Chapter 47 "Jilibara"

(India) Tagore 1 Jiribala—in the creases of her dress, in the turn of her neck, in the movement of her hands, in the rhythm of her quick steps, in her jingling anklets and clear laughter, In her voice and in her glance, there seemed to flow the exuberant youth that overflowed all around her.She was often seen, in a blue silk sari, walking on the verandah under a meaningless restless impulse.Her limbs seemed eager to dance to the incessant, inaudible inner music.It would also please her simply to turn her body to make the springs of her youthful body splash.She would suddenly pluck a flower or leaf from a flower pot and throw it into the air, her wrist bracelets would make a sound, and the gentle movement of her hand would be like a bird released from a cage, flying into the air and disappearing.She brushed her clean clothes with light fingers; she stood on tiptoe for no reason to peek over the verandah wall, then turned hastily in the other direction.A bunch of keys tied to the corner of her clothes flew around.When it was not time to make up, she suddenly loosened her hair in front of the mirror and combed it again, and suddenly threw herself on the bed in a burst of lethargy, like a ray of moonlight passing through the gaps in leaves, resting in the shadows.

She married into a rich family, had no children, and she had nothing to do.In this way she herself is like a water bottle that goes in and out until it overflows.She has a husband, but she can't control him.She grew from a young girl to a woman, but because she was too familiar with her, her husband did not notice her growth. When she first married, her husband, Gopinath, was in college. He often played truant tricks and secretly came to woo Jiribala while the adults in his family were taking a nap.Although they lived in the same house, he would find occasion to write to her on colored letterhead smudged with rosewater, even deliberately exaggerating his imagined troubles of unrequited love.

At this time his father died and he became the sole heir.Like an immature piece of wood, Gopinath's immature youth attracted many parasites, and they began to burrow into his body.Since then, he has been at odds with his wife. Leadership is a dangerous fascination that has killed many strong men.A mindless and virtuous man, held as leader by a small circle of flatterers in his own drawing-room, had an equally terrible allure to him.Among his friends and acquaintances, Copinade regarded himself as a hero, and every day devised novel ways of squandering.The reputation he had acquired among his circle for extravagance encouraged him not only to maintain it, but to continually exceed it.

At the same time, in her lonely youth, Jiribala is like a queen with only a throne and no subjects.She knew that she had the power to make all the men of the world her captives, but she had no such opportunity. Jiribala had a maid named Suda.She could sing, dance, compose poems as she pleased, and openly expressed her regret that such a beauty as her mistress should be rationed to a fool who possessed her and forgot to appreciate her.Giribala never tires of Suda's descriptions and praises of her magic and beauty, and at the same time contradicts her, calling her a liar and a sycophant, making Suda so excited to swear to all the gods that she Her love is sincere—these words, even if there are no heavy oaths attached, would not be difficult for Jiri Bara to believe.

Suda often sings a hymn to her, the first line is: Let me write the name of a slave on the soles of your feet. In her fantasy, Giribala can feel her beautiful feet. Write the words that those conquered hearts will never be slaves, so long as these feet are in the cause of conquest, they can be free. But the woman for whom her husband Gopinath was willing to sacrifice his life as a slave was Ravanga.That actress is good at playing a girl who is sad and haggard for a hopeless love, and is good at fainting on stage with a wonderful natural and realistic posture.When her husband was still under her influence, Jiribala often heard him talk about this woman's superb acting skills. In her jealous curiosity, she wanted to see Lavanga's performance, but she had to. With her husband's permission, because he was adamant that the theater was not a place for good women to go.

In the end, she bought a movie ticket and asked Suda to watch a famous show performed by this famous actress. When Suda came back to report to her, she couldn't praise Lavanga's appearance or acting skills.For obvious reasons, she had great confidence in Suda's appreciation, and she believed Suda's sarcastic description without hesitation. When her husband dumps him because he is infatuated with this woman, she becomes confused.But Suda repeatedly restated her opinion with greater passion, comparing Lavanga to a piece of charred wood in a woman's dress.Jiribala decided to go secretly to the theater by herself to find out the problem thoroughly.

One evening, with the excitement of violating the prohibition, she actually went into the theater, and the throbbing of her heart made what she saw there particularly charming.She gazed at the faces of the audience, illuminated by the unnatural light; by the magic of the music and the painted scenery, the theater seemed to her a world like this: There society suddenly breaks loose from its laws of gravitation. From the short-walled lanai and the lonely home, she entered a place where dream and reality held the hand of friendship over the cup of art. The bell rang, the band stopped playing, the audience sat quietly in their seats, the lights on the stage were brightened, and the curtains were raised.From the mystery of the invisible world, suddenly appearing under the light, the shepherd girls in the Valinda forest began to dance amidst the singing of the chorus, and the burst of applause from the audience echoed the rhythm of the dance.Jiribala's blood began to flow, and at this moment she forgot that her life was still limited to her environment, and she had not escaped into a world where all laws were melted in music.

Suda disturbed her with anxious whispers from time to time, urging her to go home quickly for fear of being seen.But she did not heed this advice, because her sense of fear had disappeared. The play went on.Krishna had offended his lover Radha, and she, hurt by her pride, refused to talk to him any more. It was useless for him to plead with her and prostrate at her feet.Ji Libara's heart seemed to burst.She fancied that she was the angry Radha; she felt that there was in her, too, a womanly charm to preserve her pride.She had heard what a woman's beauty was a power in the world, and tonight it was elusive to her.

