (p. 54). This well sums up the dilemma many an urban Hindu would have faced in that period.

Brajarakhal clarifies that Subinoy-babu is ‘a bit of a conservative’: ‘He thinks that whatever Keshav-babu says is the ultimate truth—that others know nothing. Let him say so if he wishes; how does that affect either you or me?’ (p. 54). A wise practical advice. Incidentally, Keshav-babu is Keshab Chunder Sen (1838–1884), a disciple of Debendranath Tagore, who seceded and formed the Brahmo Samaj of India. This breakaway Samaj was eclectic and cosmopolitan and was very influential in the movement for social reform. It advocated temperance, encouraged the education of women and campaigned against child marriage and for the remarriage of widows. When Sen violated his own reformist principles by arranging the marriage of his under-age daughter to the Prince of Cooch Behar, many of his followers rebelled and formed the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj, in 1878.

It is through Bhutnath that we get an entry into the Brahmo household of Subinoy-babu, his mentally ailing wife (Ranu) and their charming but taunting daughter Jaba (Jabamayee). Bimal Mitra provides a study in contrast between the simple and frugal Brahmo household, characterised by an open social atmosphere, on the one hand, and the complex and extravagant feudal household, characterised by rigid traditions and oppressive patriarchy, on the other. The contrast, in other words, is between a modern household influenced by the Western ethos and a traditional household mired in the ethos of an obscurantist past. ¹⁹

The free lunch for Bhutnath at Subinoy-babu’s place is cooked by a crook of a Brahman Maharaj. When Bhutnath expresses his dissatisfaction with the quantity as well as the quality of the food served, the tyrannous cook threatens him. Jaba overhears it and the truth is let out of the bag. The cook is dismissed and Jaba herself starts cooking. Bhutnath is chided by Subinoy-babu for being docile and uncomplaining, a trait that he associates with his rural background, a trait which he regards as being responsible for the subjection and exploitation of Indians by the colonial masters. If passive acquiescence and conformity are associated with tradition, protest and rebellion against injustice are stressed as an attribute of modernity.

Interestingly, Jaba asks Bhutnath: are you worried about ‘losing your position in your caste’, as he will have to eat food cooked by her, ‘a non-Hindu’. She taunts, ‘Go home and think about it tonight—take the whole night to think—and whatever you decide tomorrow, I’ll make arrangements accordingly’ (p. 78). In another context, Nanilal, Bhutnath’s old friend who is now settled in Calcutta, on learning that Bhutnath does not even take tea, comments: ‘You are still a villager. …You still presume to stick to your Brahminism after coming to Calcutta!’ (p. 127). Bimal Mitra brilliantly elucidates the breakdown of the rigid norms governing food habits and commensality.

Being accustomed to patriarchy and respect for traditions, Bhutnath wonders ‘to which society those people [Subinoy-babu and Jaba] belonged’. None of the women he had known back in the village—‘Radha, Anna, Haridasi’—had ever made him so uncomfortable, as Jaba did. He asks himself: ‘Were all the girls of the city like this? Or were the women of Brahmo Samaj like this’ (p.78). In fact, he tells Jaba that ‘all girls are not like you’ (p. 118). A neat exposition by Bimal Mitra of tradition-oriented men encountering modern women.

The Two Rationalities

At his home-based cosmetics factory, Subinoy-babu manufactures and sells ‘Mohini Sindhur’ (Enchanting Vermilion), ‘Mohini Angti’ (Enchanting Ring) and ‘Mohini Aina’ (Enchanting Mirror). ‘Mohini Sindhur’ is the brand name of the vermillion, which is advertised and sold for its supposed magical powers: ‘those who want to win the love of their sweethearts; or wish to have the power over their loved ones …’ (p. 60) could benefit from its use. It is Mohini Sindhur that brings Bhutnath into a golam–bibi relationship with Chhoto Bouthan. A young woman from a poor family married into a wealthy household but lives a lonely life, Chhoto Bouthan wants to wean her husband away from alcohol and the courtesan Chunibala-dasi; a young woman from a poor family who wants to experience real conjugality.

Chhoto Bouthan, who had happened to see the advertisement of Mohini Sindhur as she was browsing through the ‘ephemeris’ (Panchāng; Hindu calendar and almanac), hopes this magical vermilion can help her. While asking Bhutnath to buy for her a packet of Mohini Sindhur, she wants him to confirm from his boss ‘if “Mohini Sindhur” is effective in the case of human beings, will it or will not be as effective in the case of fallen angels [like herself]’ (p. 110). Mohini Sindhur, which marks a turning point in the novel, is a study in contrast between two types of rationalities: the ethnical rationality associated with tradition and the instrumental rationality associated with modernity.

The terms, ‘ethical rationality’ and ‘instrumental rationality’ are, no doubt, not used by Bimal Mitra. Adopting Max Weber’s typology of social action, I have used them to analyse the episode: the former is characteristic of ‘Traditional action’ (action ‘determined by ingrained habituation’) and ‘Wertrational (value rational) action’ (rational action in relation to an ‘absolute value’, which itself may not be rational), whereas the latter is akin to ‘Zweckrational (instrumentally rational) action’ (rational action in relation to an empirically realisable goal) (Jayaram, 2023, pp. 174–177).

