Nil Darpan; or, The Indigo Planting Mirror, A Drama.: Translated from the Bengali by a Native.Mitra, Dinabandhu
History
Nil Darpan; or, The Indigo Planting Mirror, A Drama.: Translated from the Bengali by a Native.
Mitra, Dinabandhu
Indigo industry -- India -- Bengal -- Drama
_Torap._ Do you want to show such ill-usage and bad conduct? Speak
to your old father and carry on your business by mutual consent;
how long shall your force of hand continue? You shall not be able
to do anything, when I shall fly. There is no abuse more horrid
than to say, Die! When your destiny shall decide, you shall have
to enter the Factory of the Tomb. Just settle our eldest Babu’s
account of the last year; and take what he consents to sow of
Indigo in the present year. It is owing to you that they have
fallen into a state of confusion. It is not merely to load one
with advances, but cultivation is necessary. Good evening, our
young Saheb. Now, I go. (_Throws him about, lying on his back, and
flies off._)
----------
THIRD ACT—FOURTH SCENE.
THE HALL IN THE HOUSE OF GOLUK BOSE.
-------
_Enter_ SABITRI.
_Sabitri._ (_With a deep sigh._) O thou cruel Magistrate! Why
didst not thou also give me a summons? I would have gone to the
zillah with my husband and my child; that would have been far
better than remaining in this desert. Ah! my husband always
remains in the house, never goes out to another village even on
invitation. Is he destined to suffer so much?—The peadahs taking
him away, and he himself to go to the jail. Bhagavati, my mother!
was there so much in thy mind? Ah! he says, that he can never
sleep, but in a room very long and broad; he eats only the boiled
Atapa rice;[29] he takes the food prepared by no other hand but
that of the eldest Bou. Ah! he brought out blood out of his breast
by severe slaps; he made his eyes swollen by tears; and at the
same time, he took his leave, he said this is my going to the side
of the Ganges[30] (_weeps_). Nobin says, Mother call on Bhagavati.
I must return home having gained my object and bring him home
also. Ah! the face of my son, like unto that of gold, is
blackened; what great troubles for the collection of money!
Wandering about without rest, his brain is become like a
whirl-pool. Lest I give away the ornaments of the Bous, my son
encourages me, saying, My mother, what want of money? What large
sum will be necessary for this case? How shall my child grieve, if
my ornaments be given in mortgage for our suit on small portions
of land! He says, as soon as I get a small sum of money, I shall
immediately bring back the ornaments. My son has courage in his
tongue and tears in his eyes. Ah! he started with tears in his
eyes. My dear Nobin, in this heat of the sun, went to Indrabad;
and I, a great sinner, remained confined in my room. Is this the
life thy mother spends!
_Enter_ SOIRINDRI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account