At last the curtain fell, the lights dimmed, and the audience prepared to leave the theater, while Jiribala sat dreamily. The thought that she must go home faded from her mind.She was waiting for the curtain to rise again and the immortal scene of Krishna's humiliation at the feet of Radha to continue, but Suda came to remind her that the play was over and the lights were about to go out. Jiribala got home very late.In her deserted and quiet room, a dim kerosene lamp was lit, and the mosquito net on her empty bed by the window swayed gently in the breeze.Her world seemed so banal and disgusting to her, like rotten fruit thrown into a dirt box.

From then on she went to the theater every Saturday, and her fascination with the theater had faded a lot from the first time she saw it.The vulgarity of the makeup and the hypocrisy of the emotions of the actresses gradually became more apparent, but the habit had grown on her.Every time the curtain was raised, the windows of the prison of her life seemed to open before her eyes, the stage cut off from the real world by gilded frames and scenery, lighting arrangements, even shallow clichés, for She seems to be all fairyland, and it is not impossible for her to occupy the throne of fairyland queen there.

The first time she saw her husband applaud a certain actress in the audience for the first time, she felt a strong disgust, and in her heart, she prayed for the day when she could kick him away with contempt.But the day seemed more remote every day, for Copinade was now easily absent at home, swept away somewhere in the whirlwind of debauchery. On a night in March, in the light of a full moon, Jiribala sat on the verandah in a pale yellow robe.It was her daily custom to be festively adorned, for these precious jewels were to her like wine, and they made her limbs more beautiful; she felt like a tree in spring, for the joy of all the blossoms on its branches. And trembling.On her arms she wore a bracelet of diamonds, around her neck a necklace of rubies and pearls, and on the little finger of her left hand a ring of large sapphires. Suda sat at her feet, stroking her bare feet with her hands adoringly, expressing that she wished she could become a man and give his life to honor such a pair of feet. Suda hummed a love song to her in a low voice, and the dusk gradually darkened.Everyone in the family has gone to bed after dinner.Gopinath suddenly appeared reeking of alcohol, Su Da hurriedly covered her face with a sari, and ran away from the balcony. Jiribala, thinking for a moment that her day had come at last, turned her face away and sat in silence. But the curtain of her stage did not rise, and from the lips of her hero sang no song of entreaty: Hear the moonlight's plea, my love, and don't hide your face. Gopinath said in his hoarse, rough voice, "Give me your key." A gust of south wind, like the sigh of a tainted romance in poetry, filled the terrace with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, and loosened a lock of hair on Giribala's cheek.Putting her pride aside, she stood up and said, "If you will listen to what I have to say, you will have the key." Gopinath said, "I cannot delay, give me the key." Jiribara said: "I will give you the key and everything in the safe, but you must not leave me." Copinade said: "This can't be done, I have other important things." "Then you won't get the key," said Jiribara. Copinard began to rummage around.He opened the drawer of the dressing table, broke the lock of Jiribara's cosmetics box, smashed the mirror door of her wardrobe, groped for the mattress under the pillow, but he couldn't find the key.Jiribala stood frozen and silent by the door, staring into space like a stone statue.Gopinath came to her, trembling with anger, and said in a roaring voice, "If you don't give me the key, you will regret it." Jiribala didn't answer, Gopinath pushed her against the wall, snatched her armlets, necklace and ring, and kicked her before leaving. No one in the family was alarmed, and none in the neighbors knew of the atrocity, the moonlight was still gentle, the stillness of the night was not broken, and in this solemn silence the heart would be torn and never restored. The next morning, Jiribala said she was going to visit her father and left the house.Since no one knows where Gopinath is, she is not responsible to anyone in the family, and no one notices her absence. The theater that Copinade frequented was rehearsing a new play, "Manorima."Ravinka played the role of the heroine Maunorema, and Gopinath and his party members sat in the front seats, loudly cheering for the actress he admired.This greatly disturbed the rehearsal, but the proprietors of the theater did not dare to offend the customer for fear of his revenge.One day he went backstage to molest an actress, so with the assistance of the police, he was kicked out. Gopinath decided to take revenge. When the new play "Manorima" made a lot of preparations and published many sensational advertisements, and was about to perform, Gopinath took the main character Ravanka without a trace. Taken away.The manager of the theater was taken aback. He postponed the opening date, found a new actor, taught her the lines and movements, and, with considerable apprehension, performed before the audience. But the success of the play was unexpected and unprecedented. When the news reached Gopinath, he could no longer restrain his curiosity and came to watch the play. The play begins with Maunorema at her husband's house, belittled and neglected, and towards the end of the play, his husband abandons her, hides his first marriage, and seeks to have sex with a rich man. Daughter gets married.After the wedding, the veil was removed from the bride's face, and she turned out to be Manorima, but she was no longer the former slave girl, but was as beautiful as the queen in appearance and dress.It turned out that when she was young, she was snatched from her rich father's house and raised in a poor family.Her father tracked down her husband's house, took her back, and re-wedded her with proper etiquette. In the last scene, just as the husband is going through a period of his regret and shame,--as a playful play should be--there is a sudden commotion among the audience.Copinade showed no surprise when Manorima appeared unnoticed in her slave-girl position; Her beautiful solemn and proud posture, she turned her face to the audience, bowed her neck slightly, and shot a flaming ecstatic glance at Gopinath, the applause continued to rise and fall like waves, and the enthusiasm of the audience was infinitely high. All of a sudden, Gopinath called out in a thick voice, "Giribala", and he rushed onto the stage like a madman.The audience shouted, "Get him out!" The police pulled him away, and he struggled to cry, "I'm going to kill her!" The curtain fell.