Chhoto Bouthan hopefully expects in Mohini Sindhur the means to get her husband to honour her conjugal rights. To get this minimum traditional obligation assured by patriarchal norms fulfilled, she does all that is in her power to entice her husband: presenting herself in finery, saying prayers and offering puja to Jasadadulal, and even drinking alcohol! Interestingly, as if it is a self-fulfilling hope, Chhoto Bouthan tells Bhutnath that ‘Mohini Sindhur has done wonders for me …I have tried everything … but nothing had helped—but Mohini Sindhur has’ (p. 195): ‘Chhoto-karta [her husband] has promised me that he will not go to that place in Janbazar again, that he will spend the nights at home, if I …’ (p. 195). Then, she becomes a slave of alcohol.

But how can Subinoy-Babu, a staunch member of the Brahmo Samaj which believes in science and rationality and which is critical of obscurantist rituals and practices, manufacture, sell and profit from Mohini Sindhur, which is advertised as possessing magical powers. This is evidently contradictory: a case of a Brahmo capitalising on superstition. Initially, Subinoy-babu’s explanation is that ‘this is a hereditary business’ started by his father who was a staunch devotee of Goddess Kali, who was blessed by her and ‘given the divine formula of Mohini Sindhur during meditation’ and that he is obliged to carry on this family business (pp. 114, 116). At best, this is traditional rationality; at worst, this is rationalisation using tradition.

Jaba is evasive. When Bhutnath asks her if Mohini Sindhur yields the desired result, she replies: ‘Everything is written in the advertisements in the ephemeris.’ (p. 118). ‘I do not know anything more than that. I have had no need to use that vermilion’ (p. 119). Instead, she retorts jocularly if he wants to experiment it on her and if so, ‘You will be the loser, I must warn you’ (p. 119).

About continuing the business, although Subinoy-babu’s ‘mind says, “You did right”, the heart says “No”’ (p. 116). But, ultimately, his heart wins, ethical rationality wins; he decides to close down the business: ‘I will not carry on that hoax, my conscience pricks me’, he tells Bhutnath. Jaba, however, continues with her instrumental rationality. She asks Bhutnath, ‘… if people willingly come forward to be cheated what can we do?’ (p. 160). But she has to go with her father’s decision. He closes down the business and gives away his property and most of his money to charity by way of repenting his ‘wrong doings’; and decides to ‘immerse myself in self-abnegation—I will get peace and become pure, after renouncing everything’ (p. 227). ²⁰ The traditional ethical rationality takes him over. Bhutnath is horrified and wonders if he has not been a party to cheating Chhoto Bouthan; he, too, is influenced by ethical rationality.

Child Marriage

Child marriage was a widely practiced social institution among the upper castes of Bengal in the 19th century and early 20th century. ²¹ The beliefs underlying this practice as well as its consequences, especially for the girls in a patriarchal society, have naturally attracted the attention of many a Bengali litterateur. In the instant novel, too, the practice of child marriage appears as a significant motif. Bimal Mitra weaves around it an interesting analysis of the relation between Bhutnath, a traditional rural Brahman, and Jaba, his Brahmo employer’s urban-bred modernist daughter.

Bhutnath’s ‘relationship with Jaba was not a straightforward one, nor one of equals’. As the daughter of an educated and well-to-do Subinoy-babu, Jaba is a lady (bibi); as his employee, Bhutnath is a commoner (golam). Bhutnath had been constantly reminded by his benefactor Brajarakhal about his status as a golam, and that he should not be hobnobbing with sahebs and bibis. This, of course, does not prevent him from developing a soft corner for Jaba, and even a love, though unrequited, for her. Often ‘the vision of Jaba would float before his eyes’ (p. 511). But, he was ‘aware of the limits of his rights and was quite conscious about not crossing the limits’ (p. 511); ‘he would be ashamed at the over-reaching extent of his desires and aspirations’ (p. 12). After all, he had once committed the indiscretion of pulling the pallu of Jaba’s saree, for which he felt terribly ashamed. Remembering his commoner status, he would tell her: ‘Whenever in your life the need arises, call me. I should consider my life worthwhile if I could be of any service to you’ (p. 334).

