Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

More insulting than that, however, was Moro Trimmul's manner to herself; and for the first time Tara had felt what she long dreaded,—the shame, as it were, of her vocation—the unavoidable exposure to any libertine glance which might fall on her; but she had rallied herself at the shrine, and, secure in the protection of the "Mother" she adored, had persevered in her duty without interruption.

There was, as we have said, perfect stillness in the house, only broken by the dull monotonous whirr of the spinning-wheels, as her own and her mother's flew swiftly round, with which the buzz of flies in the verandah and court seemed to harmonize. Her mother appeared particularly intent upon spinning some remarkably fine yarn; and as the thread had broken on several occasions, when Tara had spoken to her, and she had complained of it, both had fallen into a silence, which had not been interrupted. Gradually, then, the small troubles which had gathered about Tara returned to her recollection; and, as is generally the case on such occasions, began, in spite of herself, to increase in proportions.

Tara's was not, however, a suspicious nature, and she had soon struck out a course for herself in regard to the sisterhood. "It is the money they want, not me: if I save it all, and give it to the Putwari to divide amongst them daily, it will surely be enough," she thought; and this she determined to do. In regard, however, to Moro Trimmul, it was very different. "Why did he look at her as he had done that day?"

Then her thoughts reverted to the time when she had first remarked him in the temple, a solitary stranger worshipper, to whom her father had spoken kindly. Her memory followed clearly his gradual steps to intimacy; but there was nothing she could charge him with, as an approach to familiarity in their intercourse. Through all the licence of the marriage time—through all her visits to his aunt and sister—there had been no violation of propriety; on the contrary, an habitual and respectful avoidance of her—or, at most, a distant and courteous salutation. Why should it have altered?

But since the night on which Gunga had spoken to her, and Moro Trimmul had made his famous declamation of the scene in the Ramayun, there had been a change. He either avoided her altogether, or his eyes dropped furtively as she passed, or met hers, as they had done that day, in a glance new to her, and inexpressibly offensive. Tara shuddered as she remembered it, and the action broke the thread she was spinning. She did not resume her work, and her hands fell listlessly on her lap as her foot ceased its motion. For a time her eyes wandered vacantly among her flowers, about which some gay butterflies were flitting and chasing each other in the bright sunlight; but suddenly a large dragonfly, which had been hovering over them, darted at one and carried it off; and as she started forward, gazing intently after it, a bird chased the insect, caught it, and flew away.

Perhaps the sudden cessation of the whirr of Tara's wheel had attracted her mother's attention; for after a while, as it was not resumed, she looked up. "What dost thou see?" she asked, anxiously; for ever since the day on which Tara said the goddess appeared to her, Anunda had been anxious, she hardly knew why: but she dreaded a return of that strange and violent excitement. "What dost thou see, beloved?"

Tara did not apparently hear the question, or did not notice it. Her hands, which had been involuntarily extended, fell upon her lap listlessly as before; but she turned towards her mother. "How long does he remain, mother?" she asked abruptly.

"He! who, daughter?" returned Anunda.

"Radha's brother," replied the girl, as a shiver seemed to pass through her; "Radha said he would go after the marriage, yet he delays. Why, mother—why does he not go?"

"Nay, and how should I know?" replied Anunda. "What is he to me? All I wanted was Radha, and we have got her; and he may go or come as he pleases. Thy father told me he had business here with the Nimbalkur and others till the Now Râtree was over, and he assists in the recitations. More I know not. Why dost thou ask? What is he to thee, Tara?"