That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

Why not, in the name of all that is just and holy, demand of men the same chastity that they demand of women?

I know this is not the rule in “society”; that there are many men who claim to be men of honor, gentlemen, and many of them professing Christians, who glibly talk about the beauty of chastity and virtue, and yet who feed in every pasture as if they had a right there, but if their wives step aside, then the devil is to pay, and all that.

I acted according to my sense of justice—one law for both sexes, so how could I have done otherwise than I did?

What of the Hon. gentleman, an officer in her majesty’s service? I might have shot him, and been hung for it, as that is justice according to English law. I might have exposed him and created a scandal, to be myself despised as a cuckold, and he be patted on the back by his gentlemen comrades, or laughed at for being caught. Such an escapade, by what I have read and heard, is winked at by mothers in English “society,” and constituents would not hesitate in making such a man a member of Parliament. “Young men will sow their wild oats,” is their excuse. “It is only an exuberance of gaiety—a youthful indiscretion,” say they.

An English writer, a member of Parliament, so the statement is not to be doubted, said in a newspaper article that “An Englishman is never so happy as when stealing his neighbor’s wife,” so the Hon. may still be happy stealing other men’s wives, as he stole mine. But then she was only an “Eurasian,” the wife of that “damned Eurasian,” and so fit game for an Hon. or any other gentleman.

I went to Ram Kishn, and he followed me into the arbor where we could be alone. I told him what I had done. He replied, “Sahib, I am a poor, ignorant, bhut parast, and have no more sense than if I was brother to a donkey, yet I think you are doing right.” “Now, Ram Kishn,” I inquired, “you will never tell a word of this?” He thrust out his tongue, with his teeth upon it, as if to say, if it ever utters a word may it be bitten off. And his tongue ever remained true and unbitten.

We two lived in this way in a divided house, not a home. Talk about hell fire! It could not be worse than what I endured and suffered during the long and dreary months while we lived and died a living death in every day. I provided everything I could for her comfort, the best of servants, the choicest kinds of food, books, magazines and illustrated papers. She had her drives, but alone, the carriage was for her and no one else. We seldom met, and then only for a word or two, when I asked if she needed anything. I think, as she became conscious of her sin against me, she respected me for the course I took.

She fell ill. I got the best medical attendance and nurses. The end was approaching, and then she sent for me, and confessed again that she had wronged me, and almost cursed that Hon. gentleman who, by his pious talk and seductive flatteries, had led her astray, and held her in his power, spellbound and powerless as the serpent holds the poor, weak bird, and destroyed our love and home. Why should she not curse him? “For cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it.” She did not blame me for what I had done. My kindness and consideration had made her love me more than ever. She had repented with bitter tears, until her heart was broken, and now, at the close of her life, ending so sadly, she wanted my forgiveness, which I gave most freely. She begged a parting farewell kiss, which I had no desire to refuse, and she departed, once the life of my life, but now no more.

Did I not suffer, and for her? Did I not live down in the valley of despair, and under the shadow of death, all those months and for her sake? I would have given all I possessed, even life itself, to have restored her to me as she once was—my wife.

I buried her body in a beautiful spot in the cemetery, in silence, as not a prayer or funeral note was uttered, for I had been so damnably wronged by my Christian father, and this Hon. Christian gentleman who had murdered my love, whom I had often seen, hail fellow, well met, with the chaplain, and had noticed in church piously reciting the prayers, that I hated everything associated with him, and wished to have neither priest nor prayers.