Jaba is betrothed to Supabitra—‘very intelligent, he has passed his M.A. Now he is studying law’ (p. 114); ‘Who can match his single-minded dedication and the intensity of his love?’ (p. 421). Jaba would forget herself while talking of Supabitra: ‘The movement of the needle in her hand came to a stop on its own. Jaba seemed to be talking to herself.’ (p. 421). Her father had told her: ‘You have chosen to make him [Supabitra] your life partner, my dear, what do I have to say in the matter?’ (p. 133). When Jaba says, ‘At least say that you approve of my choice’, he responds: ‘I have never objected to anything you have wanted, my dear.’ (p. 133). Thus, Jaba’s marriage to Supabitra is settled, the modern way, it is not traditionally arranged. However, anxious of the uncertainties that such a marriage may entail, she once tells Bhutnath:

Sometimes I think … it would have been infinitely better if I had been born a Hindu. I would have accepted as a husband any one chosen by my parents—all these problems would not have dogged me––at least I could have taken it easy by relying on luck to take care of my well-being. (p. 334)

On the night before his death, Subinoy-babu, who wants to unburden himself of a truth which he had suppressed all these years, tells Jaba in privacy that she had been married as a child (of two months). She is dumbfounded. What she has heard puts Jaba in a moral quandary. Her father, no doubt, asks her to marry Supabitra as her marriage when still a child is not valid. But, as one who had been brought up as a child in her Brahman grandfather Ramhari Bhattacharjee’s house in Balrampur, she can hardly forget her ‘duty’ as a ‘wife’. Moreover, Dharmadas-babu, a Brahmo himself, had told her: ‘a faithful wife should have but one concern; a whole-hearted identification with the husband, in whom lies her final destination, in whom she ought to find the greatest pleasure, whom she should consider her most cherished treasure’ (p. 514–515). So, she tells Bhutnath that she cannot consent to the marriage: ‘A woman who has a husband should not marry a second time’ (p. 515). She asks Supabitra to go home and never come again.

All the same, torn between tradition (i.e., as a Hindu honouring her marriage though it was when she was still a child) or modernity (i.e., ignoring that marriage as a convert to Brahomoism), Jaba asks Dharmadas-babu: ‘… will you please explain to me whether the past represents the truth, or the present’. He answers: ‘truth is for all times—truth has neither past nor present’. Jaba seeks a clarification: ‘But that truth which had occurred outside my knowledge, beyond the pale of my consciousness, say at the age of two months—do I have to believe in that truth as the ultimate truth?’ Dharmadas-babu responds: ‘It matters little that it had happened many years ago or it had happened at a particular age of an individual. When the self becomes the sole consideration it becomes the untruth, it gets polluted’ (all quotations, p. 485).

Fishing out the ‘evidence’ she has in the form of secret letters from her grandmother to her father, from her father’s ‘old wooden box’, she entrusts Bhutnath to ascertain the veracity of the facts and find out if her ‘husband’ is still alive and his whereabouts. Much against Bhutnath’s persuasion and argument in favour of her marrying Supabitra, Jaba contends that

So long as he [her husband] is alive I have to recognise him for what he is to me—he is my husband. … My education, my culture tells me that marriage connotes religion, it is an integral part of religion; marriage is not an indulgence in momentary luxury nor is it a formality. (p. 523)

When Bhutnath peruses the letters and checks the names of the bridegroom (Atul Chakrabarti), his father (Satish Chandra Chakrabarti) and address (residence Fatehpur, post office Gazna in the district of Nadia), he discovers that he himself was the child bridegroom. Momentarily, he is astonished. Although he felt no guilt in the feeling of happiness, after cogitating on whether to reveal his identity instantly or otherwise, he leaves Jaba promising to come back with the information. The question, ‘What relation is there between us?’, which both Jaba and Bhutnath had asked each other in their interactions, assumes poignancy here.

From his interaction with Nanda-jetha, Bhutnath comes to know about the circumstances under which the child marriage took place one night; why Jaba’s grandfather kept the matter a secret from everyone; and how Bhutnath’s people were upset to learn that the child-bride was the daughter, not of a Brahman, but of a Brahmo, and proposed to get him married again. Nand-jetha was surprised that Bhutnath had come to know of the past truth, though no adult who was a party to the marriage was alive now.

After his fact-finding mission, there is a lapse of time before Bhutnath visits Jaba’s house. He had been hospitalised after being injured in the attack on Chhoto Bouthan’s carriage when he was accompanying her for a puja to Jasadadulal temple in Baranagar. When he arrives and later finds an indisposed Jaba, he leaves a letter for her with the maid. In the letter he writes, ‘I have come to know from enquiries at possible places, that Atul Chakraborty is dead. No one of that family is alive anywhere. You ought not have any qualms in marrying Supabitra …’ (p. 602). When he meets Jaba again, she asks him, ‘Tell me truly, did you not find any trace of him [Atul Chakraborty]?’ He responds: ‘He might be existing in his ghostly form but what would you do with that?’ (pp. 604–605). When Jaba suggests that he should get married as that would make him happy, he laughs and says, ‘Who told you, Jaba, I have any unhappiness. Besides I cannot marry again, I am already married.’ (p. 605). He evades her question as to whom, when and where did he get married. The last he meets Jaba is on the day of her marriage to Supabitra. ²²

The entire episode of child marriage is rich with nuances of the relationship between tradition and modernity. It emphasises that tradition does not disappear with modernity; modernity, in a way, absorbs tradition. So, to essentialise the tradition–modern dichotomy is to misunderstand both; modernisation remains an incomplete process.