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Devadasi
Chapter Listing
Chapter XXIII
When Meena came out of her coma and realised that her baby was dead, she
screamed with all her remaining strength, and it was as much as Muthu could do
to keep her in bed. The medicines that the doctor had given to her to make her
sleep wore off all too quickly. But she was soon exhausted and was too weak
even to talk. She just lay in bed with tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
Attempts by Muthu and even by Udayar to make her take some nourishment proved
futile. Only once did she ask Udayar, ' What sins have we committed that we
should suffer like this ? '
Meena's recovery was naturally slow. It was made slower because she had really
no desire to get better. At first, it was a deep and gnawing sorrow with no
circumstances to soften the pain. But later, she desperately sought an
explanation of why she should lose her child. What sins had she committed ? Was
it because of something she had done in her former life ? Or because of the
vow of dancing she had broken ? She had been dedicated to the service of the
Lord. How can she thereafter seek to satisfy her own pleasures and hanker after
love and security ? After all, she was a devadaasi and she ought to have
followed her castes immemorial tradition of dancing. It was a divine duty laid
on her since birth and confirmed later by her own voluntary acceptance of it,
but she had lightly set it aside. Could such a vow be broken without inviting
the wrath of God ? She had no doubt performed expiations, but could one absolve
oneself of a vow of eternal service so easily merely by performing a few
meaningless ceremonies ? Having taken such a vow, how could she also expect
happiness and contentment in a life of security and domesticity, however
respectable it might be ? At moments of such guilty feelings, she wanted to go
back to the temple and to her dancing, but such thoughts were purely academic
for the present since neither her health nor her figure were then in a fit
shape for the life of a dancer.
At the same time, common sense and an innate wisdom told her that God could not
possibly approve the kind of life that most devadaasies were leading, and were
being forced to lead. She tried desperately to find a rational explanation to
the grief that had overtaken her. That was more important than anything else,
not only to console her aching heart but also to ensure that such a calamity
would not be repeated. These questions kept bothering her, for she was a
thinking woman and she wanted to understand the why and the wherefore of
things, in her own limited way. She also felt that would cure her misery as
well as ease her conscience.
In such soul searching, her mother was of no help. She merely said, ' It is
fate,' ' It was destined to happen and we must accept God's will.' But that
was not explanation enough for Meena. She too believed in fate, but she felt
that there must be a way of understanding it and then, of overcoming it.
Udayar, that strong, yet silent and simple man, also could not help her.
' When you get better, we will go on a pilgrimage and propitiate all the Gods
in all the temples,' he said. ' Then, such a calamity will not happen.
Meanwhile, you must take the medicines that the doctor has given you and get
better.'
Sometimes, she spoke to the doctor about her grief. He generally worked among
the poor and illiterate, for it was among them that he found his converts.
Upper class Hindus rarely went to him or sent for him. He had never come across
a woman of education and culture in India and to win such a one would be a
great thing for him. He tried to comfort her in his own way.
' It is difficult to know the workings of divine providence,' he told her.
' We can only accept His decisions and pray for guidance and understanding.
We find consultation in His words.'
And he gave her a Tamil Bible to read.
' Your religious books are the same as ours,' she told him the next time he
called. ' They also talk in riddles and let you draw your own conclusions.'
' But you see, we believe in one God', he explained. ' A God who is full of
mercy for the unfortunate and compassion for the sinners. We don't worship a
thousand idols.'
' We too worship one God,' Meena countered. ' But we worship Him in a thousand
forms. There are infinite aspects of God and no one individual or anyone
concept can fully describe Him or explain Him. And we worship that aspect that
is in tune with our own mood or our own needs. As a dancer, I can tell you that
is very important.'
So the doctor found out that she was a dancer by profession and that she was
not ' properly ' married to Udayar. His sense of Victorian morality and
Christian ethics were outraged. Though he continued to treat her, their
religious discussions did not proceed much further.
After about two months, Meena was well enough to go for short walks. Her first
visit was of course to the temple. She was still pale and weak, and a mere
shadow of her former self. The spirit and the liveliness she had once seemed to
have, had gone out of her life. Now, she walked down the street slowly, with
her mother for support. People hardly recognised in her the beautiful dancer
who had thrilled them less than a year ago. The priests ignored her. She found
this anonimity strangely soothing to her grief. But suffering had given her a
new dignity, maturity and self-reliance that had not been there before.
During all this time, Udayar showed a sympathy and undertn1in that one would
not have expected from him. He too was deeply grieved that they should have
lost their first offspring. But as a man, he could not make a public exhibition
of his sorrow. He knew that Meena's grief was much greater than his and that
it also involved a moral problem that he did not profess to understand. But hisgruff, abrupt manner disappeared and he treated Meena as if she were a delicate
and valuable piece of glass, to be handled with care. Meena understood and
appreciated it, and while her love for him was less demonstrative than before,
it had certainly matured and ripened.
But one day, he came to Meena. ' Meena, how long are we to go on like this ? '
he asked. ' It is only natural to be upset when we lose our first child. I too
was greatly grieved at the time, but it is the kind of sorrow that one gets
over, particularly when one is young. You cannot make it an everlasting grief.'
' You have been wonderful to me and I am sorry for you, she said. ' The fact
that you loved me when I was beautiful is not important. But that you have
stood by me when you could have walked out easily and love me now is very
precious to me. But I am still seeking for an explanation of why God should
have punished me like this.'
' How can we explain God's actions ? ' he asked miserably. ' Thousands of
babies die at birth. Is it possible to find an explanation for each and every
one of them ? '
' But I must know.'
' All I know is that it has nothing to do with your sins or mine,' he said.
' Babies born to the vilest of parents survive while those of the honest die.
Good men suffer while rogues prosper. That is the way of the world.'
But Meena was not satisfied with that sort of an explanation. ' Something tells
me that I must have gone wrong somewhere,' she insisted. ' It is a feeling I
have. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced of it. It is like
trying to remember something you have forgotten. I must know what it is so that
I can love you in future without a feeling of guilt.'
' I am glad you are thinking of the future.'
' The solution, I have is within myself; it is just that I have to find it,'
and she added as an afterthought. ' Perhaps, I should visit the holy man who
has recently come here. They say he is very good at helping people with their
problems.'
' Holy men should be visited when you are mentally sick or spiritually
troubled, ' said Udayar. ' But not in a case like yours.'
' But I am spiritually troubled ! ' countered Meena. ' That is exactly my
problem.' And then, she changed the subject. ' You have been so patient and so
considerate all this time. You have a right to expect love and affection and I
have given you nothing but misery in the last few months. But please give me a
little more time.'
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