[adapted]

by
Rabindranath Tagore

Gouri was a beautiful girl, brought up with care, from an old and rich family. Her husband, Paresh, had recently, by his own hard work, made his poor situation better. While he was poor, Gouri’s parents kept their daughter at home, not willing to let her live in need; so she was no longer young when she at last went to her husband’s house. And Paresh never quite felt that she belonged to him. He was a lawyer in a small town in the west, and he had no close family with him.

He thought only about his wife, so much that sometimes he came home before the Court opened for the day. At first, Gouri did not understand why he came back so suddenly. Sometimes he also sent away one of the servants for no reason at all; none of them pleased him for long. If Gouri wanted to keep a certain servant because he was useful, that man was sure to be sent away at once. The proud, lively Gouri felt very upset about this, but her anger only made her husband’s behavior even stranger.

At last, when Paresh could not control himself any longer, he secretly began to question the maid again and again about her, and soon his wife heard about it. She was a woman who spoke little, but her pride was angry inside her like a hurt lioness at these insults, and this mad suspicion came between them like a sharp sword. Paresh, as soon as he saw that his wife understood why he did this, no longer felt shy about accusing Gouri to her face; and the more his wife met it with cold, silent dislike, the more the fire of his jealousy burned him.

Without joy in marriage, the childless Gouri turned to the comfort of religion. She called for Paramananda Swami, the young preacher of the Prayer-House nearby, and, after accepting him as her spiritual teacher in a formal way, asked him to explain the Gita to her. All the wasted love and affection of her woman’s heart was given with deep respect at the feet of her Guru.

No one had any doubts that Paramananda was pure and good. All respected him. And because Paresh was afraid to show any doubt about him, his jealousy ate into his heart like a secret sickness.

One day, a small thing made Paresh very angry. Paresh spoke badly about Paramananda to his wife, calling him a fake, and said: ‘Can you swear that you are not in love with this man who only pretends to be a holy man?’

Gouri jumped up like a snake that someone stepped on, and, made angry because he did not trust her, said in an angry way: “And what if I am?” At this, Paresh at once went to the courthouse, and locked the door on her.

In very great anger at this last bad thing, Gouri somehow got the door open, and then left the house.

Paramananda was reading the holy books in his lonely room in the quiet of noon. All at once, like a flash of lightning in a clear sky, Gouri came in and stopped his reading.

‘Are you here?’ her Guru asked in surprise.

‘Save me, O my lord Guru,’ she said, ‘from the insults of my home life, and please let me serve at your feet with all my heart.’

After a strict scolding, Paramananda sent Gouri back home. But I wonder if he ever started his reading again.

When Paresh came home and saw that the door was open, he asked, “Who has been here?”

‘No one!’ his wife said. ‘I went to my teacher’s house.’

‘Why?’ asked Paresh, turning pale and then red.

‘Because I wanted to do it.’

From that day Paresh kept a guard at the house, and acted so very silly that the story of his jealousy was told all over the town.

The news about the unkind words people said to his student every day disturbed Paramananda when he tried to pray. He felt he should leave the place right away, but at the same time he could not decide to leave the woman who was in pain behind and alone. Who can say how the poor holy man got through those terrible days and nights?

At last one day Gouri, who was locked up, got a letter. ‘My child,’ it said, ‘it is true that many holy women have left the world to give their lives to God. If it happens that the troubles of this world are pushing your thoughts away from God, I will, with God’s help, save his servant for the holy service at his feet. If you want, you may meet me by the pond in your garden at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.’

Gouri hid the letter in her hair. At noon the next day, when she took down her hair before her bath, she found that the letter was not there. She wondered if it had fallen on the bed and gone into her husband’s hands. At first, she felt a kind of strong pleasure when she thought it would make him very angry; and then she could not bear to think that this letter, worn like a halo of freedom on her head, might be made dirty by the touch of rude hands.

With quick steps, she hurried to her husband’s room. He was lying on the floor, groaning, his eyes turned up and foam at his mouth. She took the letter from his tight fist and quickly called a doctor.

The doctor said it was a stroke. The patient had died before he arrived.

On that very same day, by chance, Paresh had an important appointment away from home. Paramananda had found this out, and so he made his own appointment with Gouri. He had fallen so very low!

When Gouri, who was a widow, saw from the window her Guru moving quietly like a thief to the side of the pool, she lowered her eyes as if there was a flash of lightning. And in that flash she saw clearly how far he had fallen.

The teacher called: ‘Gouri.’

‘I am coming,’ she said.

When Paresh’s friends heard that he had died, and came to help with the funeral, they found the body of Gouri lying next to her husband’s body. She had poisoned herself. Everyone was full of praise for the loyalty she showed as a wife by doing sati, a loyalty that was very rare in these bad times.