The Poison Tree | Page 3

float in the heated air. Below them fly the
birds, like black dots. In the cocoanut trees, kites, like ministers of state,
look around to see on what they can pounce; the cranes, being only
small fry, stand raking in the mud; the dahuk (coloured herons), merry
creatures, dive in the water; other birds of a lighter kind merely fly
about. Market-boats sail along at good speed on their own behalf;
ferry-boats creep along at elephantine pace to serve the needs of others
only: cargo boats make no progress at all--that is the owners' concern.
On the third day of Nagendra's journey clouds arose and gradually
covered the sky. The river became black, the tree-tops drooped, the
paddy birds flew aloft, the water became motionless. Nagendra ordered
the manji (boatman) to run the boat in shore and make it fast. At that
moment the steersman, Rahamat Mullah, was saying his prayers, so he
made no answer. Rahamat knew nothing of his business. His mother's

father's sister was the daughter of a boatman; on that plea he had
become a hanger-on of boatmen, and accident favoured his wishes; but
he learned nothing, his work was done as fate willed. Rahamat was not
backward in speech, and when his prayers were ended he turned to the
Babu and said, "Do not be alarmed, sir, there is no cause for fear."
Rahamat was thus brave because the shore was close at hand, and could
be reached without delay, and in a few minutes the boat was secured.
Surely the gods must have had a quarrel with Rahamat Mullah, for a
great storm came up quickly. First came the wind; then the wind,
having wrestled for some moments with the boughs of the trees, called
to its brother the rain, and the two began a fine game. Brother Rain,
mounting on brother Wind's shoulders, flew along. The two together,
seizing the tree-tops, bent them down, broke the boughs, tore off the
creepers, washed away the flowers, cast up the river in great waves, and
made a general tumult. One brother flew off with Rahamat Mullah's
head-gear; the other made a fountain of his beard. The boatmen
lowered the sail, the Babu closed the windows, and the servants put the
furniture under shelter.
Nagendra was in a great strait. If, in fear of the storm, he should leave
the boat, the men would think him a coward; if he remained he would
break his word to Surja Mukhi. Some may ask, What harm if he did?
We know not, but Nagendra thought it harm. At this moment Rahamat
Mullah said, "Sir, the rope is old; I do not know what may happen. The
storm has much increased; it will be well to leave the boat."
Accordingly Nagendra got out.
No one can stand on the river bank without shelter in a heavy storm of
rain. There was no sign of abatement; therefore Nagendra, thinking it
necessary to seek for shelter, set out to walk to the village, which was
at some distance from the river, through miry paths. Presently the rain
ceased, the wind abated slightly, but the sky was still thickly covered
with clouds; therefore both wind and rain might be expected at night.
Nagendra went on, not turning back.
Though it was early in the evening, there was thick darkness, because
of the clouds. There was no sign of village, house, plain, road, or river;

but the trees, being surrounded by myriads of fireflies, looked like
artificial trees studded with diamonds. The lightning goddess also still
sent quick flashes through the now silent black and white clouds. A
woman's anger does not die away suddenly. The assembled frogs,
rejoicing in the newly fallen rain, held high festival; and if you listened
attentively the voice of the cricket might be heard, like the undying
crackle of Ravana's[1] funeral pyre. Amid the sounds might be
distinguished the fall of the rain-drops on the leaves of the trees, and
that of the leaves into the pools beneath; the noise of jackals' feet on the
wet paths, occasionally that of the birds on the trees shaking the water
from their drenched feathers, and now and then the moaning of the
almost subdued wind. Presently Nagendra saw a light in the distance.
Traversing the flooded earth, drenched by the drippings from the trees,
and frightening away the jackals, he approached the light; and on
nearing it with much difficulty, saw that it proceeded from an old
brick-built house, the door of which was open. Leaving his servant
outside, Nagendra entered the house, which he found in a frightful
condition.
[Footnote 1: King of Lanka (Ceylon), whose remains were to burn
without ceasing.]
It was not quite an ordinary house, but it had no sign of prosperity. The
door-frames were broken